>Full moon’s out.
>Tonight is the night for spooks and creepers.
>All Hallow’s Eve.
>And I get stuck with daughter duty.
>My wife had to skip out early so that she could go to her work’s Halloween party.
>Apparently she was in charge of bringing the booze, which I doubt the company allows.
>But, I digress.
>I get to take my daughter trick or treating.
>Now, my daughter always picks the most mundane costumes.
>Just how she is, not that I’m complaining.
>This year, she wanted to be a ghost.
>Not too hard to pull off.
>Get some sheets.
>Good to go.
>Daughter is an Ignis.
>Literally, always on fire.
>She has to wear gloves to even touch anyone.
>At her coolest, she could get paint to dry in 2 seconds flat.
>Never fear, Fantastic Father has the solution!
>Order some more flame retardant bed sheets.
>Solution: Cut two holes in that and boom! Ghost.
>That’s gonna hit the Christmas budget.
>Go out trick or treating.
>Grab the ’57 Sportster and skull mask.
>Ghost Rider costume for the win.
>Wife explicitly said, don’t let her ride on the motorcycle.
>Not even gonna argue.
>Daddy needs some candy too, if you know what I mean?
>Neighbor’s kids and mine are trick or treating together.
>Normal couple, we do cards on Thursday together.
>They have two other daughters, which is good for my little girl.
>Friends and what not.
>On to the treats.
>First few houses were good to us.
>There was even a full sized snickers.
>You heard right, full sized.
>Gotta love old people.
>My daughter runs along the sidewalk to the next block of houses.
>She is like a human flashlight for the other kids, even through the ghost sheet.
>I keep watch of her from behind, about ten feet away on the side of the street.
>Doing this while barely coasting my Harley.
>Turned off of course, there are children around.
>She is enjoying herself so much, I could almost melt.
>The last house she comes back from told her that the house at the end of the block has wax lips.
>That’s like gold for trick or treaters.
>We’re already late on schedule.
>She gives me that puppy-dog-eyes look and I give in.
>We make the trip down to the very last house.
>Right before we get there, three boys around my daughters age come behind her.
>They start pestering her, “Hey what are you supposed to be, tampax?”
>She keeps walking.
>Like a good girl, ignoring the bullies.
>They circle in front of her, blocking her.
>”You heard me, what are you?”
>The ring leader is some chubby kid in a wanna-be Hulk costume.
>The two goons behind him are dressed as a pirate and a budget skeleton.
>My daughter says, “I’m a ghost…”
>Now, I know what my wife has taught me, is to let the kids sort out their own problems.
>They need to learn things for the future, blah blah blah.
>I ain’t having this shit.
>Cruise the bike around behind the kids.
>Ringleader is laughing, “You look more like a condom than a ghost.”
>That did it.
>See there’s this thing you get when you marry an Ignis, a hot one at that.
>You get more emotional than you usually get, there are hot flashes.
>And occasionally, you can spark flames.
>Top part of my mask catches fire.
>Same time, I rev the Harley up.
>That was enough to get the kids’ attention, especially when they jumped 2ft off the ground at the motor starting.
>The terror on their faces was priceless.
>Guess it was just something about a 6 ft tall biker with a skull head.
>And on fire.
>Wanna-be Hulk hi-tails it like there was a buffet down the street.
>The scared sidekicks follow suite.
>I get off that momentary satisfaction of scarring little kids and look to see my daughter laughing.
>”Daddy! Your hair’s on fire!”
>Cue the OHSHIT.jpeg
>I pat my hair down, and put the fire out, although now I’ve got some burnt split ends.
>My daughter is laughing so hard she almost spilled her candy.
>She hugs me and says those words that melts a Father’s heart, “I love you, Daddy.”
>I get her up to the last house on the block and we get the long desired wax lips.
>My cute little girl running around with fang lips, just adds to the heart warmth she gives me.
>It’s almost time for the Missus to be home.
>Cue OHSHIT.jpeg again.
>Pick up my little girl, “Sweetie, you wanna ride Daddy’s bike with him? It’ll be fun!”
>Her eyes lit up more than they should, “YES!!!!”
>”But don’t tell your mother.”
>Pinky swears it.
>I feel better now because of that.
>Get her in front of me, and we take off back down the suburban streets.
>Gave her the biggest candy bar in her bag, and said she’ll have it in the morning guaranteed.
>Sleepy eyed, she slipped out of costume and into bed.
>Tucked her in and kissed her goodnight.
>Put out the light, and she went to sleep.
>Ditch the mask, grab a beer and drop on the couch.
>Dunno how long I sat there before I heard a “Yoo-hoo~”
>I look up and swore I saw an angel.
>My wife, stood in the doorway, in her Halloween costume.
>Black leotard with sleeves.
>And a wide, brimmed Witch’s hat.
>That outfit, with her hot-red skin tone and buxom breasts, made me harder than Chinese algebra.
>”How was the trick or treating~?”
>Gave her the run down of the three stooges and why my hair is smoked like holiday ham.
>She combs through my hair, “Aww, I’m sorry honey, but you did so good~ She must’ve been really happy.”
>I tell her that the little one is tucked in bed.
>”Oh? Is she all tuckered out?”
>Flashes some cleavage from her costume, “I guess it’s Daddy’s turn for some treats~”
>She flaunts her curvy ass into our bedroom and puts a finger to her lip.
>”Sweetie, bring some Reese’s cups too~”
>More wood than a lumber yard.
>Fuck’n Christ, I love Halloween!
>Full moon’s out.