The children that lived around the beach plied in great numbers to walk through the haunted Pad to the four guys who would play with them on the playground, take them on horses, or let them chase them with guns. The girls all waited for Davy to take them through. He was dressed as Napoleon. The costume came highly recommended by the store clerk. At the end, there was Peter as a big fuzzy lion--because he wanted to be a goodly lion--and Mike as...a guy in a blue shirt, gray slacks, and green wool hat. He wanted to be an out-of-work musician looking for startum. He had the most accurate costume of the four.

The rest of the groups were taken by Micky. Micky, with his trusty baseball bat and pot on his head, cautiously took the children through the Pad keeping his eye out for stray white towels. The kids were becoming convinced of his performance as a ghost chaser and ran out the Pad screaming, some without even getting their candy. After the fourth or fifth or tenth group ran out in complete horror, Mike took Micky aside.

"Listen you," Mike began in a stern tone of voice, "We'll let you look for ghosts but you don't have to scare the kids. Got it?"

"Yes sir," Micky soluted.

The rest of the night went better. Less kids ran out kicking and screaming and it was not Micky fault. It was the realness of Mike's costume that shook the kids to the point of hysteria. But the night went well and the candy was mostly gone by the time the trick-or-treaters stopped. Now it was time the turn on the lights and clean up the decor.

"Boy that was great," Davy commented collecting all the candy up into one bowel. "Maybe we could just not do gigs on Halloween and do this for the kids every year."

"Man, we can't do that," Mike said pulling down the hanging bats and spiders and draft notices <OK, let me just say that that was a horrible horrible joke. Thank You>. "Besides, we can think about that a year from now."

"Gee, I'm getting hungry," Peter chimed taking off his lion's main.

"Have a sandwich," Micky suggested, clearing up the stray candy wrappers and mummy bandages of the floor.

"'Ey Mike, were should I put the left over candy?" Davy asked.

"You can put it in the fridge I guess," Mike answered.

Peter and Davy both walked into the kitchen at the same time as if scripted to in advance. Davy opened the refrigerator and put in the bowel of candy, in the precis handing Peter some luncheon meat and the mustered. Peter took it and walked to the breadbox to retrieve some bread. Davy proceeded to close the refrigerator door. As Davy walked away, the door slowly became ajar, unknowingly to anyone in the Pad. Peter reached for the handle of the breadbox and pushed up; it would not open. He pushed harder, but to no avail. He struggled with it to the brink of tapping it on the counter. This caught his friend's attention.

" 'Ey Peter, what're you doing?" Davy asked turning back the kitchen.

"I can't seem to get the breadbox open," he answered till struggling.

"What?!" Micky exclaimed looking up from the ground.

"It's OK Pete," Mike said ignoring Micky. "I'll get it."

"Peter," Davy began walking to the refrigerator now open. "Did you go back to the ice box for something?"

"No," he answered. "Why?"

"The door's open," Davy replied. "Guess I didn't close it hard enough." Davy pushed the door closed again. It immediately opened again, at a slow rate of speed.

Meanwhile, Mike and Peter were still struggling with the breadbox. It was impossible to open. Peter held it firm while Mike bent down to se his legs for leverage. The box did not want to open.

"You don't suppose..."Davy began looking back and forth between the box and the refrigerator. "You don't suppose Micky was right, do you?"

"Don't...be...silly..." Mike responded still trying with all his might to slide the door open. "It's...just...a...coincidence..."

"Oh Yeah?" a loud voice came from the direction of the bathroom. The three turned; there was Micky in the doorway of the downstairs bathroom, pot on head. "Then how do you explain these?" He pulled out a handful of clean white towels from behind his back all neatly folded and whiter than anything in the Pad. There was a collective gasp from the three kitchen dwellers. "That's just what I thought too."

Then, a loud repetitive banging came from within the downstairs bedroom and the lights went out. The Pad was silent.

"OK Mick," Mike spoke in a quiet, timid voice, "You got anymore of those baseball bats?"