Author's Note: YES! You actually do read the disclaimers! I've danced a little jig to celebrate that. Now, before I get too off-track, The Nightmare Before Christmas is a wonderful, wonderful film. It came out in 1993, although, it was in Tim Burton's mind for at least ten years prior to its release. To make things simple- I had nothing to do with it's creation. These particular character backgrounds are mine, the settings of each character's "mortal home" is based on historical fact and accuracy and made fictional for your reading pleasure. The only person I really own is Henry Cadaver, who's just about ready to continue. (Re-edit Comment: yeah, I'm still happy you all read the disclaimers.)
It isn't my place to judge, but I cannot help it sometimes. Oscar Bogart was a liar and a cheat, among other things. He loved power, and did anything he could to achieve it. In the bootlegging wars between Al Capone and George "Bugs" Moran, Bogart chose the side that won. Different sides won each and every day, and he eventually crossed the both of them. I'd say more, but I feel you'd like to see Mr. Bogart's fall for yourselves.
— Henry Cadaver
October 28th, 1927
Chicago was quickly going to hell in a handbasket, not that anyone particularly cared. Prohibition had been in effect for quite a while, but that only made liquor sales hit an all-time high. Jazz music was denounced on the conservative morning radio shows, and played in every club, hall, and speakeasy when the sun set. One of the best places to hear jazz in Chicago was in the neighborhood of Bronzeville on the south side; the fact it was predominantly African-American made the jazz authentic and real, not watered down. For one resident of the decadent metropolis, that certainly held true.
A Ford Model T turned into a dead end alley. The driver parked it against the wooden wall separating the alley from another street. The doors opened, and out stepped a rather large man, who needed the assistance of a cane to manage his girth. He shut the door of the car and walked over to a door hidden among the bricks of the building to the left of him. He tapped the door with the end of his cane, and an eye-level slit opened in the door.
"What's the phrase?" asked the doorman.
"Boy, you know I come here every day," Oscar said, reluctant to say the entry phrase.
"How do we know you're not here with the cops?"
"Oh, fine. Oogie boogie 'til the cows come home. Happy?"
The doorman answered by shutting the slit. Mr. Bogart heard the locks of the door turn one by one, until the door opened to the sound of raging jazz music. The doorman looked the alley over for a few moments before letting the man enter. To do that, he had to stand outside as Oscar maneuvered his belly through the door. Once he was inside, the doorman followed, and immediately caught the patron's coat.
"Walter, how many times have I told you to stop asking me that stupid question?" Oscar asked as he adjusted his tailored suit. "Damn, another string's coming loose on the sleeve again," he said to himself as he awaited the doorman's answer.
"Sorry, Mr. Bogart, but the cops have been coming around trying to shut us down," Walter, the doorman, apologized.
"You can at least come up with something better. Besides, I own the cops in Bronzeville. They work for me now."
"Through Capone or Moran?"
"Hell, I don't even know anymore," Oscar said before looking at a table setting up for poker. "Any good players tonight?"
"The usual crowd."
"Good. Fix me up the usual and we're in business."
"No problem, Mr. Bogart. By the way, here are your lucky dice," Walter said, passing a pair of red dice to Oscar. "I'll be over with your drink once you get started."
Oscar nodded to Walter before checking the dice. One of them had only fives and the other solely twos. Heck, if he was going to win poker, he had to pick the game, and by rolling seven before each game, he could choose the type of poker to play. It never failed, and no one ever noticed.
Oscar took his seat at the poker table amidst groans and moans. He was a notoriously tough player to beat, and the men at the table were anxious, knowing they might lose their shirts once more. In fact, the only person not worried about losing a shirt a shirt was not wearing one. She was wearing a blue chiffon dress that fell to her knees and a determined look on her face.
"Can I play?" she asked, walking up to the table.
"Sure a dame like you can handle me?" Oscar asked.
"I'm not worried," she said with a hint of sass as she sat down across from Oscar.
"Go back on the stage, doll," said another player. "This is a man's game."
"Nah, Tom, let her stay. It'll make for good entertainment," Oscar said as he began to shake the dice. "What's your name, doll?"
"Jane Brown. I've heard a lot about you, Mr. Bogart, but not about your lack of manners," she said nonchalantly.
"Lack of manners? Girl, what are you talking about?"
