Hi!
Once again, I didn't think I would get a Halloween special done this year, and, once again, I ended up with a last-minute idea, thanks in part, to former Nine Inch Nails art director Rob Sheridan, who live-tweeted a certain experience that involved a movie theatre and 'shrooms.
Anyway.
Major special thanks to Mana_Sputachu for being a dear and looking this over for me.
The bartender and fighter Céc Levasseur, better known as King, always made it a point to take Halloween off from work so she could spend the time with her little brother, Jean, either trick-or-treating, playing scary video games, or watching scary movies together. However, this time around, the pre-teen boy decided he would rather spend the holiday with his friends, leaving King with nothing to do on her favourite night of the year — until her best friend, Detective Mary Ryan, made a spur-of-the-moment decision to show up at her apartment with beer, wine, popcorn, and a large bag of candy with the intention of hanging out and watching horror movies. Her pick, however, instilled in King a strange sense of anxiety, which was why the bartender decided that she would do something to make the film more tolerable, and maybe even fun before they got started…
The two women each sat on one side of King's plush sofa, their snacks littering the dark gray space on the center cushion between them. The Nak Muay held her remote control out toward the television set across the room, brow quirked, and turned toward Mary, who wore an excited grin.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" King asked as she used her free hand to move the brim of her star-adorned witch hat away from her eyes.
"Bb, it's a great idea," Mary replied while readjusting a festive, metal headband that said "Spooky Season" in bedazzled letters. "I need a break from work and domestic troubles, you need a break from mind troubles — it'll be fantastic!"
King frowned as she began browsing the hundreds of movies Prime Video had available for streaming.
"You realize this could exacerbate my mind troubles, don't you?"
"You can always back out."
"No," King said stubbornly. "Besides. I already took it."
"That's perfect. Or should I say 'purrfect?'"
The Frenchwoman made a face as she navigated to the app's search bar.
"You know, when I think of horror films I think of stuff like The Thing, or Halloween. Suspiria, Dawn of the Dead. Carrie. Even that batshit Malignant movie," she remarked.
Now it was Mary's turn to make a face. She turned toward the screen (King found the movie she was looking for) and pointed at the image before the pair.
"Look at that and tell me how it doesn't count as horror."
"Maybe body horror…"
"Not to mention the psychological aspect."
"That's more for you, though," King pointed out.
"Nah. I'm not afraid of the little devils. I just don't like their attitudes."
"Quel dommage…."
The two briefly fell silent as they made sure they were ready.
"Has it kicked in yet?" Mary inquired while turning off the lamp beside her.
"Maybe in a few more minutes," King answered while selecting the movie.
"Good luck," the freckle-faced woman sang with a mischievous smile.
King shook her head, reviewed the menu options, confirmed the film rental, and pressed Play. There was the Universal Films logo, followed by the fancy graphics of several different production houses. The screen went black for the briefest of moments before a full moon in the night sky appeared, accompanied by a jaunty tune. King absently placed the remote control down, then looked away so she could turn the lamp beside her off. A slight, cool burning sensation in her feet told her that it was time to refocus on the screen, which now showed a car erratically driving through a city street. Then, an unknown woman (only her foot was visible) emerged from the vehicle holding a mysterious sack; simultaneously, a humanoid creature slinked through the dark, a dead, expressionless eye visible and fixed on her. The focus went back to the lady, who suddenly threw the sack hard; the item smacked against the concrete sidewalk, which made King's eyes widen while Mary let out an amazed snort.
"That's dead," the cop stated. "If that was alive, it's not anymore."
"Horror movie, Mare. It's still moving."
The two stopped talking and refocused their attention on the television: the critter in the shadows quickly emerged, making them both recoil.
"Okay but why the hell did they have to have human faces and hands?!" Mary exclaimed.
"Psilocybin," King replied. She watched as a group of large, humanoid mutants slowly approached the mysterious, writhing bundle while the car drove away.
"What's in the sack? What's in the sack?!" Mary mocked before munching on a handful of popcorn.
"God, I wish it was a head," King dryly stated. She took a sip of her wine and reached for a mini 3 Musketeers bar, her face contorted in a grimace.
"Maybe it is one, and this is a much different movie than we thought."
At that moment, one of the mutants lunged forward and slashed the sack on the ground. The unknown… thing… wriggled around a little more, and then, suddenly, another one of them emerged. King guessed it was meant to be pretty, but it was quite horrifying — especially now that her environment (and maybe even time itself) was beginning to feel hazy and distorted. She continued watching the events unfold but wasn't entirely sure what was even happening. It was then that one of the monstrosities began slinking toward the camera head-on, singing.
