Trick or Treat Meme (Or Frea is Bored)

[frea_o]

In honor of All Hallow’s Eve, I’m inviting trick-or-treaters to my ‘door.’ Comment “trick-or-treat” to this post and…well, you know the drill. Treats can be anything that strikes my fancy (pics of fave actors or pairings, one sentence fics, graphics, a few words why I’m glad to have you on my flist, etc. etc.). The more “houses” to visit the more fun it’ll be, so go ahead, open your journal and help spread the fun!

Stolen from anuna_81. Also, I've enabled anonymous commenting for my Twitter buddies, but if you could let me know who you are, I can tailor your treat—or your trick!—just for you (aka sign your comments if you can!).

Comments

[frea-o.livejournal.com]

“Okay, first thing’s first.” Chuck, somehow sensing that Violet was creeping toward the collection of knives that he had laid out, plucked his daughter from that side of the table and unceremoniously plopped her down on his other side. “We need to hollow these babies out. If you’re over twelve and know how to use a knife properly, that means you get to participate.”

“I’m almost twelve!”

“You’re turning five in two days. That’s not even close.” Chuck patted Violet on the head, and she sulked. “Nice try.”

“I’ll be twelve soon,” Violet said, giving him an annoyed look.

“I know. Sarah, as the guest here, you get your choice of knife first.” Chuck swept a hand toward the collection on the table like a salesman showing off his wares. “Choose wisely, for this is serious business.”

Sarah picked up a knife.

Chuck’s eyebrows rose. “Are you sure you want that one?”

Was he kidding? She tossed it from hand to hand before she really thought it through, for indeed Violet’s eyes widened and she breathed out a long, “Cooooooool. Can I try that, Miss Sarah?”

“No,” Chuck said, and Sarah hid her wince. “Knives are for adults.”

“I’m almost an adult!”

“Nuh-uh, I’m the dad here and you’re not an adult ’til I say you are one, so no knives.”

Violet scowled at him before she scampered around the table, which had been covered in newspapers in preparation for their evening of pumpkin carving. She crashed into Sarah’s side, immediately wrapping her arms around Sarah’s waist, and rested her chin on Sarah’s hip. “How’d you learn to do that?” she asked. “You’re really good at that.”

“When you’re an adult, I’ll show you,” Sarah said, though she was pretty sure it was a lie. She would be long gone—or probably dead, as agents didn’t exactly have the longest lifespans—by the time Violet was considered an adult. “But no touching the knives until then.”

Violet sighed, long and long-suffering. “’Kay,” she said.

“Now we cut off the hat,” Chuck said, putting on an exaggerated accent that Sarah didn’t recognize, save that the ‘w’ became a ‘v’ sound. He began sawing at the top of the pumpkin, around the stem, holding his knife like an amateur. Sarah nearly winced again. “It will be magical!”