I don’t know that there are real ghosts and goblins, but there are always more trick-or-treaters than neighborhood kids.

This quip is one of Robert Brault’s seasonal, observational aphorisms about Halloween and contemporary neighborhood life. It reflects the modern trick-or-treat experience in many places: children (and sometimes teens) travel beyond their own blocks to busier or more affluent areas, so the number of costumed visitors can seem to exceed the number of local children who actually live nearby. Brault’s line plays on Halloween’s traditional folklore—ghosts and goblins—by contrasting it with a very real, familiar “mystery” for homeowners: where all the trick-or-treaters come from and why there are so many.

The joke hinges on redefining what counts as “unreal.” Brault professes doubt about supernatural creatures, then immediately notes a phenomenon that feels just as improbable: the crowd of costumed children (and sometimes teens or adults) who appear on Halloween night, often exceeding the number of kids one recognizes from the neighborhood. The humor suggests that modern Halloween is a kind of benign invasion—people travel to better-lit or more generous streets—so the night’s eeriness comes from social dynamics rather than the occult. It also lightly comments on changing community patterns: fewer local children, more visitors, and a ritual that still reliably materializes.