Probably. Why? Largely because I don’t participate in trick-or-treating.

I’m a bit of a hypocrite because I loved trick-or-treating as a child. It used to be such an innocent experience, and we traipsed up and down our blocks, getting candy from everyone (except the frumpy piano teacher across the street who would give us pencils - WTF?), and then meeting up later to compare loot. The only thing we had to do was make sure that everything we received was individually wrapped and not a piece of fruit with a razor blade in it. I was happy to forego the fruit, as long as my Reese’s Peanut Butter cups were still legal.

Of course that was back when my parents knew all of the neighbors, and even had the 411 on what kind of candy they would be giving out. There were a certain few houses that I was told to avoid — people that my mother didn’t know or trust — but other than that, it was all good! I often groused about having to wear my coat over my spooky costume, depending on the weather, but once I got over that, I was all about the treats.

Ahhh the memories. Well, not anymore. Another of life’s purities that has been ruined by the nefarious and the ghetto.

Granted I’m rarely home on Halloween night. I’m usually out somewhere in a skanky costume, doing some trick-or-treating on my own. Last year I was away with my then boyfriend having a fun NY excursion. Sigh! But I digress.

Even if I’m home, I don’t plan for T or T. I refuse to buy candy, because you know where most of that ends up, don’t you? That’s right! Plastered on my ass! (It’s my own fault — “One for you, two for me, two for me, one for you”) I don’t think so.

I take it a step further. I turn off all my lights and lock my gate. It isn’t that I’m trying to be a curmudgeon, it’s just that the kids in my neighborhood can be a bit scary.

Not the little ones who trick or treat when there’s still some daylight, and whose parents have planned their costumes (and probably plan to eat most of the candy themselves). I usually miss their visits because I never get home from work before dark. Most normal parents don’t let their kids roam from door to door at night.

I’m talking about the older ones – the ones who have limited parental supervision and are taller and significantly heavier than me who knock on the door with authority and yell “trick or treat” with much bass in their voices as though they’re going to scare me into giving them larger portions of chocolate. And do I want to contribute to the increased widening of those overgrown walking hormones? I REALLY don’t think so.

Nor do I care to submit a handful of expensive Snicker’s mini bars, or my coveted Reese’s cups, to people whom I suspect are closer to 20 than 10, show up between 9:00 and 11:00, and who haven’t bothered to even THINK about a costume. They MIGHT wear black ski-masks, which I can’t help but suspect are parts of their normal lives as criminals. The majority are just walking around in their undecorated jeans and jackets, banging on doors, expecting a handout. So, do I give candy, or even open the door for grown men with full beards attempting to fill their bags? Again, I SERIOUSLY don’t think so.

What’s happened to the purity of our society! I can only hope my house doesn’t get egged. But then I guess kids these days don’t do anything benign like house egging. I’ll get a drive-by shooting instead, and as the bullets enter my window, I’ll hear pre-pubescent voices screaming: “Gimme my candy, bitch!”