Jack took a quick look at himself in the mirror, straightened his tie, grabbed the black cat that he had strangled the night before, stuffed it in the white plastic garbage sack he had laid out and flipped it into the trash bin.

He scanned his yard to make sure that no delinquents had smashed the three jack-o’-lanterns that he had carved a few nights before and then got into his baby blue Prius and drove to work. Beside the fact that it was Halloween, it was a typical Tuesday morning. 

He looked at the Halloween decorations as he drove and thought to himself how ridiculous and childish his suburb looked. Scarecrows and ghosts and ghouls and spiders and vampires and pumpkins and zombies and clowns were everywhere he looked, decorating the houses of those around him. It was disgraceful, but luckily it only came once a year.

A frown of disgust spread across his face as he thought of all the little trick or treaters who would be knocking on his door when he got home from work. But if you didn't answer the door for the little hooligans they were just as likely to play some sort of prank on you as not. 

Anger welled up in him when he thought of how his home had been wrapped in toilet paper six years prior. It took him three hours to get all of it off. It wasn't a particularly pleasant way to spend his morning and Jack did not wish to repeat it. 

Over the years the houses that didn't hand out candies to the little costumed beggars had been egged or had flaming bags of feces thrown onto their porch. Eggs caused damage to a house’s paint and brought down its value. Flaming bags of poo could catch a house on fire or cause disease. Either one of those things were unacceptable. 

So after the toilet papering of his blue, two storied home Jack decided that it was easier to give candies to the little terrors than to clean up. Every year since he carved three jack-o’-lanterns and bought a few bags of candy. He would smile at the kids as they yelled, “Trick or treat!” and he would slip a few pieces of candy into their bags and plastic pails.

He would imagine himself killing their cats in some horrific manner and that smile he was faking would become a real smile. “Fake it until you make it,” Mr. Mitchell would always say to the newcomers. The thought of Mr. Mitchell spun his thoughts back in course and he focused on the upcoming day of work.

His day went as every other work day did. He arrived at 8:45 and greeted his coworkers. At 9:00 sharp he would punch his time card and walk to the coffee pot. If the coffee pot was empty it would start his day off wrong. He would pour himself a fresh cup of coffee and then fire up his computer and go through accounts to make sure that all of the numbers the salesmen sent him added up.

If, by some unfortunate chance, there was no freshly brewed coffee in the pot it would start Jack’s day off wrong. Jack didn't enjoy it when his day started off  wrong. It was Marcy’s responsibility to brew a fresh pot of coffee every morning.

It was her duty to make sure the team at Mitchell’s Paint Mega Warehouse was fueled by the power of caffeine and if she didn't fulfill that obligation the whole team suffered. If the team members didn't get the proper amount of caffeine their work would suffer for it.

The salesmen’s numbers would be down. If the sales numbers were down the company would suffer. Cuts would have to be made and Jack might find himself out of a job. Unemployment didn't suit Jack. He had been steadily employed since the ripe old age of sixteen and he didn't plan on that ever changing.

The clerks wouldn't be able to properly function and they would punch in numbers improperly. If numbers were punched in improperly the clerk and Jack would have to spend who knows how long trying to find the discrepancy in the numbers. If the discrepancy was large enough Jack would have to write the clerk up. Jack liked being on good terms with every one at his place of work, so being on bad terms just wouldn't do. Those who weren't popular with employees sometimes found themselves out of a job. 

The production workers could possibly make mistakes while mixing the colors of the paint. Mistakes in the colors could not be tolerated. Those at Mitchell’s prided themselves on always getting the order right. All it took was one bad review online to lose a potential customer. Without the customers there would be that pesky unemployment thing.

The supervisors would not be as patient with the workers and that would cause bad feelings and bring productivity down. Low productivity meant that the orders wouldn't be filled. Orders not being filled meant that those who ordered them would have them filled somewhere else. If too many orders got filled somewhere else then that meant Mitchell's would have to shut down. Which, in turn, meant that Jack would have to go on unemployment until he found a new position. What would his mother think if he had to do that?

And most importantly: if Jack himself didn't have the proper amount of caffeine then there was a real chance that he would make some sort of error while checking the numbers. An error in the numbers would mean that he could be written up by Mr. Mitchell himself.

Being written up was a dark mark in his record that could never be compensated for. A dark mark on his record meant no more employee of the month awards, of which he had nine. 

So, you see, Marcy making sure that the coffee was freshly brewed in the morning was of the utmost importance to Jack. Two times before Marcy had forgot to make the coffee. There had to be consequences, of course. Jack smiled as he thought of the way that Marcy’s gray cat had thrashed and scratched at his long, sturdy gloves as he squeezed it’a neck until it thrashed no longer. He thought of her beautiful calico cat and the sound it made as he hit it with the hammer. 

So Jack had his coffee and punched in his numbers and double checked people’s sales sheets. Life was normal. Life was good. 

At lunchtime Jack retrieved his brown paper sack and went out to his Prius and ate. The same sandwich as always. Ham and Swiss on wheat. He turned on the radio as he always did and turned it up loud enough that it drowned out the sounds that the cat was making on the video he was watching on his phone. The video he made night before of him strangling the black cat. He smiled as the fight left the cat and it hung limp and lifeless in his strangling hands.

It was a typical day. And it continued to be a typical day until Jack punched out and went home. 

Jack pulled into his driveway and walked up to his door. He was fumbling for his keys when he looked off to his left and saw that some of the cat food from the dish he put out had been eaten.

He smiled as he saw the black cat peering at him inside the hedge that separated his house from Mrs. Keegan’s. Mrs. Keegan’s cat, Whiskers, had put up a bit of a fight when he started cutting on it with his Ginsu knife. But in the end Jack had won out. Oh what a mess that was to clean up. Jack chuckled as he thought of mopping up all that blood on his kitchen tile. That was a merry misadventure indeed. 

Jack’s attention now turned to the black cat in the bush. “Here kitty kitty,” he said to the stray to try and lure it out. The cat stood it’s ground and leered at Jack with golden eyes. Jack determained that he would bring some meat out later and catch the kitty. It would make for some fine entertainment later.

So Jack hurried and ate his Hungry Man tv dinner and watched the news. There was a knock on the door. He looked out his window. The sun was still up. It was too early for trick or treaters. They could wait a little longer before he started slinging candy to vile, snot nosed whiners, so he ignored knocking and went back to his Hungry Man dinner.

There was another rapping at the door. This one was slightly louder than the last. Persistent buggers. Jack sighed and sat aside his TV dinner.

With a stony look of irritation on his face, he stood up from his comfortable brown recliner and trudged over to the door. He grabbed the bowl of candy that he had sat on the small table by the door. The sour look on his face was replaced with a smile after a deep breath. 

The porch was empty when he opened the door. It hasn't taken him that long to get to the door. Shenanigans! Tom foolery! The pranks were going to begin early this year. He decided that he would be quicker to get to the door next time so that there would be no pranks. No pranks no messes. It was that simple. 

Jack went back to his comfy chair and sat down once again. He lifted the black plastic Hungry Man dinner tray, speared a chunk of Salisbury steak, smeared it in the gravy and shoved it into his mouth. He was halfway through chewing when he heard the commotion coming from the kitchen.