You knock on your reclusive neighbor’s door.
“Trick or treat, Mr. V!”
The door creeks open to this frightening site. Your muscles tense and your pulse accelerates.
All of the factors start adding up. Black turtleneck, curly hair, molestache. Creepdar alarms are now at full blast as you are frozen with that open pillowcase wondering what to do next.
With a psychotic smile, Mr. V presents you with your treat: a ripe red apple certain to be filled with razor blades.
Run, children. Run for your lives!