The Halloween That Wasn't

Mistah and I argue every year -- in front of the poor trick-or-treaters, bless their greedy little hearts -- about how many candy pieces to give them. I always say three of four; he votes for one or two.

One or two.

I know, right?

But this year? 

We should have given each munchkin four or five. Or seven or eight.

On our dead-end street, it was the Halloween That Wasn't.

But I will always be thankful and glad and proud that I was part of the one, the only . . . 

. . . The Halloween that Was . . .