"You're going to roll the dice without offering them to me. Ladies' first, remember?"
Oscar sighed to himself. If there was one thing he couldn't resist, it was a lovely lady. After all, weighing over three-hundred pounds pretty much killed his love life.Oscar had to take what he could buy or get, and right now, Jane beat both of those catergories. He relented and gave Miss Brown the dice, and she rolled a seven, much to her delight. She picked the game 'All for One', which included a round of betting. Oscar put down a few hundred notes, but Jane had her eye on something else.
"Mr. Bogart, can I look at that cane for a minute?" Jane asked.
"Sure," Oscar said as he passed her the cane.
"Nice handle. What is it supposed to be?"
"Two black and white striped snakes, crawling around each other."
"In other words, Capone and Moran in prison," said another of the poker players as Walter stopped by with the drinks.
"Kind of mean, don't you think?" Jane asked Oscar.
"Nah, Jim got it right. I'm waiting for those two to kill each other off." Oscar said, proudly puffing out his chest.
"Here he goes again," Walter said knowingly.
"Those two hooch makers are eventually going to off each other. When they do, someone will have to run Chicago, and it sure as hell won't be the cops," Oscar said as he took a sip of his drink.
"If I win this round of poker, I want the cane," Jane said.
"Come on, doll. You can have a night with me instead."
"Cane first."
"You're a feisty one," Oscar said as he grabbed the cane back. "Fine. The cane and a night with me, but only if you win."
"I don't want that prize if I win," said Jim as he took a swig of scotch.
"Shut up, Jim."
No more words were exchanged as the game began. The bets were on and Oscar played... well, just to play. Heck, he didn't mind losing his cane to Jane. He could probably get it back from her anyway. What was his main priority was having her win. In the end, Oscar got his way, as usual. Jane took the pile of money in the center of the table and reached for the cane.
"Uh, uh, uh. You forgot the second half of the prize," Oscar said.
"Well, what's a good day for you, Oscar? A busy man like you must have a lot business to take care of," Jane replied.
"You free on Halloween?"
"I can be for you."
"I'm folding," Tom said to Jim. "They're making me sick."
"Tell me about it," Jim replied as he and Tom got up and left.
"Looks like the games ended early," Oscar said. "No use in staying here if I can't play."
"Awwww, and we were having so much fun." Jane said as she reached for the cane once again.
"I'll bring the cane with me on Halloween."
"Works for me. Meet me outside this club at eleven."
"Wouldn't miss it for the world, kitten," Oscar said as he got up, bowed to Jane slightly, and walked away from her.
"Leaving, Mr. Bogart? Already?" Walter asked as Oscar motioned for the doorman to get his coat.
"I won a better game than poker tonight, kid," Oscar said, nodding towards the poker table.
"What are you talking about?" Walter asked.
Oscar looked back at the table to see that Miss Brown was no longer there. She must have gone home, being that Oscar was leaving, taking the fun with him. Mr. Bogart shrugged to himself before putting on the coat and tipping Walter. Oscar walked out of the door, stepping towards his car when the tip of his cane picked something up, a piece of newspaper. He tried to shake it off, but he saw that it wasn't going to fall off alone.
With a sigh, Oscar lifted his cane and picked off the paper himself. He gave it an off-handed glance only to do a double take. The headline read Bronzeville Baron Oscar Bogart Missing; Presumed Dead. Oscar nearly had a heart attack. When he breathed enough to calm down, he looked at the paper again to make sure he wasn't seeing things. This time, the headline was Police Force Cracks Down on Bootleggers.
"Damn, I'm going blind. Almost scared myself to death," Oscar said to himself as he dropped the paper back on the ground and continued to his car.
The Ford Model T sped away from the alley moments after Oscar's scare. He never saw the pale figure emerge from the shadows and pick up the newspaper, which now had its first headline. Oscar never saw Henry that night, not that he was meant to. They would meet again very, very soon, whether Oscar wanted to or not.
Present
Poor Oscar, blinded by his lecherousness. Had he only watched what he had said, his trouble would have ended that night. Of course, I don't control these things. If I did, I doubt I would have brought him to Halloween Town in the first place. It was better than he deserved, after wishing ill on others just as bad as he was. Well, he got what he deserved, and believe me, it wasn't good.
— Henry Cadaver
