When Martin was five, he dressed up like a pumpkin for Halloween. It's the first Halloween he can actually remember, although he’s not very sure if that is good or bad. He remembers waddling around in the big, round, orange sphere carrying a matching pumpkin basket full of candy. His mother had painted his cheeks orange and (much to his father’s dismay) had painted his lips red. On his head, he wore a plastic orange hat with a green vine sprouting from the top. His mother had said he was the cutest Fitzgerald she had ever seen and he had been proud of this fact. His father looked at him disdain and disappointment (even though, at that age, Martin didn’t know what those were).

His mother, ignoring the objections of his father, took Martin out trick or treating on Halloween night. He had been so excited, so happy, tottering around in his pumpkin costume, collecting as much candy as he could. Martin would tug on his mother’s hand when were stopped by other mothers who only wanted to chat about how much Martin had grown and how cute he was. Martin wanted none of that – only candy.

They had gone around to all the houses on Martin’s road and were on the third house on the next street when his mother was once again stopped. Martin tugged and tugged, wanting to continue, but she would pat Martin on the head and tell him to behave, in the kind and gentle way only a mother could. This did not appease Martin. He stood momentarily, thinking that he could go to the next house by himself. He was five, after all, more than ready to take care of himself.

His mother did not notice as Martin walked up the steps of the yellow house and knocked oak door. The woman opened the door looked at him curiously, wondering why on earth such a young child was by himself, but he smiled sweetly and held out his pumpkin bucket for candy. She gave him a handful of smarties and he thanked her as he waddled back down the steps. The procedure for the second house went the same way, except the old man there gave out tootsie rolls.

On the way to the third house, Martin turned around to find his mother. She was still chatting, so he continued walking. Older children pushed around him, his large, round pumpkin suit an unwanted obstacle in the race to get the most candy. All it took quick shove to send Martin down a little embankment, rolling down the hill and into a thorn bush. Martin thrashed about wildly, trying to escape the vines. The thorns cut his arms, scratched at his face and he yelled and yelled for his mother.

When his mother finally realized that the awful shrieks coming from the muddy, bloody mess were coming from her missing pumpkin, she climb down the hill towards the fighting Martin. Trick or treating was cut short that night.

When Martin got home, still crying from the cuts and scratched, his father told him to stop. After all, Fitzgerald men do not cry. And as a punishment, he wasn’t permitted to eat his candy. His mother cleaned his wounds and stroked his hair until he fell asleep.

His mother never could figure out why Martin, unlike other young children, hated Halloween. Martin never told anyone why he hated Halloween and when Samantha tried to force him to go to Halloween parties, he would mysteriously be sick on October 31, and any days around it.

That all changed when Danny came into Martin’s life. When Martin told Danny that he hated Halloween, Danny had just laughed it off. No one could hate Halloween, after all. But when Martin didn’t laugh with him, Danny realized that it was true.

So when Martin comes home and finds pumpkins, newspaper, and knives in his kitchen, he is a little thrown off. Danny is sitting at the table, grinning ear to ear and says something about Martin needing a Halloween crash course. Martin doesn’t want to at first, but when Danny pouts, he will do anything. So he carves the pumpkins with Danny and, although he doesn’t admit it, has fun. The insides of the pumpkins are disgusting and slimy and the newspaper does nothing to catch the debris and his kitchen is a horrible mess, but it was secretly worth it.

Days later, Danny asks Martin if they can decorate his house. Martin grudgingly agrees that it wouldn’t hurt, trying hard not allowing his excitement to show through, but he thinks Danny sees it anyway. Within two days, Martin’s house has two zombies guarding the front door, the two carved pumpkins lit on his front porch, orange and black streamers hanging from the trees, and various other ghosts, goblins, mummies, skeletons, and vampires haunting his windows and doors. It unnerves him that after thirty years of hating Halloween, he is getting excited for the holiday.

Halloween has changed a lot since Martin was a kid. In his neighborhood, trick or treating happens during the day. Danny and Martin sit on his front porch in jeans and sweatshirts and wait for the barrage of children to come. Danny, Martin thinks, is even more excited to hand out candy than the kids are to get it. He smiles and nudges Martin when a particular costume amuses him.

Just before trick or treating is over, Martin gets an elbow in the side. He looks at what Danny it pointing at and sees a large orange blob moving very slowly towards them. Martin can’t help but smile as the small boy waddles up to them and shyly holds out his matching bucket. After Danny gives him a handful of candy and he waddles away, Martin is still smiling and watching after the boy.

Martin is disappointed to see Halloween pass, but when he walks into his bedroom, Danny is standing there in a police uniform, smirking and holding a pair of shiny silver handcuffs.

Martin smirks back and decides that Halloween isn’t so bad after all.