Super Trick or Treat System

…"Nothing was disturbed; there were not even rats."

"Beauty, there aren't even mice."

At that time, the clue to the "beating" was to throw the vase from the mantel in the lounge.

Even Jack jumped up.

"Damn it," he said. He needed to sleep, but it was obvious that "burglar" had no intention of leaving them alone. "Chesera, sera." He murmured, picking up the fragments of the Chinese vase and putting it on the newspaper. "Your house is sinking a bit on the left," he said loudly. "It's been several years." "Sink," Amanda said firmly, "Will not leave me out of bed."

Gina said nothing. The options are limited. Alternatives are not attractive.

"Well, maybe it's Santa Claus." Jack said, trying to keep calm.

He wrapped the fragments of the vase and walked into the kitchen, making sure that every step he walked was covered. "What else could it be?" He threw the question on his shoulders as he stuffed the newspaper into the trash can. "The only other explanation -" Here, he was almost pleased with the plunder so close to the facts, "The only other possible explanation is too ridiculous for words."

This is a subtle irony, completely ignorantly denying the existence of the invisible world, even now it is still breathing revenge on his neck.

"You mean a politician?" Gina said.

"I mean anything will happen at night. But, we are adults, aren't we? We don't believe Bogeymen."

"No," Gina said flatly, "I don't, but I don't believe this house is also collapsing."

"Well, it must be done now," Jack said firmly. "Christmas starts here. We don't want to spoil what we are talking about, let's start now."

They laughed together.

Little fairy. That must be a bit deep. Call **** spawning ghosts.

Li Badi was helpless and depressed, sore tears boiled on his invisible cheeks, grinding his teeth and keeping them at peace. There is still time to get rid of the atheistic smile of Li Badi's smooth and chubby expression. There is plenty of time. There will be no half of the measures from now on. There is no subtlety. This will be an all-out attack.

Let's bleed. Let the pain go. They will rest.

When the next attack was launched, Amanda was preparing Christmas dinner in the kitchen. The whole house exudes the voice of the King’s College Choir, "The town of Bethlehem, how can we still not see you lying..." The gift is opened, G and T are knocked down, the house is a warm hug on the roof to the cellar .

In the kitchen, hot and cold heat and steam penetrated in and made Amanda tremble. She cleared the air through the half-open window and then closed it. Maybe she is grabbing something.

When she was busy in the kitchen, enjoying a day of housework, the thief looked at her back. Amanda stared at herself very clearly. She turned around. No one, no. She continued to wash the Brussels sprouts and cut them into a ball with a worm lying in the middle. She drowned.

The choir sings.

In the lounge, Jack was laughing with Gina.

Then, make a noise. First there was a creak, and then someone's fist throbbed on the door. Amanda put the knife into the bean sprouts in the bowl and turned around from the sink following the sound. It keeps getting louder. It's like something locked in a cabinet, running away desperately. A cat is trapped in a box, or a bird. It comes from the oven.

When Amanda started to imagine the worst, his stomach turned.

Did she lock things in the oven when she put the turkey in? When she snatched the oven cloth and walked towards the cooking utensils, she called to her father, and the cooking utensils were shaken by the panic of the prisoners. She imagined a cat jumping towards her, the fur was burned off and the meat was half cooked.

Jack is at the door of the kitchen.

"There is something in the oven," she said to him, as if he needed to tell. Cookware mania; its shocking content is almost knocked out.

He took the oven cloth from her. He thought it was a new one. You are better than I judged. This is smart. This is original.

Gina is in the kitchen now.

"What kind of dish?" she quipped.

But when the cookware started to dance, the joke disappeared and the boiling water in the pot was pumped out from the burner to the floor. The hot water burned Jack's leg. He yelled, stumbled back to Gina, then dived in the pot, yelling, and not frightening the samurai.

The handle of the oven became slippery from heat and grease, but he grabbed it and threw the door down.

A puff of steam and fiery heat rolled out of the oven and smelled juicy turkey fat. But the bird inside obviously has no intention of being swallowed. It swayed from side to side on the roasting pan, throwing gravy in all directions. Its crisp brown wings swayed pitifully, flapping, and legs tattooed on the roof of the oven.

Then it seemed to feel the open door. Its wings stretched out to the sides of the plush toy. It jumped halfway and half fell on the oven door, mocking its life. It had no head, it oozes fillings and onions, and died as if no one had told him the **** thing, while the fat was still sprinkled on the bacon. Amanda screamed.

The bird dived into the air, and Jack jumped down the door blindly but with revenge. What it intended to do after reaching the three fearsome victims was never discovered. Gina and her father dragged Amanda into the corridor in hot pursuit, and when the blind bird slammed himself against the panel, the door was closed and defeated as best he could. The gravy oozes from the cracks in the bottom of the door, dark and fatty.

The door was unlocked, but Jack thought the bird could not turn the handle. When he flinched and was out of breath, he cursed his faith. There are more opposition parties than he thought. Amanda leaned against the wall and sobbed, her face covered with turkey oil. All she seemed to be able to do was deny everything she saw, shook her head, and repeated the word "no" like a talisman to eliminate the still ridiculous horror. Jack accompanied her to the lounge. The humming carols still sang on the radio, covering up the hum of the birds, but their promise of kindness seemed a bit comforting. Gina poured heavy brandy for her sister and sat on the sofa next to her, refreshing and reassuring her with equal spirit. They have no impression of Amanda.

"What is that?" Gina asked her father in a demanding tone.

"I don't know what it is," Jack replied.

"Collective hysteria?" Gina was very upset. Her father had a secret: He knew what was going on in the house, but for some reason he refused to cough.

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