Trick or Treat


                                            >Little boy saves up his allowance.

                                            >Does extra chores.

                                            >Collects cans.

                                            >Everything he can for months.

                                            >Practically a whole year.

                                            >Parents keep asking what he's saving for.

                                            >He won't tell them.

                                            >Okay, it's amusing. He's doing extra work and being extra good, so they let it slide.

                                            >Don't say a word about all those costumes they find half-made in his closet.

                                            >All painted cardboard and scraps of cloth.

                                            >One week to Halloween, finally lets it slip.

                                            >Pony Rental place wouldn't rent to a kid.

                                            >Asks his parents to rent him a dozen foals for Halloween.

                                            >Dumps his piggy bank out.

                                            >Won't even cover half the cost.

                                            >Mom asks why.

                                            >"Because I have bags and costumes and everything and I'll get way more candy this way!"

                                            >Mom rolls he eyes.

                                            >Dad doesn't say anything to the kid. Just makes the call and pulls out his credit card.

                                            >Ponies show up around noon.

                                            >Dropped off by surly jackass driver.

                                            >Dad signs the paperwork.

                                            >Winces at the cost, but signs it.

                                            >Driver reminds dad he'll be back at midnight for the ponies.

                                            >Foals mill around.

                                            >Some scared.

                                            >Some trying to act brave by scaring the others.

                                            >Telling stories about what they've heard goes on.

                                            >Why people rent this many foals at once.

                                            >Mom bops those ones on the nose with a rolled up magazine.

                                            >Shushes them and drives them inside.

                                            >Boy starts pulling out the costumes he's worked on for weeks.

                                            >Some don't fit.

                                            >Some are perfect.

                                            >Fillies and colts giggle as they put on their outfits.

                                            >They're literally made of trash.

                                            >Empty cereal boxes painted bright silver turn ponies into robots.

                                            >Worn out bedsheets combine with others to become ghosts.

                                            >One is a pirate, wearing the boy's outfit from last year. Modified, of course.

                                            >Ponies stop laughing as the boy stomps out of his room carrying a whip and pith helmet.

                                            >They're just toys.

                                            >Doesn't matter.

                                            >Not all of the ponies have unblemished hides.

                                            >He attaches it to one filly's belt.

                                            >"You're Daring Do!" he shouts happily, settling the helmet on her head.

                                            >Filly giggles softly.

                                            >The rest follow.

                                            >He disappears again.

                                            >Mom and dad adjust some of the costumes while he dresses.

                                            >Little boys have grand ideas, but no idea how big ponies actually are, or how to make things that fit.

                                            >Doesn't take long.

                                            >Most are simple fixes.

                                            >There's some silver spray paint in the garage and cereal comes in a bag.

                                            >They didn't really need those boxes anyway.

                                            >Fixes are all done by the time the boy emerges.

                                            >Simple costume.

                                            >Black shirt. Black pants. Black pillowcase wrapped around his head.

                                            >He's a ninja!

                                            >Mom tells him to go back and -

                                            >He's got a bag full of flashlights.

                                            >A safe ninja!

                                            >Dad asks where he's got them, but boy just shrugs.

                                            >"Found 'em."

                                            >Makes sure every pony has a flashlight and one for himself.

                                            >A little fiddling later and every flashlight is attached to a costume.

                                            >Tucked into a belt, tied to a leg with a sock, and in one case taped to an overly large shoulder pad.

                                            >Dad laughs and says son should have gone with glow sticks.

                                            >Boy tried, but they all went out a few months ago.

                                            >Starting to get dark.

                                            >Mom has been at the door handing out candy to all the 'little babies' for a while.

                                            >Handing out some to the foals too.

                                            >Sun goes down.

                                            >It's dark.

                                            >Time for the big kids to go trick-or-treating!

                                            >Boy is only 7.

                                            >Still insists he's a big boy.

                                            >Doesn't need anyone to go with him!

                                            >Parents laugh.

                                            >Fine, but only to the end of the street and back.

                                            >If he goes any further, he has to come get them.

                                            >And he has to be back by 9.

                                            >Halloween or not, it's a school night.

                                            >He agrees. Reluctantly.

                                            >It's easy to watch him from the front yard.

                                            >Parents take the candy bowl outside. Sit on the porch.

                                            >Watch this bobbing blob of thirteen lights wobble away down the sidewalk.

                                            >Share a few candies themselves between trick-or-treaters.

                                            >Have a fair share of ponies come by while they wait.

                                            >There's one little girl dressed as a cowgirl riding one.

                                            >Filly doesn't look much older than the ponies the son ran off with, but she's carrying the girl easily.

                                            >Almost easily.

                                            >She walks into the fence.

                                            >"OWWWWWWWW!"

                                            >"Hey! Go around it!"

                                            >"You know I can't see without my glasses!"

                                            >"The Lone Ranger's horse doesn't have glasses!"

                                            >"Yeah, yeah."

                                            >She's not hurt, though.

                                            >Earth ponies are tough.

                                            >But parents give her some candy too.

                                            >Neighbor three houses down has one for a nanny.

                                            >She's walking the kids for them.

                                            >Implies walking them like pets, and that's almost the truth.

