Trick or Treat!

"I hate Halloween!"

There on my dining room table sat the invitation. I haven't opened it. I can't bring myself to open it. I know what it is. Every year for the past seven years, I've received one. Every year it's the same damn thing. They want me to come and they want me to come alone. The invitation jumps off the table and lands in my hand. I toss it to the floor and jump up and down on it, stomping it.

"Hey, that hurts," says a voice coming from the invitation.

"Sorry." What am I nuts? I'm talking to an inanimate object. I'm talking to a spell. God, I hate this. This is so creepy. This is so spooky. Geez, it makes my skin crawl.

Really, they need to leave me alone and let me live my life. I've already rejected their lifestyle. I was plain when I told them that I wanted to live a normal life, a life without spells, potions, and witchcraft. I'm tired of them controlling my mind with their witchcraft, potions, and spells. For once, I want to think for myself without my mind being controlled by one of their spells.

"But no," I said out loud for no one to hear. I slammed my hand down hard on the granite countertop, "every time I think I am out, they pull me back in. Ow, that hurt."

Only, this year, I'm tricking them. This year, I'm asking my sister to come with me so that she can see for herself and be my witness to the tortuous abuse and emotional pressure that I must suffer and have endured every Halloween, since I can remember, rejecting their advances to be one of them.

I took a deep breath and picked up the invitation. My hands were shaking, my pulse quickened, and my heart pounded. I poured myself a stiff drink, a double, and gulped it down before opening the invitation.

"Trick or Treat!"

You are invited to our annual Halloween party. You are our very special guest. You must wear a costume. (You remember the year when you did not wear a costume and we supplied one for you.) "Ha! Ha!" So bring your sense of humor and get ready to have some fun.

Love, Mom

"Fuck! Double Fuck! Triple Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!"

Yeah, I thought I was being smart the year that I refused to wear a costume and went to their party to tell them that I wasn't coming to their sick Halloween party and they turned me into a toad, a talking toad.

"Ha! Ha! Yeah, very fucking funny. I had warts in my mouth and up my ass for a year after they changed me back."

I can't believe this is happening to me, again. I was so clear about it last year. I calmly told them all what I thought of them. I told them all that I did not want to be part of their sick group and they just laughed at me in the high pitched cackling laugh that makes my skin crawl. I can't believe they won't let me live my own life and not participate in their incestuous games. I can't do this anymore. I just want to get on with my life.

As the days passed and the Halloween party drew nearer, my dread changed to excitement. I figured the three witches put a spell on me, for sure. More mind control, I'm sick of them controlling my thoughts. Otherwise, how could I be so vehemently against it one minute and excited about it the next. It made no sense. I figured they put some magic potion in the invitation that released itself in the air in and up in my nostrils, as soon as I opened it.

I mean, it is a fun time to a degree, if you are the type who enjoys seeing your mother, two aunts, and ten of their best friends naked. Besides, I have nothing else to do on Halloween. I have no other invitations. I have no friends. Since grammar school everyone has thought me weird and rightly so growing up in a household without the influence of a man, growing up in a household with three women, my mother and her two sisters, and growing up in a household with the original three witches of Eastwick, only in this case, they live in Salem, Massachusetts, the world capital of witches and witchcraft.

Let me tell you about my mother. My mother is the head honcho, the big cheese, and the chief, whatever they call the big wheel, the head witch of all witches in the United States and for the world, maybe, who knows. I, certainly, don't care but I am always surprised when other witches visit her and treat her like Don Corleone of the God Father. They are in awe of her and of her magic powers when I just think of her as my Mom.

Then, again, come to think of it, it is fun to rub elbows with all those celebrities. Oh, sorry, you didn't know that many celebrities are witches. Witches love having an audience and how better to practice their art than to become a movie star. Some of the most famous celebrities who attend my mother's Halloween party are witches, such as, Brad Pitt, Angelina Jolie, and Jennifer Aniston. Let's see, Bette Davis was a witch before she took Elizabeth Montgomery's spirit. I have no idea who she is now, but some believe that she is Nicole Kidman. She's there every Halloween with, of course, John Travolta and his wife Kelly Preston. I bet you did not know that Oprah Winfrey, Donald Trump, Rachel Ray, and Martha Stewart, along with Judge Judy are all witchcraft practitioners. Did you really think that they could have such success through luck? C'mon, get real. Hocus pocus.

Do you remember when Stanley Kubrick (another practitioner of the black art) made that movie Eyes Wide Shut with Tom Cruise and Nicole Kidman? Well, the movie was a tribute to witchcraft and Tom Cruise, not one of them, never stopped poking fun at the movie. Much like Darrin on Be Witched, Tom Cruise did not know that his wife was one of them. She quickly replaced him with...one of them, yeah; Keith Urban is one of them, too.

