It was Halloween night, dark but not stormy. My front porch was a blaze of burnt umber and orange. Pumpkins and dried autumn leaves welcomed the annual scary sojourners. This year I went all out with full-sized candy bars—Hershey’s Cookies and Cream, Snicker Bars, Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups, 100 Grand Bars and Milky Ways—all displayed in a colorful basket. My first visitor was a very pretty vampire. She looked more like a princess than a vampire and was probably about twelve years old. I held the basket of candy out so she could make her choice. She took a Hershey’s Cookies and Cream bar, told me it was her favorite, thanked me, and went on her way.
I was about to call it a night when almost an hour later the second vampire of the evening arrived. I was sensing a theme here. He rivaled the Count himself, albeit in miniature. He was about five years old and the cutest little vampire I had ever seen, okay, my son was a pretty good likeness, too, when he was five! This little Count surveyed his choices carefully, looked up at me and said, “You did say I could have three, didn’t you?” When I stopped laughing, I told him since I hadn’t mentioned any number at all, that he was certainly welcome to three, especially since he had asked so nicely! He took three Hershey’s Cookies and Cream bars. Must be a favorite of vampires. Who was I to stand in the way of a budding, entrepreneurial vampire? Besides, I wasn’t sure it was wise to negotiate . . .
Olivia C. Rossi
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