Happy Hallo-Wheels

  Wheelchairs (especially electric) are helpful when collecting large amounts of candy.

  Halloween was my favorite event when I was a kid. It combined the two things I loved; playing dress up and eating chocolate. For awhile we didn't live in a neighborhood that was good for trick-or-treating. My parents weren't big on it anyway, so there were a few years when all we had was the local fall festivals at church (lots of costume restrictions and very little candy).

  Finally, when I was 14 we moved into a neighborhood full of kids. When Halloween came around, my siblings and I were eager to don our costumes and collect candy.

"You kids are too old for us to take you trick or treating," Our parents told us, when we brought up the evening plans.

"But we haven't been in a long time!" My little sister whined. She was only ten, still a child. I could see how supremely unfair this was to her. I was struck with an idea.

"I'm fourteen now, old enough to watch them on the weekends when you guys go to work. Can't I take them trick-or-treating tonight?" I offered. "I have my electric Wheelchair, so it will be fine."

  My parents considered this.

"Okay, but you kids need to be back by nine and don't leave the neighborhood." This was directed mostly at my thirteen year old brother, who was unafraid of walking anywhere on his own.

"Thanks sis!" my siblings said to me.

  That night my sister and I put on our costumes. I was a ninja and my sister was a princess. As for my brother, he went rebel. We left the house at 7pm, as the daylight was fading.

"Would you be okay if I went with my friends?" My brother asked. "I promise I'll be back by curfew."

"They told us to stick together." I hesitated. I wanted to obey the rules, but my younger siblings had the tendency to squabble a lot and just watching my sister would be easier.

"I'll get you guys some extra candy," he offered. It was then that I noticed he was holding a giant garbage bag. Another one was sticking out from his overstuffed pocket.

"Do you really think you're going to get that much candy?" I laughed.

"Duh," he said.

  I looked down at my small bucket.

"Forget this," I said. "Go back inside and get the pillowcases off of our beds," I directed at my sister. She took the buckets inside and came back out with four pillowcases.

"There's no way you girls are going to fill those," my brother taunted. "You won't even leave the neighborhood."

"Wanna make a wager?" I offered.

"Winner gets to go through loser's candy and claim their favorites - money and toys included," my brother said.

"Deal," we all agreed.

  So we split up, my brother off with his friends and my sister and I with ours. My sister stood on the back of my wheelchair. I held the candy bags in my lap. We traversed through three streets before the weight of the candy started to become tiresome.

"It's a good thing you have your wheelchair, or this would be really hard to do," my sister said as I drove us to the door of another house.

"One of the pros of having my wheelchair," I agreed.

  We collected more candy, but soon my arms began to ache.

"I wanna take this home, but it's close to curfew. I don't want to be told we can't go back out," I told my sister. It was 8:30.

  We decided to take the chance. When we arrived home, the living room was dark, except for one lamp. Our parents had gone to bed fully expecting that we would follow the rules. My sister and I dropped the bags of candy off in the bedroom. It was still fifteen minutes till curfew.

"Can we go back out for ten minutes?" My sister asked.

"Okay, but let's stay close. Our neighbors might have some extra candy."

  We took one pillow case and we back out. We managed to fill it a quarter of the way up when I saw my brother and one of his friends carrying two large garbage bags nearly full of candy.

"Where did you get all of that?" I asked in shock.

"I have my secrets," my brother grinned. He saw the single pillowcase in my hand.

"Slow night?" he asked.

"No, we have lots more in our room. Mom and dad are asleep by the way."

"Cool, can I go back out?"

"No, we have to go in," I said. "And your friend can take that other bag of candy, I've got a feeling dad is going to be pretty upset about this."

  Turns out, I was right. The next morning my dad nearly blew a fuse when he saw the garbage bag and pillowcases full of candy.

"You three are officially too old for trick-or-treating," he said after collecting the candy from our rooms.

  He poured some of it into a candy dish, he then placed the dish atop the refrigerator (not as an attempt to keep it out of reach, but to symbolically tell us that we were not to touch it without asking). The rest of our prized collection went promptly into the garbage.

  Little did he know that the previous night I'd warned my siblings this might happen. We worked together all night to secure our favorite pieces of candy. The wager of who collected the most no longer an issue, we were united with salvaging what I correctly assumed would be our final Halloween trick-or-treating together.