Machete Mayhem
With bloodshot eyes and bloodlust for a grin; the mask I wear tonight pleases me. Wrapped in a trench coat and accompanying slouch, I feel transformed. I wink at the mirror then lean down to secure a loose boot lace.
I’ve got to be ready. Sunset passed recently; they’ll be coming.
Done tying, I don my leather gloves and pick up the blood-stained machete. I mentally dissect the plan. Surprise remains critical. The key: opening the door at the right time. For maximum effect, I must strike before they ring the bell.
I hear them. Making no pretense of stealth, a group of them stumble along the walk towards the door where I crouch, waiting.
Time to get serious.
I feel alive with anticipation. Any thoughts of my activities’ morality vanquished. Power and passion surge through me.
No mercy!
Shadows on the porch cross the smoky glass panel as I grab the handle and turn gently. Yanking the door inward, I rise to full height, swing the machete wildly and scream.
Darth Vader and Harry Potter run, the three wise men froze and the little mermaid cries.
Success!
I smile and reach back for the nearby bowl of Halloween candy.
