Halloween is a Harsh Mistress
by ShinyAeon
A costume on Halloween, Professor Oak thought, should reflect something about its wearer; some hidden side of his nature, something that was allowed to come out only once a year. And, after the age of fifty, it should also retain some shred of dignity. No one liked an overaged goofball.
None of which explained why he was currently dressed in a blue spandex unitard which was bulging with comically oversized foam-rubber muscles. The matching blue hood (with lantern-jaw extension) was topped by two segmented antennae which bobbed unevenly.
How, Professor Oak wondered feebly, was he supposed to be dignified dressed as someone named "the Tick?" Honestly. That was something you picked out of a Growlithe's fur with tweezers...
Come on, Samuel, try to get into the spirit of fun.
Oak put his hands on his hips and stood up straight, giving a megawatt-level heroic grin.
His reflection grinned cheesily back at him.
Instantly, Samuel deflated. He looked worse than an overaged goofball. He looked like...an overaged goofball with virility issues.
And, of course, now it was much too late to find a replacement costume, Professor Oak thought. He was going to have to brazen it out. And someone was going to pay for this.
That someone was currently knocking on the door.
"Professor?" Tracey said. "You ready yet?"
Samuel sighed. "Come in," he said, knowing he didn't have the heart to inflict revenge on his well-meaning assistant. He never did.
Tracey entered, and Samuel immediately forgave him. The boy looked almost as silly as Samuel did, wearing a white unitard and an arrangement of white straps holding what seemed to be white Venomoth wings. Two ridiculously long, flat antennae curled up from his head, twisted into quizzical asymmetry, and what looked like two halves of an oversized ping-pong ball hung over his eyes on a strap as goggles.
"What do you think, Professor?" Tracey said, holding out his arms.
"Can you see through those?" Samuel asked, looking at the white goggle-eyes.
"Not a thing!" Tracey said cheerfully. "I'm gonna have to only wear them at strategic moments."
Tracey, however, didn't have any embarrassing foam-rubber muscles to contend with, Samuel thought. Tracey actually looked quite good in the leotard—a little bit thin, with the slightly rawboned look of one who hasn't quite grown into his frame yet, but not embarrassing by any means for a boy his age.
"That thing looks good on you," Samuel said, a little peevishly.
At once, Tracey sagged. "I know," he said, sounding disappointed. "I thought it would have padding, like yours. I tried to get a false stomach when I found out, but all they had were fake pregnancy stomachs, and that would be way TOO big. And all my pillows just looked silly."
Samuel recalled from the cartoon Tracey had forced him to watch for "research" that Tracey's character, Arthur, was a dumpy little guy. Why a teenage boy would WANT to wear a costume that looked dumpy was beyond him, but he had to give Tracey credit for attempted authenticity.
He glanced in the mirror at himself again, trying to see his own costume in a similar light.
No. Just, no.
"I'm not sure about my costume..." he began. Maybe it wasn't too late. There was always the old eyeholes-in-a-sheet thing...
"Here, lemme see..." Tracey lifted his ping-pong goggles up to his forehead.
Then he exploded in laughter, doubling over with the force of it.
"That's it, I'm wearing something else." Samuel began trying to reach the back zipper.
"N-No, Professor!" Tracey was upright in a second, though he to keep his hand clamped over his mouth to keep from laughing. He spoke muffledly from behind it. "It's—*snort!* It's supposed to be funny! You look great!"
"I feel like an idiot," Professor Oak whined. Worse, he knew he was whining.
"The Tick IS an idiot," Tracey said reasonably, his laughter under control at last. "That's why it's so funny for you to dress up as him."
Samuel thought that he ought to be complimented, as apparently the monumental stupidity of the character was intended to contrast to his own alleged monumental intelligence, but it was hard to feel like a world-renown 'genius' while looking like a Muppet on steroids.
Still, if he backed out now, Tracey would be terribly disappointed. And Halloween was, after all, a holiday for young people.
He gave up. But... "Do the shoes have to be this high?"
