Granny's Halloween Hex

Mrs. Pumpernickel was the neighborhood's nightmare. Every Halloween, her porch became a booby-trapped funhouse from hell: tripwires dumping fake spiders, motion-sensor fog blasting snot-green slime, and a cackling witch dummy that squirted ink in kids' faces.

"Take that, you candy-crazed goblins!" she'd howl from her rocking chair, sipping prune juice like victory champagne.

This year, the bravest victim arrived: little Timmy Tucker, armed with a pirate sword and zero fear. Ding-dong. Mrs. P licked her lips, yanking the master lever. KA-POW! A massive pie rocketed from the roof, splattering Timmy head to toe in cherry goo.

He froze... then burst out laughing. "Arrr, Granny P! Ye got me good!" Wiping his eyes, he grinned. "Dad said yer pranks are legendary. He taught me the spider trap himself."

Mrs. P's jaw dropped. Timmy hugged her legs, pie and all. "Mom's makin' your favorite stew. C'mon home—yer grandkids miss ya."

Turns out, Timmy was her grandson. She'd been "tormenting" her own scattered family for years, too proud to say she loved their visits. Heart melting, she chuckled. "Well, swab the deck, lad. Race ya inside."

(Word count: 198)