By David Colton

ELM STREET — As Halloween approaches, Americans have once again ritualistically begun to go through the annual tradition of humanizing murder and suffering in the name of free chocolate.

Just as the shelves of Target seamlessly transitioned from summer vibes to fake spiderwebs and massive bags of candy, the American people generally shift from Halloween décor to Thanksgiving and even Christmas relatively quickly.

Consumers around the world keep their eyes on one shadowy little hole waiting desperately for a signal from their fearless leader: famous director and renowned strangeman man Tim Burton.

In the days leading up to the made-up excuse to get drunk and wear Harry Potter robes on a weekday, the entire American populace anxiously anticipates Mr. Burton slinking out of his little puppet-sized home and walking to the Mobil down the street, where he indulges in the ceremonial rotisserie beef taquito — that is, if spooky season is nearly over.

The other option, which has proven disastrous several times in the past decade, is that Mr. Burton slinks out of his home and is instantly attacked by the ghost of his former self — in particular, the version of himself that is responsible for “Frankenweenie.”

“I’ve seen that guy who made Frankenweenie before, and let me tell you: Tim is not that person anymore,” said Rynault Throes, a Burton mega-fan and apprentice to the owner of his fan club merch shop. “This is going to be a long autumn to say the least.”