A frosty eve in late October, at home I idled, barely sober

Cheetos-dusted fingers tapping many a curt and snotty tweet

     As I wallowed, iPad beeping, all at once there came a peeping

     Like somebody slyly creeping, creeping from the darkened street.

“Just the neighbor’s cat,” I figured, “creeping from the darkened street,

     “to ‘pon my patio excrete.”

     Lurching up to give that frickin’ animal a vicious lickin’

 I heard outside the caustic croon of fairy voice in plaintive bleat

    If not the cat to take a poop, then who had overrun my stoop?

    What thoughtless Tartar lay in siege, my customary sloth to cheat?

Sweatpants striped with pizza sauce and mismatched socks upon my feet

    I staggered from my furrowed seat

    Tarrying at the door awhile, still hoping to avoid such trial,

“No solicitors!” I cried, “Begone with your petition sheet!”

     “More magazines I do not need, nor have I interest in your creed,”

     “I beg you come no more a-peeping. Creep you back to darkened street!”

In answer came a stern command with peeping, cheeping, cheerful heat.

    Peeped the creeper, “Trick or Treat!”

     Near lost in unswept Autumn litter, plastic scepter’d, gown a-glitter

A tiny princess brightly reigned o’er unread news and stained concrete.

    What was this creature fiercely beaming? Surely I was merely dreaming.

    Fearing awkward consequence I rasped in desolate entreat.

“What is it finds Your Majesty before my humble peasant suite?”

     Chirped the princess, “Trick or Treat!”

     Mind in shock and awe recoiling, Hot Pocket in my gut a-boiling

What awful tribute must be paid before I could regain my seat?

    Half a box of stale Froot Loops, a pantry full of Ramen soups

    What had I to pacify the sequined despot, so petite?

“Sorry kid,” I said, a-tremble, “but I got nothin’ good to eat.”

    Piped the princess, “Trick or Treat!”

    Back into my pig sty turning, nervous bowels within me churning,

Surely there was somewhere in that mess a single morsel sweet.

    Rooting through the Barcalounger, there was I, pathetic scrounger

    Desperate to find a scrap to buy relentless child’s retreat

Pray let me find a loose Tic Tac down here below the sofa seat!

    Smiled the princess, “Trick or Treat!”       

    Falling, sobbing, to the floor, my courage failing and ears a-roar

I caught a glimpse of my salvation wrapped in cellophane discreet

     Cracked and crushed and dirty, but, that ancient mint from Pizza Hut

     Might even yet snatch triumph from the bitter jaws of rank defeat

“Here you go,” I muttered, weakly rising on unsteady feet.

    “It ain’t pretty, but it’s a treat.”

    “Thank you!” sang the elfin queen. “And have a happy Halloween!”

Then off she danced down leaf-strewn path unto the darkened street.

    Many Octobers since have flown, and many Autumn winds have blown

    Many an Arby’s wrapper since has drifted ‘round my arch-less feet

But still my strength and wits must fail each time those cruel words repeat

     upon my doorstep – “Trick or Treat!”