C'n I help the next person in line? Hi there! What can I get you?

Quarter-pound of horror, thinly sliced? Awww, sorry, we're fresh out of horror today . . . We're having a special on fluffy humor, though! Can I interest you in a helping of that?

Happy Halloween, everybody! ^_^

Most people, even the most avid stage-explorers, thought that Mystic Mansion didn't have a basement. Sure, there was that weird well full of ghosts and wiggly plasma-stuff, but no basement.

But they were wrong; it did have a basement. And in that basement, cunningly hidden, was an establishment called BB's—the most happenin' watering hole in all of the supernatural world. All the coolest spooks went there.

This evening, a small, slightly worn stuffed animal sat at the bar, sipping a Newt's-Eye Scotch. It was a battered little sloppy-stitched plushie made to look like Tails, as evidenced by the two floppy namesakes draped over the edge of the barstool. A peculiar wire protruded from between his ears, dangling a little bright-red jewel just above his forehead and letting it bob jauntily whenever he tilted back a swig of his drink.

Ahh, place hasn't changed a bit, Tails Doll thought, looking around fondly. The proprietor, King Boom Boo, was usually out of town on important business, but he still made sure the place was in tip-top shape. All the old familiar things were still here—the sturdy oak tables, the frosted-glass hanging lamps, the cheesy old prints showing picturesque views of Pumpkin Hill's cemetaries—he even recognized the waitress, a little Hyudoro ghost from Sandopolis who darted cheerfully through the shadows from table to table.

Suddenly a shout rang out from across the room.

"TD!"

This was followed by a scramble of sneakers and a thump on the back that would have sent Tails Doll's drink flying, if he hadn't had the sense to put it down the instant he heard that voice. The newcomer, a hedgehog who resembled a significantly bloodier variant of Sonic with Zalgo eyes, began to wring Tails Doll's paw enthusiastically.

"EXE!" Tails Doll laughed in spite of himself. "Good ta see you'se again, pal!"

EXE's grin grew even broader at hearing the familiar nasally Chicago accent.

"Aw, it's been a hound-of-hell's age, you old fox—how've you been? I heard you were made canon creepy just a while ago!"

"Ahh, it's nothin'," scoffed Tails Doll sheepishly, ducking his head with a modest grin. "Just a little gig in the Archie Comics, messin' stuff up here and there. Doesn' 'zackly pay the big dividends, but ya take what you'se can get."

"Seriously, congratulations." EXE clambered up on the adjacent barstool. "The big time couldn't keep you locked out forever, buddy. Four more months and the world's gonna be your oyster, eh?"

Tails Doll waved a paw, jokingly pleading for a halt, but he still couldn't help a bit of a proud smile. The glow of his recent success hadn't quite worn off yet, after all—and he was pretty proud of it.

"So, how's the shakes goin' on your end?" he asked solicitously, as EXE ordered his usual.

"Oh, pretty good." EXE shrugged. "I've been working swing jobs, a little fanart here and there, and the fanfic scene is always pretty good. Freelancing, y'know?"

"Ohh." Tails Doll suddenly took a great interest in his drink, embarrassed. He hadn't known his old friend was still stuck working no-account jobs in the "fanon" department—he would've been more tactful about his own brand-new canon status, if he'd known.

"Well, I'm, uh . . . sorry ta hear that . . . "

"Aw, it's no big deal," EXE smiled. "As far as fanon goes, I'm kind of a hotshot. It pays the rent, gets me enough souls for a decent dinner, heck, I even get paired with Amy now and then. I'm happy."

He was still just as ridiculously smiley and upbeat as he'd always been, Tails Doll thought fondly—never had seen a sap more likely to have a grin plastered on his face, before or since.

"'ey, look pal." He leaned over conspiratorially. "I'll ask around in the higher tiers over at Archie, y'catch my drift? They're havin' a major shakeup there nowadays, threw out half the old cast. I could mebbe sniff out a place for ya . . . y'know, if you don't have b'jections?"

EXE accepted appreciatively, and for a while they sat in companionable silence, sipping their drinks. Tails Doll swirled his scotch, squinted down into the mug dubiously, and fished out a small eyeball. He wrinkled his nose in distaste.

"Wouldja look at that? This place is going to the dogs, I tell ya. Now back when I was startin' off in the business, they didn't sell ya a scotch unless're were at least three eyeballs in there. Cheapskates these days!"

He raised an eyebrow when EXE laughed nostalgically.

"You haven't changed a bit, TD . . . "

"Yeah?" Tails Doll smirked. "'Least I have reason to be grateful for that. What's your excuse?"

EXE rolled his eyes, but made no reply; he was already drifting off into reminiscence.

"Y'know, it's wild. Things haven't really changed that much at all, since then."

"Y'mean except f'r the fact we're not tryin' to scrag each other?"

