Pigs Get Slaughtered

The cool autumn breeze caressed my mask-covered face, as flickering Jack-O-Lanterns
scowled into the oblivion. A four foot tall ghost brushed up against me, and sent the basket I
was carrying into the bushes, candy scattering everywhere. Her mother, dressed as a princess,
said, “Jacquelyn, apologize to the nice young man!”

“Sorry,” the little girl exclaimed sweetly.

“It’s okay,” I reassured, grinning broadly. There would be plenty of opportunities to
gather candy tonight. After all, it was Halloween.

***

I walked up to Michael’s front porch and rang his doorbell. The door creaked open, and
Michael sashayed out in full costume. “I vant to suck your blooooood!” he screamed, flashing
his realistic-looking plastic fangs.

“Nice costume!” I replied sarcastically. Michael, definitely on the “creative” side, had
dressed up as a vampire clown wearing five-inch stiletto heels.

“Hey, it’s better than your costume!” Michael retorted. “What are you, a pork chop
covered in ketchup?”

“I am a victim of the corporate slaughterhouses. Did you know that more than
five million cows, pigs, and chickens are brutally murdered every year by slaughterhouses
controlled by the same three major corporations? The parts of the animals that aren’t used for
food are actually put back into the feed for cheap feed for the other animals, reverting them
into a cannibalistic state!”

“Are you serious?” Michael stuttered.

“Nah, I’m a pork chop.” We giggled for a bit, and then got serious.

“Who should we hit up for candy first, Blake?” asked Michael.

“Over there!” I pointed to a small, lavender-colored house a few door down. To be
honest, it reminded me more than a little bit of an oversized doll house, but that didn’t concern
me in the least bit. Every year, the owners leave a bowl of candy on the doorstep, with a sign
that says “Please take only one.”

“Perfect,” my partner-in-crime commented. “I’ll race you there!”

We took off running, almost knocking over four little Power Rangers and a gorilla.
Michael won, but I reached the candy bowl first. It was almost empty, but I poured the

remaining Snickers and Tootsie Pops into my basket.

Did you save any for me?” Michael whined.

“Here, catch!” I tossed him a used lollipop stick.

“Whatever!” He groaned. “Let’s go to the house next door.”

We darted over, trying to avoid the swarm of kids heading towards the same house. We
reached the house, gasping for breath, and we rang the doorbell. An elderly woman opened
the creaky door, and Michael winked at me. Time for a guilt trip.

“Happy Halloween, ma’am,” Michael began. “Our little brother is undergoing
chemotherapy for his leukemia tonight, and can’t Trick-or-Treat.”

“He was so disappointed,” I continued, “so we wanted to Trick-or-Treat for him, that
way he would at least have some candy, and wouldn’t be too bummed out. He was diagnosed
with depression also, and the last year has been very rough for him.”

The woman wiped a tear from her eye, and wordlessly handed us the entire bowl of

“Thank you for your generosity, and have a wonderful night,” we concluded.

We burst out laughing as the door closed softly behind us.

“Man, I can’t believe she actually bought it!” I exclaimed.

“Oh, and the whole depression thing just put her over the edge! She’s probably still
crying!” Michael said, doubled over with laughter.

We admired our stash, shoved a handful of Skittles into our mouths, and set out for
more candy.

“Hey, look over there!” Michael had spotted a lumpy, white sheet in the middle of the
road. We walked over to it, and realized that it was an abandoned pillow case, about halfway
filled with candy. We started dividing up the candy, when a piece of paper fell out of the bag.

“Wait, what’s that?” I asked, picking up the paper.

“I don’t know, but it looks like an address. Maybe there’s a party there! Come on,
Blake, let’s check it out!” Michael was practically jumping up and down with excitement, and I
am still amazed that he didn’t trip on his stilettos and break his neck. I nodded, and looked at
the address. 2276 Maple Lane, that was just down the street.

“Let’s go!” And with that, we made our way down the road, stopping at a few houses to
Trick-or-Treat. When we reached our destination, we were in shock. There was no party going
on, there weren’t any lights on in the house, there wasn’t even a candy bowl on the porch!

“What a rip off!” I screamed. “Let’s TP them!”

“WAIT!” Michael said, pointing to an object that was concealed by the front door’s
shadow. “I think I see candy!”

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There, right in front of me, was a full-size witch’s cauldron
filled to the brim with every type of candy imaginable! We shrieked like little girls, and danced
all around. JACKPOT! I plunged my hands immediately into the cauldron, grabbing everything
within my reach, and shoving it into my candy basket.

“Hey, Blake, the sign says to take just two pieces, I think you should listen to it.” Michael
said tentatively, not wanting my euphoric mood to disappear.

“Who freaking cares?!” I replied. “Stop being such a princess!”

“I’m just giving my opinion, but if you say so…”

I rolled my eyes at Michael, and went back to my stash. Suddenly, I felt something seize
my ankle, and pull me down. My head hit the sidewalk with a sickening crack, and I blacked
out…

***

I awoke to find myself hanging upside-down by my feet in a large, cavern-like room. A
glistening, fanged smile stood several inches from my face. I let out a blood-curdling scream
before an icy-cold hand covered my mouth, rendering me unable to speak. I looked up to see
who this madman was, and I realized that it was Michael!

My panicked eyes seemed to convey the message I was thinking to him, and he began
speaking. “You seemed a bit surprised, Blake. I suppose you want to know what is going on.”

What do you think, Smart One? I thought to myself. What in the world was going on

“Well, you see,” Michael began, “I tried to tell you to stop at two pieces of candy, but
you ignored me. That made me angry, and I saw what a greedy, miserable pig you are! No pun
intended…” He glanced at my costume and chuckled. I suddenly understood the irony of the
situation. “So, Blakie-roo, I’m going to let you in on a little secret of mine. Guess what, I’m a
vampire. Isn’t that so hilarious? Oh wait, funny for me, but not so much for you.

“You see, every Halloween, I set out to find the most gluttonous vermin in Sarasota, and
test them to see where their limit is. Guess what again, you set a new record! Now, I’m going
to suck you blood. Any questions?”

Michael uncovered my mouth, and I tried to wrap my head about what he was saying. A
vampire? Really?

“I guess not. Good night, Blake, and Happy Halloween!”

All of a sudden, my neck was in flames, and everything slowly faded to grey…

By Olivia
Age 14