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I'm a total wet mop during Halloween. Every year of my adult life, the ghoulish holiday comes and goes without the slightest bat of an eyelash. I made plans to attend a party one year and even sketched out a costume, but nothing ever came of it. I flaked and stayed home.
As a kid, it was very different. I looked forward to the costume and the parties, knocking on strangers' doors, and a feast of candy. I loved the spook factor, taking to heart all the warnings about razor blades hidden in candy, carefully inspecting my loot when I got home. I watched the Peanuts and Garfield Halloween specials and tried to sneak a peek at grown-up horror flicks, loving the cheap adrenaline rush that came with a glimpse of a red-and-olive striped sweater.
What turned me into such a bore? I blame the abundance of sexy kitten and sexy bumblebee outfits. Like, gag me with a spoon.
Nonetheless, a sugar-driven individual such as myself finds it difficult to ignore the saccharinepalooza aspect of the (sexy) witches-and-broomsticks eve and thus, I bring you a monster-sized, cocktail nut-and-apple encrusted, spicy, brittle-based, chocolate-covered, and caramel corn and pepita-sprinkled candy bar. Make an appointment with your (sexy) dentist 'cause you'll need a cavity search after you sink your fangs into this wicked good slab.
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