Stephen King and J. K. Rowling are, you guessed it, believers in the dark science and in the occult. Where do you think Stephen King gets his talent for the macabre? Where do you think J. K. Rowling gets her information about the dark art of witchcraft? C'mon, you guys reading this are all writers and know that you can only write what you know.

Do you remember reading this when you were a kid?

The Witches Caldron

Eye of newt, and toe of frog, Wool of bat, and tongue of dog Adder's fork, and blind-worm's sting, Lizard's leg, and owlet's wing

For a charm of powerful trouble Like a hell-broth boil and babble

Double, double, toil and trouble, Fire burn, and caldron bubble.

Okay, maybe you didn't recite that as a kid like I did, as a bedtime prayer. Yet, you do know who wrote that? Don't you? Billie, himself, William Shakespeare, yep. What do you think of that? Well, I'll tell you. He was one of them, too.

Except for Spring, Halloween is the only holiday that my mother and her two sisters celebrate and they always made Halloween special. Halloween is their Christmas. Halloween is a month long celebration that culminates on October 31st. After everything was said and done, it was a fun and memorable time, especially when I was a kid growing up. Only, when I was a kid, I thought everything was make believe, magic or a trick or something. I had no idea that all of those illusions were not illusions, but real or, in their case, witchcraft. Shit! Fuck! I'm sick remembering some of the spells my mother and her two sisters put on people who they did not like.

As I got older, I knew immediately after the party, like all the other years, I'd be right back in therapy. Only, what's the use? My psycharitrist never believed me. He thought that I was delusional and wanted to write me prescriptions to help me deal with life. Yeah, okay, Doc, I'm delusional that my mother changed me into a toad.

I need a costume. I was running out of things to wear. Let's see, I dressed as a clown last year and I'll never do that, again. There was nothing funny about suddenly be transported and finding yourself at the circus with thousands of people waiting for you to do something funny. I went as a cowboy the year before and I'll never do that again either. They really liked the cowboy costume and that was fun until they put me in a rodeo and on a bucking bronco. I need to play it down. Maybe, I'll go as Superman. Nah, they'll have me flying over Manhattan or they'll be all over my bulge with their wrinkled hands and long fingernails. What to wear? What to wear? What to wear? Oh, I know. I'll go as an Arab. That way I can still wear clothes beneath my sheet and when they pull it off finally, I can bolt from the house before they seal the doors and windows and before they handcuff me, again.

Oh, I almost forgot, this time I'll have my kid sister with me. She's my insurance policy. This time, they'll be no monkey business. They won't try anything with her around, I'm sure of that, I hope. Fuck! Will they? God, I hope not.

Geez, why do I still call her my kid sister? She hates it when I do that. She's 18-years-old now. She's a woman and I'll be 25-years-old in July. God, I've been going to these screwball Halloween parties all of my adult life. The parties were fun to go to when I was a kid but, as soon as I turned 18-years-old, they turned kind of sexual. I mean, I never did a sexual act with my mother or my aunts but there was lots of nudity and if you saw the bodies on my mother and aunts, you would understand how traumatic an experience it is to see them naked. Geez, I have the cold chills just thinking about their sagging tits, pot bellies, and wrinkled asses. Witches are not beautiful women. I mean, some witches are but the real witches, the ones in charge, the practitioners of the art, like priests and rabbis, are not very attractive. The others, the ones who just follow the dark art of witchcraft are usually beautiful people.

It's not all bad, though. I get to rub more than elbows with Angelina Jolie and Nicole Kidman, if you know what I mean. And that Kelly Preston, John Travolta's wife, is still freakin' cute, although she is getting up there in age. Still, I remember her in Twins when she played Arnold's girlfriend, Marny. Oh, my God. She was so hot.

Oprah is scary. You don't want to get on her bad side, I'll tell you right now. Yeah, she looks good in black but when she dawns that black cloak, look out. She gets scary mean. Her real personality comes out and she is the devil in disguise.

I decided to call my sister and ask her to come with me.

"Hey, Sis, what you doin?"

"Hi, Freddie. I'm just sitting here thinking about what to wear to Ma's Halloween party."

I was sick to hear Sis tell me that she received an invitation. Now, it made sense, of course, she had just turned 18-years-old and was of legal age for their X-rated Halloween party, which, in essence, is more like a witch's coven of rituals and spells.

Now, it all made sense, Drusilla died last year and her sister Lucinda is retired and refused to take Drusilla's place and become part of their little conclave. They needed another witch to make their required 13, which is why they invited my sister. They are initiating her into their fold.

"Halloween party?" My stomach sank. "What do you mean?"

"I received an invitation to her Halloween party." There was a pause and I could feel the strained silence. "Didn't you get one?"

"Yeah, yeah," I wanted to say, I always get one and have gotten one for the past 7 years, since I turned 18-years-old. "I received an invitation."

