Every year it's the same. You wake up on 1 November with a bourbon–and–Milk Duds hangover as thick as the mist on the Scottish moors. What exactly happened, you wonder, as vague specters float in and out of your cloudy memory. Were you tricked or treated? Did you have a happy Halloween or a scary one?

words Dr. Heckle and Ms. Snide pictures Terry Colon