Paul didn't hate Halloween. In fact, he kind of liked it, even. More so when he was young, of course, but even as an adult, it brought back some great nostalgia and even presented all new, equally as great memories. He was busy, too busy even, it felt like at times, and missed a lot of things with his daughters, but the times he'd been able to take them trick-or-treating had definitely been great. And Halloween episodes of their favorite cartoons and televisions shows were brutal, but hey, he just liked sitting with them on the couch and hanging out. The change in the air was welcome, his classic horror movie favorites were now acceptable during their 'after the kids are in bed kind of date night thing' he and Steph did (though she still vetoed them at times; how the fuck is Hellraiser not romantic).

It was a wonderful time of year, truly.

"Shit, Attila, Steph's gonna kill us."

Except for one small issue.

Fall officially transitioned their house, and many houses around the country he was sure, into the decorating phase. You get the all the fake pumpkins and scented candles and shit down from the attic at the beginning of September, add pumpkins and little witches and shit as you go into October, keep that shit up til Thanksgiving passes, then put it all away and bring out the hardly a month lasting, way more shit stuff that's involved with Christmas time.

Tradition, Steph always told him as she worked her already stretched thin schedule around getting the house looking all festive each and every year. And who was he to gripe? Not someone with a wife if he did.

The only problem with this was, well, apparently their newest dog, Attila, was either a super fan of October decorations or not one at all.

"What are we going to do?" he complained to his not so little puppy as she only ignored his wails and continued to rip up one of Steph's most prized Halloween decorations.

"I think it's fucking creepy," he recalled grumbling to Shane one year when the man was over at got to see the old thing in all it's glory. "But Steph-"

"Always felt the same," the other man replied with a shake of his head. "Our grandmother used to prop it up in her kitchen, every year. Dunno why Steph likes it so much."

"Witches stick together."

And they did, apparently, as year after year, Steph drug this massive, human sized witch doll that looked older than Vince, even, down from the attic and placed it at the end of one of the hallways in their house. Everyone always seemed to afraid of it to mess with it. The kids when they were little (now that they weren't little), him on a yearly basis, Bluto their immaculately trained dog, Andre their not even decently trained dog, even the house cleaner avoided it.

But oh, Attila, Paul's little baby puppy that did no wrong ever because she was just a good girl (Steph had numerous shoes that thought otherwise and the girls had learned to keep their stuffed animals or any other precious items far from her reach), she wasn't scared of anything so long as her father was there to protect her. Which he happened to be, that day, which meant she could finally hatch her plan of attack.

As Andre and Paul snoozed in the living room, the man on the couch, the dog on his big pillow bed Steph thought he looked so cute sleeping on, she sneaked away to the specific hallway and, at first, studied her adversary. She'd seen her mother place it there only a week or so before and had been very curious about it ever since. Stephanie, as she set it up, had noticed her following and said that dreaded word as she looked from the gigantic witch to the puppy.

"No, Attila," she threatened and even shook her finger in the puppy's face, preemptively. "You leave this alone. Do you hear me?"

Oh, she heard her alright.

Heard her leave that morning basically giving her permission, she felt, to do whatever she felt necessary to the dastardly witch that just made her feel so...uneasy. Unnerved.

But not for long.

She started at the witch's feet, which were hard and pointed like shoes, and tasted disgusting. But she wasn't eating the doll. No. Her intention was to rip it to shreds.

It toppled over at one point and scared the living daylight out of Attila, but she took this as the evil, demonic doll trying to capture her, so she only pounced on it's head then and began pulling it apart that way. She ripped the eyes right off and pulled all the ancient stuffing out. She was actually pretty pleased with herself.

Then it happened.

See, Andre had no idea where she'd gotten off to (nor did he care). Attila was fine, if not a bit annoying, but he mostly left her alone so long as his mother wasn't involved. She was a puppy so, fine, sometimes he had to put her in her place, but other than that, he was pretty content with her doing as she pleased. So when he awoke to find her not snuggling up against him on the too small (yet quite large) pillow, he only stretched, yawned, and then starting barking at the snoozing Paul to wake up.

Not to find his sister. No.

Because he had to go to the bathroom.

The wrestler wasn't too pleased with this and grumbled a bit, but complied. It was better than cleaning up dog shit in the house, after all. So he got to his feet slowly, stretched as swell, and then led the dog to the kitchen and out the backdoor. He was scratching at himself, Paul was, as he watched Andre run off into the yard, a bit out of it.

Then something hit him.

Where had the puppy gotten off to?

