I Luv Halloween has to be one of my favorite comics ever~ So I tried incredibly hard to not butcher the original series. But, when writing your own fanfiction, you either do really well, or your get flamed. So, if it sucks, I'm incredibly sorry!
Calling it a hectic time of the year would be an understatement.
Seriously.
As soon as the sun dipped beneath the horizon of rooftops, children exploded from the doors of their houses. Dressed up in daunting black or a flashy array of colors they raced towards the streets, pillow cushions and plastic jack-o-lantern containers in hand streaming behind them.
Now the riots were about to begin.
The children seemed to all unconsciously split into groups of five, moving amongst each other and wordlessly choose their partners through the noisy chattering. When everything seemed to be cleared up, they made beelines towards the doorsteps.
Within moments the peaceful autumn sunset was filled with screaming of children and ringing doorbells that seemed to echo off every surface. No more was the crisp breeze rattling orange leafs the only sound, it was impossible to even hear now.
Nothing has changed about this holiday. Since this sacred day of the dead had been caught in the clutches of commercial marketers everything that had been once holy to tradition has long since been sucked dry.
Once celebrated with ancient rites, rituals and the likes, is now rejoiced with gigantic inflatable orange pumpkins, crushed witches with striped stockings to hang upon your door, and hordes of mangy children lusting for the promise of candy.
Well, the candy was the only good part in all of this.
Every child knows Halloween runs on one thing, the supply of sugary treats and chocolate bars that kids crave every other day of the year and can now get all the can carry in one night. To every single child that has grown up under the illusion of Halloween that the media had created, getting more than your weight in candy was an ultimate once.
Each year, the candy has been supplied in greater quantities than before. With more variety, alluring packaging, all the works. As long as kids kept on demanding the almighty candy, parents and neighbours would make sure to keep it in stock, lest they want their houses and lawns covered with toilet paper and sticky with eggs.
Unknown to the public, the suppliers kept marking the prices higher and higher each year. For these big shot companies and producers know that adults will keep buying their products to keep the children content.
Needless to say, Halloween became the second biggest foolproof marketing ploy next to Christmas.
There was just no spirit in the holiday anymore.
To make matters worse, the only ones who manage to keep the spirit alive in vigil are turning their backs on their rights. Children, no matter what age or where they're from, are supposed to carry on the tradition that Halloween is meant for one thing, and one thing only.
The candy.
That's what Halloween's been about for centuries. It's a night where children get all the free candy they can manage to drag back to their own houses, the sweetness that gives you a hyperactive rush every time you bite into it.
But the kids have betrayed themselves.
They let themselves be fooled by the marketers, the media, their parents and friends, into believing that these fucking soy bars and apples are considered 'fun Halloween treats.'
Complete. Utter. Bullshit.
This health food trend is completely ridiculous. When and how it started is unknown, but the one thing that is for certain is that it's not going to stop any time soon.
As more adults begin to worry about what their feeding their families, and get to be more cautious about their health, they will shove their preachy beliefs down their children's throats until they suffocate. Of course adults wouldn't understand that kids need sugar as a necessity to live.
"I'm eighteen now and I still don't fucking get them."
"Get who?"
"Nothing. Forget it."
Taking a long, deep drag from the cigarette, Finch exhaled the cloud of smoke and flicked the excess ash off the tip. Then he gave a sideways glance to the boy sitting beside him, who sighed and continued to stare down at the town below in undisguised boredom.
"If you sigh one more goddamn time I'll pull your intestines out with a corkscrew."
Brown eyes looked at him accusingly. "Get off it. You've been saying that for years now."
"And I always keep my word, don't I?"
When he got no reply, he smirked in victory and tossed the cigarette bud to the ground, promptly squishing it into the cold ground with his sneaker clad foot.
They had been like this for at least an hour now, Pigpig and him. Seated on a park bench perched on the top of a hill, looking down at the town they have lived in for their whole lives and more.
The two had met a few hours before sunset, wandering around their bustling neighbourhood without much to say. In the end, they had finally ended up at the park, because it was the only place Finch was allowed to smoke without accusing, pointed looks.
