The Story that Wrote Itself

Some stories just write themselves.

 It's rainy...almost snowy...here in Ohio.  A crummy night for trick-or-treat indeed.  I really didn't expect many trick-or-treaters, but to my surprise they showed up in droves.  I live in a closed neighborhood so traffic is really slow here.  Parents can walk on the sidewalk while the kids stroll from door-to-door.

At any rate, it's Halloween night and I'm home alone except for my 150-pound Newfoundland, Sam and my little half-dachshund-half terrier, Annabelle.

I have a front door with no screen...just the door.  Every time the doorbell rang the dogs bounded to the door with me.  They were enjoying every minute of the holiday spirit. You would have thought it was Christmas!

Since Sam is so big, I was holding him with my left hand (so he wouldn't accidentally kiss anyone to death) and passing out candy with my right.  All was going well...really well.

Then it happened.

 Annabelle spied a cute little Spiderman holding a pumpkin that was filled to the brim.  She saw her moment and took it.  Annabelle zipped out the front door.  She knocked Spiederman's pumpkin onto the porch and used her hunting instinct to its maximum.  She sniffed out the biggest peanut butter cup known to mankind and bolted back into the house.

While Spiderman was deciding whether or not to cry Sam and Annabelle got into a wrestling match right there in front of all the little ghosts and goblins.  I'm not sure if it was Spiderman or not, but one of the kids said, "OH SH --!" 

If I could have I would have slammed the front door.  There were too many tails, legs, hands, feet, and pumpkins in the mix.  What did I do? 

I can wrestle with the best of them.  I GOT THAT PEANUT BUTTER CUP.  That magnificent piece of candy was mine!  I took it from my little thugs without killing myself during my slip and slide maneuvers on the floor. 

Then I stood up slowly and carefully and tried to look dignified.

 All the onlookers finally decided the entertainment was over and moved on to the next house.  Instead of passing out candy I should have charged admission.

You just never know when a story is going to write itself.