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by Caroline Allard

It’s Halloween in town, the sky’s purple as grape

In the streets a willow walks along with an ape

Our hero is a guy that just loves a sweet snack

(For the sake of the guidelines we will call him Jack)

Jack came home from the long run, his sweet tooth aching

He could almost feel it, the candies were waiting!

Call it superstition or refrained gluttony

He glanced in his bag first, to welcome the goodies

Oh Great Satanist Lord of the Candies on Earth

Why would you permit such a painful thing! It hurts!

For amongst the candies at the top of the bag

Lied an apple. Good grief! Those health freaks were a drag

While Jack took the fruit off with a disgusted stare

The apple jumped at him and shouted in the air:

"We apples have enough of being snickered at

The revenge will be messy! You’re dead, little brat!"

The murderous apple was aiming at Jack’s throat

But the candy bag started to quiver and jolt

A special kind of treat appeared out of the blue

It was the tootsie pops jumping to the rescue!

Soon thirteen tootsie pops took their turn in a row

Fighting fruity possession with powerful blows

Those candies were the stuff for mythical folk tales

And a tootsie pop cult was bound to raise the sales!

After the great battle, the damn fruit was at loss

Beaten up in a pulp, it was now apple sauce

The tootsies were panting too, and paying the price

Cause one of them was dead, sugary sacrifice

If when they were thirteen they were magic as hell

Now that they were just twelve, they laid there, no more spell

For his lost friends, Jack said a medireview prayer

Then thought „They’re still tootsies!“ and ate them like a bear

And he munched and he sucked and he crunched and he squeezed

And he grinned and he laughed and he was oh, so pleased

But hold on a minute, cause there’s a tragic turn

You guessed it, poor old Jack had a lesson to learn

See, despite his victory and his ravenous feast

Jack felt as he would need at his bedside a priest

Cause as grand as he was, he could never escape

Ritual stomach cramps, Halloween’s brutal fate