He smiled at the thought of her going to snuggle up in he and Steph's bed. Or maybe playing with one of her chew toys under the desk in his office. She really was his favorite dog. She might be his favorite being just in general.

"Attila, what the fuck?"

Until that moment.

"Shit. Shit, Attila," Paul cursed as he found his puppy there, completely destroying that evil, demonic witch, not even stopping when her father came to stand over her. "She's going to kill us."

The demonic witch? Maybe. But Stephanie? Definitely.

His puppy only barked at him though, happily, jumping up then to rush to her father's side. While he was the one that had trained Bluto, kind of sort of punished Andre when he did wrong, Attila rarely got such harsh words from her father. A lot of this had to do with him being gone so frequently, for work, but another part had to do with, well…

Bluto and Andre thought of Steph as their mother. No question. Not even just in that silly, stupid way that Steph pretended they do. No. They really seemed to think that she was kin to them. The most important of kin.

They'd had Bluto throughout Steph's pregnancies and this seemed to kick in some sort of overly protective instinct in the dog. When Steph was pregnant, no one could come around her except for the other kids and, if he was lucky, Paul. Bluto was very watchful and a bit mean, too, maybe. He just though that everyone wanted to do his mother and his house harm and, well, he was going to see to it that they didn't.

Andre was still so young, even now, and still in his puppy phase. But unlike Bluto, that protective instinct never really got off the ground. He didn't like strangers coming over, really, and would definitely check them out before leaving them alone, but he was mostly just a big baby. It didn't help that Stephanie treated him this way. She carried him around constantly when she was still able to, holding him in her lap or just walking around the house. He grew fast, of course, and Steph had to compensate this now loss of attachment by doing other things. Like letting him sleep in bed with her even when Paul was home (much to his annoyance) or cooing at him constantly about how cute and perfect he was. He was just her little tiny baby dog and no one else understood, do they, Andre Boy?

To which Paul would interject that Bluto Boy sounded like a name. Andre Boy sounded idiotic.

Then Paul got told to shut up. Or leave. One or the other.

It was just a different demeanor to each dog, honestly. Though the circumstances might have cemented a lot of it, the circumstances were certainly influenced by their personalities. Bluto had been a tough little shit that Paul got to keep the house safe for his wife and then only planned for family. He was trained to be a guard dog. Being a playmate was never the idea. After putting him down, Paul bought Andre with the intention of making his kids happy again. They were mourning the loss of a family member and he wanted them to have something fun there in the down time.

Plus, he was just too busy to train Andre too well in the current days.

Attila, too, had her own purpose in the family. Unlike Bluto, who found purpose in his guard duties, Andre had nothing to do when he was all be alone. Bluto traveled with Stephanie, but Andre was the kids dog, so he was home all alone during the week. Sure, he had the dog walker, yard people, and maid to keep him company, but he needed a playmate. Plus, the girls weren't too good about sharing the dog between them. Andre, honestly, mostly just wanted their mother anyways. So Attila was supposed to keep Andre happy during the day and play with the girls some when they got home.

But she also had her own special place as well.

Paul always though the he wanted sons, when he planned out his family. Then he only got three girls. And man, whatever higher power decided that had made the right decision. Boys would have drawn that same, asshole personality from him that he put on up at work. Girls made him, well, emotional in some ways. And he knew it wasn't correct, really, to still think that way, but it was true. It felt easy to open up to his daughters. Almost automatic, even. There was no draw to 'make them into men' or any of that bullshit, so when they were upset it was easy to feel their pain too. He knew it was antiquaited and dumb, but he just couldn't help it. They softened him in ways having sons wouldn't have. Even just having one daughter wouldn't have affected him so deeply. The three of them made him come to terms with what a shit head he was in general. Most some would have loved a jackass father who they could tell fuck the authority with, buy girls, his girls, needed him to sit and play dress up, have tea parties, giggle while playing Barbies. Just shoot most boys wouldn't want or need. They liked to brush his hair (when he had it) and paint his nails while talking about other girls from school. Not burp the alphabet and sneak to shows mom wouldn't want them watching, like he did when Shane's boys were over.

Raising boys and girls wasn't necessarily different, but it did feel like it would have been different. For him.

He felt the same way with his new puppy. She was a baby, like his girls me had been and liked to sit up with Daddy and watch late night tv, like his girls had. She was like tough and tough Bluto, or annoying rambunctious Andre. She was a princess too. She could do no wrong.

"You are so bad."

Until that day.

