Trick or Whatever

Halloween-time
You can really tell sometimes, when people are related. Sometimes they look alike, have a similar personality quirk (Tourette's, maybe?), or beat a much loved phrase into the proverbial dirt.
My mother and I have something in common, something which I am convinced surpasses mere habit, but is something carved into the core, the essence, the very fiber of our communal beings.
We hate trick-or-treaters.
Don't get me wrong. We both love Halloween. The costumes, the morbidity (all right that might be a smidge more me), the chocolate in very very big bags.
But the trick-or-treaters? Not so much. Even less than that, actually.
We're cold blooded and lazy. Don't come and knock on our door and beg for candy. It's not a commercial. Don't you see that there's a cat on my lap? I'm on the computer. Go away.
I don't think that children exist that are "precious" enough for me to give a flying never-mind about (and if you think I really mean to say never-mind, you have another thing coming), and get off my soft, comfy couch for. Buy your own candy, Mom and Dad. You cheap so-and so's.
To alleviate the problem of the trick or treaters in this village (it's literally too small to be classified as a town), Mom and I have come to a conclusion.
We're skipping town.
While small children run around getting razored apples, poisoned candy, and frostbite, Mom and I intend to be shopping, or having a bite to eat in a cozy restaurant.
Stop. I can feel your palpible envy.
Lovies!!!!