This story is dedicated to my hamigo Heather She gave me the idea and ambition while we were watching N.M.B.C. so I'm gonna try the best I can to see this story through. None of the characters belong to me; they are all creations of Tim Burton and Danny Elfman (music wise). With out further ado, here we go . . .
WARNING: THIS STORY CONTAINS MILD LANGUAGE, SEXUAL SCENES, AND YAOI!!! THINK OF THESE FACTORS, BEFORE READING!! DON'T SAY I DIDN'T WARN YOU!!!
~Smoking Barrel~
Fifty-seven hours . . . fifty-seven hours it took me to correctly alphabetize every single jar . . . I swear if I ever saw a Pickled Prunefish ever again, I would rip my already aching heart out and put it in the jar that my brain used to be in. Who knows if my brain already made it to Christmas Town or not . . . The entire process couldn't have been more nerve racking. Every twelve hours, Finklestein would come in to make sure that I didn't try to dig a way out (not that I could, considering the walls were made of steel iron and the floors were made of pure concrete). And finally when I DID finish, I had to wait until Finklestein unlocked the door! For those 9 extra hours in between, I had to wait and try not to gnaw my limbs off in insanity. When Finklestein did open the door, I couldn't help but leap out like a fish on a bank gasping for water. Expecting the old bastard to assign me to another task, he led me downstairs and into the kitchen. There I saw Jewel making what looked like Cold Mildew soup. After seeing her, I realized that I had been away for two full days, without any sleep whatsoever.
"Okay, Jewel, fix the boy a cup of tea." To my utter amazement, the female Finklestein look-a-like handed me a cup that wasn't entirely too hot or too cold.
"You'd better down all of it. There's still more things to be done." I choked a little when he said the word 'more'.
"Can't I even take a breather? I mean, can't I even go see Lock and Shock?"
Without hesitation, he responded harshly, "First of all, you don't breathe. You're dead boy, DEAD, LIKE THE REST OF US! Now if you want to be a real scientist you need to act like one, and that means you don't need anyone but yourself! Do you understand?!" I nodded in agreement . . . there was nothing else I could do. Slowly I handed my teacup back to Jewel and waited for Finklestein to give me more manual labor.
It only took about five minutes until he moved his wheelchair over to a desk and began scribbling. After a while, he took the parchment that his letter to whomever was on, sealed it in an envelope with a hot-pressed earwax print on the back and handed me the letter.
"Take this to the mayor."
No . . . anything but that! That was the ONLY thing that could make me reincarnate myself into a mouse. Anything, just anything but that! I swear that I was having another heart attack; for I couldn't help but clutch my chest in pain. I wanted to throw up, and what's worse is that Finklestein saw my gagging reactions to the letter.
"What's wrong boy? Can't even take a simple letter? I thought you wanted a 'breather', or would you much rather prefer me informing the whole town about your theft and destructive ways?" I gritted my teeth till I felt one of them beginning to crack. There was no way out of this one . . . it was at this point that I was even wondering why I came to help Shock in the first place! She put me through hell and back and then had the nerve to kiss me. KISS ME!!!!! I was beginning to loathe her now.
"Well don't just stand there, boy! Take this letter to the Mayor!" My eyes watched as my quivering hand grasped the torn and stained letter.
"Y-y-yes sir, D-Dr. Finklestein." Before I could even run out the doors (well as best as I could, having crutches and all), I heard Finklestein yell:
"And I'll know if that letter doesn't reach the Mayor."
With nowhere to go BUT the Mayor's I decided to take Dr. Finklestein's advice and take a 'breather'. Who would have thought that I would miss seeing the outside world of Halloween Town after two days? For most of the day, I decided to visit some of the local shops and eateries (not that I was interested in purchasing anything) and browse the brown-stained windows for any valuable trinkets that were deemed 'necessary'. Deciding it best to stay on the down-low, I took alley ways and narrow streets to avoid questioning about my current condition.
Two days does a number on a person. I wondered how Dr. Finklestein could stand it. Then again, I'd heard rumors that he was crippled for most of his life; what a drag that must've been to be 'immobile' and lonely. What was I talking about?!? Hell, just by the way he treated me, I could tell that he enjoyed being a recluse! Me on the other hand, I'd much rather have at least one person than no one at all (and when I say this, I don't mean the way Finklestein has Jewel. I don't consider Jewel an actual person, just another Finklestein, except with a dress). He really was a sad scientist, but I didn't pity him. True, he was a very intelligent and powerful individual, but overall, he deserved no pity, due to his selfish demeanor.
Thinking about Finklestein was racking my brain. Maybe it was for the best that I was assigned such a task as this letter; though I wasn't actually looking forward to the 'delivery' part . . . To tell the truth, I was concerned about more than one thing with the mayor. For one, I had broken his window, which, no doubt was made from the finest spider glass available (no doubt expensive). And two . . . he was the mayor (do I need to explain any more?) The result of my delivery would be unorthodox. I would have absolutely no idea what would happen. I flinched a little the more I thought about it . . .
