Okie-dokie. I need to explain why this is so late.

I have not been a happy camper. In fact, the majority of my weeknights have passed with me sobbing face-down in my pillows, so sleep has not been a major factor in the writing of this chappie. And I'm using the root word of "major" so much that it's bordering on Valley-girl-ism.

So why is it late? Loyal readers, in a nutshell, I have been too freakin' emo lately and need to cheer up. The Flaming Lips have done there best to help. And if I don't feel any happiness at all, I don't write. That's all.

Somehow I managed to perk up to write this, so there ya go.

Please forgive the lateness and enjoy a decent-sized chapter!

Roll it, Louie!

For the first time in the recorded history of anything, fruitcake made a person wildly successful.

They were flying out of the oven, off the shelves, and through windows. The children decapitated each other with them, seeing as they were stone hard. The Terror Scouts named a brick of it troop leader for sheer terror capacity.

Kesy was absolutely thrilled. The fruitcake had made her one of the most prominent business…creatures in Halloweentown, and she was now the proud owner of the house that she had once rented. Christmas had come and gone, and her fruitcake freak-out was over. However, seeing how well her little gems of horror were selling and how no one else had had the recipe written, whether in cookbooks or in their genetic code (as she did), she rolled up her sleeves and stayed in the kitchen for a large portion of her days.

At night, she made pom-poms, carefully winding each precious ball of man-eating flesh into existence, and even more carefully enchanting and christening each one.

The story of her success had quickly reached Jack's ears. When he didn't see her in town for two weeks straight, he began to wonder what she was up to. Deciding to pay her a visit, the Pumpkin King wandered through the Residential Area and finally found her house after asking the neighborhood nicely three times to let him in.

Red and green smoke was pouring out of the chimney, with little firework sparkles bursting every few seconds. Pom-poms tied to stakes in the front yarn napped or yipped at the passerby, looking so distorted and terrifying that the majority of the bystanders made a mental note to come back when the Closed sign wasn't up.

Jack knocked on the door.

"We're closed," Kesy's voice shouted, as if from far away.

"It's Jack," he yelled back, and waited for the witch to reply.

"No royalty discounts!" she shouted back, sounding as if she was smiling.

"May I come in?"

"The door's open!"

The Pumpkin King stepped inside, thinking that the door was most certainly not open if he had to turn the handle and push to get inside. He found himself in a large room, most likely the parlor. Red wood paneling, flooring, and bookshelves and brown carpets and furniture lead up to a magnificent fireplace that was clearly the main attraction. Pom-poms of every size and color imaginable were either lying dormant or bouncing quietly to themselves in the room. A long wooden staircase was to Jack's left.

It seemed to be a strange place for a witch to live, since it was in good repair and nicely decorated. There was not a broken stair or spider web in sight.

"I'm in the kitchen!" Kesy called, and Jack followed her voice through a doorway on the other side of the living room.

"Hi!" she exclaimed as Jack entered.

The kitchen was in good repair, too. A huge iron stove and sink stood to the left, flat against the wall in an attempt to give the patrons of the kitchen some room. A potbelly stove and an icebox stood to the side, and a large oak table stood in the middle of the room. Perched on one of the wooden chairs was the witch.

Her hair had been thrown up in a messy bun and she had the fanatical, lopsided grin that all inventors wear at some point. A huge spell book lay in her lap.

"I hear that you've become one of the most prominent shopkeepers in Halloweentown. Congratulations!" Jack said as Kesy waved him to a seat.

"Uh-huh! I couldn't be happier! And to think, mere weeks ago I was shorter than a spell book!" Kesy said, laughing and bringing out the dark circles around her eyes.

"Are you getting any sleep?" Jack said, recognizing the circles to be similar to the one he got around his eye sockets when he worked too hard for too long.

"Er…I take a nap now and again," Kesy said, clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

"I'll take that as a no."

"So how are you holding up?" the witch asked, quickly changing the subject.

"Well enough. Only 48 weeks, 2 days, 14 hours, 38-no, 39 minutes until next Halloween, you know."

"Yay. I can't wait until it comes around again!" A short silence grew between the two, the sort that eventually pops up when two people have been talking about absolutely nothing for several minutes. Jack weighed his options, and took the plunge.

"Kesy?" Jack asked carefully, unhappily aware of the risk he was taking.

"Yes, Jack?" the witch replied, her innocent green eyes urging him forward.

"Well… I was wondering, if business isn't too booming right now, if you'd…ah, like to have dinner with me Friday night?" Jack finally said, inwardly wincing at his inability to sound sophisticated. Kesy looked blank, her eyes unreadable.

"You mean," she said at length, "like a date?" The witch's head was reeling. She was confused but very, very hopeful. As a result, her voice came out in a short, high-pitched squeak.

"Yes," Jack said simply, deciding that to mince words at this point would be like throwing a gallon of salty lemon juice in a large, gaping wound.

"Oh, well…I mean, yes, sure, of course!" Kesy said, her own lips mutinying her and her tongue siding with the rebels.

Jack took a moment to realize that she'd said yes, and quickly moved in for the proverbial kill. "All right, why don't I pick you up at six o'clock? We can go to the werewolf's pub."

"That sounds nice, Jack," Kesy replied softly, her usual sharp tone wiped away. She stood up to show her gentleman friend to the door.

As he stepped out onto the porch, Jack remembered something. He turned back to the witch.

"By the way, Unmercia is doing very well and she and Zero get along great. But for you," he said, smiling and pointing a bony finger at her, "you are to get some sleep."

"Under order of the king, I expect?" Kesy said, her normal tone back, an eyebrow raised.

"Precisely. Six o'clock on Friday, then," Jack said, hiding his slight nervousness with all his might.

"Very good. See you, Jack," Kesy said, and as the Pumpkin King stepped off her porch, shut the door and let out a squeal sounding suspiciously like that of a fangirl. She scooped Wilfred up and spun around, landing on her sofa and giggling happily. Her pom-pom yipped and hopped over to the coffee table.

"I've got a date, I've got a date," the witch sing-songed. Luckily for her sanity, a timer went off in the kitchen and Kesy scooped out the fruitcakes. Seeing that they were perfectly baked, she set them on the counter to cool and climbed up the stairs to her bedroom, where she fell on the bed and didn't move for twelve hours.

So there you go. Kesy got herself a date! Who knew it could happen?

Please review. I need the cheer, seeing as it sure ain't the holidays in Midnight-land yet.