"Nice night for Trick-or-Treating eh Frank?" Joe Hardy heehawed. "I'll say." Frank mumbled as he fastened the back of his costume. "Say, what are going as?." Frank succumbed. "Oh, I've been thinking about that, yesiree." Joe spewed, his long greasy hair falling into his bulging eyes. "Well, what have you come up with?" Frank probed. "Oh, well, I've thought about maybe being an elephant, or a question mark." "What's that about a question mark?!!" a loud voice blasted. The Hardy's looked up from there deep discussion. "Oh, hi dad." The boy's said in unison. "Somebody said question mark." There father, Funnyman Fenton, snarled, his fat lip curling. Frank felt himself going weak at the knees. "Um, um, er, sorry dad, just a slip'o'the tongue eh?." Frank hoped his father would let the incident slide. "eh, that's yer excuse. Well, it ain't gonna work. Come on Frank, Joe, out to the shed." Fenton screamed, his face beet red. "Oh, and Frank, fetch the whip." Fenton added, slipping into a worn pair of Chukkas.
Out in the cold, cheaply insulated shed, Fenton resumed his bombardment of tomfoolery. "Okay, which when of you scapegraces said question mark?" Fenton boohooed. "Joe did." "Nay, Frank did." Nego-tive, Joe did it sure as death." "Quite yer jargon. I'll say both of you did it and give you both a good switching." Frank and Joe felt themselves melting into the cold walls as Fenton rolled up his sleeves. There father gave a few practice strokes and then turned to the boys'. "Okay, Frank, your first." Fenton raised a flabby arm, the long, thick bull-whip firmly held in his fist. Crack! Snap! the whip came down on Frank's back. Frank moaned and pleaded, screaming, "Please, please, dad, please." The cry's only fed Fenton's internal fire like gasoline. Whoosh!! crack!! again and again came the whip. Only after the fifteenth flogging did Frank hear silence. "Joe, bend over." The whipping resumed. Crack!! Snap!! "That's enough." Fenton said, pleased with himself. "Hey, that's not fair," Frank grouched, " I got fifteen lashes and Joe only got two the par." "Fair enough for funnyman work." Was all Fenton said.
Later that evening in the Hardy home after the boys' had dressed there wounds, the discussion turned to Joe's costume. "So, got any new insights on your costume Joe?" Frank swaddled, henpecking at a dry blister that had formed in the small of his back. "Veto Frank, I've been thinking about it though." "Well, I've been thinking to bro, and have I got an proposition." "Burp it up Frank." Joe exhorted. "Well, it depends if your game." "I'm game if your game." Joe needled, his hot-head beginning to heat up because of Frank's leisurely mind-teaser episode. "Go as dad" Frank exulted. "Say what?." "Go as dad". A look of defeat crept into Joe's weathered face, but it suddenly vanished and was replaced with a look of sure-go enthusiasm. "Say, that's not bad Frank, not bad at all." Joe barely said this and he was gone, running from the Hardy's post in the kitchen and up to his father's room.
Joe found his parent's bedroom door closed, but he thought he heard voices inside. He began pounding on the cheap door and screaming, "Hey, open up in there!!." Suddenly the door swung open, catching Joe in the jaw. Joe fell to the ground out cold. "Oops, sorry son." Fenton grumbled, attempting to lift Joe's kayoed body. Fenton dragged Joe into Mr. and Mrs. Hardy's bedroom, and then into the restroom. There he applied Desatin Creamy to Joe's face. Joe's eye's fluttered open. "Where am I?." Joe muttered. "With the funnyman" Fenton responded. "Oh, yeah, now I remember. Say, dad, can I borrow one of your quest*** mark jackets?." "Well sure son, what for?." "To tricker-treat in. I want to look like you." "Like me?," Fenton gasped, his blurred face splattered with pride, "Well kick a funnyman, that's the most slippery thing I've heard you say." "Thank's dad" Joe said, giving his father a warm embrace.
"Well, hear we go. Off tricker-treating" Joe wet-skipped. "Your sure a go-getter wearing that carrot outfit Frank." Joe added between gasps for air. "Yup." Frank skidded. The Hardy's skipped up to there next door neighbors home, a two story brick house. Frank jabbed the door bell, breaking the button. The boys waited. They heard a woman's voice inside. "It's those Hardy boys." "Give them the doctored candy." Replied a man. "Okay." Said the woman.
The door creaked open. Both Hardy's were shaking from excitement. "Tricker treat!!!" the Hardy's shrieked, blowing slobber. "Oh, hear you are boys." The woman said kindly, dropping two pieces of candy into the Hardy's bags. "Thanks." Joe muttered, already charging to the next house. "Not so fast Joe, what say we eat are first pieces of candy now, you know, as a celebration thing?" Frank proposed, letting loose with a mighty belch, as white curdles forming at his mouth. "Nice idea Frank." Joe said reaching into his bag and removing the two pieces of caramel. Joe shoved both pieces into his large mouth and began munching them. Frank repeated his brothers actions. "Say, this is good." Frank complemented. "Yeah, awf sa ip ifs." Joe said, his speech slurring. "Yoof say if I'lf say." Frank muttered as his knees buckled. Both Hardy's fell to the cold cement sidewalk. "I think I'd better talk a nap." Joe spattered. "Yeah, me to." Frank responded. And both boys' laid down, and never woke up.
THE END
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