"Attila," he groaned, but he wasn't yelling. He wasn't even upset with her, it didn't seem like. Just himself and the situation.

When she nuzzled her head under his hand, he had to pay it. He just had to.

They could... They could blame Andre! Yes. Paul and Attila were down in the gym, behaving exceptionally, and dopey Andre, that bad boy, he-

No. Steph would probably hardly even yell at him, but if she did, Paul new the dog wouldn't understand why and that wouldn't be fair. Although...if he brought the mutt in there right that second, Andre probably would go ahead and tear up things some more. This making him culpable as well. Right?

Heh.

The dog might be Steph's baby, but he was still Paul's boy. He couldn't throw him under the bus like that. Not even to save his precious, perfectly innocent when you think about it Attila.

Then the man frowned before nodding his head. He knew what he had to be do. Attila was perfectly innocent. But as the person letting her run loose in the house, Paul was not.

Obviously, he was going to have to take the blame for his dog. There was just no other choice.

"Maybe she won't be mad," he remarked, hopeful as Attila only sat then, looking with him down at the chaos she'd created. "You think?"

Attila didn't think anything, really, other than about how proud she was of herself.

So, even though he needed the sleep, Paul kicked Attila out with Andre (he'd found a ball out there anyways and wanted to run around with it, keeping it from the younger dog; it was his favorite game) and got to work cleaning up. He went further than just tossing the old witch in the trash. He vacuumed, took out the trash, put the dishes from breakfast up, put his own dirty clothes in the hamper. HE was seriously cleaning.

The only break he got was going to pick up the girls from school and taking them to their various after school shit. Then he went home to either wait to pick them back up or wait for his wife to get home. Whichever came first.

Unfortunately that day, it was the latter.

"I bet the girls were happy," Steph giggled some as he met her in front of the door that led to the garage. "You being home to pick them up and all."

"And all," he agreed as his woman wrapped her arms tightly around him and squeezed some. She'd missed him.

For the moment.

Soon…

"It smells good in here," Stephanie remarked as they separated. "Mmmm."

"I lit some of your fall candles," he remarked simply as the dogs, who'd been busy napping again in the den, heard their mother's voice and came running. She was bent over greeting them when he said, "Just in the holiday spirit, I guess."

"Did you clean too?" Steph asked when she spied not only the empty trash, but also the clean kitchen table and dish rack. She had a low threshold for him, really, when it came to what could be considered cleaning. "Oh, baby, we have to go pick the girls up soon."

She was implying, well… But he only shook his head some.

"Just wanted ot pick up, is all."

"Awh."

He didn't know how to tell her. What to say. She wasn't going to like what he had to say. He knew that. Stephanie, for some reason, had been very attached to that ugly old witch doll. It meant something to her (lord knows what) and now the dog, his dog, had ruined that.

"Well, let me just go set my stuff in my office and-"

"Don't go down that way!"

He yelled it, for some reason, which got Stephanie to frown over at him. She'd been headed out of the kitchen and no doubt down the hall and, well, he just couldn't let her see. Not without telling her first. He had to come clean, not be caught. From past experience, he knew that the former was always better than the latter.

"What?" She even frowned some as the dogs ran ahead of her, knowing her destination and wanting to get in there first. Andre because he wanted digs under her desk and Attila because she knew it would annoy Andre if she claimed the spot first. "Paul?'

"I, uh…I took a nap today."

"Okay, I get it. We'll have sex tonight. Stop-"

"No, Steph- I mean, yes, Steph, but no, that's not why..."

"I have to go put my stuff-"

"Just listen to me for one-"

"Where is she?"

He almost ran into her too as Stephanie had taken to walking towards the hall and, in a haste, he followed along behind.

"She?" he asked softly because he knew the answer.

"My witch. Did you move her? Where did you put her? I don't move your stupid stuff, you know." Steph continued on, undeterred, as she in no way could possibly ever think that her witch, her most prized decoration, could possibly be out on the curb at the moment, off to a dump in the next few days. "Rude."

"Stephie-"

"Ooh, you vacuumed in here too?" She sat her stuff on her desk as Andre, the victor, could be heard beneath it, beating his tail against the ground. "So it wasn't for sex. It was to get away with moving my witch. Well-"

"I took a nap and Attila ate it, all alone, and I was gonna blame it on Andre, but decided to just be forthright and tell you it's not Attila's fault at all. It's mine."

Stephanie had been turning around to face him, but once she did, she only stood there, slack jawed and silent. Paul, in response, only scratched at his fuzzy head.

