This year we had a cat and an army man tour the neighborhood on All Hallow's Eve--not a lamb or a hobo! But what a dismal Halloween it was. We only got 2 trick-or-treaters at our house, a 50% decrease from last year. And you know the economy is bad when every fifth house is closed down, unwilling to hand out candy. We did a lot of walking without very good results. Talking with the other moms in the area, I think we'll have a party next year and forget about candy.
Our real cats didn't like Halloween either. They took the "Trick" option and decided to spread a few fleas around the house. The rotten rodents. But the experience has been rather enlightening. Erik's been bitten at least a dozen times, but I don't get a bite even when the flea sits right on my arm. It's like they don't see me. And when Erik went out of town last week, leaving me as the sole food source in the room, they still didn't bite.
Why? Because I'm a vampire. I've been telling the kids since Twilight came out, but nobody believed me until now. Yeah, now it's obvious: the cold as ice skin, lack of blood (it took 5 pricks last time to get a decent blood sample), favoring night hours, and never turning down a juicy steak. Fangs? Sorry, three of those were removed in order to avoid braces. Or at least that's the story the orthodontist gave me. Ask my mom.
So now my secret's out. I'll never age. I'll never hold a tan. And I'm going to live forever. But the real advantage? No fleas bothering me. Sorry, Hun.
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