Loyal Scaiaholics know I look forward to Halloween every year, unpacking the carefully crafted pope costume my mom once fashioned because I come from a family of insubordinate people who are difficult to work with.

One of my co-workers suggested I wear the costume tomorrow for Halloween. It’s my first Halloween at KRLD, and she says a lot of people wear costumes, although many of them are salespeople [Salespeople have more time because they make their living selling air].

But this blog is not about Pope Scaia. This blog is about a strangely detailed conversation I had with a complete stranger at the grocery store on my way home.

Like most epic tales, this starts out with the protagonist needing some ham.

There was a large display of different bags of candy in the front of the store, where you get your shopping cart.

“I should get some candy now,” I thought to myself. “If I come back tomorrow, they’ll probably only have Smarties and Jolly Ranchers.”

As I was studying the different options, an older fella in a cowboy hat sidled up to me. This is an actual conversation that happened:

“What do you think?” he said.

“Still a good selection,” I replied.

“My wife likes Almond Joy.”

“I’m not a fan of them, but they’re in the same bag with Reese’s and Kit Kat,” I reasoned. “So that may be the way to go.”

[a beat]

“Wait, those other bags have M&Ms, Twix, Snickers and Milky Way!” I exclaimed. “The only dud is the Milk Duds, so I’ll just hand those out first!” Working “dud” into a sentence with “Milk Duds” is why I’m an Edward R. Murrow Award-winning journalist.

“Do you get a lot of kids?” he replied.

I explained I ran out of candy last year, so I’d have to get two bags. We agreed that we were being gouged, that Big Candy was jacking up the prices because we waited until the last minute. Imagine showing up at the store tomorrow. Worried shoppers will be tightly clutching $57 bags of Good & Plenty.

“Isn’t it supposed to rain tomorrow?” he asked.

“That’s right! It’s going to pour!”

“We may not see many kids. I’ll stock up on Almond Joy for my wife.”

“And I’ll stock up on peanut butter cups… [now thinking to myself] for Scaia.”

[Exeunt]

But the lesson here, kids, is to absolutely talk to strangers. They can help solve a dilemma. Also, accept candy from strangers. [Note from every police department in the country: Do not do either of those things]

Back to the newsroom, someone brought a tub full of candy corn this morning. I handled this the same way everyone handles candy corn: I ate two pieces and then remembered why I don’t like candy corn.

Pope Scaia VII [I want to say the costume was originally named, “Pope Impious“] may not make an appearance at the station tomorrow. Earlier this year, I covered a story about the Catholic Church. If I happened to get called out for a similar story, it’d probably be weird to show up to interview the bishop dressed as the apostolic successor to St. Peter in a project that was originally intended as an elaborate screw-you to my Catholic high school.