Oooh, this is one of my favorite times of year. I love the decorations, the stories, the haunted houses, festivals and other community events. I love the excitement on children's faces. Haha I even love the barely-contained terror on the little ones' faces as they go door-to-door begging candy, sure that whatever awaits them on the other side of that door is much scarier than they are. I do have one pet peeve though, and that's teenagers trick-or-treating.
In my opinion, if you're old enough to have a job, you're too old to be bumming candy off your neighbors. Go buy some. And to tell the truth, it's a little intimidating to open the door at night to a kid with a full beard dressed as a character from Moulin Rouge. OK maybe that was just that one year; the family has since moved, but still. Too, if you're tall enough to drag around a pillowcase to collect your goodies, you shouldn't be trick-or-treating. You're scaring the little kids, and you're scaring the adults.
Think of it this way, just in keeping with the white-trash theme of this blog, pretend that tonight is just like any family gathering throughout the year. People are going to show up at your door, hands out, expecting something for nothing. If you don't cough it up, they will probably do some sort of damage to your house or car. If you do cough it up, they'll be back. And back. And back. I address this phenomenon at length in the book, but if you do have any white trash relatives (come on now, tell the truth), you'll know what I'm talking about.