This is trick-or-treater number three for the contest I am having. Is he in costume? Is he for real? Give him a name, and tell us who he is. Winners announced on Halloween.
This is trick-or-treater number three for the contest I am having. Is he in costume? Is he for real? Give him a name, and tell us who he is. Winners announced on Halloween.
Previously: Ten Trick or Treaters: Two
Next up: Ten Trick or Treaters: four
Mr. Alfonso Bones, deceased 12 years, was getting a bit bored of his grave. Late one night, he decided to pop his head up into the big world to see what was going on. Alfonso was delighted to see ghosts, goblins and one rather square shaped yellow fellow in a pair of brown pants wandering around, shrieking and gobbling candy by the handful. Remembering the fun he had had on Halloween as a boy and sporting what could only be described as the perfect costume, Alfonso clambered out of his grave, borrowed some clothes from the cart of a nearby sleeping bum, and frolicked out to join the fun!
Mr. Mudge, all made of bones
Whines, and kicks, and shrieks, and moans
You'd think he'd be all fine and dandy…
He has a great big bag of candy!
But Mr. Mudge, all made of bones,
Really wanted ice cream cones.
Petticoat Pete doesn't trick or treat
In fact, he doesn't even eat
He simply found this lost bag of children food
And, thinking he might do some good,
Went door to door saying "lost and found"
But with no lips the only sound
He seemed to make was grinding teeth
Oh, and it just so happened to be Halloween.
As he picked up the full bag
Harold felt the thing sag,
nearly spilling all over the streets.
Being all skin and bones
as you're visiting homes
certainly gets you those sympathy treats!
Here we find poor Edgar
Alone and out of sorts
He went out trick-or-treating
And made the news reports
He's quite the fine eccentric
Though most would call him weird
He bought a beard and mustache comb
But doesn’t have a beard
He bastes his turkey backwards
And butters shut his blinds
He loves the taste of lemons
But only eats the rinds
He cleans his suit with toothpaste
To mask the undead smell
Of day-old brat and sauerkraut
That clings to him like hell
He parks himself on porches
When he feels most content
To share his stirring threnody,
"The Candy Corn Lament"
Candy Cornelius, Used Candy Salesman.
Sometimes he carries his candy in a briefcase.