"Are you blind when you're born, can you see in the dark?"
"Oh my God, I hate this so much," Mary stated.
"Everyone involved in this can go to hell," King added, her voice taking on the somewhat odd and tired-sounding cadence that usually presented when she was under the influence of alcohol or other substances.
Then the anthropomorphic cat… monsters… crawled around as they sang. Out of nowhere, a black and white one lost its footing and fell over; it landed on its back, its expression so manic and terrifying that it stopped King from moving entirely.
"Mare," she breathed. "Mare, what the fuck are we watching?!"
"A nightmare…!"
King stared at the television set in shock as the creatures maneuvered in a strange manner that was probably supposed to be cat-like but was really more reminiscent of the faceless nurses in Silent Hill, or pretentious performance art as opposed to anything else. She felt almost like she was in the grip of some kind of evil spell; what she was seeing was disturbing on every level imaginable, yet she couldn't look away — she had to watch what was happening.
"Okay but why is this lowkey horny?" Mary wondered out loud, bringing King out of the film and back to reality.
"I don't know if 'lowkey' is the right word," the Frenchwoman replied around a mouthful of her fun-sized candy.
The pair continued watching the movie, both in varying states of revulsion and terror: Mary was frozen and slackjawed, the beer bottle in her hand sweating so much that the condensation was dripping onto one of her thighs. King, meanwhile, was curled up in the corner of her sofa, gripping a throw pillow for dear life as her eyes, which were as wide as they could possibly get, remained fixed on the screen.
"Qu'est-ce que 'jellicle'?!"
"I dunno but none of this should be legal," the detective replied.
Some more time passed, with neither woman able to look away from the screen until:
"Ouch," Mary mumbled out of nowhere.
"What's wrong?" King asked. She removed her hat, ran a hand through her hair, and looked at Mary, who was frowning.
"Oh, one of Anton's nails accidentally scratched me earlier," the cop said while inspecting her forearm. "I didn't realize it was this bad, though."
King gasped as she set her eyes on the injury (how hadn't she noticed that earlier?), which Mary was beginning to pick at. It was swollen, inflamed, and, somehow, very wet looking, though it wasn't bleeding.
"Mare! you need to go to the hospital!"
"Oh, no, it's fine," the cop said casually. "Just gotta…"
With that, she curled her fingertips under one side of the flesh and started tearing it more open than it already was.
"WHOA, MARY WHAT THE FUCK?!" King screamed as her friend peeled the skin back, away from the muscle tissue underneath, which was covered by a strange, slimy-looking film and coarse, white hair adorned with a very distinct, tan pattern.
"Bb, don't be so dramatic," Mary remarked as she continued pulling. The action was accompanied by one of the most sickening noises King had ever heard in her life.
"Dramatic?! You're peeling your goddamn skin off," she shouted at her friend, who had now fully exposed a furry arm and opened and closed her hand, which was still that of a human. She nonchalantly tossed the pale covering off to the side, flexed the hairy appendage, and swiftly moved her hands toward her hair. She then dug her nails deep into the flesh just at her hairline, eliciting another scream from King as she began to peel her entire face downward, away from her skull.
"Whatthefuckwhatthefuckwhatthefuck," the frightened bartender repeated like some kind of mantra, unable to avert her eyes as Mary exposed her regular face, which was no longer freckled and somehow dead behind the eyes. King's jaw dropped; she was about to speak but nearly fell off the couch when the cop pulled her entire scalp off, allowing two large, pointed ears to spring upward from the top of her head. King, who felt extremely sick, continued to watch her best friend in the entire world — a person whom she knew pretty much everything about — strip the flesh from what should have been striated muscle tissue and bones.
"I'm almost done, hang on," Mary assured, the majority of her skin gone. She abruptly stood up and began removing her clothes, along with anything they were covering, until all that was left was a body that was no longer anatomically correct, and covered in short hair. The pièce de résistance was a tail that slowly unfurled from the rest of what used to be Blue Mary Ryan.
"I should probably explain," the cop lilted while kicking some clothes and one of two silicone breast implants aside with a bare, human foot.
"No! Fuck you, don't explain anything what is this?!" King frantically exclaimed while hopping to her feet. She held her pillow, which she had never let go of, out as if it were a shield. "You don't even like cats! Why are you a cat-thing?!"
"Bb —" Mary stretched and then hunched over slightly — "you have to understand. I —"
Before Mary could say anything else, King hurled the pillow at her, snatched her phone from the coffee table, and ran to the door. She tore it open and sprinted out into the hallway, where a group of trick-or-treaters and the adults who were presumably their parents or guardians were walking toward the elevator a little way down the corridor.
