Halloween Scary Quotes

Conservatives understand Halloween, liberals only understand Christmas. If you want to control a population, don't give it social services, give it a scary adversary.

Agatha, you dressed as a bride for Halloween." "Weddings are scary.

I turned down Halloween parties every year, where people wanted zombies raised at the stroke of midnight or some such nonsense. The scarier my reputation got, the more people wanted me to come be scary for them. I'd told Bert I could always go and threaten to shoot all the partygoers, that'd be scary. Bert had not been amused. But he had stopped asking me to do parties.

The brisk October winds were brutal through the sunset colors of the leaves. The kind of wind that went right through you, just to prove how infallible humans were.

You’re just spooked. It’s Halloween; we’re all kind of spooked. That’s just the way it is. - Tory

Don’t get all gothic and emo on me now. - Tory

Nudist Colony Halloween parties are especially scary. They give the word "moon" a new cruel meaning.

But that’s what makes it so fun! Life is scary. So why wouldn’t we enjoy and make fun of that fear? It’s like life is trying to makes us fear it, and on this day we just mock its attempts and say ‘no, not today, today I’m not scared of anything you throw at me'.

She shoved her to the dirty floor and pressed an open palm against her shoulder to hold her down while her rage and sorrow blossomed into a glistening thorn.

I’m not a big fan of Halloween. Except for the dressing up part. I love picking out a costume. - Tory

When I look at a pumpkin muffin, I see the brilliant orange glow of a sugar maple in its full autumnal glory. I see the crisp blue sky of October, so clear and restorative and reassuring. I see hayrides, and I feel Halloween just around the corner, kids dressed up in homemade costumes, bobbing for apples and awaiting trick or treat. I think of children dressed as Pilgrims in a pre-school parade, or a Thanksgiving feast, the bounty of harvest foods burdening a table with its goodness. I picture pumpkins at a farmer's market, piled happy and high, awaiting a new home where children will carve them into scary faces or mothers will bake them into a pie or stew.

I don’t see why we should celebrate a day that means death. Life is scary already, why would we want to make it scarier by using horrible masks? Besides, I prefer to know when my fears are real.

When what to their curious eyes should loom, but a wicked old witch holding a broom. Her cape—how it shimmered! Her face—oh, how scary! Her hat was so pointy, it frightened the fairy! The wicked witch said, “Welcome. We have a surprise.” And the children yelled, “Run! It’s not a disguise!

Women have always been the most important part of monster movies. As I walked home one night, I realized why. Making my way down dark city streets to my apartment in Brooklyn, I was alert and on edge. I was looking for suspicious figures, men that could be rapists, muggers or killers. I felt like Laurie Strode in Halloween. Horror is a pressure valve for society's fears and worries: monsters seeking to control our bodies, villains trying to assail us in the darkness, disease and terror resulting from the consequences of active sexuality, death. These themes are the staple of horror films. There are people who witness these problems only in scary movies. But for much of the population, what is on the screen is merely an exaggerated version of their everyday lives. These are forces women grapple with daily. Watching Nancy Thompson escape Freddy Krueger's perverted attacks reminds me of how I daily fend off creeps asking me to smile for them on the subway. Women are the most important part of horror because, by and large, women are the ones the horror happens to. Women have to endure it, fight it, survive it — in the movies and in real life. They are at risk of attack from real-life monsters. In America, a woman is assaulted every nine seconds. Horror films help explore these fears and imagine what it would be like to conquer them. Women need to see themselves fighting monsters. That’s part of how we figure out our stories. But we also need to see ourselves behind-the-scenes, creating and writing and directing. We need to tell our stories, too.

Owl Hollow Road by Stewart Stafford On a bracing night walk, On leafy Owl Hollow Road, A raspy voice whispered to me, Like a deep-croaking old toad. I moved rapidly on my path, And then heard phantom feet, Looked around, empty space, Only silence replaced the beat. At my most pressing pace now, A shadow pointed past my shoulder, An SUV slammed into my side, And I broke my back on a boulder. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved

