a quick one.

I'd stepped out of the building to buy some dinner, and was promptly ambushed by a very short skeleton. At least, I think that's what his costume is, it had horizontal white stripes on black, and to be honest, it didn't really go very well with his purple hairy monster mask. Major fashion faux pas. And he chimed:

"Trick or treat?"

Aghast. "I'm sorry, I don't have any sweets at the moment."

"What? You don't?"

Helplessly: "No, I don't."

And he burst out crying? Omg, what are the odds? He wailed incessantly forever, and I kept shushing him, furtively looking left and right for any ferocious parental dragons, ready to pounce on me with handcuffs on the counts of child abuse. I capitulated, fishing in my pocket:

"Errm, I have two quid?"

He immediately sobered up (I can't really tell behind that mask, but the sobbing noise had stopped) and he took the money from my outstretched hand:

"Cheers, mam! Happy Halloween!"

Mam? MAM?!! I may have been sloppily dressed, and horribly pale with work stress, but I assure you I can still pass off for a uni student. Alas, not only have I been officially relegated to Auntyhood, I'm also two quid poorer. I then watched the little cherub skip down the street to the following block of flats in search of his next victim, a little amazed that at the grand old age of 23, I had just been manipulated by a kid's (fake?) tears.

Ah, this doesn't bode well for my future teaching career.