This is Halloween

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and with that the goblin showed, saying "...funny how life is built upon a mere assumption of certainty here, where the future was not promised and where one's past has slipped away, but a writer lives a shared life between his muse within and his dailylife without, in fact it's odd how anyone could ever wish to become a writer, I mean it's a practice of schizophrenia if ever there was one, where somewhere too, written in the small print on the label perhaps, it's just marked warning, that muse does not got back into her bottle, when the young would dream of fame and fortune here, and just receive a journey to self instead, and although not exactly short-changed by that either, it isn't what they bargained for now...", whereupon the goblin just laughed, saying "...frankenberry, you'll post with me awhile won't you, you have more talent than you give yourself credit for...", and with that the goblin was fed up with rolling out that same old red carpet each time, thinking perhaps that, what with the time of year, a white carpet was called for instead, even if the welcome was just the same by it, somehow it just seemed more natural now

Welcome, Frankenberry.