About a month after my wedding, my friend M got married. Surprisingly, given her card-carrying Republican status, her husband was not an American. I’m not going to say where he’s from, but she met him in Germany and we’ll call him “Frenchie.”
Frenchie and M lived in one of the mountain states when they first moved back to the U.S. M said it took a while to get used to no public transportation, dirty windows, and soft bread once more. Frenchie quickly acclimated to large screen TVs, his own car, and crappy beer. HIs first serious bit of culture shock came when Halloween arrived.
Frenchie observed a parade of superheroes and princesses move from the sidewalk to their front door. He heard the kids ring the doorbell. M opened the door. The kids screamed, “Trick or treat!” with varying levels of enthusiasm. He watched M giggle, exclaim over the cute costumes, and dole one piece of candy per child.
The next time the doorbell rang, Frenchie said, “I got this.”
He opened the door and found a mini-Batman. “Trick or treat!”
Frenchie held out the bowl of candy. “Great costume. You are old enough to pick your own candy, eh?”
Batman’s eyes lit up. “Awesome!” He grabbed an overflowing handful and stuffed it in his bag.
“Hey, hey!” bellowed Frenchie. “You were supposed to take one!”
Frenchie plunged his hand into Batman’s bag. He lifted out his own, adult-sized handful, and put it back in M’s candy bowl.
Batman stuttered, “B-b-but you just took back out more than I put in!”
Frenchie said, “That will teach you not to be so greedy!” and slammed the door.
M sent Frenchie off to watch his giant TV. She answered the door the rest of the evening.
No word on how long it took Batman to recover.