Hallowe'en. WTF?

So I dress up for Hallowe'en, so that when I open the door I can hear the children squeal with horror and glee ...

And nobody rings the goddam doorbell.  I thought I'd be up to my ass in kids.  [Fat man's dilemma:  OMG, what am I going to do with all this candy?]  It is, I should say to give you the full picture, currently raining.  But still ...

The costume, if you're curious, is The Phantom of the Opera Without His Mask.

You don't think it's pretentious to put that apostrophe in Halloween?
No.



The object of the Phantom's obsession is Emmy Rossum in one of her first roles.  This, clearly, was before she started obsessively taking her knickers off in Shameless.

Yikes -- talk about dewey!  I'd totally grab her and drag her down into the catacombs.  But first I'd check her driver's license to make sure she was 18.  Because I may have been horribly scarred, but I'm not a pervert.

Yuk.
What?  Is that too creepy?
Grabbing Emmy Rossum by the hair and dragging her into the catacombs?  
Yes. 
Yes.
C'mon.  It's Hallowe'en.  It's supposed to be creepy.
Scary creepy, not old-guy-abducting-beautiful-young-girl creepy.
Hmmm.
Do you see my point?
No.  Not at all.