"The Tick is supposed to be really tall," Tracey said, squatting to inspect the platform "boots" he'd cobbled together from a worn-out old pair of the Professor's work boots, two wooden blocks, and some blue paint. "But I figured any higher than two inches and you might not be able to walk in them. Do they feel okay? I used the strongest epoxy to stick the bases on, and I added a layer of rubber to the bottoms to make them stable. But if you think you'll have trouble, we can ditch them. No costume is worth you getting hurt."
Hearing that was a bit of a relief, and it made Samuel feel generous. "Oh, I feel steady enough in them. It just feels...odd. You don't think people will laugh at me, do you?"
"Only in the good way," Tracey reassured him.
Could there be a good way? Professor Oak was doubtful. "Unitard," he muttered, plucking at the spandex-and-foam rubber on his thigh. "Something tells me the operant part of that word is 'tard.'"
Tracey cracked up again, grabbing the corner of the Professor's dresser to stay upright. "Oh, man, Professor," he said when he'd recovered, "I can't believe you even said that!" His eyes shone with humor and admiration.
At least, Samuel hoped it was admiration. "Well, then, let's be on our way, shall we...er, 'chum?'" And he did the hero pose and cheesy grin again.
This time, he was certain his assistant cracked up in admiration. What the hell, he thought, close enough. It's Halloween.
Downstairs they were greeted by Delia Ketchum, wearing a long-sleeved coat. "Bulbasaur let me in," she said, and clasped her hands as she saw them. "Oh, you both look wonderful! Almost as good as on the live-action version!"
Had everyone heard of this "Tick" thing before except him, Samuel wondered?
"I'm a little too skinny for Arthur, though," Tracey said, shrugging.
"Oh, nonsense, you look darling, Tracey," she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.
"Thanks, Mrs. Ketchum," he said with a modest blush.
She turned to Samuel. "And Professor, you look perfect—very heroic," she said.
Coming from her, he had to believe it. Delia didn't have a sardonic bone in her body. (Some people, who didn't know any better, believed she didn't have an intelligent bone in her body, but Samuel, for whom she'd been an assistant when she was younger, was not one of them. But Delia's mother had been very old-fashioned, and had raised her not to display her intelligence if she could help it; .)
"Why, thank you, Delia," he said, and did a slightly theatrical bow. "But, don't you have a costume?"
She grinned. "Oh, yes. I just finished it before I got here, in fact. Just...close your eyes for a second, both of you."
They did so. Samuel heard her take her coat off and lay it aside, then a sound like cardboard rustling.
"Okay!"
Samuel opened his eyes. And stared.
Tracey's reaction was more immediate. "Oh, wow, you did it! You look great, Mrs. Ketchum!"
"Thank you, Tracey!" she said. She wore a sleeveless dark blue minidress, with a red-and-white striped frilly apron, a star-spangled cardboard headdress, long white gloves, and black pumps.
She turned around, showing it off. "I already had the shoes and the gloves, all I had to do was shorten this old dress and make the apron and head thing here. Mimey added the stars and the lace trim." She turned towards Samuel. "Well, Professor? Do I make a good 'American Maid?'"
Samuel managed to peel his tongue off the roof of his mouth. She's young enough to be your daughter, Oak-try not to be a dirty old man as well as a goofball. "Quite good, Delia. I was just...wondering if you might not be a little, er, cold in that."
"Nope!" she said. She gestured at her legs, which Samuel suddenly realized were covered in flesh-colored tights. "These are actually Mareep wool. I've also got on my thermal underwear and bloomers, and another pair of gloves on under these. Oh, and look!" She dug in the pocket of her coat. "I brought an extra shoe to throw!"
"You shouldn't need that, Mrs. K," Tracey said, though he looked impressed. "We're not doing actual cosplay—but it was a cool idea! But it's almost dark—shouldn't we get going, Professor?"
"Yes, I imagine things will be starting soon." He still felt dreadfully self-conscious. "You know, perhaps I ought to stay here, to give out candy. I heard the Mayor's assistant say they had more than enough adults signed up..."
