Editorial: Trick, not treat

Hidden within this article is a special message from us here at The Brown and White (hint: first letter).

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Harry stumbled down the alleyway, his lab coat soaked with sweat.

A man wearing a Teletubby suit rounded the corner and shouldered Harry, disappearing down the road. Sounds of grunting and mumbling faded into the distance.

“Very rude,” Harry said to no one in particular. A rumbling in his stomach, however, took priority over the strange encounter. He stopped by a gas station for food.

Each step toward home felt longer and longer after eating. When Harry briefly wondered where he was, memories of the night came flooding back.

A pregame in a friend’s apartment.

Strolling down the street toward a party.

Proudly introducing himself as the infamous Rick.

Owning the dance floor.

Overconfidence in thinking he owned the dance floor.

Kneeling to take a breather, very far from the dance floor.

Yells across the street snapped Harry back to the present. He glanced toward the noise.

Herds of students exited a nearby house party. The crowd of costumes reeked of Halloween, shrieking with laughter as partygoers quickly dispersed through the neighborhood.

Alone again, Harry trudged onward.

Lights flickered across the street. Houses creaked in the wind as the smell of leaves filled the air. Harry could only describe the mood in one word.

Lonely.

Only, he wasn’t alone.

Walking on the opposite side of the street was a clown. He spotted Harry and froze, eyes locked in terror. Neither had the will to move.

Equal in size, Harry finally decided to walk, quickening his pace with every step. A block later, the clown faded into memory.

Eerie noises filled the air. Harry walked faster.

None of the lights were on when Harry finally reached his doorstep. He keyed in, breathing a sigh of relief as he put his food on the table and headed off to bed. Just then, a loud bang sounded from the kitchen. Harry exited his room and saw something he never expected.

Behind the door, the Teletubby took a seat at the table, hands full of food. The man lifted his gaze across the room. Mortified, he threw on his Teletubby head and ran past a stupefied Harry — but not before grabbing as much food as possible.

Outside the house, the Teletubby scrambled over the fence, containers spilling from his hands. Harry hoped the strange man was happy. The night couldn’t have ended any worse.

One crazy night of Halloweek down, too many more to go.