Trick-or-Treating night is hell.
No one even rings the bell.
The cat and I just sit and sulk
With bite-sized candy bars in bulk.
The cat wants out but she can’t go.
The NewsNite talking heads said so.
It seems that cats are Satan’s spawn
And must be shut inside till dawn.
I stare at her. She glares at me.
Outside, a talking Christmas tree
Tells Iron Man to keep on walking,
“This house sucks.” We hear you talking!
I give up. I’ve been defeated.
We’re both trickless and untreated.
Switch the porch light off. Hey, wait–
It was off! That’s– Hey, kids…!
Too late.