Mostly I love Halloween because it is the orange-and-black beginning of a season that tumbles into Thanksgiving, which tumbles into Christmas. And Zombies just seem a little out of place in that. Thanksgiving should have nothing to do with armies of shuffling undead. Don’t get me started on Christmas. The only undead at Christmas should be Jacob Marley, wailing about greed. The iconic image of Halloween should be the pun’kin. The pun’kin, carved into faces that are scary only because we want them to be, winking from every porch. The pun’kin cast in plastic, swinging from the hands of knee-high princesses, leering back from department store shelves, until it gives way to tins of butter cookies. But I fear for the pun’kin. How long before before he is kicked down the street by zombie hordes, booted into obscurity? Young people tell me that no one—no one— wants to dress up like a pun’kin any more. All a pun’kin does they say is sit there, and glow. This may be true, all of it, but try to make a pie out of a zombie, and see where that gets you. Though I hear that, when it comes to pies, your canned zombie is the way to go.

I open the box, and there are notes. Notes and notes and notes. Peter’s notes. Peter’s notes I threw away. “I found them when I was emptying your trash,” she says. Hastily she adds, “I only read a couple. And then I saved them because I could tell they were important.” I touch one that Peter folded into an airplane. “Kitty…you know Peter and I aren’t getting back together, right?” Kitty grabs the bowl of popcorn and says, “Just read them.” Then she goes into the living room and turns on the TV. I close the hatbox and take it with me upstairs. When I am in my room, I sit on the floor and spread them out around me. A lot of the notes just say things like “Meet you at your locker after school” and Can I borrow your chemistry notes from yesterday?” I find the spiderweb one from Halloween, and it makes me smile. Another one says, “Can you take the bus home today? I want to surprise Kitty and pick her up from school so she can show me and my car off to her friends.” “Thanks for coming to the estate sale with me this weekend. You made the day fun. I owe you one.” “Don’t forget to pack a Korean yogurt for me!” “If you make Josh’s dumb white-chocolate cranberry cookies and not my fruitcake ones, it’s over.” I laugh out loud. And then, the one I read over and over: “You look pretty today. I like you in blue.” I’ve never gotten a love letter before. But reading these notes like this, one after the other, it feels like I have. It’s like…it’s like there’s only ever been Peter. Like everyone else that came before him, they were all to prepare me for this. I think I see the difference now, between loving someone from afar and loving someone up close. When you see them up close, you see the real them, but they also get to see the real you. And Peter does. He sees me, and I see him. Love is scary: it changes; it can go away. That’s part of the risk. I don’t want to be scared anymore. I want to be brave, like Margot. It’s almost a new year, after all.

A grimy ghost hovered above a smiling scarecrow that looked puny next to an oversized bat being watched by a wicked witch who was entangled in the web of an even larger spider that was in danger of being eaten by a bug-eyed owl that peeped out of the faux foliage, much more nostalgic than scary.

Yes, this was a haunted place. He had read about certain materials absorbing the sounds of their surroundings like divots in a vinyl recording, and now, as the sun started to dip below the horizon, this concept chilled him more than the creeping cold. Put a needle to the mortar of these walls and listen to the screams. His own would be among them.

Nobody wants to be alone. Sure, we fill our lives with people, faces that come and go, we love a lot only to lose more in the end, and if we’re smart—really smart—we take our victories where we get them. But beneath our skins, we siren.

she felt a pair of sharp fangs digging into her neck.

The noodle/worm idea was appealing to me. I hadn't made pasta in the competition yet. And noodle kugel was a traditional Jewish dish that held tight to my heart... and could also be made to look extremely disturbing. To be honest, it could be a little gross-looking on the best of days. Noodles submerged in a creamy cheese base, some of them sticking up top to get crispy in the oven. Raisins or other fruits flecking the kugel like little bugs. Maybe I could make the whole thing graveyard-themed. If I was going to make something so rich and heavy and creamy, my other dish should balance it out by being light and savory. And spooky, of course. Maybe organ meats? Chicken feet were extremely scary-looking, maybe with some kind of beet sauce...

I'll take you and BAKE you. A witch came sneaky~sneaky~sneaky. "I'll take you and bake you," she said. And she gave it a pat. The pumpkin tried to look very scary. But it just looked big and FAT. The witch reached for it. But--she hid instead. Girls and Boys--- searching, seeking, peeking.

When I was a child, I was afraid of ghosts. When I grew up, I realized people are more scary.

