Halloween was a bit of a bust. I bought candy and small toys, lit up the plastic jack-o-lanterns, and rushed home from work to be here in time to welcome any kids that showed up. Unfortunately, not a single trick or treater rang the bell. I wasn't altogether surprised, since our neighborhood runs mostly to retired couples. We never see very many, but none at all was a letdown. The only good part of that was all the leftover candy.
A bowl of which we had on our kitchen counter, beside Marco's cage.
And he's a little terrorist that lives for trouble and sneaking around. We should have known better.
I got home from work the other night and my husband met me at the door to tell me that Marco had raided the candy bowl. He had been playing happily on top of his cage for an hour, and so my husband forgot he was out and went to the other room to mess around on the computer. When he finally remembered and went to check on Marco, that crazy bird had eaten most of a miniature Heath chocolate bar! We were worried about the chocolate, but he seemed fine afterwards, and so we threw away the bowl of (half-chewed) candies and forgot about it. Until the next morning.
Once again, Mr. Man was playing on top of his cage. I went to the bathroom, and then made a couple of phone calls. When I went back to check on him, he was gone. After searching the house, I finally found him in the dining room. Somehow, he had figured out that we still had some candy left in a plastic bag on the dining room table. This is how I found him:
Enjoying a Whopper malted milk ball, and making a chocolatey mess on my grandmother's lace tablecloth.