Greetings. With grace and grammar, allow me to gratefully welcome a grim month, when the skies are groggy and grey, and graveyards groan in the grassy greens. In weeks, the gross and the grimy, the grisly granddaddies and grungy grandladdies, and whatever gatherings of gritty grotesqueries in between, will group on the grounds to gratify their growing greed to grapple the graphic night. And I, your gruesome groom, will grudgingly grind every grimace into something... grand, granted a gram or granule of gratitude exists in their greasy hearts. Boys and girls, with great pleasure and a glass of grape in my grasp, I have returned.

Good evening. I'm Mister Grinn.

Let's have a little fun this year, yes?