When I was a child, I was afraid of ghosts. When I grew up, I realized people are more scary. Unknown

Scream?” Nothing like watching people get stabbed to death to take her mind off things. Candace groaned. “Seriously? It’s June. It’s nowhere close to Halloween.” “Scary movies aren’t like Christmas movies. There’s no rule about when you can and can’t watch them.

For a brief moment there, I feel like a helpless heroine in some scary teen Halloween slasher flick. Shit.

After all, I'm Jack Skellington, the Pumpkin King. And you're Scary Sally, the doll who can single-handedly frighten away an entire town just by using her head." He bared his teeth menacingly. "They have no idea who they're dealing with." A chill spun down Sally's back as she caught the fierce look on Jack's face. It was the kind of swagger he usually reserved for Halloween night, and she had always been enthralled by it. That confidence! That conviction! That look that told her he seriously believed he could achieve anything--- if he just put his mind to it. And maybe Sally could, too.

So, what are you two dressing up as for Halloween?" he asked. "Let me guess, pimps or gangbangers. Isn't that what you kids are into today?" "I'm going as Iron Man," Jake said. "You mean a guy in an iron lung?

Then, at night in my own home, I became a weirdo, a shadow watcher, a freak who wondered what was waiting on the basement stairs.

It was time to go into the haunted house. Our jack-o-lantern looked very spooky. Clifford followed me into the haunted house. But he didn’t like it very much. Then Mommy dimmed the lights and told a scary story about a haunted hand that crept around the house. Suddenly we all saw a giant hand wriggling on the all. We were scared! What was it? The hand came closer and closer. We laughed when we saw it was only Clifford. It was a great party. Clifford is grown up now, but he still makes Halloween a special day for everyone.

Halloween! Halloween! (when something is scary)

Before they could decide what to do, the witches were upon them. Leona cackled even louder. Just look over there. You’ll see something scary. It’s Tinkerbell Mona Dressed up like a fairy! The witches squealed and guffawed. They snorted and wheezed and rolled on the ground. Mona waited until the laughter died down. Then her eyes flashed, and suddenly so did her magic wand. “Now I’ve got a poem for you,” she said, and pointed her wand straight at them. Ibbity bibbity, bobbity boad. Leona Fleebish, you’re a toad! Instantly, a bolt of white light shot out from the wand, Followed by a clap of thunder and a great puff of smoke! The next thing they knew, Wendell, Floyd, Mona, and Alice landed right back on the corner where their evening had begun. There wasn’t a witch in sight, and their bags were filled with wonderful, ordinary candy. Wendell stared at Mona’s wand. “How did you do that?” She just shrugged. “You said anything can happen on Halloween.” Later, they sat in Floyd’s living room, sorting their candy and sipping cocoa. “You know, Floyd,” said Wendell. “You make a pretty good pirate.” “Thanks. You’re a good mad scientist too, even if you are pink. But Mona was the best of all.” She smiled. “I guess being a fairy princess was okay. Still, I’m sort of glad it’s over. Now we can all get back to normal.” After a while, Leona Fleebish even stopped being a toad.

Be careful”, he said. “It’s a scary, scary night out there.

There was only one more thing to do--go into the haunted house. “You first,” said Beaver, pushing Franklin toward the door. It creaked open. A skeleton rattled. Chains clanged. There were moans. Franklin stepped on something crunchy. Suddenly, a big hairy hand reached out of the darkness. Franklin’s heart beat hard and fast. But before he could scream, a light was flicked on. “Trick or treat!” shouted Mr. Mole. Franklin looked around nervously. Then he laughed. The hairy hand was only Mr. Mole’s mop. “Here’s a treat for braving the haunted house,” said Mr. Mole. “A ghost came before you. He got so scared he flew away.” “But Bear can’t fly,” said Franklin. “It wasn’t Bear,” explained Mr. Mole. “Bear is home sick with a nasty cold.” Franklin shuddered. “If Bear wasn’t the ghost, then who was?” He ran back to his friends, who were waiting in line for the haunted house. “Was it that scary?” asked Fox. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.” “Maybe I did,” said Franklin. He told them what Mr. Mole had said. “You mean that Bear was never here?” asked Beaver. Franklin shook his head. The ghost flew over them. It swooped low and called, “Whooo!” Rabbit twitched. “So what is white, says ‘Whooo,’ and flies?” “A real ghost,” answered Goose. “Run!