Fuck them all.
In truth, he and Pigpig didn't even want to meet up tonight. The kosher boy had found an ultimate interest and love for the Xbox, and had spent entire days without a pause for rest. Finch himself had found other things to do that were worth his time.
But it was tradition.
Which Spencer was fucking breaking.
'' took it upon himself to utterly tear apart the pack they had made since they were three, venturing off to probably crash every house party in town as long as there was free booze involved. That, and scantily dressed girls who used Halloween to show their true colors.
Then, he was dragged out of his musings by Pigpig, who happened to bring it upon himself to make an inhumane whining noise.
Finch didn't even want to bother.
Giving him a pointed look, the younger man sighed in exasperation. Since they had first sat here, he had been fidgeting with a loose thread on his unsightly green sweater. Now, as Finch noticed, half of his right sleeve was missing.
"Finch, seriously. What the hell are we doing out here?"
Blowing a cloud of air, Finch unearthed a hand from his jacket pocket and waved it over the sight of the town, as if that explained everything.
Though it seemed that Pigpig was not amused by his vague answer. Although his irritated expression didn't look the slightest bit threatening with his slight baby face and his sweater missing have a sleeve. Finch couldn't help but smirk.
It was a well known fact that Finch was the most threatening out of their little group, and anyone who tried to take the position was withering on the ground with a lighter aflame at their liver. Needless to say he has been king of the hill for years.
The younger of the two appeared to be ready to sigh in annoyance at the situation, but after noticing Finch's watchful gaze, his mouth promptly closed into a thin, nervous line.
"We've been here for hours; nothing has changed besides the number of stampeding two year olds. C'mon let's get into town and get something to eat."
What amused Finch was that Pigpig was forcing himself to stay within his presence. The whole day he had noticed him suffering through gamer withdrawals. His hands would occasionally twitch as if to grasp the controller or he would reach up to his ear like he was about to adjust his headset.
Pigpig was smart enough to know that today was Halloween, and tonight he was spending it with Finch until Finch dismissed him. Just like it had been for years on end.
Taking his offer into consideration, he pondered the choice of leaving the cold park bench for a heated building with warm food. His intentions for tonight were to stay out in the open, where no walls confined him. But, the temperature was dropping, and he knew that if Pigpig didn't get fed he would whine and bitch all night.
Decisions, decisions.
Shifting his seating position, he gazed down at the autumn scenery one last time before reluctantly nodding in agreement.
"Fine. But you're buying."
"Again!"
Regarding the outburst with only a taunting smirk, Finch pushed himself off the bench, taking pleasure in the ripping sound that was his frosted jeans tearing away from the wood. Pigpig was already at his feet and making his way down the hill, Finch could hear his annoyed cursing from where he was.
Leaving the park seemed almost degrading to him. For now it was quiet, only the crackling of the leaves broke the silence, and the cries of children were far off in the distance. But this year, it seemed winter was arriving months ahead of schedule.
Never before had the temperature dropped this low on Halloween. This morning the town was greeted to the sight of crystal formations on their windows and their jack-o-lanterns shrunk due to frost. By noon, lawns were crisp and leaves were pelting the ground like stones.
Bullshit on Global Warming.
Even now as he made his way down the slippery hill, he spotted the frost coating his windshield on the piece of shit car that he owned. Once Finch arrived at the bottom, he just glared at the car. He hated winter with a serious, deadly passion. The season was just too cold for it to be humanely bearable.
Pigpig was just standing outside the car glumly, looking inside at the cab longingly. It was as if the frozen vehicle would be degrees warmer than outside.
"C'mon," Finch muttered, jamming the key into the car door and locking the cab. "Find something we can scrape this frost off with."
After ten minutes of fruitless searching the spotless cab interior, the pair came up with an unused fork from an old fast food bag and Finch's lighter. Five minutes into removing the frost, Finch snatched the fork away from Pigpig, who seemed to be incapable of using it after he snapped it into two, and handed him the lighter.
