Welcome to Hell Fidelity. I'm A

The The

The The

The We're going to be. We're going to be. And Oh! Hmm... Oh! I thought you were not a trick or treater.

I'm afraid I'm bone dry on candy, but there's always plenty of leftover pumpkin guts.

Well, technically, these are people guts.

Sprinkled with a little cinnamon, nutsmeg, a dash of clove.

Sometimes I add a little whipped cream if I'm feeling fancy.

Oh, you distracted me.

I'm just putting the final touches on my Jack Kervorki in a lantern.

That's always so hard to get the eyeballs out.

G G Gah! Gah! Gah! so hard to get the eyeballs out.

Well, I can tell you have the right taste for the tasteless.

I will say, though, there is a science to the art of a scare.

But it's no trick when I say I have a special treat for you, my thrill-seeking Neanderthal. Ah, here it is.

A seasonal indulgence that will raise the hairs on the back of your neck and the worms from their decomposing coffins.

Ricky Olson thought himself head Hellraiser of Halloween.

He played vicious tricks and claimed all the treats as his own.

Alas, he forgot to check his candy.

Sometimes the most decadent bite hides a secret as sharp as a razor.

All manner of things wear a mask, because evil is always slithering beneath the surface.

In a tale I like to call, All Hallows Edge.

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