"Oh, nonsense, Professor!" Delia said. "Bulbasaur and Bayleef and Totodile and everyone are all excited about giving out candy themselves. Besides, wait until you see their costumes!" She stuffed her "stunt shoe" in a bag she had with her (navy blue with little silver stars—it looked like it had come from a thrift shop) and beckoned them out the front door.
Samuel threw a questioning glance at Tracey. Costumes? he mouthed.
Tracey shrugged, looking equally bewildered.
As they all descended the long stairs to the front gate, Delia said, "Maybe I went a little overboard, but I was looking through Ash's old costumes to find something for Mimey, and thought, why not?"
"Bay, Bay!" came the cheery greeting as Bayleef waved one vine whip at them. She wore a little white, fluffy halo, poking just above her leaf, and a little pair of white feathered wings just above the circle of green pods that ringed the base of her neck.
Tracey and Professor Oak complimented her, and Delia, on the "costume." "I remember when Ash wore this," Samuel said. "He was three, wasn't he?"
"Two," Delia said with a wistful little smile. "By the time he was three, he wouldn't let me put him in anything that girly. But he really did make such a perfect little angel!"
Tracey grinned. "You don't say."
Samuel could almost see the boy's mind turning over a few blackmail opportunities. Knowing that Tracey was, like Samuel himself, more inclined to just imagine being devious than to actually go through with it, Professor Oak didn't worry much. "I remember now, he was a vampire or something when he was three."
"Zorro, actually," Delia said, "but the hat was falling apart, so...well, see!" She laughed as Totodile popped up in a familiar little high-collared black cape and eyemask. While it wasn't clear exactly what the Big Jaw Pokémon was portraying, the effect was cuter than a Hallmark Halloween card, and Totodile was obviously enjoying itself in the outfit.
They greeted the rest of the Pokémon assembled to hand out treats—not all of Ash's crowd, just the ones who apparently thought it might prove interesting. Bulbasaur was in charge, in a small white ten-gallon hat, with a "gunbelt" slung round the base of its bulb, and a sheriff's star hanging from the top of its bulb on a green ribbon. Ash's Sceptile was also present, leaning back against one of the gateposts with a black scarf/mask over its head, a toy sword on a belt, and another black cloak—Tracey correctly guessed the costume as the "Man in Black" from The Princess Bride. The twig in its mouth wasn't strictly part of the costume, but certainly added to Sceptile's nonchalant badass air.
Noctowl perched atop one gatepost with a purple wizard's hat balanced on its head, and on the other post Swellow had devised its own costume, apparently getting one of the neighborhood Horsea to cover it with ink, pretending to be the Raven. (Samuel wondered aloud how the plaster bust of Edgar Allen Poe from his library had gotten down to the gate, and Tracey scratched his head sheepishly.)
"Everyone looks splendid," Samuel said.
"Now you all have fun," Delia said to the Pokémon. "If you start to run out of candy, just send someone to get some more from Mimey. Oh-" she stopped, and frowned. Stepping forward, she skidded a little on the flagstones, her heel sinking between two of them. She flailed for balance.
Samuel instinctively seized her arms, pulling her up and steadying her. "Careful! What's wrong?"
She grimaced as she looked around. "Someone's missing...where's Corphish?"
Several of the Pokémon gestured back toward the heavy brush. Unnecessarily, as it turned out – a moment later, Corphish emerged, looking excited beneath an astronaut's space-helmet that balanced precariously on its three red horns. "Corpheesh, Corpheesh!" it cried as it scuttled toward them.
Corphish, Samuel noted, was running a little too fast. He was about to say that there was no hurry, it should slow down and be careful, when he got an uneasy feeling.
Just then, Tracey cried, "Look out, Professor! It looks like-"
"CorPHEEEESH!" Corphish came flying directly at Samuel, swinging one massive claw.
The next thing he knew, he was flying backward. Oddly enough, the thought that crossed his mind was But the Tick doesn't fly. This is out of charac—
WHACK!