"Huh — hey," the Nak Muay called, her voice so panicked that she could barely enunciate her words properly. "Please help! I know this is going tosoundcrazybutmyfriendjust turnedintosomekind of giant catmonsterand — ah mon Dieu!"
King yelled when the group turned around, revealing themselves to be the same ghastly fiends as the one Mary had just changed into. The children, dressed in various costumes that helped obscure some of their quasi-feline-like features, stared, their large, unsettling eyes fixed right on her, while one of the adults — a slender female with calico markings — stepped toward King, her human face steeped in anger.
"I don't know what your problem is but you're scaring the children," she scolded.
"Yeah, maybe lay off the bottle," a second adult — a large male with a tuxedo coat — spat.
Unable to utter another word, King yelped as she glanced behind her to see the Mary monster slinking in her direction, her long, disturbing tail slowly moving behind her.
"This can't… Je peux pas," the bartender gasped while turning back to the group on the other side of her. She swallowed hard and, feet still burning and hearing now slightly muted, abruptly dashed back toward her apartment, but instead of entering the residence, she blew past Mary, and down the hall in the other direction. There was no elevator, however — just the fire escape on the side of the building. King burst out the door, into the cool night air, and gasped as she started making her way down the steel steps. On the street far, far below she could see them: all manner of furry creatures skulking about. Large, small, fat, thin. Children, adults, seniors… they were everywhere in all shapes and sizes and ages, some dressed in costumes, others completely "nude," moving about as if they were all preying on things unknown. The sick, squelching sound she had heard in her apartment when Mary… changed… echoed through the air as any "people" around started stripping down and ripping their outer layers off.
"C'est…kwuh — quoi… p-putain," King sputtered out loud as she gripped the side railing. She desperately looked around and spotted a human in an apartment in the building adjacent to where she stood, the dim lights in their space backlighting them. She considered shouting to get their attention but knew that any loud noises would attract the things on the street — and she couldn't have that. Thinking quickly, she turned on the flashlight from her phone, which was still in her hand, and started to shine it toward the open window but nearly dropped the device as the person — a woman — began tearing her skin off so quickly it was as if she was moving in fast-forward.
Horrified by what she saw, the Frenchwoman covered her mouth to keep from screaming yet again. She glanced down at the street once more, where a group had assembled and was now singing what sounded like show tunes together.
King watched, slack-jawed, as the creatures frolicked with one another, their movements dripping with thinly-veiled indecency. She didn't know what to do; her car was parked in the underground garage under the building, but to get there, she'd have to descend the fire escape she was currently trapped on, get back to the elevator inside, and then ride to the basement level, which was definitely a tall order, what with the mutants everywhere. Not that it mattered though, because King quickly realized that her keys were still in her apartment anyway. Nevertheless, she peered over the railing once more and caught sight of a gaggle of trick-or-treaters, which immediately made her think of Jean. Where was he?! What if he was in trouble?! She had to get to him, but, first, she needed to talk to him and formulate a plan. With shaking hands, she unlocked her phone, went into her Favorites menu, and quickly tapped on the tiny photo of her brother. The line rang twice, then abruptly died.
"What? No," King breathed. "No, no no…!"
Suddenly the device rang; it was Jean, and he was requesting a FaceTime call. Quickly, King crouched down in the corner of the fire escape and sank back against the high rise's wall.
"Oh my God, Jean," she said, her voice low, as the video finished loading. "Jean, are you okay!? Where are you?!"
"I'm… at home? I'm getting ready to leave, though," came the boy's answer.
Relieved — but still very panicked — King took a deep breath.
"Jean, listen to me," she started. "Do not go out, okay? Stay inside. Cancel your plans and stay home until I can get there, okay?!"
"Uhhh, why?"
"Because there are —"
"Jean? Tu parles à ta soeur?"
The voice of King and Jean's aunt, Maddy, interrupted what would have been a frantic, stream-of-consciousness attempt at an explanation of what was happening downtown.
"Ouais," Jean answered. "Do you need me to ask her something?"
"No, I'd like to talk to her myself," the older woman replied.
King frowned; she hated talking to her aunt, but it was probably really fucking necessary in this nightmare scenario, as she needed to make sure they were on the same page about keeping Jean safe. And, so, there was a very brief silence before Maddy appeared… and made King cry out despite her best efforts to stay calm.
"Cécile, quel est ton problème?!" The older "woman" exclaimed impatiently, her large ears pulled back as a sign of aggression.
"Tu… tu…?!" King sputtered in disbelief.
