A Candy (C)Rush

It is the morning of the day after Halloween. Though the night of horrors is over, there is a ghastly scene to behold at Stuyvesant High School.

A group of rowdy students TP-ing the school with toilet paper from the bathrooms. Students viciously jump-scaring each other, resulting in their victims getting actual heart attacks. A conga line of freshmen singing to the tune of Spooky Scary Skeletons and waddling around in their costumes from the previous night. Kids pouring water down the escalators and, with a joyful whoop, sliding down like it’s a water slide.

Something is clearly wrong. This is a school of sleep-deprived children, but today, at the outrageous time of 7:30 a.m., they’re energetic and overly rambunctious. It’s a real mystery, but not for long. A sophomore throws up at the Sophomore Bar, revealing the contents of her stomach—Kit Kats, Nerds, M&M’s, and an… Almond Joy? On a brighter note, the vomit didn’t make the Sophomore Bar any dirtier than it already was. Anyway, the sickening smell of sugar and bits of undigested Halloween candy tell the whole story: Stuyvesant students are having a sugar rush.

When the first-period bell rings, not a single student is inside the classroom. After pettily making sure to mark everyone absent, the teachers try to put the wild hordes under control.

“What is this madness?!” a grumpy teacher, her eyes protected from projectile Skittles with lab goggles, roars. “I’m gonna need a huge bottle of brandy to get through today.”

“Did someone say candy?” someone yells, and the whole school erupts into cheers.

“I got 1560 pieces of candy last night,” the student in a pineapple costume humble-brags, with a grin exposing his chocolate-stained teeth.

“I got 1600!” a student in a pizza costume fires back proudly.

“Relax, it’s not an SAT score competition!” someone intervenes, before the Pineapple Kid and the Pizza Kid start fighting, slapping each other across the face with Sour Strings. “Which I got a 1600 on, in case anyone was wondering,” he adds, even though no one—not a single soul—was wondering. At his boasting, Pineapple Kid and Pizza Kid roll their eyes in sync and burst into laughter at the coincidence.

Someone opens a fresh bag of Sour Patch Kids, and before you can say “Trick or Treat, smell my feet!” the students are guzzling the gummies down without chewing. No one is concerned about the risk of choking on the gummies.

By this time, teachers have realized it’s hopeless to try to bring things to order. They’ve even had a change of heart toward the chaos. Some teachers are rumored to go to Terry’s (and for teachers with a higher salary, Ferry’s) to buy more candy for the students to sustain their sugar rushes, in hopes that they’ll never have to grade any more essay assignments that were obviously crammed at 3 a.m. Meanwhile, the PE teachers are delighted at the exercise students are getting from TP-ing the school and running all over the place. In fact, they are so pleased that they decide to exempt everyone from next year’s PACER test.

A fully TP-ed freshman (she had been mistaken for one of the seventh-floor plants) suddenly starts screaming and pulls the fire alarm in panic. Since the schedule of fire drills is usually spread within the school like, well, wildfire, this seemingly routine alarm causes everyone to rush out the doors. Everyone sprints a mile away from school at full speed (the PE teachers have never been happier). However, they soon realize that the school is not actually on fire, and there is no smoke in the air aside from the smoke trails the speedy children left from burning the rubber soles of their shoes on the streets. In true Hansel and Gretel fashion, a path of Laffy Taffy wrapper marks can be used to trace the zigzagging path the students all took.

The freshman tries to stop everyone from returning in their tracks in front of the bridge entrance, holding an ear of candy corn. “Don’t go back inside!” she wails. “I saw a monster in there!”

Everyone gasps dramatically, but Pineapple Kid just rolls his eyes (he seems to love doing that). “Monsters don’t exist, kiddo. You’re high on candy, that’s all.”

“I saw it,” she insists, wide-eyed. “Call me crazy or superstitious or tell me I’m having visions—but I’m telling you, I saw it.”

Everyone is scrambling to ask her more questions: did the monster have sharp teeth? Was it the reason behind the constant escalator breakages? Was it sabotaging the locks that made everyone fail to open their lockers on the first try? Was it hopefully entering the AP Chem classroom and destroying all records of exam grades? Panicking, the freshman describes its appearance: it’s all pink, has a pink ghost-like shape, four pink fingers on each pink arm, a singular strand of pink hair, and a maniacal toothy grin.

“Hold on—you’re describing Bubblegum Troll, the Candy Crush monster!” Pizza Kid exclaims.

To check, Pineapple Kid pulls out his phone and opens the Candy Crush app. “You’re a genius, Pizza Kid!” Pineapple Kid says, smiling charmingly at her, and Pizza Kid blushes.

“No, it’s a real monster,” the freshman argues; though she realizes her mistake, it’s too embarrassing to admit it now. “If you care about your life, don’t go back inside!”

Clearly, no one cares about their lives, because they all ignore her and enter the building. By now, the sugar rush has finally worn off. Some students immediately slump to the ground in exhaustion, while others reluctantly trudge into the building looking like hung-over zombies. As they file in, most of them do a double-take, staring in disbelief at the toilet paper mess they created. The janitors give each and every one of the students the evil eye, promising to haunt them next year for Halloween. Teachers give out 50s for participation grades. They use the candy they bought from Terry’s to sustain themselves while going through the crummy essays they have to read, and they are careful to avoid giving anyone a 100. And just like that, it’s a dreary, old school day again.

While the aftermath of Halloween was a colossal disaster for the school, Pineapple Kid and Pizza Kid actually got together (to the delight of pineapple pizza lovers), so there remains a sweet legacy of Halloween 2022.