While the rest of the neighborhood's children were dressing up for the evening's festivities, Zeke England was sitting in a leather chair in the spacious living room of the Chanel mansion, muttering the words from a pocket New Testament that Mr. Chanel had borrowed from the Crown City Hilton. Nestor, the Spaniard house servant, approached him and bowed humbly.
"I shall be responsible for your care while the others are celebrating el Dia de las Brujas," he stated in a thick but refined Spanish accent. "If you need anything, ring my bell."
The sullen-looking Pomeranian boy glanced up at him and nodded weakly.
Mickie waltzed into the room clad in a black robe and pointed hat, her face painted a warty green. "Hee hee hee!" cackled the aardvark girl, waving her ratty broomstick. "I am the ugliest in all the land! My magic mirror told me so just before it shattered!"
"The Bible says, thou shalt not suffer a witch to live," Zeke pointed out to her.
"You won't kill many witches if you stay cooped up in here all night," said Mickie mockingly.
"Now, Michaela," said Mrs. Chanel, who was entering with her husband. "We respect Zeke's desire to celebrate Halloween in his own Satan-free manner." The pair had foregone disguises in favor of their usual formal attire—a navy blue suit for Mr. Chanel, and a blue satin dress and diamond necklace for his wife.
"I shall attend to Master Ezekiel's needs while you are absent," Nestor promised the Chanels as they left through the exquisitely crafted pine doors.
The servant left Zeke alone in the living room, and the boy began to think of his former home and family. I never had to deal with Halloween while I was with them, he thought. The Chanels give me nice clothes and stuff, but still, I wish I was with my real folks.
He turned his gaze back to First Corinthians, and then the doorbell chimed. Nestor hastened to answer it. Sitting in a wheelchair on the doorstep, not far from a plaque on the wall that read VAN ACCESSIBLE, was the duck boy, Van Cooper.
"Is Zeke around?" he asked politely.
"You are welcome to enter," said Nestor, scarcely bothering to look down at the lad.
Zeke was delighted to see Van roll in. "Glad you could come," he said warmly. "I s'pose the rest of your family's doing the trick-or-treat thing."
"Yeah," was Van's response. "I'm not missing much. I'm not allowed to eat candy, and I'm tired of being the robot from Lost in Space every year."
"So, what do you want to do?" asked Zeke, rising to his feet. "Play checkers? Read the Bible?"
"We could watch Veggie Tales," Van suggested. "That's sorta like reading the Bible."
"How about Passion of the Christ?" said Zeke. "I got the special director's cut edition for my birthday."
"Er, I don't know," said Van hesitantly. "Doesn't that movie have a lot of blood and guts in it?"
"Yeah," Zeke agreed. "But I partake of the flesh and blood of Christ every week, so what's the big deal?"
"You make a good point," said Van, turning his wheelchair toward the big-screen TV. "Let's put it on."
Elsewhere on the block, kids were filing into the streets holding paper bags and costumed as ghosts, zombies, vampires, and Power Rangers. In the condominium Trixie Tibble had purchased after abandoning her mother-in-law's old house under the belief it was haunted, the richly-dressed hamster woman was putting the last touch on Tommy and Timmy's purple alien makeup.
"Now you look like you really came from outer space," she commended the boys. "You're ready to go. Stick together, and promise to stay away from the old house."
"We promise, Mom," said Timmy, holding his fingers crossed behind his back.
"Let's go, Timmy," said Tommy, marching forward eagerly.
"Surrender, Earth creatures!" cried Timmy, waving his toy laser pistol at the other children on the street.
"All your candy are belong to us," said Tommy, similarly brandishing his fake weapon.
At the same time, about a dozen kids were assembling in front of Lakewood Elementary to form what Beat Simon liked to call "The Hordes of the Undead". The rabbit-aardvark girl herself was wrapped in musty bandages from head to toe; she had chosen the mummy costume specifically to hide her figure. Those accompanying her included Arthur, wearing his traditional pirate costume; D.W., dressed as a butterfly with drooping antennae; Buster, painted white like a zombie; Francine, who wore a wig of coiling serpents; Fern, who wore the trenchcoat and dark glasses of a secret agent; Binky, whose mother had accidentally washed his ghost sheet with the colors; Muffy, who had bobbed her hair like a 50's go-go girl; Sue Ellen, a masked ninja complete with plastic nunchuks; Alan, who wore an Einstein-like powdered wig and spectacles; Mavis Cutler, dressed in a metallic cyborg costume with flashing lights and swiveling sensors; and Dolly Green, who insisted that her new body was her costume.
