Dear Pornata:
Your time has come. The day of candy reckoning is upon us. Sticks will be wielded. Your short, sticky life will flash before you as you disgorge your sweet payload of delicious candy guts.
But first, photos were taken. Your future attackers posing with their victim, full of anticipatory glee.
"What do you think is inside?" I asked them.
"Hot dogs," said Luke. "I heard it is hot dogs."
"Huh. I heard it was veggies." (Lying shamelessly to children is part of my particular skill set.)
"I HATE VEGETABLES!!!" he declared, kicking and punching with all his might.
When mixed martial arts, and hitting with a flower made of glow bracelets didn't lead to your demise, dear Pornata, we armed the children. A heavy stick with a ball on the end. "Three hits!" they were instructed. No more or less. The other children counted loudly to make sure that no one got an extra. Luke, still anticipating hot dogs, was at the front of the line.
Even the dog got into the action. The children dutifully let him touch it three times as they counted aloud before he was removed while attempting a fourth. Dogs must follow rules too.
The Party Girl took her chances, managing several big dents, and a near break during her symbolic battle with candy-filled cancer. She was given four hits, just in case, with nary a grumble from the children. Apparently dogs also set dangerous precedents.
The second time through the line, things got violent.
You put up a valiant fight, Pornata. Perhaps too valiant. (Next time: fewer layers.) But you were no match for Michael, who smashed you to pieces for his mom like a Viking warrior. Candy and catharsis all in three hits.
CAAAANNNDDDDYYYY!!!!!!!!!!
The children swooped in on your fallen corpse, giggling vultures seeking candy carrion.
Now that cancer had been ritually vanquished, the real work began...
Bags were filled, parents were consulted, trades were brokered. All as your now-empty husk slowly rotated above them, a reminder that no pinata is immortal, and that hitting things til they break leads to candy and prizes.
Your life's mission was completed, Pornata. I never asked you if you had a (candy)bucket list, but I imagine you were mostly satisfied looking out at the neighbourhood and mocking the children playing in their backyards.
Your vengeance will be swift, Pornata: these children may not sleep for days. You will be responsible for lost teeth, cavity creeps, and sugar crashes galore.
Rest in (candy) Pieces, Pornata. Your sacrifice will be remembered.
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