They walked down each lane, avenue, and street, rang every doorbell and said, “Trick or treat!” But just when the children thought they were done, the princess said, “We’ve forgotten just one.” So they walked to the house at the top of the hill, which gave all the kids a spine-tingling thrill. They stood on the porch and were ready to knock, when they heard heavy footsteps, and a turn of the lock. When what to their curious eyes should loom, but a wicked old witch holding a broom. Her cape--how it shimmered! Her face--oh, how scary! Her hat was so pointy, it frightened the fairy! The wicked witch said, “Welcome. We have a surprise.” And the children yelled, “Run! It’s not a disguise!

They stood on the porch and were ready to knock, when they heard heavy footsteps, and a turn of the lock. When what to their curious eyes should loom, but a wicked old witch holding a broom. Her cape--how it shimmered! Her face--oh, how scary! Her hat was so pointy, it frightened the fairy! The wicked witch said, “Welcome. We have a surprise.” And the children yelled, “Run! It’s not a disguise!” The monsters were sad when the kids ran away. They wanted the children to come in and play. The wicked witch said, “We can have our own fun! Come on, little monsters, the night’s just begun!” The monsters all cheered as they danced with delight, “Happy Halloween to all-- and to all a fright night!

She butchered several students at college in her senior year and later confessed to doctoring candy with razor blades on Halloween. She poisoned and maimed quite a few children in 1984. Several of them died of internal bleeding. I hope this helps.

I hope you’re right,” Emma said. “It looks nasty.

I’d seen vampires, demons, werewolves, and more in my time in Ash Grove. They were scary. But a rickety old man in flowing priest garb standing in the middle of the street? Horror-movie-level creepy.

The Zombie Firetruck by Stewart Stafford Sirens moan, grave duty's flash of red, A mortuary whiff of something dead, Hoses trained with brains they suck, Your friendly neighbourhood zombie firetruck! All that remained of the human fire team, From the zombie pandemic of 2017, Still in their uniforms, their only treasures, Apocalyptic times call for end-time measures. When they reached the fire, people did scoff, They lurched, staggered, body parts fell off, As they wandered around, fire hoses forlorn, These knightly living dead faced a blazing dawn. The chief, hat off to his skeleton crew, In a voice once alive, now croaky like flu: 'To the hydrant, my ghouls, let's save Gothik Town, Or they'll call Ghostbusters, we'll be the clowns!' A glowering inferno, a cremation scene, Zombie firefighters, brave and light green. Through smoke and ash, they gravely stand, Composed decomposition with skeletal hand. Axeman Bony Ed led their clattering charge, Into the smoke, his cadavers did barge, The townsfolk looked on in dead of night, And disbelief, tiredness and mild fright. There soon followed medic Cemetery Phil, Decaying Murphy, Old Salty, and Dead Drill, Slab Stevens, Madly Hyde and Molly Voodoo, Determined to shake their initial hoodoo. A mother and baby backed by burning drapes, Team Macabre charged up the fire escape, Saving both and getting everyone out, Drank Brainer Ade as they leaked like a spout. Somehow, undead teamwork saved the day, No lives were lost as the water sprayed, Doused the flames, cool flatlined heroes, Much zombie kudos, no longer scary zeroes. The crowd cheered, did they ever doubt it? High fives lost hands but new ones sprouted, Frankenstein proud in their flapping flesh, Sure to get medals at the HalloweenFest. With a final groan and a clatter of bones, The zombie firetruck headed back home. Rotten yet proud, in their reanimated way, The risen would fight fires another day. © 2024, Stewart Stafford. All rights reserved.

Maryanne, the new girl at school was polite, kind, and pretty. She always did her homework, and she was respectful to the teacher and friendly to the students. She did well in every subject

Don't be like that, my little candy corn.

Mia pulled on her nightgown and smiled contentedly. It was a wonderful feeling to get ready for bed after a long day of school! She fluffed her pillows and made sure that her favorite teddy bear was sitting in the corner where her mattress met the wall.

The Forbidden Place by Stewart Stafford Bypass the chateau on the hill, For, as dusk falls, horrors creep, Griffins and gargoyles fly and flay, And grotesque statues come alive. Badinage becomes shrieks and roars, Shrill warnings for the straying and foolish, Cats as big as panthers stalk and slay, As their homicidal master flogs their fur. Wandering werewolves fetch human bones, A savage rampage beneath a Hunter's Moon, As the dawn routine reasserts its dominance, Denizens of night bathe in darkness's arms. © Stewart Stafford, 2022. All rights reserved.