"'Tu' quoi?! Cécile, I don't have time for your games! What is this about?!"
At that exact moment, King heard the terrible noise that was accompanying the transformations she had witnessed thus far from somewhere off-screen. She forced herself to look at Maddy (God, what the hell…?) and realized that Jean was nowhere to be seen.
"Where's my brother?!" King demanded.
"Chill, Céc, I'm right here," the boy said while moving back into the frame, the left half of his face hanging completely off, showing a slightly sickly-looking, dead-eyed replacement underneath. "Aunt Maddy, I think it's stuck."
The bartender's jaw dropped as a sudden tightness set into her chest. Her brother… her baby brother whom she had cared for and protected — whom she even, at one point in her life, turned to crime for — was one of those soulless abominations. She watched, paralyzed, as Aunt Maddy grabbed the part of Jean's face that was loosely flapping about and swiftly tore it off, not unlike a beautician ripping a wax strip from a client's body.
"C'est pas… c'est pas… happening. This isn't happening," King gasped as she began to lose her breath more than she already had.
"Cécile, knock it off," Maddy commanded. "You're making a big deal out of nothing!"
"Hey, what's the fuss about?"
The voice of King and Jean's uncle, Gary, called suddenly. King perked up slightly; as much as she hated the man, there was a chance that he was still himself and could somehow help her get Jean back… right?
"Guh — Gary…?" She asked cautiously.
"Yes, Cécile?" Gary impatiently responded as he emerged from somewhere behind his wife, his wire-rimmed glasses somehow on his face even though he no longer had human ears to hold them in place. The Frenchwoman gasped and dropped her phone, which fell through the metal platform and landed three levels below with a loud clang, attracting the attention of a rather large beast that was inexplicably dancing around with a baguette. It, and several others, hastily looked up at her from the ground. Unable to move or even utter a sound, she watched as they approached the building… and started climbing up the walls and up the fire escape. Eyes wide and fixed on the things moving toward her from all sides, King jumped — violently — when a hand touched her shoulder.
"CÉC!"
It wasn't the sound of Mary's voice that caught King's attention; it was a loud "WHACK" immediately accompanied by a stinging sensation in her cheek. She immediately placed a hand on her face and blinked a few times until her eyes settled on the freckled face of Blue Mary Ryan, who was kneeling in front of her, clearly on the verge of panicking.
"Céc! Bb! Snap out of it!"
The cop gritted her teeth as she pulled her hand back, very obviously ready to strike once more, but King, despite her frenzied state, blocked the attempted attack. She blinked several more times as her surroundings came into focus: light gray walls, soft, beige carpeting. A flat-screen television that displayed a list of movie rentals…
The bartender swallowed hard as she continued to look around her living room, which was illuminated by the light from the TV and a lamp on an end table beside the dark gray sofa, which she was sitting near, as, for some reason, she was on the floor.
"Muh-muh — Mary…? Mare?!"
"Oh, thank God," Mary breathed. "For a second I thought I was gonna have to call an ambulance. Are you — wha —?!"
The detective was rendered momentarily speechless as King reached out and started running her hands through her hair and over her scalp, knocking her headband off and feeling for anything weird the short locks might have been hiding.
"Okay I know you just went on one hell of a trip but get your hands outta my hair," Mary demanded while squirming.
"You're not… you're… Trip…? What happened?!"
"Well —" Mary rose to her feet and placed a hand out to help pull King up — "the tee el dee arr version is that you took something you shouldn't have and it messed you up!"
King got to her feet (with Mary's help, of course) and wiped cold sweat off her brow as she took in her surroundings once more, all at once very groggy.
"I didn't take anything weird, though. In fact, I got it from the dispensary at Yuri's recommendation."
"Yeah, well… you familiar with Delta-8?" Mary asked as she handed King the near-full package of edibles she had taken before the movie started. "That's what's in this — not the THC you usually take."
"What…?"
"A really small number of people react really badly to delta, and, obviously, you're one of them. Add the alcohol and… violà."
"Merveilleux," King muttered while rubbing her head. She took another look around the living space before setting her eyes on the television.
"Did we… did we actually finish the movie?"
"Almost, but you seriously flipped your shit at about the one-thirty-seven mark," Mary answered.
"How do you mean?"
"Well, that's when you threw your pillow at me and tried to run out of here. I legit had to tackle you and drag you back to the couch, and we made it through, like, half of one more musical number but you were done. I had to exit out of the movie, take your phone, and slap you."
"I see," King mumbled while placing a hand on her cheek.
"Are you okay, though? Like, how are you feeling?"