"Are you going to go?"

"Yes," I immediately said questioning why I blurted that out so fast but realizing that it was part of the mind controlling spell my mother put on me. "Fuck!"

I can't believe they invited her. Knowing what goes on there, why did they invite her? I can't believe she is going to be there. Well, I'll tell you right now, if they try any funny stuff this year, I'm putting my foot down. I'm leaving before they cast a spell and cement the doors and windows like they did last year. No means no. I'm not going to be a pawn in their sordid games any more, at least, not in front of my baby sister. God, I'd be so embarrassed for her to see me naked, kind of, not really, not at all. Geez, I'd be embarrassed to see her naked, kind of, not really, not at all. Geez, that's the mind controlling spell talking and not me.

"Stop it," I said to myself trying to break the spell.

"I'm thinking about going as a witch," she said.

Her costume choice sent chills down my spine.

"A witch? Now, why on God's green earth would you go as a witch? Why not go as Dorothy from the Wizard of OZ, you love that movie."

"Nah, I don't know why but I'm really drawn to a witch's costume. Besides, it looks good on me." There was a silence. "I'm almost embarrassed to tell you this, but wearing it makes me feel naughty. It makes me not want to wear anything underneath it, like I did at my high school graduation when I wore the cap and gown.

"Oh, gross, Sis."

Oh, God. I know why and it's happening to her, too. Fuck! She's one of them. They cast a spell on her. This is too much. I need to fly away to Vegas or somewhere even further away. I need air. Suddenly, I can't breathe.

"Hey, if you are nice to me, I'll flash you."

"Really? Great! I can't wait to see your naked body." I can't believe I said that to my baby sister but it is not me talking, it is the mind controlling spell making me say that stuff.

None of it made any sense to me. I remember thinking that my great, great, great Uncle Hansel and my great, great, great Aunt Gretel had something to do with this and with me being with these three witches. I was so not part of them that I always thought that I was adopted or kidnapped, as was my Uncle Hansel and my Aunt Gretel. Yet, then, I always thought what Aesop wrote was just a fiction and was just a fable. Now, I wondered if it was all real. All of this is so much like a bad dream, a nightmare. But...I had a plan, a plan that would end their hold on me and hopefully break the spell that was now cast over my baby sister.

I dressed as an Arab and my sister dressed as a witch. I could not help but think of my sister standing beside me naked beneath her black cloak. I could see her nipples straining against the fabric of the material and that gave me an erection. It is always cold in my mother's cottage. They have no electricity but somehow have television, phones, and the Internet. Okay, witchcraft is not all bad, especially when you can screw big business out of paying them for their expensive services.

As soon as I entered their cottage, I filled up a big bucket of water and pushed it in the corner. When my mother and her two sisters stood by the caldron making one of their spells or potions or whatever the Hell they were doing staring in that goop filled with eyes that stare back at you through a green smoky haze, I quickly grabbed the bucket of water and threw it over them. As if they were the winning coaches at a championship football game, the water splashed down the length of them drenching them completely.

"Help! We are melting," they all screamed. "Help! We are melting."

At first, I felt kind of bad that I had just killed them. I could not believe that just mere water made them melt like that in a pool of water but sure enough, there they were with their clothes in a big pile, just like what happened to the wicked witch of the West in the Wizard of Oz.

"I'm free! I'm finally free of them," I said jumping up and down. I hugged my baby sister. "I did it! I did it! We are free! We are free!"

"You're going to have to do better than that. You've watched one too many Wizard's of Oz movies."

I could not believe it. There behind me stood my mother and her two sisters naked taunting and teasing me. Now, I was scared shitless that they would retaliate and turn me into a toad, again, or worse. Yet, I still had one more surprise.

Suddenly, as planned, the doorbell rang and in came, escorted by the police armed with a search warrant, the Housing and Building Inspector, Animal Control, and an agent from the Internal Revenue Service.

"So, did you take out a building permit when you built this cottage out in the forest?" The Housing and Building Inspector looked at my mother and her two sisters standing their naked and shivering. "Did you know that this is Conservation land that is protected by the federal and state government?"

"Uhm, well, no, but..." my mother said.

"Do you have a permit for all of these bats? And is that a dragon out back? And why do you need a dozen black cats?" asked the man from Animal Control.

"Dragon, don't be silly. That's, uhm, a big, ugly dog. Bats? Those aren't my bats," my mother said pointing to her sisters. "They belong to them."

"You just need to look at their collars for the reason why she needs a dozen black cats," said the agent from the Internal Revenue Service. "These are the names that appear every year on her tax form as dependents."

"I can explain..." said my mother.

Well, they put my mother and her two sisters out of business and in jail and I am in the Witness Protection Program in Arizona but...I still look over my shoulder.

Did I tell you that I hate Halloween?

The End