My favorite time of year will soon be here, new scary rhymes will soon appear, I love to write them yes that's true, won't you please read one or maybe two. Happy Halloween 2022!

There may be scary images on Halloween, but to me, the most terrifying image of all is someone with a mean disposition.

One more scary story, especially if you’re lucky enough to hear it on Halloween night, or late around a dying campfire, is about the innocent man who picks up a young hitchhiker who turns out to be a ghost. The man saw a thin figure hitchhiking at a dark corner near the local cemetery on his way home late one night. He stopped to give the person a ride, and the figure got in quietly beside him. It was raining hard, and despite his attempts at conversation, the hitchhiker only said, “10 Capen Street, please,” in a soft, sad voice. When the man stopped at a traffic light, he could see the soft features of a 12-year-old girl, he guessed, staring straight ahead. She might have been crying, the man thought, or her face was wet from the rain. After he dropped her off at 10 Capen Street at a house surrounded by spooky-looking pine trees that swayed in the wind, he went home, only to find that his rider had left her hooded sweatshirt in the car. The next night after work, the man swung by the unlit house at 10 Capen Street. He waited a good long while at the front door after ringing the doorbell. Finally, a frowning older woman answered, and the man offered the sweatshirt that the girl had mistakenly left in his car. The woman looked suddenly shocked, and said, “This belongs to my granddaughter who was hit by a car a year ago while walking near the cemetery!

Scary Noises On Halloween my brothers argued about what noise would be the best for scaring trick-or-treaters. I said, “That’s easy. I can make a noise that will have them running away screaming.” My brothers all rolled their eyes and said, “Sure, Reggie. Whatever.” I said, “I can so too.” My brothers said, “Reggie, there’s no way you can make a scarier noise than us.” I said, “I bet you the last chocolate muffin I can.” They said, “You’re on.” We hid in the bushes out front. A group of trick-or-treaters came to the door. Jon said, “Mwah, ha, ha, ha!” Nothing happened. Con gave a loud witch’s cackle. Nothing happened. Don rattled a chain. Nothing happened. Lon moaned loudly. One of the trick-or-treaters looked at his watch. Ron made a creaking-door noise. Nothing happened. I farted loudly. Nothing happened. Jon said, “Is that the best you’ve got? Too bad, Reggie.” I said, “Wait for it.” Then the smell hit them and they ran away screaming (brothers AND trick-or-treaters).

Bradbury

sundaes,

has

Jeremy’s mother doesn’t read horror novels. She doesn’t like ghost stories or unexplained phenomena or even the kind of phenomena that require excessively technical explanations. For example: microwaves, airplanes. She doesn’t like Halloween, not even Halloween candy. Jeremy’s father gives her special editions of his novels, where the scary pages have been glued together.

1895,

Behind me, Mom busily cleaned out the refrigerator, making room for the groceries Dad was out buying. I was dying to tell her about the scary mask. I wanted to show it to her. Maybe put it on and make her scream. But I knew she’d ask too many questions about where I bought it, and how much it cost, and how much of my allowance I used up to pay for it. All questions I couldn’t answer.

