Minkchocolates

Bobbing With The Kardashians

Monday. Fred drops by the Café to pick up a spare cash drawer for his Halloween costume pop-up shop. He tries to convince me that more people than not want to dress up as vampires, the Hulk, or Pan-Am stewardesses circa 1963, in order to get drunk in public.

“What happened to going over to someone’s house with just a pair of Groucho Marx glasses, and bobbing for apples?” I ask.

“Two words. Un Sanitary.” he says.

“Maybe. But apples are healthy, so it’s sort of a wash”, I reply.

Tuesday. My 3-1/2 year old announces that this year he wants to trick or treat as Spiderman. My wife comes home from Superstore with a bagged and branded size small. Although he picked it out himself, he’s very concerned about costume authenticity, and being able to spin real webs. The concept of hitting up strangers for candy doesn’t necessarily appeal to him, and he can’t be convinced that carrying a small pillowcase is integral to the look.

In spite of the fact that our neighbourhood is experiencing a birthing boom, the number of kids trick or treating at our door has been decreasing steadily every year. Early indications are that this year will be no different. Some kids are going to the mall, some kids will only be allowed to canvas their own street, and most will have flashlight wielding adult accompaniment.

“When I was a kid, it wasn’t uncommon for a pack of us to run wild over an entire district, coming home once or even twice to drop our loot, before heading out again,” I reminisce to my wife.

“The chocolate bars were full sized and you could count on at least a half dozen homemade popcorn balls,” I continued. “Safety First was not yet a slogan in our lexicon.”

Wednesday. Mrs. Mink tasks me with the bulk purchase of mini Cadbury confections from Costco. We agree on volume, and at the same time, I negotiate the right to stay home and dole out the goods. This year, Halloween falls on a Monday, and Monday Night Football will be there to keep me company in between doorbells.

The downside to winning the right to stay home and avoid sidewalk small talk, is having the big smile and the big stiff arm wave working for the attendant parents, who will furtively suss out their kids bags, expecting this to be the year I relent and hand out PB Wannabe’s, Queen Cakes and No Grumpy’s.

Fred calls. “Last chance to have me put aside a Kissing Booth costume for you,” he announces. “It’s proving very popular with guys who think they’ll hook up with all the Kim Kardashian’s that will be out in force this year.”

“I’ll take my big butts with the point spread,” I say. “But if you see Kimmy bobbing for anything, send me a picture.”

 Marc Lieberman

Mink Chocolates Inc.,
Mink A Chocolate Cafe Ltd.

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