“You ready, Frank?” I ask my little friend.
Frank grins, his crooked mouth glowing. “Hell yeah, Jack! This is way overdue. After everything they’ve done to us?”
I nod. Frank may be small, but he’s full of righteous pulpy anger. As am I. My seeds are practically vibrating with excitement at the idea of getting even. “Got your scoop and your knife, right?”
“I do.” He rolls up to the door, his mutant arms ready with weaponry.
My triangular eyes survey the scene. The full moon is bright, but that’s all right. No one will suspect a thing. To them, we’re just dumb fruits, our fleshy round bodies at their disposal to carve up as they please. They make us look ridiculous, bake our guts into pies, and leave our skins to rot on their cold porches.
“Jack?” Frank asks. “Are we doing it?”
“You bet.” I check my knife one last time. It glints silver in the moonlight, with a wickedly sharp edge. I extend one of my weird arms, still not used to this strange limb. But it works well enough to knock on the door.
“TRICK OR TREAT!”
Image from Pixabay. Written for Tourmaline’s Halloween Challenge.
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