Joe, Furie, and I ran through the closest alleyway. A few of Robbie's thugs came in pursuit, throwing eggs, which slowed them down. We made it through the alleyway into the next block.

"Split up! Home base in fifteen!" I screamed.

Joe went left. Furie and I went right. We ran nonstop, not looking back, for three blocks, until we realized that the pursuit was off. Our backs were clear. We hunched over, catching our breaths, laughing in glee and self-satisfaction. I had taken only one more hit in the stomach. Furie came through almost unscathed, just a splatter on his left leg. Robbie and his thugs had eggs on their faces, literally. We were ecstatic.

Our getaway run took us nearly to the supermarket. We had no more money. So eggs were out of the question. On our way back, we passed by the corner we had hidden Joe's bag of candy. We looked at each other. The booty was still there. Joe did well. Ten pounds of candy goodness. Mini-snickers, Mars, Jolly Ranches galore. We spilled out a handful of stuff and took the rest. Later, we came back with Joe. He was upset to find only a scattered handful of candy left.

"Must of been Robbie and his thugs," I said. "They're probably gorging themselves on your candy right now."

We parted company with Joe. It was the last time I saw him. Furie and I headed back to home base. We sat around the stoop, gorging ourselves on Joe's candy. Another successful Halloween, another lesson learned. You are never too old to Trick-And-Treat.

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