19 Comments

  1. The Trojan Pinata is a bad substitute for The Trojan Horse. First, the recipients would expect that it has something inside it and, second, they would then beat the bejesus out of it. It would result in your whole assault team being discovered and clubbed to death.

  2. After clicking on Powers’s link, I was glad to see it didn’t go into the territory I thought it might.

  3. I could DIVE into a vat of these . . .

    . . . but I just eat ’em by the handful. Of course, falling into a vat of [dark] chocolate would be even better . . .

  4. In the A&J, is part of the joke that in the first three panels the lists of treats get progressively more sophisticated? At least in name.

  5. The more ‘sophisticated’ (read: expensive) the candy, the more likely that it’s for them (or for her; don’t know if Arlo likes chocolate as much as she does. I figure SHE did the shopping; ergo: SHE likes chocolate).

  6. @SingaporeBill – I think the idea is that the assault team lacks the ability to defeat the perimeter defense, but once inside they can easily defeat what they encounter.

  7. If the Trojans have a guy who can swing a stick big enough to break open that pinata horse, the Greeks were going to lose anyway.

  8. You must be prepared in case, unlike the past many years, there is a horde of kids. This requires many bags of candy. And if they don’t show up, well, it would be a sin to let it go to waste. So you let it go to waist.

  9. Grawlix – yep, exactly. I wasn’t young enough for trick-or-treating when fun size became a thing – but I’ve seen countless stories/comics/etc about kids mapping the neighborhood and starring the (few) houses that are giving out full-size bars (and saying no to apples and pencils, etc). I presume there were equivalent ones, back when fun-size started, mapping and saying don’t bother with those houses, they’re only giving out fun size…now that’s the norm.

  10. Just as a note, that seems to be an amazingly funny F minus. (Something I haven’t said before).

    I have definitely been at a party where the level of costume sophistication combined with the obscurity of the target to deliver a result that was indistinguishable from “didn’t bother to wear a costume”.

  11. Red Hots were the pellet candies, like Mike ‘n Ikes and Good ‘n Plenty, that no-body wanted. Good N’ Plenty were literally inedible and I don’t know anyone who could eat them. I had to spit out Red Hots but some of the tougher boys could eat them. Mike N Ikes were just dull.

  12. “I don’t know anyone who could eat them.”
    I just ate an entire box of G & P a few days ago. Love ’em! But then, I was raised on endless varieties of licorice (sweet, salt, double salt, etc). As an adult, I like a sip or two of Anisette Liqueur; Absinthe is on my ‘something I’d like to try’ list.

  13. I like Mike ‘n Ikes just fine, and will eat the occasional handful of red hot Imperials, but Good n Plenty are strictly for throwing at your little sister. I don’t know what the kids who didn’t have little sisters did with theirs. When I was a kid, my stepdad took them off our hands.

    When my daughter was of Trick or Treating age, my mom lived on a houseboat, in a moorage that was fairly isolated. They set up Halloween like a machine… Trick-or-treating started at one end of the moorage at a set time, and then proceeded down to the other end, with all the kids appearing at each door together. For the homeowner, trick-or-treating lasted about two minutes or so, and included advance warning as the gaggle of kids worked their way down. Some years, there were only 2 or 3 kids, and I don’t remember any that had more than 5 or 6, so each kid tended to get a substantial amount at each house… they’d have a bowl, and divide it up among however many kids there were. The houses that gave out full-size candy bars were the pikers, because the others were giving out a half-dozen or so fun-size instead of one full-size. For the kids, it took about an hour to do the whole lot, and they wound up with full bags as if they’d spent all night walking around a suburban subdivision. Win-win.

  14. “I don’t know what the kids who didn’t have little sisters did with theirs.”

    To paraphrase Dylan Thomas in ‘A Child’s Christmas in Wales’, referencing candy cigarettes: We et ’em. (I’m an only child, so I had no one at whom to throw them, had I even wished to.)

    (at 10:00)

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