Again, I decided to make my way through the alleyways, in order to avoid the stares of Halloween town's traffic. A few times, I thought about heading over to Oogie's base and catching up with Lock, Shock, and Oogie; but I dismissed the idea from my head when I estimated how long it would take me to get there and back. For some odd reason, I was really desperate for someone to talk to; that much I can say was due to Finklestein's captivity plot. Even if there was anyone to talk to, the only person I'd want to open my heart to was Jack. For what he did for me, I couldn't thank him enough, but then again, that's the same with my love. Just the beautiful thought of his long slender arms holding me and carrying me throughout town, was enough to turn me bright red in the face.
The Mayor's words continued to haunt me . . . he was right. Jack didn't have any bodily organs, thus, he couldn't really have any kind of sexual activity . . . The only good thing about this was, that he apparently hadn't had sex with Sally (I could not be more overjoyed), and if he did . . . god there was a miracle needed . . . Another reason it did, was because I yearned for the need of compassion and pressure against my skin. If Jack couldn't give it to me, what was the point of living (in dead man's terms, of course)?
As I kept walking through the alleyways, I pondered on the actual predicament. There was no option that I was going to make Jack mine, I just needed to know exactly how to piece the puzzle together to complete perfection. The only thing that came to my mind at that moment, was 'practice', and there was only one person right for the job . . . well, make that two.
It was probably around early noon, when I was able to stop the constant gagging of the task at hand, and actually force myself to deliver the dreaded letter. What convinced me? Partly, I'm not even sure. The only thing I did know, however, was that the Mayor had the dirt on everyone in town, and it was my job to dig it up. As I approached the elevated house that was the Mayor's I decided to lean my crutches down at the bottom of the stairs and edge my way up there without the piteous look of seeming helpless (yes, maybe I do have a little too much pride; that and I figured he would make me sit down to tea or something . . . at least I hoped). After a few moments, I reached the top and hesitated before using the giant brass knocker on the Mayor's door.
When he didn't open the door after a few minutes, I thought I was lucky enough to have missed him . . . another wrong statement. Sure enough, he opened the door, leaving a deep feeling in the pit of my stomach.
"Well, well, well, if it isn't dear Barrel? I should know exactly why you are here." I gulped. I was kind of hoping he wasn't talking about the window.
"Don't just stand there, come in." Before I could turn my tail and flee, he took me by the hand and dragged me to a very well-kempt parlor with a loveseat that I was all too familiar with.
"Please sit down, I assure you, there is much to discuss." Deciding it was best not to fight it; I sat down and invited myself to a tea cake on the coffee table in front of me. So far, things weren't 'completely' bad, but then again, the only way I would get out of this was to play it coolly and persuasively. The mayor poured me a cup of Toadstool Tea (which is one of the most well priced teas available), and sat down on a loveseat adjacent to mine.
"Now where shall we start?" I watched as he pulled a notebook out and a pheasant's feather pen, ready to scribble something down. To tell the truth, I had no on earthly idea what was going on.
"Mr. Mayor, to tell the truth, I'm only here to deliver a letter." Expecting a cold approach to the window subject, he instead smiled brightly and said:
"Oh, I know. Dr. Finklestein informed me hours ago. He said you were doing a little work for him, is that it?" As soon as he had started speaking, he seemed endless in his ramblings. Uneasily, I transferred my gaze around the room. Strangely, the whole house was so much cheerier; everything was bright and boisterous, unlike what I had seen before. But the décor wasn't the only thing that I had fixed my gaze on. Over by the Mayor's private writer's desk was the giant window that I had flung my presence out of. Instead of seeing the cracked remains of the spider glass window, there was a beautifully crafted new one in its stead. Apparently the Mayor had been carefully watching my every motion, fore his ramblings stopped to eye me.
"It's genuine spider glass, my dear, Barrel; the best quality available. Not cheap either, might I add."
"Hmmm" I took a sip of tea to try and cover up the nervousness in my voice.
"Quite a pearl though isn't it? I thought about getting a stained glass one in its stead, but then again, they are at least ten times more expensive, and there's the factor that I didn't want to have to replace another window just like it."
I couldn't help but spit some of the tea that I was sipping back into the cup and cough.
"Yes, there's also the factor of my writing desk."
"What about the writing desk?" That one I could answer honestly.
"Oh, nevermind, dear boy. Just tell me, by any chance did you read the letter that Finklestein gave to you, to give to me?"
"It's not my business, so, no." I watched the mayor's smiling face show a sort of cunning deception in it. To be quite honest, I was freaking out. The mayor already had the upper hand on me, and that was definitely not a good sign.
"So you didn't read it? Not even edge the flap open to peak inside? No light to press against the envelope to spy through the envelope's paper?"
"For the last time, no. I did not look at the letter. I was strictly instructed to deliver this to you and that was all." Tension was somewhat rising in my voice, but I negated it by stuffing another tea cake in my mouth.
"Hmmm, that seems very honest of you, Barrel. It surprises me that a boy of your age wasn't at all enticed to look at what information was given to you."