"It's kinda weird seeing you in Amy Belnap's body," Sue Ellen remarked to her. "I wonder how Amy's enjoying being a boy on the planet Yordil."
"I imagine he must have a whole harem of girlfriends," remarked Dolly, who was happy to be a blond cat girl, even a blond alien cat girl, rather than a homely rat boy.
"Dolly, why aren't you trick-or-treating with your friends in your own neighborhood?" Francine asked her.
"That's the drawback of getting a new body," said Dolly with a sigh. "I have to make a new set of friends. Nobody at my school believes I used to be Dudley. Even my adoptive parents were hard to convince."
George walked up to the group, wearing army fatigues and a gas mask. Standing in front of Beat, he asked, "Are you my mummy?" Beat giggled.
Mavis trudged robotically among her friends, saying to each, "Your candy will be assimilated. Your snacks will adapt to service us. Resistance is futile."
It was growing slightly dark, and the kids started on their way to Mrs. McGrady's house. Before they got far, a bespectacled poodle man hurried up to them. "Wait, kids!" he exclaimed.
"It's him again," said George from under his gas mask.
The kids all stopped at once. "I remember you, Muffy," said Heath Holcombe, bowing slightly before the monkey girl. "You cut your hair short, but I never forget a face—especially one as lovely as yours."
Muffy blushed and grinned girlishly.
"Who's the guy with the notebook?" Arthur asked her.
"He's a newspaper reporter," Muffy replied. "We met him at Augusta's."
"He wants to write a story about the miracle baby," George added.
"Cool," said Binky. "I was a miracle baby too. I weighted fifteen pounds when I was born. My mom almost died."
"While we're all here together," said Heath excitedly. "I'd like each one of you to introduce yourself to me, and tell me about your encounters with space aliens."
Beat groaned. "Aliens…oh, bother…"
"Hey, Buster," said Mavis, elbowing the rabbit boy. "Is this guy related to you?"
"We'll start with you," said Heath, motioning towards Binky. "You're the tallest."
Binky cleared his throat. "My name's Binky Barnes. I haven't met any aliens, but if they ever decide to invade Earth, I'm willing to fight and die for my country—as long as it doesn't involve getting probed."
"What about you, Buster?" said Heath.
"Uh, I think my mom'll be sore if I talk to you," said Buster bashfully.
"You, the one with the bandages," said Heath.
"Bugger off," said Beat harshly.
"Little butterfly girl?" said Heath, turning his gaze to D.W.
"I don't know anything about aliens," said the little girl, "but I can tell you anything you need to know about unicorns."
"I've learned enough about the unicorns," said Heath with an uneasy chuckle. "I just came here from Springfield. Unicorn mania has gripped the whole city." He gestured at Sue Ellen. "You, with the curls."
"My name's Sue Ellen Krantz," said the cat girl, "and I am an alien."
Everyone turned and gaped at her while Heath scribbled furiously on his pad.
Sue Ellen shrugged. "Hey, it's not a secret anymore."
"Tell me more, Sue Ellen," said Heath eagerly.
"I didn't find out my parents were aliens until recently," Sue Ellen recounted. "They're spies for the planet Yordil, and they're being held prisoner by Alliance police." The words Alliance police caused Heath to raise an intrigued eyebrow. "My older sister's been missing for a week now—I think she went to join them. And she's not really my older sister, she's me from three years in the future."
"Tell me the whole story," insisted Heath, adjusting his eyeglasses.
"I don't have time," Sue Ellen told him. "We're about to trick-or-treat."
"Yeah, we need to go," said George.
"Before you go," said Heath, drawing several slips of paper from his pocket, "I'd like to give each of you my card." He handed them to Sue Ellen, who distributed them among her friends. "If you feel like sharing your alien story with the Weekly Spyglass, call me."
He stood and waved farewell as the mob of kids walked away.
"Did you hear that?" said Beat through her mummy bandages. "He said he's from the Weekly Spyglass. He must be one of those nutters who publish accounts of hidden alien spacecraft and freak children with fangs and bat wings."
Dolly, her interest piqued, whirled and ran toward Heath, who had started to cross the street. "Wait, kind sir!" she called out. "I wish to learn about the children with fangs!"
to be continued