"Like you slapped me."
"Other than that."
"I'm… alright, I think. Still a little high and definitely freaked out, but alright."
"Okay, so I'm kinda afraid to ask but what the hell was happening?" Mary inquired as she moved to sit back on the sofa. "Because you were going through it!"
King moved the candies and crumpled-up wrappers that littered the center couch cushion to the coffee table and situated herself so she could lay on her back and rest her head on Mary's thighs. The cop immediately started playing with her hair as she then relayed her frightening tale of being surrounded by the cat-like monstrosities that had previously graced the television screen. When King was finished she craned her neck to get a better look at Mary, who had started laughing at the start of the story and never stopped.
"Sorry," she chortled. "I just — WHAT?!"
"It. was. terrifying," King stated deliberately.
"I really am sorry because I shouldn't be laughing this much, but —"
"Yeah, maybe save the laughter for when it's not so fresh."
"Man, now I feel all bad," Mary said while wiping a tear from the corner of her eye.
"Why?" King prodded, a brow quirked.
"Because this was my idea and now look at you, you've got fresh trauma."
"At least this one will take my mind off the other one."
"Should I be worried about that statement? I feel like I should be worried about that statement."
"Ne t'inquiète pas, mon amour platonique," King chuckled. "I'll be fine."
"Promise?"
"Promise."
Just then, the doorbell rang, which interrupted the conversation between the two women.
"Lemme get that for you, your grace —" Mary tapped King's arm a few times — "because you look like you've seen some shit."
"We can answer it together," King said while sitting up. She then asked, "Were there a lot of trick-or-treaters?"
"This is actually the first group."
With that, Mary released the locks on the door while King picked up a candy bowl from the dining table. Next, she walked over to her friend, who was enthusiastically complimenting the children's costumes, and started giving out small handfuls of candy while politely wishing everyone a Happy Halloween. Finally, the last kid in the group shyly approached the bartender, who let out a loud gasp and froze. The child in front of her, who only reached her knees, held his bag out, his fuzzy limbs contrasting heavily with his human hands and his human face.
"Trick treat," he said in a tiny voice.
"Putain de merde," King whispered, suddenly lightheaded and overwhelmed by the sight before her.
"Bb," Mary started, her voice laced with concern. "Bb, what's —"
The toddler in a cat onesie was the last thing King saw before her world went dark.
Okay but the fact that I've published this on National Cat Day is lowkey hilarious, no? Anyway:
* It is never explicitly stated that the movie that King and Mary are watching is, indeed, the 2019 theatrical release of the musical, Cats, but, I mean... it is.
* Prime Video refers to Amazon Prime's streaming service that has hella movies. Currently it's the only spot to stream Cats (as a rental)
* Quel dommage = what a shame/pity or too bad
* Psilocybin is the substance in 'shrooms that causes hallucinations
* "What's in the sack? What's in the sack?!" Se7en, yo. Watch it, it's hella good.
* Qu'est-ce que 'jellicle'?! = what is 'jellicle'?!
* The transformations in this were inspired by the werewolves in the movie Trick'r Treat
* Ah mon Dieu = Oh my God
* Je peux pas = I can't
* C'est = this is/it's; Quoi = what; Putain = fuck
* Yeah, I know King has dropped a lot of F-bombs but how the hell else is she supposed to react to any of this?
* Tu parles à ta soeur = Are you talking to your sister
* Ouais = yeah; quel est ton problème = what is your problem; tu = you (informal/rude)
* C'est pas = this isn't/it's not
* Let's talk about THC (the stuff in cannabis that gets you high)! The following info is from the Food and Drug Administration: Delta-8 THC is one of over 100 cannabinoids produced naturally by the cannabis plant but is not found in significant amounts in the cannabis plant. As a result, concentrated amounts of delta-8 THC are typically manufactured from hemp-derived cannabidiol (CBD). Now! Delta 8 products haven't exactly been evaluated by the FDA and are considered a tad unsafe. 104 patients evaluated between the end of 2020 and the beginning of 2022 reported some adverse side effects when they took the stuff, one of which being hallucinations. Yes, hallucinations. And those events were reported with Delta 8 edibles specifically. The more you know, right? Needless to say, King's gonna pay extra close attention to what Yuri recommends for her...
* Ne t'inquiète pas, mon amour platonique = don't worry, my platonic love
* Yes, I know that end is quite sudden, and maybe even a tad jarring, but so is passing out, sooooo
And with that, I do believe that's a wrap here. As always, thank you for reading and doubly thank you for telling me what's up (should you choose to do so)! Have a happy Halloween!
