Every Ghoul's Crazy About a Sharp Dressed Man

Myrriah stared down at the grinning head in her hands. The bulging eyes and skull-like face reminded her of Ezra. "Uh, hi, Sklar," she said as nicely as possible as she felt vomit rise in her throat. "I know you must be getting a fabulous view of my nostrils, but do you have a body I could attach you to? This is kind of awkward."

He grinned, causing his gold tooth to sparkle. "Sure thing, doll." From amidst the shadows of the far corner of the attic, Myrriah could hear something shuffling towards them. Wobbling somewhat, due in part to short, bowlegged legs, Sklar's body staggered into the light. A twisted stick-like cane clutched in the left hand helped it stumble along. (Myrriah felt a pang of sympathy). Other than the usual pants and spats, he wore a long coat with large buttons and a billowing cloak with a sharp, high collar. Dustin jumped up from his seat in surprise as the headless ghost stumbled past.

Holding out his bony hands expectantly, the transparent form reached for its cranium. Myrriah carefully handed it over. After some quick adjustments and stretches, Sklar was in one piece. "Much obliged, darlin'."

Emily huffed. "What are you doing here? I thought you had left us for good."

"I," Sklar searched in a box until he pulled out an old top hat and then put it on, his stringy white hair sticking out in multiple directions, "heard that my good pal George was havin' some trouble rousing up hauntees, so I decided to come back and see if I could be of any help."

She pursed her lips and scowled at him, hands on her hips. "Well, for your information, we don't need your help! We have everything under control and our new Hollywood friends will make things the way they used to be."

He leaned forward on his cane, cackling hoarsely. "You mean that fancy pants pansy is going to save the Manor? Emily, that snot couldn't scare a mouse. The woman ain't no better. She's about as frightening as Dustin."

Dustin looked up and tried to think of some sort of comeback. Finally, he just shrugged and muttered, "Can't argue with the truth."

"Speaking of which," the hatbox ghost rubbed his chin, "I heard you're having some problems wooing this infatuation of yours. I can help."

"Uh, no thanks, really," the driver said.

"Here," Sklar pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it to Dustin.

"'Martin Sklar, fashioner designer and tailor extraordinaire'?"

"Where do you think I got these fancy duds?" He tugged on his huge collar. "I was the one who made Emily's dress. Pretty, ain't it?"

Emily pouted. "It's okay…I guess, considering I have to be stuck in it for all eternity."

Sklar smirked at her and then turned back to Dustin. "What do you say, Mr. D?"

"Um…" he mumbled. He looked up at Myrriah, who smiled and arched her eyebrows playfully. "Sure. Can't hurt, can it? After all," he added thoughtfully, "if you can make Emily look pretty, you should have no problem making me look a little dashing." He grinned good-naturedly at her frustrated cry of, "Hey!"

Sklar laughed. "Let's see what we can do for you…" Scowling thoughtfully, he surveyed his latest challenge. "Lose the duster…"

"I like the duster," Dustin said meekly as Sklar yanked off the coat.

"Lose the top hat…"

"I like the-Hey! Don't throw that!"

"The glasses can stay…"

"Obviously. How else would I see?"

"The tie and the vest with the white shirt…it's too old fashioned."

"I didn't die last year."

Myrriah stifled giggles behind her hand. "What do you want to go for? Something a little more modern?"

The designer grinned at her. "Exactly! When does the girl come from?"

Dustin furrowed his brow, confused. "California."

The other dead man shook his head, making it nearly fly off his neck. "Not 'where', 'when'. What era does she hail from?"

The mortal thought it over for a moment, and then snapped her fingers. "The late thirties." She looked Dustin over and then smiled, her eyes twinkling mischievously. The smile turned into a broad grin and she laughed. "I have got the perfect idea!" she cried excitedly. "Sklar, come here. This would look so great on him!" She whispered into his ear. Dustin watched apprehensively as the man nodded with mutterings of, "Wonderful idea, darlin'!" and "Perfect!"

"It's been decided," declared Sklar as he took a tape measurer out of his pocket. "Let's get to work."

Emily glanced at Myrriah questioningly. "Are you positive you know what you're doing? I mean, it's going to take a lot to make him look good."

Myrriah rolled her eyes. "Yes, I know what I'm doing. You act like he's completely hopeless."

