This All Started with Peanuts


“I understand what you’re saying, Officer, and I’m tired you darkening my doorstep too. But this here is a big misunderstanding. See, I thought we were people. But apparently my neighbor Big Dick thinks we’re goddamned savages who give out peanuts on Halloween. Who the hell wants that?

“Sure, me and him go back a while. I mean, I understand I shot his son in the ass and accidentally burned down his house, but that’s a different story. This all started with the peanuts.

“Couple years back, one of the neighbors suggested a decorating competition. Knowing what she knew about these things, my wife declined—and for good reason. I had the sense to agree.

“That is, until Big Dick started running his yap. Tensions were already running high after I confronted him about the peanuts, namely because of my boy’s allergies. But Dick makes it his mission to tell every person in three blocks I’m a pussy, I’m scared of the decorations and whatnot.

“Childish, right? So, I didn’t pay it no mind. But then kids at school started saying stuff to my son, and I won’t abide that. I told Dick I’d carve my jack o’ lantern with an extra small hole so his pecker wouldn’t fall out.

“He’s been known to fuck produce on occasion.

“Anyway, we set out to decorate, and decorate we did. My wife made witches from fabric and old brooms. I got a big trough from pop’s farm for the cauldron. It was a beaut, I don’t mind telling you. Of course, I had to outdo myself with some dry ice. Looked great when it was foaming, but didn’t look so good when Little Dick got the idea to put it in our drinks. Or refrigerator. I got no idea what he was going to do but the dumb shit didn’t realize dry ice ain’t really ice. And apparently neither did Big Dick, because as the little one came running up to the house, his dad ripped off the ice, skin and all. Boy started screaming, swinging his hand around and, well, they won the contest that year.

“The next year, though, we came out ready. The judges liked blood and guts and shit? Forget the witches and dry ice. We went for straight-up murder. We ran down to the butcher and traded him some plumbing work for bones and put them around the yard. That didn’t scare the kids enough so I took the chain off my saw, just ripped it and ran after them. That got ’em pretty good. Then Big Dick counters by spraying shaving cream on his dogs and faking like he was going to let him loose. Which wasn’t really cool because he told me drunk one night that a raccoon had bit the damn thing. Then he got his brother, who was a mortician I might add, to bring a couple things home from the office, if you know what I mean.

“Yessir. Cadavers.

“No, I don’t think that’s legal either.

“Anyway, that pushed our wives over the edge. They put the kibosh on it. But ol’ Dick couldn’t let it go. Keep needling me, got his kids to needle my boy. I needed to settle this whole thing once and for all.

“See, Big Dick liked to sit on the stoop with a six of Natty Ice and let the neighborhood see he was King Shit, so I went with a classic, and before he came out, did the melted candy bar thing. It got him at first, thinking it was a turd, but then he saw the peanuts and saw the gag, so to one-up me, show me there was no tricking him, he picked it up and ate it whole.

“Officer, you need to know something. I kept all the bags of peanuts he’d given my boy. And I ate them. And I let nature run its course.

“Of course I wore gloves. I’m not a goddamned savage. But I’ll tell you what, after he chewed those first couple times and realization hit him? It would’ve been worth it without gloves.

“Basically, officer, what I’m saying is: you don’t give out peanuts on Halloween.”

~ fin ~

Korpon Headshot 72dpi

Nik Korpon is the author of THE REBELLION’S LAST TRAITOR (Angry Robot, 2017), QUEEN OF THE STRUGGLE (2018), and THE SOUL STANDARD, among others. He lives in Baltimore.