Every Story Has a Moral

Hello ladies and gentlemen of the Creepypasta world. For my first ever post I decided to give you a true story from my own life. The fantastic thing about this particular story is the fact that there is a definite defined moral at the end of this story. So sit back, relax, and enjoy the fragmentation of my completely distorted and sociopathic mind.
It all began on Halloween 2004, and the events of that night have haunted me every Halloween since. I was sitting at home enjoying some of the candy and watching "Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas" when everything went wrong. I heard strange growling noises outside of my window. I shrugged them off at first, thinking it was the wind or something along those lines. In any case it didn't seem to really matter and the movie was just getting weird so I dismissed the sounds outside.
About 5 minutes later I heard the growling again, only louder. This time there was no way I could ignore the sound and I looked out my window. What I saw terrified me to no end. All over the streets were these monsterous creatures walking about. I knew that there were kids on the street trick-or-treating but these little demons were not in costumes, they were walking about in their most natural state. I was terrified for all of the children outside, and for my own life but I couldn't do anything except sit and stare at the horrific creatures before me.
That's when everything changed. One of the monsters knocked on my door. I was so scared I nearly pissed my pants. I refused to open the door but kept looking through the window at this monster. It was then that I noticed something in the demon's pail.
There was some candy and other treats, but the majority of the pail was filled with dismembered body parts. Fingers, toes, ears, noses, lips, and eyeballs half filled the pail. I was nearly sick when I noticed my best friend's class ring was on one of the fingers in the pail. It was then that I snapped. I grabbed my coat and ran toward the door. As I flung it open, the demon toppled over backward, dropping his pail. I grabbed it and ran as fast as I could to Jake's house.
I let myself into his home and ran to his room. I stared down at the bloody body of my closest friend and tears filled my eyes. It was then that I heard the growl again. Only this time it came from Jake. I froze as his body sat strait up and his head turned my way. His eye sockets were consumed in flames and an blue liquid dripped from where his fingers used to be. "What once was is lost, your blood will be the cost," was all he said to me before lunging at me. I swung the pail as hard as I could, sending body parts flying as it crashed into Jake's skull. His head shattered and a chunk of it flew out and struck my temple, rendering me unconscious.
The next morning I awoke in Jake's bedroom. I could smell coffee so I went toward the kitchen. He was there. All of his pieces were back where they belonged. It was as if nothing had ever happened. He began to relay the details of the night before. As it turns out, he was the demon. Because of the temperature outside, he was wearing a hoodie underneath his jacket, distorting his face. The pail full of body parts was just fries and burgers with ketchup. The skull fragment that hit my head was Jake swinging the "pail o' parts" at me for fear that I would do something crazy (or crazier). As for everything else I saw and heard... well that was just an over-active imagination I suppose. The reason this incident has "permanently scared" me is because I cut my head open when I blacked out and have a small scar above one eyebrow.
Now friends, you may be asking just what the moral of this particular story is. Because I promised you one, I will enlighten you to what the moral of this relatively ridiculous tale is. NEVER DROP ACID ON HALLOWEEN.
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