                                            >One is too young to know better than to run into the street. She's on a leash.

                                            >Another is riding on the pony's back.

                                            >The littlest one.

                                            >Really should have been out earlier, the child is half-asleep, but the teen was fusing with her costume for *hours*.

                                            >"I was not!"

                                            >The adults share an embarassed smile.

                                            >Parents aren't looking forward to dealing with that age.

                                            >Offer the nanny some candy too, but she refuses.

                                            >Offer her a beer.

                                            >She... hesitates before refusing.

                                            >Share another smile.

                                            >A knowing one.

                                            >Maybe on the way back.

                                            >It goes unsaid, but the understanding is there.

                                            >She has little ones to care for.

                                            >Minutes tick past.

                                            >The street isn't long, but it's packed.

                                            >Newish development.

                                            >Houses barely have space to walk between them.

                                            >Lots of families with young children.

                                            >Almost every light is on.

                                            >Not the Hendersons, of course, but they never participate in anything.

                                            >First hour passes.

                                            >Parents aren't worried.

                                            >They can see the blob of lights bobbing along towards them on the other side of the street.

                                            >Plenty of children moving in groups, but none as large as their son's.

                                            >He crosses as he comes even with the house.

                                            >"Need more bags!"

                                            >Yep, they're full.

                                            >Every single one.

                                            >Ponies giggle and play as he runs inside to get more.

                                            >"They can leave those here, right?" he asks, coming back out with shopping bags and anything else that will work.

                                            >"Yeah, sure."

                                            >Ponies open their mouths and drop their bags on the porch.

                                            >Some a little reluctantly.

                                            >"Don't worry, Dad and Mom will take care of them!"

                                            >Yes, he says 'Dad' and 'Mom' with capitals.

                                            >He's still at that age.

                                            >"Of course."

                                            >Dad nods in agreement.

                                            >He's got plenty of candy left in the bowl to hand out - and snack on.

                                            >Asks if anyone is giving him any trouble.

                                            >Boy is confused until parent nods towards the foals.

                                            >"Oh."

                                            >He shrugs.

                                            >"Some."

                                            >He shrugs again.

                                            >Rushes off with his ponies to hit up the rest of the street.

                                            >Kids start to come by that the adults don't recognize as their neighbors.

                                            >Ones from outside the neighborhood.

                                            >A few older ones.

                                            >A few that are a little *too* old.

                                            >Some that aren't even wearing costumes.

                                            >"About time to wrap it up?" one parent asks the other, already knowing the answer.

                                            >"Not yet. He's almost back."

                                            >It's not even 8:30.

                                            >Boy hasn't made it to the other end of the street, but he's coming back.

                                            >"I bet he wants to enjoy some of that candy before he has to go to bed."

                                            >"Probably."

                                            >He does.

                                            >And to play with his new friends.

                                            >Parents stay outside for a bit, fending off another wave of trick-or-treaters.

                                            >Most are in costume.

                                            >Most.

                                            >Some are neighbors making the return trip, just swinging by to say hello or who saved this house for last.

                                            >Laugh quietly at the little child slumbering away on her nanny's back, tiny fists clutching the pony's mane.

                                            >She nods towards the parents.

                                            >Can't quite hide her smile.

                                            >They wave her over.

                                            >The teen groans and - after a brief talk with the pony - walks home alone.

                                            >Inside the house, laughter and merriment as ponies play with the boy.

                                            >Outside, quite talking between adults, trying not to wake the child snoozing away while the other digs into the candy dish.

                                            >"Ready for that beer now?"

                                            >Some time during the night, the dad had slipped inside to get one for himself.

                                            >It's Halloween.

                                            >No one will care.

                                            >She smiles again, but shakes her head.

                                            >Gently, so as not to dislodge the child.

                                            >"Thanks, but I should be getting back. Maybe next time."

                                            >"I'll hold you to that."

                                            >She's not a bad sort.

                                            >Better neighbor than her owners.

                                            >Only reason they get invited over to the cookouts is because of her. And, well, because they're neighbors.

                                            >Street is nearly empty.

                                            >Jack-o-lanterns being snuffed out.

                                            >Porch lights being turned off.

                                            >A few beams of light bounce along the sidewalks as children scurry home - or on to the next street in the hopes that there is any loot left to be looted.

                                            >Thirteen bags of candy lean against the wall.

                                            >Dad calls his son outside.

                                            >Tells him to take those in while he starts cleaning up.

                                            >Waves his hand towards the decorations.

                                            >Mother laughs.

                                            >"You just want to finish my beer."

                                            >Father laughs.

                                            >"I just want to finish my beer."

                                            >Son shakes his head.

                                            >"I told the ponies they could take that back with them."

                                            >"But isn't that why you rented them for the night?"

                                            >"I don't want any of it," he answers with a shrug.

                                            >Father sighs and sets down his beer.

                                            >"You know, with the money you'd saved up, you could have just bought yourself a bunch of candy. Or toys."

                                            >"I know," the son responds, smiling as laughter swells up from inside the house. "This was more fun."

                                            >He looks back over his shoulder.

                                            >"I hope I can save up enough to do this next year too."