Everyday Should Be Like This
By Mice
Bobby Drake wasn't going to question why there was suddenly a pub in his parent's bathroom. He had dreams before. Being in a bar where he was the only one in a Halloween costume was a walk into the bar. He approached the bar confidently. "Schlitz, please."
The barkeep, with his large rough cheeks chapped red from the cold and Frankenfurter fingers wiping out glasses, shook his head. It was a no.
"Corona?"
The barkeep shook his head. Another no.
"PBR? Coors? Guinness?"
The barkeep's face scrunched together like a boiled cabbage.
Bobby decided to shoot for the moon. "Purpleasaurus Rex Kool-Aid and Hennessey? Splash of grenadine? Lime garnish?"
"Now yer usin' yer brain box!" The barkeep produced a beautiful cocktail of vivid purple cocktail completed with a cocktail umbrella. Bobby smiled at the accent which sounded to him like a cross between the Long Island of his youth and the lucky charms of his later years.
The drink was sippable and the barkeep remained fixed to the spot. "Halloween isn't a thing around here, is it?"
Wiping another glass down, the barkeep shook his head. "When ev'ry day is Halloween, ye don't tend to go all gangbusters when the real one comes 'round."
"I always thought it would be cool if everyday were Halloween. I read this book once when I was a kid about someone who wished it was Christmas everyday." Bobby removed the umbrella and tucked it behind his ear (which soon turned into a very large parasol that he twirled). "I hated that book."
"And what's so wrong with Christmas?" The barkeeps arms, almost as wide as a thunderbird, stretched out. "Keep on believing that ye gotta put a costume on…wasn't everyday like Halloween? Stuff happens on Halloween. Christmas happens because of the stuff that happens. Christmas even stopped Hitler for a stuff."
The barkeep removed his hand and Bobby's shoulder and his ears got very hot as he felt the dream end.
Bobby stroked the fine hairs on his lip he hoped would one day be a moustache, resisting the urge to itch. He went sophisticated with his choice. "Schlitz?" Bobby called from the drinking end of the bar.
No sound came from the business end of the bar.
"Corona?"
No sound.
"Come on – is there a PBR? Coors? Guinness?"
"Are you talking in code or asking for actual items?"
"These are beers – that exist – I have seen them!" Bobby stroked his stache more. "If we have to spend Halloween inside this school with NO horror movies on deck – "
"Didn't Scott, Warren and Hank just leave to go to the Westchester Cineplex to see one?"
"NO house but our own to egg –
"And clean up as we have been told several times."
" – and NO miniature candy – "
"Your fault."
"OUR fault."
"fine, fine, our fault…I found some grenadine!"
" – then I will not spend this Halloween with chicken pox without drink! An alcoholic drink!" Bobby fist pumped the air and scratched his hodge podge of pox scars.
Jean popped up from behind the bar, covered in small red dots that didn't quite match her hair in a few (three) sloppy braids, and laid down a bottle of grenadine, a bottle of Hennessey.
"I found these behind a box of napkins with dumb jokes and pervy doodles." Jean also popped up with two of the napkins.
Bobby stared at her, his eyes playing Pong between Jean and the Hennessey.
"It's cognac."
Boop. Boop. Boop.
"It's alcoholic."
BLEEEEEEP!
"Halloween is on, Jeannie!"
Jean began looking around for glasses. "Halloween is always on for us."
"You mean like because we wear costumes? And face some really frightening situations? In those costumes?" Bobby awarded himself another stache stroke.
Jean shook her head no with enough force to undo one of her braids.
"Is that a no or an itch?"
Jean's head continued to shake. "I have a pox right behind the skin at the tip of my nose!"
"And you can't even get it with your telekinesis?"
Jean's eyes played Pong with Bobby and her nose.
"…Jean, you mean this entire time you've actually been scratching?"
Boop. Boop. Boop.
Bobby opened up the Hennessey to smell it. "I always thought cognac was a chocolate bon bon thing." Bobby took a quick drink, throat a bit warm from the liquor and a bit from his fever. "I bet if the guys were here, they'd say something like, "Bet you thought that bottle was full of little wrapped bon bons!"
"I don't think those guys think you're dumb, Bobby."
"Jean, you don't know. They're guys. You're a girl with a sister. Kittens study you to be more kitten. You have probably never seen toilet paper."
"Bobby, nobody – "
"Before math class, Hank regularly reminds me that I can't walk and chew gum at the same time while doing math and chewing gum AND reading me at the same time."
"Hank's showing off."
"Warren said he refuses to talk to me until I was "this many" and then flipped me off."
"Warren is Warren."
"Scott once told me sincerely that he didn't think that my paper in government on of President Purplesaurus Rex and his successful four terms was a changing point in the United States of Awesome was funny. Four more terms! Four more terms!"
"Okay, one –why is Scott reading your government papers? Two – it would be awesome to have cognac with Purplesaurus Rex. Three – wrong, that is very funny and I would like to read your papers if they are all like that."
"Four – they did not invite me to go out with them tonight because they think I'm a kid…" Bobby did a small, comfort stroke stache.
"Five – you have chicken pox and are quarantined – "
"Six – they didn't ask me before I got the pox – "
"Seven – they didn't ask ME before I got the pox from you – "
"Eight – is great! Er! Because rhymes! And…because – "
"Nine – like a phoenix from the ashes – you don't have siblings so you don't get it!"
"Foul – I've known other people besides you guys! I get family dynamics!"
Jean smiled and took a sniff of the cognac, then pouring it neatly into a glass. "I have a sister and telepathy, I know. It's just different."
Bobby stared at Jean, convinced of his rightness before he had to put on his face of mega-rightness. "You have had the chicken pox before. You're faking!"
"Why would I pretend?"
"Ten – you knew that I'm feeling left out and eleven, you hate scary movies and you hate Halloween because you are here with me, faking, and not dressed like something sexy like a bunny or a lime. Oh, and you have a sister – don't people with two or more siblings usually have a higher rate of having chicken pox before the age of eight?"
"Bobby, that's…awfully clever –"
"And true?"
"I had a mild case as a baby and when I didn't catch it when my sister had it, we all thought I had nothing to worry about…until now." Jean telekinetically scratched the side of her elbow. "But you are right about the scary movies. And on being telepathic and feeling your feeling of being left out. But I don't hate Halloween, I just get freaked out by the imagery of black trees. I would dress up as a sexy lime, though."
Bobby's arms went around Jean who stepped back and tightened her arms out of self-awareness.
The silence was pretty awkward until it figured out a way to go for gold. "Do we hug?"
Jean paused before gently placing her hands on his arms and patting. "We hug, Bobby."
Jean and Bobby sat huddled on the coach with their blankets, the movie "Top Gun" playing. The Hennessey was still pretty full. The grenadine was no more.
"Every day should be like this."