From the underbrush I watched as the fillies and colts duck under the thick cobwebs that were strung between naked trees that stand as pillars in front of my home. The pathway ahead of the children was dark and lit only by the jack-o-lanterns that send out an orange flicker through their hollow mouths and eyes. In the shaggy grass that wet's their costumes lie gravestones and severed body parts, a hoof here and a skull there. From the doorway a filly sized ghoul stood silently as the children made their way to the door. The children look past the ghoul and into the gloom of the porch. The Ghoul turned it's head to my hiding spot, waiting for approval. These children were innocent in my war, and so I nodded to my little ghoul.
The children made the appropriate ritualistic chant and continued on their way once their words had earned them their sweets. I let them pass. I would not be so kind to the neighborhood scoundrels who continued the time honored tradition of making the day after nightmare night a hassle for me and, at least in recent years, my daughter.
I will not allow today to become the tenth year in a row this has happened. They've left me no choice. Whenever I bring it up at council meetings they tell me that it's no big deal and that I'm being childish. Me! But they don't have to clean the eggs and tissue paper afterwards. The first year I didn't say anything, I'll admit, it was somewhat endearing and brought me back to my time as a filly. But those kids started this tradition and have clearly passed it on to a select few trouble makers. Younger siblings perhaps? It doesn't matter. Today, they'll see how wrong they were.
I waited in the underbrush of my shrubbery for another hour before the first group of hooligans showed up. This was my chance, I prepared my ammunition as they strolled confidently through the spooky cemetery and to the middle of my yard. They were within range now and I looked towards my ghoul to see that she was already moving for cover. Good, I wont have to hold back.
The children looked at my daughter in confusion as she got behind an available tombstone and ducked. They didn't get to ask what was happening though. I swore, as Celestia as my witness, that I would teach them the error of their ways and I will keep that promise.
I fired the first volley. The cream colored colt I had nailed nearly fell over, not from the force of the egg but rather the shock of its presence. I didn't let up. Several eggs were launched through the air and, to the children's credit, they recovered quickly enough and even sent a few back my way. But I had better aim.
After a minute the kids yelled out a surrender and they said they were out of eggs. I told them that they should leave if that's the case. They started running, scattering this way and that, moving in the general direction of 'away.'
As they ran I cried out, "tell your friends!"
They did, of course, tell their friends. I expected them to come back for round two once they had rounded up every pony they could find to come and help. I figured I had about an hour.
I took that hour to set out my final decoration that I had kept hidden away for this specific occasion. It was a large sepulture of sorts. Large enough to fit several cartons of eggs and myself. My little ghoul was on the balcony on the second story of my home now, using some spare tomb stones as a barrier between her and the storm of eggs that was surely on it's way.
I watched the yard as the myriad of monsters made their way over the final resting places of ponies with plastic tombstones, you know, classy ponies like Ima Goner and Creek E. Bones.
I screamed out the order to fire and as I peaked out of my grave to do the same and then promptly took an egg to the face. That was followed by children's laughter and more eggs. My daughter got a few of them and that was enough for them to divide their attentions. I gave them everything I had and then I gave them a little bit more.
Rolls of tissue paper zig-zagged across my yard and over my house. Eggs flew in all directions with indiscriminate targets in their path of destruction.
I don't know how long this went on but every pony was soon too exhausted to continue, which worked out well for me as I was out of ammunition anyway.
"Truce?" I called out. I heard objections from my little ghoul but all the other little ones seemed to agree with that. The creatures of darkness slunk back into the night and I went back inside to wash off the copious amount of egg that matted my coat. Surprisingly my daughter hadn't been hit once, so after I cleaned myself I told her she could stay up a few more hours but I didn't want her staying up too late before I went to my room to pass out.
I woke up early that morning. I knew there was going to be a lot of work correcting everything that had happened the night before but, if I was very lucky, it will convince the neighbor kids to pick a new home.
I have to admit I actually had fun last night. And I know my little Dawnbreeze had a blast, she had only spent the entire morning gushing over how awesome it was. The only part I really didn't care for was this cleaning.
We were about an hour into the cleaning and only about a tenth of the way through the work when a dozen children came up to me and my daughter.
"Thank you so much," said the cream colored colt I had beamed with an egg not twenty-four hours ago. "It was a lot of fun, we can't wait for next year."
I was angry at first but I realized the little hellion had a point. It was fun. And I wouldn't mind doing it again, on one condition.
"We can do it every year if you'd like," the children's eyes lit up at that but continued before they got to far with their imaginations. "If, and only if, you all help me clean the mess the day afterwards. Is that fair?"
The children all looked around at the battle ravaged cemetery and then back at me. I nodded towards the carpet of tissue paper that had been placed over the grass the night before. Then the kids started to clean. It was one of the most beautiful things I had ever seen in my life.
I went for the hose and started to de-egg the walls of my house.
That isn't so bad, I have to clean the yard of the decorations anyway. And what a tradition that will be. I can live with Nightmare Night being a time for the mischief war. A war where all the soldiers are armed to the teeth with eggs and the uniform is the scariest monster you can think of. If it meant the day after Nightmare Night could be a day of no-complaints cleanup while we reminisce about the battle.
Yeah, I could live with this kind of tradition.
