The end of the party

Rowan had had enough. No more pretending to be something I'm not, he thought. No more biting crackers then putting them back on the serving tray, no more parading around in leg-warmers and a pink head-band, or stealing other kids' toys and appropriating them as my own. I am bushed...And so, at the end of a great little costume party, it was time to pack it up, head home, and get ready for the (literally) 110 trick-or-treaters who rang our doorbell until 8:30PM begging for candy. Some came dressed as monks, others as murdering psychopaths, though a few roguish preteens avoided the whole idea of dressing up altogether, decided to cut out the middle man and demanded candy just for breathing the same air as us. So we gave them candy...the poisoned kind...heeheehee...heehee...