The next long moments seemed to go without incident, until Pigpig got the bright idea to burn the frost off with the newly acquired lighter. This resulted in a smoky, black smudge on the top left corner of Finch's windshield, and the bottom half of a plastic fork impaled through Pigpig's right hand.
To complete the daunting task of removing the frost, it took the two 'friends' forty five minutes.
Soon, they were seated in the warming cab with the heater turned full blast as they cruised down the back highway. Pigpig was yanking out the sharp piece of plastic, and Finch gave him an old napkin from the fast food bag to nurse his bleeding wound.
Same as every year.
"If it's not freaking apples with razorblades, it's Chinese food and forks..."
"Oh relax; I could have aim for your face instead."
"Thanks… I think."
Starring intently at the road, Finch flicked on his low beams as he turned onto one of the main streets. The change of asphalt from gravel always made him feel odd, since it basically was an alert that the driver had to smarten up now.
Halloween was the worst time to drive, ever. Children were darting across the streets to houses adjacent from theirs, some decided it would be just plain merry if they journeyed down the center of the road.
Because it was Halloween, who would seriously give a fuck?
"So…. Where we goin'?"
"As long as I get to run over the next kid who runs across the road, you can pick."
Pigpig looked at him like he was expecting him to be joking, but when he noticed the mass population of kids frolicking around everywhere, he knew that Finch was dead serious. Motioning with his uninjured hand, he pointed out a back alley that was clear from any human traffic.
Finch gladly did the illegal left turn to get there.
When they exited the alley road, they nosed out onto one of the town's main streets and followed it until Finch decided that any restaurant would do, and sharply pulled into its parking lot. Once the car was shifted into park, they just stared out the windshield with lacking enthusiasm.
Both of them appeared to notice how unappealing food would be at this moment. For they took this journey to have something to do, and if they were to eat anything, it would be out of sheer boredom.
"You still wanna go in?"
Finch yanked the keys out of the ignition; Pigpig took that motion as an answer and slid out of the passenger side. Following suite, Finch locked the car and wandered in after him. From what he could see, the littler diner either was based on a vintage theme, or was vintage and managed to survive other marketers.
Sitting opposite to Pigpig in the plastic turquoise booth, he gazed around interestedly at the interior of the building. It looked oddly familiar, with its jack-o-lantern garlands streamed across the windows and shiny confetti bats hanging from the ceiling.
Across from him, Pigpig slammed his face in his hands. "Dude, this has to be the most boring Halloween ever."
"I can't argue with that."
As the waitress came by, an elderly lady with hair five feet tall, they ordered a round of coffee and fell back into the silence they seemed to grow accustomed too.
It did seem like Halloween this year was going to a complete waste. Since they were now 'overage' for Halloween, there wasn't any candy to look forward too, and all the horror movies that get released around this time were complete knock offs of better films.
"So, I take it we ain't gonna actually eat anything, eh?"
"Most likely not. Do you find anything the least bit appetizing here?"
Shaking his head, his eyes suddenly lit up when the elderly woman came by with white porcelain mugs and placed them down on the table. As soon as the coffee was poured and the waitress wandered away, Pigpig began studying his brown drink curiously.
"Ya know... I never liked the taste of this. But it seems like I can't stop drinking it, you know?"
Nodding vacantly, Finch brought the mug to his lips and forced the bitter liquid down his throat. He never had the acquired taste for coffee; it always seemed to make him jittery, if that was even possible. Pigpig on the other hand, seemed to use it as an adrenaline substitute when he wasn't gaming.
The silence that fell over them stretched onward over the span of fifteen minutes. All the two seemed to do was either stare into their coffee mugs, or watch the passing groups of children ecstatically chattering about what they got at the last house.
"To Oswald." Finch said suddenly, lifting his mug up in a half ass mockery of a toast.
Pigpig just looked at him, completely confused as always. Finch just stared at him expectantly, because the slow witted one always got it eventually.
"Oh! That's the cop you killed, right?"
"Mhmm. Sure is."
