Halloween is my favorite night. No one notices me. It is the one night of the year a creepy Goth girl doesn’t stand out. With everyone dressed up to go get drunk and laid or to trick or treat, no one suspects that this is my everyday look. The big ass blood tinged knife I am carrying, is believed to be nothing but a prop. It doesn’t get a second look. I skulk along the sidewalk, watching for the right homes. I knock on the doors with babysitters and brats too young to go trick or treating. Surprise the stupid babysitter with the tidbit that my knife is not a simple prop, but the tool of my trade. I can always spot the bad babysitters. The ones who sneak their boyfriends in to fuck and raid the liquor cabinet instead of watching the precious little ones trusted in their care. Stupid cunts.
No one pays any mind to the blood curdling screams coming from the homes of the privileged on Halloween night. It is just expensive sound effects to anyone who can hear the screams. But what is really going on behind the walls of gated homes throughout my community isn’t discovered until the parents arrive home. Dismembered dead babysitters and castrated barely alive boyfriends become Halloween decorations in the homes of the wealthy. Bad babysitters get their limbs cut off with a rusty old saw. I save my knife to slit their mouths from ear to ear. I cut out their tongues. I stitch up their mouths so they cannot cry and whine. I chop off the cocks and balls of the boyfriends. My little apprentices feed all body parts to their family pet.
The little ones watch and help. The brats love to assist in the mutilation and death of bad babysitters. They think it is a game. Just a Halloween game. They finger paint in the blood. Parents come home, find their wee ones sitting in blood, playing with their new life size dead dolls. Crimes are blamed on tweakers, not some Goth girl from their community. The brats never tell. They want me to come back and play with their parents.