It is best I not relate any of the antics I performed on Halloweens past. It goes without saying they were politically incorrect. Aw….what the heck. Here goes. It was October,  1944 and we were of course at war. Area citizens in New York became community Civil Defense wardens. Most were great but some took their job a little to seriously. Once a week or so, we would have an air raid alert, in which all families in the neighborhood, upon hearing the siren wail from the local fire house were to douse lights and remain inside. Any people out of their house were “whistled down” and sent home. Our CD guy was Mr. Guinness. During the day he drove a pony driven cart, selling Javell water(Bleach) by the gallon to the women for their washday needs. He manufactured it himself inside his garage. One night when Herby and I were “out” the sirens wailed. Instead of going in the house we hid in the bushes and I would blow my whistle. Mr. Guinness was going crazy trying to find out who was blowing the whistle when only he was supposed to do that. Somehow he got behind me in the bushes and caught me by the nape of my neck, returning me to my home for a severe whipping by Mom. The elephant never forgets and neither did I. on Halloween night, I broke into the ponies stall and made a Zebra out of him with a few strokes of a paint brush and can of paint I had stolen from Mr. Kludt’s garage. The next day an enraged CD worker marched to my house, demanding my mother take care of me. Fortunately the alibi had already been put in place. I had been at Herby’s house bobbing for apples (for a while). The time lines didn’t match.  He knew better but couldn’t prove it. Mom knew better but I think she thought It was funny, too. TRICK OR TREAT.  I am now too old to be prosecuted. Guinness is dead, the Zebra is dead  and now my confession  is on the table.