Voodoo-Mutant-Child-Or pumpkin muffins with streusel topping. And lots of butter.

AN: And this is why you should always bring your own drink to public events. Moody was RIGHT!


God, he hates them.

He's always hated them, really, even when he was an intern. Their fake smiles and annoyingly gregarious ways…yes. He loathes them.

He's been the director here for three years and has quietly suffered through their drunken parties. But not tonight. It's risky, and he could wind up a patient here, but it'll be worth it. At last, he'll turn their drunken giggling into horrified screams.

He spiked the punch with a more potent form of his newest toy and retreated to his office to wait. When it's kicked in, he'll return. Or, rather, Scarecrow will arrive.

He glances at the monitor, wondering when the stumbling and screaming will begin. It didn't take so long on his subjects, but they're insane anyway and he gave them a straight dose. He's patient. He's always been patient-one of his few good qualities.

Was that a cry? He checks the monitor again, searching for the cause…yes. It was a cry. And there's more. It's time.

They don't notice Scarecrow at first. He isn't particularly remarkable among the other decorations and their own hallucinations. He doesn't like to be ignored, even if it's by accident. This will have to change.

He steps up to one of the nurses-he's forgotten her name-and takes hold of her shoulders.

"Hello, sweetheart."

She screams and pries at his hands. He moves them to her neck and leans forward, breathing heavily.

"Having fun yet?"

The screams around him are becoming more high-pitched and wordless. He releases the nurse and begins making his rounds. It's only polite to greet everyone, after all.

God, he loves Halloween.

THE END