[ WP ] what seems to be a normal Halloween for most people happens to be the largest battlefield you 've ever seen

Every year, every goddamn year, it's always the same. The rest of the world changes, but Halloween, Halloween never does. I always walk up to each house, ring that bell, and get called cute. Those bastards. They do n't see me for what I really am. If they knew what I had been through, well, they would n't think I was cute then. 
 
 
 
 My first deployment, I was 4 years old, dressed as a pumpkin. My parents were with me, trying to shield me from the harsh realities of the yearly tradition, but I saw it all. They guided me for the next few years, until I was 8. God bless their souls; they just wanted to keep me safe. But they could n't. Nobody could. 
 
 
 
 They do n't get it. It's a goddamn battlefield out here, and I'm a fucking warrior. This year, I'll be 10, wearing the battle armour of my master, Kylo Ren. Last year, I was the goddamn Batman. You know how many clowns I punched through to score that sweet, sweet, chocolate gold? Too many. Hell, I do n't even remember how many, that's how many it was. I still see their crying faces every time I close my eyes. 
 
 
 
 I do n't let nobody stand in between me and the high of sugar. Halloween's the one time of year when I can get my fix and not be judged. The other soldiers? Yeah, they try to fight me for the candy, some even cry when I hit them. It's not nice, it's not fun, it's not pleasant, but that's war for you. Sometimes, you have to resort to extreme measures. One kid, Billy McGill, nearly took my head off with a plastic pumpkin he had filled with candy and carried around like a purse. I laughed in his face and told him to get a real man's weapon, as I struck the finishing blow with my pillow case of Mike N Ikes. To the victor go the spoils. I left him there, to lick his wounds, with nothing but an empty plastic bitch-pumpkin. 
 
 
 
 Last year, I got jumped by a robot, a princess, a knight, and the Joker, appropriately enough. Apparently it was “ payback ” for being a “ bully, ” or some bullshit like that. Fuck them. Who the Hell do they think I am? I took them all down easily enough, those punk-ass kids. They do n't know war the way I do. I eat, sleep, and breathe the Halloween wars. I train all year. There ai n't nobody in the whole cul-de-sac that can swing a pillow case like me, nobody that can escape cotton cobwebs like me. Nobody that has Halloween flashbacks the way I do. Any Halloween decoration out there, and I mean any one, I can use as a weapon. Think you're tough? I'll bash your face with a plastic gravestone. Do n't even try me. 
 
 
 
 So open that door and call me cute one more time, Motherfucker. I dare you. I double dog dare you. Because if you knew who I really was under the mask, you would n't see a cute kid. You'd see a goddamn soldier with too much blood and melted chocolate on his hands.
