Treat or Trick

A monologue with props

By Sean Nitchmann

 

 

Lights medium, house lights out.

 

Narrator is dressed in a suburbanish button down sweater, carrying a cup of herbal tea. His demeanor is docile and unthreatening.

 

I hope you all had a good time this Halloween. I really do.

 

I didn’t enjoy my evening all that much. In fact I’m still a little shaken. Things did not go well.

 

My wife and I came home from work early to finish decorating and prepare for the trick or treater’s. I finished carving the Jack-O-Lantern and hanging the fake cobwebs on the front porch while my wife baked some wholesome treats to give to the neighborhood children. I know the tradition is to give out packaged candy, but we had decided this year to give out foods that would be better for the children. My wife is a fine cook and she made some delicious gluten-free pumpkin spice muffins, some sweet potato medley soy cakes and my personal favorite; unsweetened carob raisin brownies. Healthy snacks for growing bodies.

 

Now I know that most children are not used to eating “good for you” foods. But I ask you, what ever happened to good manners? Most of the children accepted our offering politely, albeit with a little disappointment. But some children… well… a young man dressed as a ghost proclaimed that he thought we were trying to poison him. Another child in a black cat costume flipped me the bird. I had a fairy princess tell me that she’d rather eat shit on a stick. Such language. This was all very upsetting, but I understand that these children have never been exposed to the tastes of organic, unprocessed, nutrient rich foods. And sometimes children express themselves in unsophisticated ways.

 

Then he came. I was about to turn off the porch light when the doorbell rang. There was one last carob raisin brownie that I was planning savor myself. But I thought, oh what the heck. These kids need the treats more than I do. So I opened the door and there he was. Judging by his size and stature I’d guess he was probably 14 or 15 years old, which I think is entirely too old for trick or treating. This young man’s costume consisted of a tattered filthy pillow case for carrying candy, matching camouflage pants and jacket, a toy axe and a white hockey mask. That’s right, our young creative genius had come dressed as Jason. I handed him the carob raisin brownie and all he said was “What the hell is this!” Then he chucked it into the street. That made me so darned mad.

 

I had had just about enough for one evening and I decided to explain to this young man what the benefits of wholesome natural foods were, and how if he were to become more mindful of his diet and break the cycle of indulgence in processed sugars, artificial flavors and food coloring, he might just find himself with a cheerier disposition and a higher intellectual quotient. Jason blurted some profanities and stomped away. Halfway to the street he turned and called out “I’ll get you!”

 

Well, get me he did. First he soaped my car, then he TP’d my front yard, he even smashed my pumpkin. Each time he played one of his little pranks he would ring the door bell and run away cackling. The final straw was when I answered the door to find a small fire on my porch. I quickly stomped it out only to discover that the fire had been set upon dog feces. My favorite slippers were ruined. Again, I could hear Jason cackling off in the darkness.

 

So, I devised a plan. I had Mildred, my wife, go next door to Mrs. Dawson’s house and buy her last bag of chocolate bars from her. Mrs. Dawson has four small children and I knew that she would be more than willing to part with any excessive sugar fuel she had left in the house.

 

Then I stood on the front porch and called out, “Jason, let’s have a truce. I’ll give you this entire bag of chocolate if you’ll please leave us alone” Sure enough, Jason couldn’t resist his desire for more candy, and he hesitantly came up the walkway, fixated with idea of possessing an entire bag of his favorite drug.

 

As he came closer I could see his dilated pupils and bloodshot eyes beneath the hockey mask. I’m sure his cavity ridden teach were swimming in saliva. This young man was jonesin’ for a fix. As he put out his chubby little hand to reach for the canfdy, shaking from the effects of his evening of overindulgence, I grabbed his finger and I chopped!

 

Narrator pulls out a large kitchen knife and mimes the chopping of the finger. The character has changed from docile to maniacal. From his pocket he pulls out a bloody finger. He takes a moment to admire the trophy.

 

Next year, tell all the kids you know, if they’re out trick or treating and a man with a bronzed finger on a chain around his neck offers them a delicious, nutritious, unsweetened carob raisin brownie, they should take it, say thank you and enjoy it. It’s healthy food for growing bodies.

 

Narrator laughs maniacally.

 

Lights fast to total black.