Samuel hit the fence post hard enough to make little lights flash before his eyes, then flumped to the ground.
"Professor!"
"Sam!"
Tracey and Delia were at his side in an instant. All the Pokémon launched a cacophony of scolding at a confused Corphish.
"I'm all right," Samuel said, sitting up. His shoulder ached a bit and his head smarted, but the impact had been less severe than he'd have thought. "It's not that bad, really."
"That's cause Noctowl put its wings down to cushion your head from the bricks," Tracey said, his face creased in worry. "Good thinking, Noctowl," he said to the flying Pokémon above.
"Whooo, whooo," Noctowl replied modestly.
"No, Corphish—come right back here this minute." Delia said in the no-nonsense voice she used to use on Ash when he was acting up. "Now you just apologize to Professor Oak. Why ever would you do such a thing in the first place?"
"Pheesh?" Corphish exclaimed, and trotted over. As soon as Corphish's eyes locked on his, the Pokémon reared back in alarm. "Pheesh, Corpheesh!" At once it began to dance around frantically on its pointy little feet, waving claws and chittering its name. It finished by flopping on its belly, covering its eyes with its claws and bursting into tears.
"I...think Corphish didn't recognize you, Professor," Tracey said. "And when you caught Mrs. Ketchum, it might have thought you were some stranger attacking her."
"Pheesh, pheesh!" Corphish said, uncovering its eyes and doing the closest thing to a nod a Pokémon with no neck could.
"Well, it was an honest mistake," Samuel said, grinning, as his younger friends helped him get up. "I don't feel much like myself at the moment. What was that line again, Tracey...? 'Gravity is a harsh mistress.'" Oh, it's all right, Corphish, I'm fine." And, barring a few sore spots and a tinge from his lower back, he was.
"Are you sure?" Delia frowned, brushing brick-dust off his costume. "That looked like a very solid impact. You can see all right, can't you? You're not feeling dizzy or anything?"
"No, no," Samuel said easily, turning and taking her hand (stopping her from brushing him off any further- that was having a more disturbing effect on his equilibrium than any number of impacts). "I get far worse most days working with the Pokémon in the lab."
"That's right," Tracey said, "the Professor is like a magnet for Pokémon attacks, but he's always okay. Jonathan told me that Professor Birch calls him 'The Indestructible.'" Tracey started to laugh a little, but swallowed it as Samuel directed a look at him. "Oh, I mean, uh...I'll shut up now." And with that mutter, he ducked back to the other side of his foam-padded boss.
Delia was looking up at him with a little startled concern. "Is it that bad, Professor?"
Samuel gave her hand a quick, paternal pat and released it. "Not quite. But occasional accidents are a natural consequence of working with Pokémon. Don't worry, Delia, I've been doing it all my life, and I'm still hale and hearty. Besides, I think an Onix could bodyslam me now without much effect." He plucked at his foam-rubber bicep.
That made both of his companions laugh, as well as some of the Pokémon.
"Well, if you're sure you're okay, then we should get going," Delia said.
They said goodbye to the Pokémon again (Samuel added an extra "thank you" to Noctowl and reassurances to Corphish). Then they walked out of the gate, into the lane.
Samuel gallantly offered his arm, and Delia giggled and slipped her hand through it. When Tracey tried to drop behind them, she snagged his arm and pulled him forward to walk at her other side. "No you don't," she said with a grin, "It's not often I have two handsome heroes to escort me."
Heroes? Samuel didn't feel much like a hero. He felt like a middle-aged man who ought to know better than to mess with a young person's holiday. Halloween was proving to be a bigger challenge than he had thought.
But he was committed, and he had to see it through. After all, Samuel thought as they walked into the deepening dusk, he was a hero now-and that's what heroes did.
To be continued...
Well, I got part one up by Halloween, by any rate! Caveat: my speed at updating is erratic, but I do have most of the rest plotted out in my head. Hey, it's my first multi-chapter story-woo hoo!