Every Halloween that we've spent in Atlanta, Douglas and I cross our fingers with high hopes for Trick-or-Treaters. Every year I buy bags of candy hoping that it will be the year they will come. Every year, not one Trick-or-Treater has come to our door. Not one in 4 years!
My in-laws have the opposite problem. They get tons of ghosts, goblins, witches, and even one year the Incredible Hulk. As Ramona (my mother-in-law) was snacking on tortilla chips between running back and forth to the front door one Halloween, the doorbell rang, yet again. She ran through the house, avoiding the carved pumpkins on the floor, past the motion-sensor ghoul that shouted "Happy Halloween!", and swung the door open with a smile. Ramona was greeted by three little costumed children on her favorite holiday of the year. "Let's see!", she exclaimed. "We have a vampire, a princess, and are you a Ninja Turtle?" The little boy dressed in all green flexed his muscles, glared up at Ramona, and retorted with a frustrated scowl, "No, I'm the Incredible Hulk and you smell like chips!". I think the Incredible Hulk got extra pieces of candy that year for being extra adorable.
That little Incredible Hulk came to my in-laws' house 6 years ago, but the phrase has stuck in our house. Douglas never fails to tell me I smell like chips when I've been eating them!