So, it was Halloween, and tricker treaters were allowed to come through the dorms and shamelessly beg for sucrose enriched frucrose. Or fructose enriched glucose. Or whatever teeth-dissolving candy goodness that comes out of confectionaries now-a-days.

As if college students could afford candy. I have a quarter loaf of bread in my roommates fridge that needs to last me for the next 8 weeks. If I'd had any candy at one point, I would have eaten it myself. I would have eaten it so fast that I would not have even realized that I'd eaten it, and then I'd probably go after my roommate for having stolen my candy.

Now something I *can* afford is Chartwells, because I have a meal plan, and I keep missing meals. I could seriously treat 70 people to dinner and still have plenty of meals to last me out the rest of the semester. But I might have to eat all those meals myself come December, because I have a dear friend back in ABQ who will give me a thorough chewing out if I come back malnourished and underweight.

Anyway, kids don't seem to care too much for Chartwells, which is about as much as I'd figured. But it was either that or my bread, so guess what they got? Yup, not the bread. This would be a typical accounting of a run-in with trick-or-treaters:

"Trick-or-treat!"
"No treat! Just Chartwells!"
"Here's an apple for you, a brocolli for you, a stale bread roll for you, and some unidentifiable but highly-viscous slop for you! Happy Halloween!"

Of course, the trouble with this is that now-a-days everyone thinks that anything that isn't pre-packaged is probably poisoned or something.

"How do I know this doesn't have razor blades in it?"
"Kid, look at my chin. I haven't shaved in 2 weeks. Do you think if I could afford razor blades I'd waste them on you?"
"An apple? I can't eat that! You might have injected it with poison!"
"Kid, this is a Chartwells apple. Poison would only dilute its potency."
"A rock! Who do you think I am, Charlie Brown?"
"It's not a rock, it is a Chartwells cinammon bon. About the only thing it's good for is smashing rocks."
"Your treats bite. You could at least try to scare us."
"You know what I am kid? I am your future. In six years you will be me. Well, unless you decide to chance your life on that Chartwells spinach. How's that for scary?"

Next year, though, I am going to scavenge huge cardboard boxes from the recycling bin and make my dormroom into a haunted house. So hopefully that will make up for my lameness this year.

Poor kids.