"So," he said slowly, "still sex tonight or-"

"She did what? Do you know how long I've had that? It was my great-grandmother's from before I was born, Paul."

"I know that."

"Then-"

"It was an accident. Attila didn't mean to do it. Look at he. She's just a baby. Mistakes happen."

"Mistakes like that just don't happen. You weren't watching her!"

He slowly nodded. "Yeah, that's true. And I'm sorry. So sorry. I-"

"Where is she? How much did she rip her up? Can I sew her back together?"

"Well, you can't even sew, so-"

"Pal-"

"It was, uh, you know, not viable, babe," he said slowly, feeling quite awkward with his phrasing. It felt like he was talking about a human life or something. It was creepy. "I had to just throw it-"

"You just threw her away?"

"Yeah, Steph, I did. It was completely-"

"I can't believe you."

"Steph, I didn't do it on purpose." He knew better than to try and trap her in the room though. She she shoved passed him, he let her go. "Stephie. Baby. It's just a doll."

But it wasn't.

That was, however, the final nail in Paul's coffin.

Needless to say, he didn't get anything good from his wife that night.

Or any other night. She was cool to him from that point forth and oh, gosh, if he didn't make up with her soon, their anniversary would be upon them and she'd throw a huge bitch fit at him over their fighting. Plus, you know, he loved her or whatever.

'

"Can't you buy another doll?" his youngest asked him when she found out about Attila ripping it up. "Then maybe Mommy won't be so mad."

"It was old, silly," he explained. "I can't just replace it."

But oh, could he. It took a bit of scouring (the thing was fucking huge; he couldn't present her with anything that wasn't at least close) and while it was the middle of October, he just didn't have enough free time to looking around for the thing.

"Have someone do it for you," his middle daughter suggested.

That made sense. He had people do shit for him all the time. That was the whole point of being rich, wasn't it? To have other people do the things that you don't want to do?

The issue, however, was if Stephanie found out that someone else picked it out, well, she'd probably not take it as well if he were the one to find it. He couldn't risk making her even more upset, could he?

When he fretted to his oldest daughter about it, she only sighed rather loudly (and rudely, he felt) at him before pulling out her phone.

"Why," she complained at him (again rudely), "don't you just find it online?"

"Because, Rora," he grumbled back, actually, at her, because she was being a brat, "how would I even find it? Huh? It's not a real thing. What would I search? Giant witch doll? Life sized witch. Imagine the results! And I don't want that in my search history, thank- Oh."

She only held her phone up to him then, showing him a doll that was definitely more modern, but also close enough to get him out of the dog house.

Maybe.

Man, if he didn't have the best kids though.

The package arrived expressly (again, the advantages of money...and needing to get your wife back on your side), but he was down in Florida when it did. Luckily, Steph wasn't home either and a call to the maid got her to hide the huge box in a rarely used closet, where he found it that night when he arrived home. It was close to midnight, but he definitely wanted, uh, the good graces that he'd get from presenting the thing, so he decided it was right then that he needed to present his wife the present.

"Listen to me, Attila," Paul grumbled as he pulled the large box out of the guest room closet while his faithful puppy stood by. "You eat this, or any more of Steph's stuff, and me and you will have a problem. Well…not that big a problem. It's not your fault, after all. How can you learn when I don't teach you?"

Her sentiment exactly.

Paul had to lug the doll up the stairs, losing Attila somewhere along the way (at first she was interested in the new doll, but then she spied Andre still roaming around downstairs and went to investigate what he was getting into), but it would be worth it. It would all be worth it. He just knew it.

The gift was a scream.

Well, it made Steph scream, actually, as he carried it into the room. The noises of him coming up the stairs had awoken her, apparently, but she was not prepared for the dark unfamiliar figure coming at her at such a late hour.

"Steph," Paul complained as then not only did the dogs come running, but he heard the girls getting up as well. "It's just me."

"What the fuck , Paul? That's not funny. That's-"

"This," he said as he flipped on the lights and propped the doll up against their bedroom dresser, "is for you, babe."

"Why the fuck would you wake me up in the middle of the night for that?"

Needless to say, his planning was not only half-thought out, but also did not lead him to any late night loving. Just to having to put the girls back to bed and calm the dogs down.

He was more than pouting a bit when he finally collapsed into bed.

"I don't get it, Stephie," he grumbled against his pillow. "Did you not want that?"

"Why would I want it? It's creeping me out right now. Just staring at us over there."

"The other one did that all the time!"

