I’ve made it well-known that I’m not a huge fan of children. So now that parents have been lulled by science and journalism into finally believing that “there has never been a single case of any child being killed by a stranger’s Halloween candy,” I’m finally going to strike.
It’s not like I want to kidnap them, and keep them in my basement. (I don’t have a basement. Basements are for rich people and perverts.) Don’t go crazy: I just don’t like children. I’m not interested in molesting them, or anything gross and horrible like that. That’s terrible! After all, I don’t enjoy looking at them, much less touching them.
I’m not even willing to get in league with those other people this Halloween. The kiddy fiddlers, and the rest of them. Even though I know they’ve too been waiting for this moment of parental incaution—one we thought would take years more to arrive, what with the helicoptering of parents! Sure, I know you’d think we’d all be on the same team. But it doesn’t work like that.
Of course, I’m not interested in killing anyone’s children with poison. I mean, tops, I was sort of thinking just a mild tummy ache. Or! I could make some fake Skittles, that have the reverse flavor-to-color ratio. Like, you eat a yellow one, but it tastes blue.
Or maybe, maybe I could make candy mangoes, and tell the kids they’re candy apples, and then when they eat them, BAM. Surprise mango taste!
You know, just like when you think you’re about to drink milk, but it’s orange juice, and you’re all confused.
Killing them, sheesh! That’s not only really mean, it’s actually really shortsighted. If you think about it, we child-hating gay people need straight people to keep having children. It’s how we get more gays, for starters. (And given the death rate of gays, we need you to have a lot of them. It’s like with turtles.)
Apart from that, we know that straight people do a lot for us. Who will work at the DMV? Who will run the music magazines? Who will sell weed? Who will work at Walmart and Sam’s Club and pick up the garbage?
That’s what you’re raising your children to do, and honestly, me and the rest of the people who plan on preying on children this Halloween are appreciative! It’s an important job, and none of us can really knock it.
I bet it’s a lot of work too. You must be beat. Real tired. Tired enough to finally let your guard down on Sunday night. I’ll be the friendly neighbor at the front door, with the big bowl of junior Butterfingers. Except inside the wrappers will actually be butter.