ALL RIGHTS RESERVED. No part of this book may be used or reproduced in any matter whatsoever without the written and signed permission of the author. All trademarked names are the property of their owner and are acknowledged by the proper use of capitalization throughout. OTHER ‘Game on Boys’ BOOKS Available on Amazon as eBooks or print books Game on Boys 4 can be read separately or part of a series FREE ebook Game on Boys 1:The PlayStation Playoffs(8-12) Game on Boys 2 : Minecraft Madness (8-12) Game on Boys 3 : NO Girls Allowed Game on Boys 5 : House of Horrors Game on Boys 6 : Galactic Zombie Other books by Kate Cullen FREE Diary Of a Wickedly Cool Witch : Bullies and Baddies(8-13) Boyfriend Stealer : Diary of a Wickedly Cool Witch 2 (8-13) Diary of a Wickedly Cool Witch 3 : Perfect Ten (8-13) Diary of a Wickedly Cool Witch 4 : Witch School for Misfits Lucy goes to the Halloween Party (Early readers) Lucy the Easter Dog (Early readers) Lucy's Merry Christmas Sammy McGann and the Secret Soup People (5-10) Follow KATE on TWITTER at Kate Cullen @ katekate5555 Or email gameonboysseries@gmail.com to receive email updates. (Copy and paste) Or visit her website for new books and giveaways Kate Cullen author website Contents 1. Wow 2. BYODD 3. Secrets 4. News 5. Brats 6. Santa 7. Wishing 8. Blocky 9. Monsters 10. Wolverine 11. Creepy. 12. Arachnophobia 13. Fartblaster 14. Superhero 15. Enderman 16. Teleporting 17. Lost 18. Potions 19. Scared 20. Spells 21. Fireworks 22. Homecoming 1. WOW You know how awesome Christmas is, and birthdays are sick as, Easter is just a big fat chocolate splurge, and even Thanksgiving is like pig-out insanity. Weekends are kinda cool too, but holidays are totally far out man. And when a new PS game comes out and they have a midnight release extravaganza at the game store, it’s like crazy time, coolness overload. All these things are the main reason I exist on this earth. Without all this stuff, life would just SUCK big time. But nothing, I repeat NOTHING comes close to the Christmas I just had. WOW! I repeat WOW! Where do I even start? This Christmas was a like a dream come true. Actually it was sort of like a nightmare too, if that makes any sense. A dream and a nightmare mixed up into one. Totally far out man. Totally gobsmacking, totally awesome, but totally freaking scary. So you’re probably thinking like I won a million bucks or something and then got mugged, or the owner of Sony PlayStation company sent me 1000 free PS games, and then the house got robbed at gunpoint. Or even better, the owner made me the new boss of the Sony PlayStation company. Yeah right! Like that will ever happen! In my dreams!! Although, after what happened, I’m thinking that absolutely anything is possible. 2. BYODD The last day at school before Christmas break was awesome. We had a BYOD day in the afternoon. The first part of the day we had to do all the boring Christmassy stuff like making soppy cards for our families, coloring pictures of Santa and doing boring word searches looking for words like (DER) ‘Santa, Christmas, present, jingle, stocking’. Like BORING. Capital ‘B’ Boring. Why can’t Christmas word finds have proper Christmas words like, console, iPhone 6, PlayStation games, Star wars, BMX, Nerf Modulous Blaster, Thunderblast, Star Wars darth vader vehicle, lego Star Wars Death star?

Maya’s point is that Hayley, Nicole, and Serena shared common characteristics, which probably means they’re the same type, and it has something to do with singing and swimming.” “And being pretty,” Hayley said. “That’s not a superpower,” Sam muttered. Hayley turned to her. “No? How many times have you gotten into movies for free because you’re a tough warrior chick?” “What about me?” Corey said. “What’s my superpower?” Silence fell. “Oh, come on. I’m good at a lot of stuff. Right?” More silence. “You’re cute,” Hayley said. “Well, cute enough.” “Fun to be around,” I offered. “So I’m…a clown?” “At least you’re a cute clown,” Hayley said. “Not a scary one.” “You’re a good fighter,” Daniel said. “And you’re a good drinker,” Hayley added. “You can hold your liquor better than anyone I know.” “Uh-huh,” Corey said. “So Maya will grow up to be an amazing healer who can change into a killer cat. Daniel and Sam will roam the country hunting criminals and demons. Hayley and Nicole will divide their time between recording platinum albums and winning gold medals in swimming. And me? I’ll be the cute, funny guy sitting at the bar, hoping for a good brawl to break out.” “In other words, exactly where you were already headed,” Hayley said. We all laughed at that, even Corey. We had to. For now, this was the best way to deal with it. Tease. Poke fun. As if we were comparing Halloween costumes. Look, I’m a superhero. Yeah? Well, so am I. “I’m sure you have powers,” I said. “You’re just a late bloomer.” “Thanks…I think.

And who are these guys that run this Haunted Hayride? This amusement park of pure evil. Just exactly what are they getting out of it? I think maybe you should ask yourself that very question the next time you go to a haunted house or a haunted hayride or even a scary attraction at a theme park. What do the people who get so much enjoyment out of scaring you to death get out of it? But be careful if you ask yourself that question. Be very careful. Because the answer might not be what you want to hear.