"Well, yeah, except for that . . . "

Several years earlier:

BB's did indeed look much the same on that crisp fall afternoon. The counters were maybe a little less nicked and stained, the floor less scraped-up by chair feet, but the atmosphere and the crowd were much the same. It was a busy night, and most of the tables were filled with raucous groups of Boos and Pumpkin-Head Ghosts, swapping yarns over mugs of spiced ectoplasm.

EXE was there, looking a good bit younger. Tails Doll was there too, looking a good bit less threadbare. They were sitting on adjacent bar stools with the uncomfortable air of two strangers obliged to sit next to each other because there aren't any other seats—which was, in fact, the case.

Finding the silence awkward, EXE glanced over at the patron on his right. This patron happened to be Black Doom, whose head nearly touched the ceiling as he brooded over a comparatively miniscule tankard of slime. EXE, realizing he was sorely out of his league, flashed this behemoth an awkward grin and hastily turned to the patron on his other side—the little doll who looked like Tails.

"Hi there," he ventured.

"Hi." Tails Doll gave a terse nod. EXE blinked, startled—he had not expected this little stuffed animal to have the raspy twang of a Chicago mob boss from the Roaring 20's.

"Uh—what's your name?"

"Tails Doll," grunted the other. "Try not to die of surprise. What handle d'you go by?"

"Handle? . . . Oh, uh—I'm EXE. Well, technically it's Sonic-dot-EXE, but—just call me EXE." He had never liked being reminded that he was a knockoff.

"Yeah. Whatever, kid."

EXE blinked again; Tails Doll didn't look that much older than him—maybe a year or two at most, certainly not old enough to be calling him "kid." For a while the hedgehog stayed silent, fiddling with his drink and trying to come up with a conversation starter.

"So, uh . . . nice place they've got here, huh?"

"Ehh, i's decent," grunted Tails Doll. "I'm just glad they moved it out of Hang Castle. Somebody's bright idea! Ev'ry time some palooka wandered into the castle and started pressin' those switches, bam! Whole place turns upside-down, people fallin' on their heads, drinks goin' all ovur the place. Then the minute you get back on your chair and grab a new drink, bam! Now it flips the other way! It weren't on the level, pal."

EXE considered the concept and stifled a chuckle.

"Sounds wild. So, you've been around for a while then, huh?"

"Long 'nuff to know the ropes," Tails Doll grumbled. "I was an unlockable character in Sonic R; I've been wand'rin' the circuit ever since. What's your angle?"

"Me? Ohh, I'm just a figment," said EXE sheepishly. "I don't really exist yet, not even non-creepy canon. But that's why I'm in town! I heard they've opened auditions for a new canon creepy character in the next game. That's gonna be me!"

Tails Doll's ears pricked up, and his eyes narrowed into a keenly appraising squint.

"You, eh?"

"Yeah! All I have to do is go out there and scare someone good by Friday—five whole days, come on!—and I'm in. I've got tons of ideas, and—"

"You can just forget it, kid," interrupted Tails Doll. "I'm applyin' for that gig, ya reach? You'se all can just give up awready, 'cuz the gig's as good as mine."

"You?" EXE raised an eyebrow. "What makes you so sure?"

"'Cos I'm canon," retorted Tails Doll smugly. "People know me already."

"W—well, people know me too! I—" EXE hesitated, unsure if getting the last word was worth admitting his knockoff status.

"—You're a cheap ripoff of Sonic, yeah, I know," scoffed Tails Doll. "That ain't a point in your favor, kid."

"Don't call me 'kid'. And look who's talking! You're just a cheap ripoff of Tails!"

"Whyyyy, you—I'm a genu-win Eggman-built invenshun! Hoor you callin' a ripoff?"

"You! And furthermore, I'm the one who actually looks scary. You are a child's plaything!"

"I—you—I'll have you'se know that—"

At this point the Hyudoro waiting the tables behind them cleared her throat ostensibly enough to interrupt the impending brawl. When the two turned to look at her, she made no comment, but glanced significantly over towards the bouncer, a looming hulk of a skeleton. For someone made only of bones, he was notoriously tough.

Tails Doll and EXE subsided, but continued to seethe at each other silently. After a minute or two, Tails Doll suddenly scoffed and turned back to his drink.

"Ahhh, it's no point arguin', kid. We'll see who's canon creepy by the end of the week, and that'll just answer the question, eh?"

"Yeah," said EXE, eyes narrowed in challenge. "It will."

Snorting, Tails Doll pulled out a little long-bladed knife, twirled it lightly around one paw, and thwacked it down into the countertop, point-first. He glanced slyly over at EXE, smirking.

"And may the best man win."

A bit of silence. EXE dropped the glare and regarded him blankly.

"Dude . . . what was that all about?"

"What?"

"You just, like, randomly stuck a knife in the table."

"It was for dramatic effect, ya mushmelon."

"Rrrrrrrright." EXE flicked his eyes up at the ceiling, ignoring the glower Tails Doll was directing his way. "Right."