How do you "feel": apathetic
A time for Empaths everywhere to dress up and pretend to be like me. Fully clothed monsters. It's actually quite flattering. Fun things always happen around the holidays. The sheer mass of people trampled to death on Black Friday every year fills me with unsubstantiated glee.
And of course along with your cleverly put together holiday monsters, Halloween is also a time for true creatures of the night to slither about unmolested. Most particularly those of the Child-loving variety. The one time of year it's not creepy to ask a little boy if he wants some candy and you truly expect these ever-patient and stigmatized individuals to let such an occasion pass?! You wish.
I actually find such people to be fascinating. Children. These people victimize poor innocent little children, which I admit doesn't effect me as I'm sure it should but still-- children? How dull. I've met more than a few child philanderers in my day, mostly as a child, and I must tell you, they are some of the nicest fuckers you will ever meet.
Now I know you're imagining big scary axe wielding predators and I'm not going to deny that, but no one considers how they lure the kiddies in. They're very kind, understanding and oh so vert patient. They're the helpful neighbor of the criminal world. Walking home alone? They'll give you a ride! Lost, can't find your mommy or daddy? They'll lead you right to them! Need a job? You could mow their lawn... and perhaps maybe after you're all hot and sweaty from all that work you could come inside for some ice cold lemonade? It's absolutely obscene.
And the holidays are their favorite time of year. But not just pedophiles-oh lord no. Many of your friendly neighborhood loonies are more than ready to come out to play after a long year of... being looney. These are the crazies that go out on a beautiful night like I'm positive tonight will be, and go and ruin it with their very brutish and amateur psychoreligious murders. Every year we see these ghoulish mortals a few crayons short of a box, on the news, with outrageously delightful headlines scrawled over their orange jumpsuit covered bodies. "Man eats baby, police find mother in oven," "Local army commander enjoys wearing little girl's panties, more at Eleven."
Perhaps it's the moon. If Werewolves can get a bit edgy around a full moon, why can't the rest of us? It stands to reason if a seemingly normal human can violently rip out of his clothes and morph into a rabid dog-creature just by glimpsing it, a man can be influenced by the moon to wear little pink panties. It seems only reasonable.
But maybe I'm just a tad on edge. I do, as you well know, hate the holidays. Happy people, happily prancing around, expecting me to act happy. It's a tough job being a psychopath, and we are sorely unappreciated for our efforts. Much better than being a Kiddie Diddler though, they sure do get all the sour apples. I would hate to have to be on the prowl on such a lovely night as tonight.