Trick or Gravy

Column

Candy is boring.

Kids know what to expect when they treat-or-treat - chocolate bars, suckers, gummies, etc. They grow uninterested in and apathetic toward the routine, resorting to other methods of fun, such as egging my car and mummifying me with toilet paper.

So I was left with a choice for this trick or treat night. Either I could fortify my home and fight back with a pellet gun or I could change my offering. I abandoned Snickers and Jelly Bellies. I embraced Jimmy Dean’s sausages-wrapped-in-pancakes-on-sticks, offering the original version, blueberry and chocolate chip.

I planned to situate the treats on a serving platter and have bowls of gravy and syrup for dipping.

My mistake was telling my spiteful neighbor Delmar about my plan. The next day, he revealed to me he, too, was planning to offer sausages and pancakes on sticks to treat-or-treaters, and on top of that, he would be handing out Hot Pockets.

“I’m just going to sit the microwave on the porch with heating instructions,” Delmar said. Delmar can be very malicious and unpleasant.

Our rivalry reminds me of the competition between Bob Evans and Kentucky Fried Chicken. That began when KFC introduced its “Famous Bowl,” which included mashed potatoes, fried chicken, corn, gravy and cheese, effectively mixing together its entire menu and removing one step from the digestion process. (KFC later made the dish more appealing by shoving a biscuit in the concoction.)

Bob Evans reacted with its Knife and Fork Sandwich, which had a scoop of mashed potatoes, gravy and pulled pork piled on toast.

And so is the battle between Delmar and me.

“Guess what I’m doing,” I said to Delmar with a smirk. “I’m going to mix mashed potatoes, hamburger, pepperoni, cheese and potato chips together in a big vat and leave it out for trick-or-treaters.”

The next day: “I bought a trough from a farmer,” Delmar told me with a sleazy little scoff. “I’m going to fill it with gravy, scalloped potatoes, green beans, baked beans and popcorn shrimp.”

I responded immediately.

“Well, I’ve added éclairs to my recipe,” I gloated. “I’m sticking éclairs in the middle of the mashed potatoes. And before I do that, I’m going to inject them with frosting and butter.”

Delmar just had to one-up me.

“I’m going to build a diving board for my trough!” he exclaimed.

“Really?” I responded. “Well, I’m going to have a tub of gravy with apples floating in it. And the kids can stick their faces in the gravy to get the apples! And biscuits! They can bob for biscuits in the tub of gravy.”

“I’m going to dump caramel on them!” Delmar yelled.

This went on for a few more minutes, and then I began working frantically to uphold my claims, smashing potatoes, mixing gravy and hunting woodland creatures for their various meats.

When trick-or-treaters came to my house Oct. 30, they thought they’d encountered a Golden Corral on steroids.

And I bet Delmar was wishing he’d just stuck with Junior Mints.