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The Night of the Candy Corn Fangs On Halloween night, Buster, wearing a too tight Superman outfit, was looking into the mirror and trying to make fangs out of candy corn. It was hard. When stuck on his two center teeth, he looked like a retarded rabbit. When stuck on his outside teeth, he looked like he’d avoided his napkin at dinner. His pointy teeth were just right. He was Vampire Superman, king of the night. Only kryptonite plus garlic could kill him. Tike, a year younger than Buster, came into the bathroom dressed up as Eeyore, dragging Pooh bear. “Leave Poop bear out of this,” Buster said. “Pooh Bear.” “Mom says honey goes right through you. Anyway, you need candy corn fangs.” “Eeyore doesn’t have fangs. He’s just sad and slow,” Tike protested. “But what if he could stop being sad? What if biting people’s necks could make him happy?” Tike was convinced by this logic. He impaled candy corn on his teeth. Both boys bared their fangs in the mirror and thought they looked ferocious. “Let’s bite Mom,” Buster said, which of course was the obvious next step. They snuck down the hallway on tiptoes, peering around the corner to see Mom at the dining room table, then rushed upon her shrieking and sunk their candy corn fangs deep into her arm. Mom moaned and slumped to the ground. Buster cheered and did a victory lap. Tike did his victory dance, which looked like Eeyore doing the Macarena. Mom didn’t move. “Mom,” they both said. “Mom?” At the moment when Buster knelt beside her and touched her head, she jerked up snarling, bearing huge fangs, real white ones, and the boys shrieked like little girls and ran away to their beds where they shivered and shivered, hoping not to be eaten alive, even after Mom came in laughing and told them she’d heard them plotting and showed them her denture-like set of fake fangs. They sure learned their lesson that night: always plot candy corn attacks quietly. |  | ||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||||
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