"Huh..." Downing his mug, he placed it on the table and spun it around. "How many razors you stick in that thing?"
"About eight." The reply was spoken vaguely, like the two in the ugly booth were discussing the weather, or the results of a football game. "With no help from you."
It was his turn to shoot Finch the pointed look. "You almost chopped off my hand."
"With a quarter inch thick razor?" Finch didn't even try to disguise the mocking tone in his voice. Pigpig looked flustered, realizing how stupid that must have come across.
"Yeah, well, you know what I mean."
Five more minutes ticked by before Finch decided it was the end of Halloween, paying their bill for the coffee Pigpig tipped the waitress with a peppermint mint and left. Once back in the car, Finch began to navigate through the mass hordes of children, resisting the nagging blood lust to just speed overtop of them.
"You know Finch, I think it's about time you found yourself a hobby."
"Don't need one."
"Just to keep yourself occupied, you know? Something to keep your interest on."
"Are you deaf? I said I didn't need one."
Turning the wheel sharply to the left, he spun onto the main road and followed it through the heart of town. Here, the masses were not as thick since only convenience stores and apartments lined the streets. It was about time too, since Finch's patience almost snapped.
"Finch, seriously." There was a tinge of desperation in his voice that made Finch turn to look at him, even though he was supposed to keep his eyes on the road. "Every Halloween you get all… you get all antsy like! It's about time you just stop and-"
Slamming on the breaks, the car screeched to a halt directly before the intersection. Pigpig jerked forward in his seat, pushing on the dash to get himself upright again. All the while the car behind them began honking loudly, and Finch dully noticed it was still a green light.
"Don't you fucking say it."
Now Pigpig looked exasperated, flinging his arms out with blood trickling down his injured forearm. "Dude, we're literally almost adults now. Halloween isn't all fun and games anymore, we can't do the same shit we used to do..." Groaning in frustration, he slammed his face into his hands again.
"It's time to move on."
Finch gritted his teeth. "I told you to not fucking say it."
"Well, I did." It was obvious now that they weren't playing their roles anymore, and quite frankly, neither one of them cared. Over the years, Finch grew too tired of trying to force everyone in a submissive rank, and Pigpig just got sick of being in that submissive rank.
Hearing the car door click, Finch looked over to see Pigpig getting out. Once the door was closed, he stuck his head through the window. "Look, it's not that I don't like hanging out with you and shit, it's just we shouldn't have to take Halloween so seriously. We're not kids anymore." Seeing that Finch wasn't going to reply, he knocked the window frame and took a step back. "Well, see ya. Call me later if you wanna drink or something."
Finch just sighed. "Maybe in the morning, Alex."
Stepping on the gas, Finch resisted the urge to wince as the tires spun under the pressure of the acceleration. Once he was moving though, he drove through town and just kept going. Right now, his irritation level was dangerously high, and he didn't think that Moochie would be too pleased if the new pink leopard rug was stained red.
So for now, he would just drive until his frustration diminished. Each year he noticed it was getting to be a waste of effort trying to preserve the legacy that Halloween once held. For each year he found himself discovering that the spirit of Halloween was losing its meaning to him. And that's why it frustrated him, because he wanted to keep that spirit forever.
Seeing that he was well out of the town's population area, he pulled down a side road he knew well and then through an approach to a field and finally stopped in the middle. The crop was all frost burned, so there would be no harvest this year anyway.
Resting his head on the steering wheel, he tried to think why this once favourite holiday turned to complete shit as years went on. It wasn't the marketers, or the media advertising, not even the quality of the candy. The reason Halloween was losing its meaning was because he was getting older.
Now that he was older, there was no candy to look forward too. And since that was the only thing to look forward too on Halloween, when it was gone, there wasn't much left to celebrate on.
Irritated, he slammed his head against the wheel, ignoring that the horn was blasting continuously. It felt good to let his rage out on something finally. So for the next hour, he would stay like this, in the middle of a wheat field, with his head glued to the steering wheel.
Just like last year.
And the year before that.
God, how he hated Halloween.