Actually, I do have a scary Hallowe'en story:

The Thing That Would Not Die

Once upon a time, there was a fillyjonk. This fillyjonk taught college and she loved her job very, very much. She even was willing to do silly things like blow up sugar and wave her arms around like they were cilia, even though this sort of thing goes very much against the natural tendency to act overly dignified that most fillyjonks had.

There was one part of her job that the fillyjonk did not love. This part was known as "grading."

This "grading" was The Beast That Would Not Die.

The fillyjonk would collect a series of papers from her students. She would rush back to her office with them, hoping to finish them off before her next class. But she never could.

Now, one of the things laypeople do not know about this beast called "grading" is that if it is left unfinished, it multiplies, not unlike sourdough starter or a case of athlete's foot. The very reason the fillyjonk rushed to try to complete her grading was so it would not be able to grow.

But, the grading beast could never be fully vanquished. The fillyjonk would kill off one arm of it, just to find the next day it would be back, not unlike that monster from Greek mythology, who would grow three new heads in the place of the one that was cut off. In fact, the fillyjonk was not entirely sure but it seemed that any grading that was not attempted on the day it was collected would grow in size overnight, and become an unmanageable pile.

The grading beast was a sneaky one, too - if the fillyjonk sat down with the thought of watching an old movie on the telly while she graded, it seemed that not only did the grading totally distract her attention from the movie, but it also took twice as long to do. If the fillyjonk tried to grade in her office, the grading beast would send off magical pheromones or low-frequency sound waves that called in every student needing help from everywhere on campus, and made them descend on her office, needing help RIGHT THEN, as she was trying to grade.

Perhaps the worst part of the grading beast is that, like a cellular slime mold, it starts out as a series of small individuals, but slowly calls itself together and turns into a giant clump. And, due to kindness and laxness on the fillyjonk's part, the calling-together of the individual paper-cells was not perfectly coordinated, and often two or three straggler cells would show up, just as the fillyjonk was finished with grading their compatriots.

And the real horror of the Grading Beast is this: the fillyjonk knew, no matter how long and hard she worked to vanquish it, come the next day or the next week, the Grading Beast would return at full strength, demanding she battle it again. And again. And again.

And the only escapes from the Grading Beast are the paths of Teaching Assistants or Retirement. Teaching Assistants can be a fearful lot, more of a Sancho Panza than an assistant Quixote, more of a Scooby-Doo than an additional Velma, and they often have Research Project Beasts of their own to slay, and someone else's Grading Beast receives low priority. Retirement is the final answer, but that only comes when one has racked up enough life-points and slain the Grading Beast (and the Publication Beast, and the Grants Beast, and the Dealing with Administrators Beast) many many times over. And the fillyjonk sighs, and knows, that she cannot rest, and Sisyphus-like, must start anew each week slaying the Grading Beast, even though she slew it on the previous Friday.

well, at least Anne and any of my other professor-readers will find that scary.