Back when I was a little trick-or-treater, we knew which homes on our block insured a good haul, and we beat feet to those houses straight out of the chute. And then there were the homes we stayed away from at all costs regardless of how great the candy might be. These were the homes of the neighborhood legends.

Yes, every neighborhood had a legend or two. In my day this included the old spinster at the end of the block, Edna Greebhauser. Even in the middle of summer she dressed in crinkly black dresses and black lace-up-old-maid-school-teacher shoes. It was rumored that she ate her cats. Poor old Edna was the neighborhood's resident witch and WAY too scary to approach on Halloween.

Then there was crazy Mr. Calhoun. Rumor had it that one year he flung open the door to trick-or-treaters wearing only his wife's Sunday-Going-to-Church hat secured in a, um ... strategic location. It was reported that everybody bolted when he hollered, "Say, kids, what do you think of that?!!!" It was also rumored that it was his wife's good hat. The opulent one with lots of feathers and beading.

But the Holy Grail of Halloween night is the candy. So when I bought this year's stash of Halloween "fun-size" treats and found a small tear in the bottom of the bag, I decided to do some research.

Pulling out three or four candy bars I noted that, yes indeed, these bars resembled in miniature their full-sized counterparts. Research over, I proceeded to document ... oh, all right. I ate the research.

Now this was not a bad thing because I had purchased Gobbledygook Bars - the "healthy" alternative candy bar. A little less fat and calories.

But will the kids that come to the door know I am helping their health needs, and if they do, will they hold that against me? Which brings me to the actual size of these "fun" bars.

Who said anything about "fun?" These bars are TEENY. In my day we'd have thrown them back because they are clearly too small to have been considered a proper catch because we carried mega bags such as pillowcases.

These came with our mothers' admonishment that we dare not "drag it in the mud and get it dirty." Or perhaps we scored an actual paper bag from the grocery store. And that left us with lots of empty real estate to fill with candy, my friend.

So if we were savvy trick-or-treaters back in those days of yore, imagine the mindset of the kids you encounter nowadays.

Halloween night brings trick-or-treaters to your door these days with their critical thinking skills on full major alert.

And as you deliver precisely one healthy "fun" bar to their waiting containers, they may just counter back with a searing critique of your contribution. So make sure you're doling out the good stuff - and lots of it - because the older the kid, the more risk of a run-in due to the candy quality control factor.

Now the first kids to appear on your porch are easy because they are the babies.

Charming little cuties, whose mom or dad bring them around the second it gets dark because with any luck parents can be through with the doorbell ringing and back home where little Fifi or Dweezil are hustled out of their costumes and into their footy p.j.'s by 7 p.m.

That's right; the first round of little ones are so caught up with the novelty of trick-or-treating, you can pretty much throw an old gym sock into their containers and they'll go away happy.

But the hypercritical thinkers come late, and you'll recognize them immediately. No good ever comes from the late arrival trick-or-treaters:

8:27 p.m.: Doorbell rings. You open the door. Standing before you are two 37-year-old males who could stand a shave wearing "costumes" that can only be described as Dog the Bounty Hunter and Borat at the Beach.

Trick-or-Treaters: "Trick-or-Treat, smell my feet, give me something good to eat!!"

Me: "What? What kind of thing is that to say? And aren't you a little OLD to be trick-or-treating? Oh, well, here you go," (plunking a requisite fun-size bar into their, um ... backpacks??). "This is your lucky day, boys, because I'm giving you a Gobbledygook Bar - do you realize they are the HEALTHIEST candy bar out there?"

Trick-or-Treaters: "Who are you, the Surgeon General?"

Me: "You'd better show some respect, young man, or I'll call my friend the Attorney General and sue your smelly socks off!"

So you see what we're up against these days. And yes, folks, it can get ugly.

Gale Hammond Gale Hammond is a writer and freelance photographer who has lived in Morgan Hill 24 years. Reach her at GaleHammond@aol.com.