There are three kinds of adult Halloween candy theft. There is snatching, the outright reaching into a bag/plastic Jack O’Lantern/pillowcase or sorting pile — sometimes this is done in a brazen smash and grab, sometimes surreptitiously with an offer of, “I’ll hold your cauldron.” Next there is the con, telling a child their candy will go to the Tooth Fairy, the needy or some invented candy monster who must be appeased with fun-size treats. Then there is embezzling. This is where many non-guardian culprits operate, cherry picking the Twix from a salad bowl by the door, then flipping off the porch light at 7:45 p.m. when they hit bottom. Trades, unfair as they may be when negotiated with small children, are, like the rest of capitalism, not technically stealing. But you know what you did. And if you have informed said child that Mounds Bars are technically filled with vegetables, that goes under con. Which Halloween candies drive us to toss our moral compasses like a roll of toilet paper over a rooftop reveal more about our character. Only beware — when you look into the candy bag, the candy looks into you. Peanut Butter Cups: You are a creature of duality. On the outside, you’re even tempered, sweet and mellow. But inside, you’re salty as hell. Embrace it. M&Ms: Ah, the good old days. The M&M, plain or peanut, speaks to your longing for simpler times when you had little to no idea what was going on. Listen to how they click together like the beads of an abacus you don’t know how to use. So soothing. Black Licorice: This is the most Goth of candies, little twists of black hole that numb the tongue and blot out whatever flavors might follow. Those in thrall to its smoky Eldritch flavor don’t care that large doses can prove toxic, for they crave the void. Hot tamales/Fireballs: It feels like a gimme to say you are a volatile cocktail of emotions but be honest — hot cinnamon candy is for the passionate, those who ping-pong between extremes. Given your volcanic nature, a small fire in your mouth just feels leveling. Fruit Juice-Sweetened Gummies: To the untrained eye, eschewing corn syrup and Red Dye No. 5 for these bland, dun-colored pectin blobs seems like righteous martyrdom. But I see the violence in you, compressed under a layer of carob. And we both…