"Get on with it, what do you mean?" His mind games were giving me brain aches; that and I was tired of forcing tea cakes down my throat as an excuse for not talking. "Again, take heed to my writer's desk. Just before our little encounter with the window, I instantly noted that my writer's desk was, how you say 'touched'."
"If you're implying that I took something from you, you're dead wrong. As far as I'm concerned, why would I want anything from you?!"
I was hoping to get a rise out of him there; but of course, no such luck. Instead, he chuckled in the creepiest way possible, which in turn gave me shivers that covered the whole of my body.
"Oh, how, indeed I am 'dead' but not completely wrong. No, I should say that you might be right about not taking anything, just not about the factor of not knowing anything."
"Just what exactly are you saying?"
"Ah, you look confused. I like that in an adolescent such as yourself. But I fear that there is no need to look so perplexed." Apparently he was trying to impress me with his stature and dominance, fore he stood up and towered me sinisterly.
"You see, I'm quite aware of everything that goes on, even in my own house. Call me paranoid, but whenever I let anyone in my house, I make sure that all of my things are placed exactly where I want them. This also includes my writing desk. Normally, I leave my writing desk drawers; handle up to know that that is the way that I left them. However, after your entrance and exit of my house, I noticed that one of the topmost drawers was, in fact handle down. Tell me dear Barrel, am I 'dead wrong' now?"
At this point all I could do was stare. It was a nail on the head; he had the dirt, and now, he could do whatever he wanted of me. By the way, I stared back, the mayor must have taken it as a definite yes, and finished by chuckling his creepy laugh of his.
"So what? Yeah, you're right, I did look in the drawer. But I had my reasons, not that I really need to explain them to you!"
"You don't necessarily need to. I can easily figure out which letter you read, and why."
"What are you going to do to me?" My eyes were wide, but I tried to keep my voice persistent in trying to show nonchalance.
"Don't panic dear boy, after all, you're only here to deliver a letter, am I correct?"
I had totally forgotten about the letter. If he was right about the whole letter thing, then I could just give him the letter and depart. Rustling through my pockets, I unfolded a yellow-stained envelope and set it on the coffee table. "There, there's your letter. If that's all you need, then I'll be on my way."
"Ah, but don't you want to see what's written on it? It might be interesting." Desperately, I wanted to say no, but he opened it and began reciting it before I could.
"The letter reads: I am no doubt aware of Jack's betrayal to Halloween Town, as well as the disgrace of an assistant he had taken in. Unfortunately, actions need to be taken. If Halloween doesn't go on schedule, the holiday will be meaningless. In this, I say that we do indeed need a new Pumpkin King before October arrives. Tell me whenever a meeting is held of a selection. ~Dr. Finklestein~"
All at once, I knew what the letter was saying. They weren't reliant on Jack to pull through this time, and were even considering the fact of re-election for a new Pumpkin King.
"Sad isn't it Barrel?" "Enough of your god damned mind games! I'm tired of you making Jack out to be a sinner! It's fucking Halloween Town, we all have something to hide! Even you, you fucking pedophile!!! Maybe Jack doesn't like Halloween, I mean, you idiots have such one-tracked minds that that's all you think about three hundred sixty four days in a fucking row!!!!" I felt steam edging out of my ears; the mayor was really pissing me off, and he wasn't going to get away with it this time. I don't care how much dirt he had on me, I would not let him reduce Jack to nothing.
"Calm down, Barrel. I wasn't impl-"
"No, you listen to me! I won't stand here and listen to you make Jack sound like an idiot! You have no idea how smart and promising a man he really is!"
"I think you're misinterpret-"
"You can't imagine the power he has. Even over you! Yet, none of you show any gratitude, you just keep asking for more!!! Now, who's selfish, Jack or you along with the whole fucking town!?!"
My breathing was heavy after I had finally rested my case. I was utterly surprised that I was actually able to one-up the mayor. The switching of heads was the best thing I had seen yet. Never did I think I truly had the power to turn his head, without pushing him down a set of stairs. To my dismay, it didn't last long . . . As quickly as it changed; it reverted back around to the previous face that I hated with an undying passion. I watched in utter confusion and hatred, as he applauded my case.
"My, Finklestein was right! I couldn't agree more!"
I shrugged my shoulders dumbly and gave him a quizzical look. Still applauding, he laughed heartily and said:
"Barrel, you have no idea how perfect you are!" At first, I thought he was sucking up, but I watched as he picked up a phone from a side table next to the loveseat. He dialed a few numbers, while fighting back tears from his laughter.
"Yes, Dr. Finklestein? He's here, and I have to say that I'm extremely impressed! I commend you in every way shape and form! Yes . . . the meeting? Tomorrow afternoon. Yes, make sure 'he's' in top shape." After a few incessant giggles, he hung up and turned back to me.
"My dear, sweet Barrel, I do believe that I have a proposition for you." I perked up a little; secretly I was hoping to leave soon. Wiping a tear from his eye, the mayor leaned in closer to me, to where the stitches making his face were extremely noticeable. "What do you think of the title, "Pumpkin King"?"