Dustin yelped and started giggling as Sklar measured under his armpit. "That tickles!"

Smirking, Emily said, "I rest my case."

"Well," Myrriah smirked back and with a superior tone continued, "I guarantee he will win Carolyn's heart."

"And why is that?"

"Because," the young woman couldn't stop herself from grinning, "every ghoul's crazy about a sharp dressed man." When the bride just stared at her blankly, the smile vanished from Myrriah's face. "Nevermind."

Sklar hobbled past the two women and opened up a dusty trunk. Furiously, he threw bits of cloth over his shoulders. "Aha!" Triumphantly, he pulled out a long, wide portion of material. "'Scuse me, ladies." He tipped his hat to them before ambling back over to Dustin. The bespectacled spook seemed worried and just slightly terrified. The tailor/designer pulled out and pair of scissors, thread, and a needle out of some mysterious inner pocket of his cloak. "This'll only take a second." He turned his back to them and set to work sewing. Pieces of fabric flew out in every direction as the scissor blades snipped, causing everyone to shield their faces. The needle soared up and down almost too quickly for the eye to catch. Then he stopped.

Cackling like Dr. Frankenstein over his living creation, Sklar proclaimed, "It's a suit! It's a suit! Mwah-ha-ha-ha!"

"Yeah…" drawled Emily when Myrriah cocked an eyebrow questioningly. "He was always like that."

Shoving the outfit into Dustin's reluctant arms and grinning maniacally, Sklar said eagerly, "Try it on!"

Eyes wide with fear behind his lenses, Dustin stammered, "But there are ladies present!"

Frowning, the skull faced ghost pointed to a discarded dressing screen, perfect for just such an occasion.

"Oh," Dustin mumbled sheepishly as he disappeared behind the scrim. "You can't see me, right?" he called out nervously. Not even the outline of his form could be seen through the dusty screen.

Instead of suggesting he go invisible if he were so worried, Myrriah waited a few seconds until she thought he might have started undressing and hollered, "Cute butt!", making him shriek.

"I shudder to think what you are up to," Master Gracey joked as he stepped through the attic door.

"Just messing with Dustin's head," Myrriah explained.

"And here I thought you were trying to comfort him." George chuckled.

"Gracey!" Sklar greeted joyfully. "It's good to see those baby blues again." He snickered and shook George's hand.

"I see you've still got that same sense of style," George laughed, pointing to the gold tooth.

"Classy never goes out of fashion." He winked. "So what brings you up here?"

"I just wanted to let all of you know that in honor of our guests, we're having a party in the ballroom. We even got a band from the jazzy Tip Top Club to provide the entertainment."

"Sounds snazzy," said Myrriah. "Will there be food? I'm starving." She looked at him pleadingly, hands clasped together.

"Of course. I took the liberty to call in something for you."

"Thanks." Wait… She mulled over the sentence in her head. Something wasn't right…

"Well," George peeked at his pocket watch, "the party is starting, and they'll be expecting me. I'll see you all a little later." Before departing, he hissed into Myrriah's ear, "Remember what I told you, Ms. Harolds." He turned on his heel and left.

Before she could ponder what George had said, she was distracted as Dustin cleared his throat nervously. The three waited in anticipation as he stepped out behind the screen. Smiling shyly, he asked, "How do I look?" The zoot suit, Myrriah thought, couldn't have fitted him better. It was purple, with light pinstripes, and came complete with a feathered hat.

Emily's jaw dropped. Sklar coolly reached over and pushed it up.

Myrriah surveyed him with exaggerated criticism. "I say you're ready for—" Catching a minor detail he had forgotten, she hid a chuckle behind her fist and pretended to cough. "XYZ."

"Huh?"

Emily giggled.

Myrriah nonchalantly pointed to his crotch. "Examine your zi—"

"Oh!" Quickly, he turned back around and zipped up his pants. Then he turned back around. "Okay, now how do I look?"

"Now," Myrriah grinned, "you're ready to for the party."

"Good luck," wished Sklar as he held open the door for them. With an arm around each laughing woman, Dustin strutted out.

A/N: The chapter title is a play on a line from the Z. Z. Top song, "Sharp Dressed Man".

Yep, Melanie Gracey, he's named after Marty Sklar.

A huge 'thank you' to everyone who has read the story and has taken the time to leave a review. I'm sorry it took so long to update. Please let me know what you think.