"Not from our bedroom. And that one wasn't creepy. It was sentimental." Then something seemed to dawn on her. With her back still to him, she griped, "And I'm going back to sleep, so be quiet."

But she'd waited up for him, to finish with the kids and dogs. That definitely meant something.

"I've apologized, I've replaced it, what's next? Huh? I know it meant a lot to you, Steph, but it was just a doll. And Attila's sorry. She-"

"If it's just a doll, Paul, then she's just a dog, so stop trying to make her sound like anything but."

Man, he must have really hit a nerve. He'd long given up on his wife as acknowledging their dogs as, well, dogs.

Sighing, he said, "Can you just tell me what to do to make you forgive me already? I'm tired of fighting."

"We're not fighting."

"We are fighting."

"Right now because you woke me up-"

"Surprised you."

"-but I'm not fighting with you. Over anything."

"You don't wait up for me on the couch, you don't sing my praises twenty-four seven. Have you even told any one that your husband is Triple H this week? Huh?" He lifted his head then, turning it to stare at her. "You're mad at me. I understand. But you gotta let it go, baby. The doll was weird and creepy and, honestly, I'm ninety percent certain it was haunted. Attila did us a favor."

"I'm not...mad at you." She even shook her head. "I'm annoyed with you. And the way you're so flippant about things that matter to me. I take everything you care about so serious-"

"Uh, the only things I care about are you, my kids, my dogs, and my business. That's it."

"-but you never take my things seriously."

"Babe, I've been fucking you for nearly eighteen years. Which means for eighteen years, I've seen that creepy doll each October. That's taking something seriously. That-"

"'Your doll's so creepy, Steph. Look, I cleaned the house, Steph, because the dog at your creepy doll. Let me make a stupid sex joke now because that always makes things so much better. I'm Paul and I'm a complete asshole.'"

He frowned. "I don't sound like that."

"Shut up."

Paul huffed. Then he thought. Finally, in a soft tone, he asked, "What can I do, baby? To make this right? Huh? No jokes. No schemes. I'm being serious. You're clearly upset about this and I apologize. Now tell me what to do to fix it."

"Short of going back in time and not-"

"Stephanie-"

"There's nothing you can do." But she didn't say it maliciously. She even rolled over finally to face him. "I'm just upset that… I dunno. That doll is Halloween for me. It was always set up, at my great-grandmother's, and then my mom would put it up and now… I'm not mad at you, Paul. You were just sleeping after coming home exhausted. I don't care about that. And Attila's just a dog."

He begged to differ, but kept his mouth shut.

"I think I kind of, you know, loved the doll a bit because of the past." She looked him in the eyes finally. "I know you didn't like it. Or the girls. Or the dogs. Or anyone else. But I liked it. And then you called her an it-"

He struggled to hold his tongue that time.

"-and it just really made me mad."

"That's what did it?" He smiled then, reaching a hand over to gently brush his thumb against his wife's cheek. "I'm sorry, Stephie. I call everything an it. The dogs, the kids, you." Things that actually are just it, like a fucking doll for example. "But I'm sorry if that hurt you. You know I'm a big idiot."

"You're not an idiot."

Of course he wasn't. The woman who thought that a doll somehow qualified as its own person was a bit loony though.

Finally, she cuddled up to him some and, with a grin, he pressed a kiss to her head.

"What are we gonna do with lookie loo though?" Paul asked, gesturing over to where the new witch still sat.

"Well, I don't want her."

"Steph, do you wanna know what I spent on shipping? And handling?"

"And handling?"

"And processing, maybe, even. Who knows." He shook his head. "We have to do something with it."

"Burn it?"

"Steph-"

"It can be a Halloween decoration, I guess." Then she frowned. "But it has to get out of here. And soon. If anything was haunted-"

"I kinda like her. Maybe she could go where your old one-"

He got a look.

"The back porch," he clarified. "She'd be great out there. Under the cover of the patio. Away from Attila, for the most part."

"Maybe the girls will like this one," Steph offered up as she lifted her head some, to glance over at it in the darkness. "And one of them or one of their kids, one day will-"

"Whatever makes you feel better, Stephie," he remarked as he patted his head, knowing in his heart that, seeing as his wife wasn't so attached to this one, it would definitely be taken by another 'accident' before the holiday season past. At the very least, it certainly wasn't going to be around the next year. Not in his house. "Whatever makes you feel better."

Today's contribution brought to you by, honestly, mainly my desire to write about the dogs some. Then, somehow, a story got attached from there and we just had to go with it. Someone asked for Hunter and Steph stuff up next, so I'll see what I can do, eh?