Trick or Treat

It's amazin' to me, how a girl who stays in impulse mode can still manage to be the worst kind of procrastinator. But that's me.

Last minute, shop of horrors, and I don't mean the sign on the store.

Wadin' through real life screamin' terrors, covered in not-so-artifical green slime, I was reminded why I never go to malls anymore.

After I dutifully reprimanded one mother who's little devil had decided that not only was my bag his, but that he was willing to lick it to prove his ownership, and then felt the need to scream back into the face of another goblin who had never known there to be any other way to communicate apparently, I was most especially certain that I needed to get out of there!

I don't know how I let Rachel drag me there, but she insisted I needed a “proper” costume. With my new “sexy” kitten outfit already mockin' me from the bottom of my bag, and Rachel's coveted Lady Gaga costume in hand, it was all I could do not to run for the door.

If a haunted house was in my future, I would be well prepared, there couldn't by another place any scarier I was sure.

I could see the light shinin' through the glass doors at the end of the large hall and I swear I heard angels.

And just when I thought it couldn't get any worse...I was more-than-pleasantly surprised.

Thriller!!!!!

That all too familiar beat of MJ's pop-o-licious theme song for all things Halloween, blared though the cross-roads of the mall.

Rachel and I both stopped to turn around and see what was goin' on. People from every direction, dropped coats and bags and converged together.

“What's goin' on?” I asked Rachel.

“Flash mob,” she grinned, “Damn I've always wanted to do that.”

“What's a flash mob? What're they gonna do?” I asked again.

Rachel looked at me as though I had suddenly turned green and sprouted horns and warts from my head.

“Wow, I forget you don't do the “techy” stuff,” Rachel said mockin'ly, utilizin' the word I so often chose to describe the bane of my existence that is technological devices.

“They're going to dance – you know, Thriller,” she explained further, “They all planned and probably practiced together. A lot of these go viral,” she stopped, rollin' her eyes, knowin' I'd also require an explanation of what “goin' viral” meant.

So I skipped it, and latched onto the very thing that had intrigued me most. “I know the Thriller dance,” I grinned.

I didn't even need the little nudge of added support from Rachel before I was skippin' forward to find my place in line.

So, whoever thought of the whole "flash mob" thing is a freakin' genius! For somebody that loves a good impulse, that was awesome! Best shit ever!

They were well prepared and even with an unexpected guest, we finished the song without a glitch. I hadn't done the whole dance in years! But, much like ridin' a bike, it came back to me with zero difficulty. Tryin' to maintain a “zombie face” through my cheek-to-cheek grin was useless though.

A really big crowd circled us, all takin' pictures and video clips with their phones (which really deserve a better name I think, seein as how the phone is the tiniest part of their capabilities).

After so many flashes, however, I thought I'd go blind. I still managed to fumble my way back to Rachel, laughin' and smilin' so hard my cheeks hurt.

“That was epic,” Rachel said smilin', even though I think she mighta been a tad jealous.

“That was fuckin' awesome!” I exclaimed in total agreement.

We grabbed our stuff and headed for the door. Only when we had gone through the doors onto the top floor of the parkin' garage did we realize that we in fact needed to be on the bottom floor.

We walked to the elevator, but a big “Out of Order” sign was posted on the door.

“Stairs it is then,” Rachel said.

I shuddered and followed behind her to the door of the stairwell. “I hate parkin' garages. But I hate stair-wells more.”

“Oh don't be such a scaredy-cat. You've seen too many movies.”

But still sensin' my hesitancy she couldn't resist the urge to turn shoutin' “BOO” every once in a while.

However ridiculous and juvenile, it still made me jump...every time.

Finally on the first floor, I burst through the door in search of air as though the stairwell had lacked oxygen.

Rachel laughed behind me, but I didn't care. I don't care who you are, parking' garages are creepy.

But then, I had to bend to see under the car once we had neared the vehicle – just to make sure some Achilles-tendon-slasher wasn't lurkin' beneath.

“You are something else!” Rachel laughed at me again. “You'll jump from a cliff with no fear, but an empty parking garage has you completely undone. That's hilarious.”

She could see the not-so-hilarious expression on my face, as I grew irritated with her teasin' me. She tried to soothe my scorn, sayin' sweetly, “There's nothing to be scared of okay? Nobody's here.”

Yeah...timin' right?

It was like a horror movie, and somebody just said “Be right back.”

I heard a scream.

I grabbed Rachel's arm, my eyes widenin'.

“Oh get off it girl! It's Halloween. Just some kids goofin' off.”

Then we heard a thud, and the crash of glass, and another blood-curdlin' scream.

“That's no joke Rachel!”

Runnin' in the direction of the screamin', Rachel raced behind me, catchin' me at the end of the cement partition.

Whatever is was had sounded like it was just around the corner.

“Stop! You wanna get yourself killled?”

Why was everyone always askin' me that?

“I thought you said it was just a prank anyway, and if I'm gonna get myself hurt, then call the cops! Because somebody else already is!”

“No cops, I'm sure it's just a joke. Just let me check it out. At least I can choose to run-away if need be.”

It made a reasonable amount of sense, so she took the lead.

Peerin' around the corner, she whispered back, “I don't see anything. Just some kids I bet...see?”

A clatter of keys caught her attention, but made me wish I could melt into the stone behind me.

“What's that?” she muttered lookin' more curious.

Tentatively, she signaled for me to “stay” (yeah, like that'd be a problem) and took a few more steps around to the other side of the wall.

“See anything?” I finally whispered suddenly feelin' the undeniably strong urge to pee – the guaranteed spoiler of a good game of Hide and Seek.

“No...wait...hold on,” she said trailin' off.

Just when I was goin' to hop around and tell her I had to find a bathroom, cowardice be damned, I heard another scream. And just when I was more than happy to believe it to be good-natured Halloween fun, the scream took on a whole new horrible connotation.

It was Rachel.

It was like a dream. I couldn't make my legs move fast enough.

All I saw when I rounded the corner was the shiny black heels on Rachel's listless legs bein' dragged between a row of cars.

“Rachel!” I screamed. “Rachel!”

Runnin' to where I saw her vanish, half-expectin' to find some predator slashin' my new friend into pieces, I found nothin'.

I stopped walkin' or breathin', tryin' my damnedest to hear somethin'...anything. But I couldn't hear anything outside of the poundin' in my ears. Where was she?

Finally, I heard a faint sloppin' sound, like someone was walkin' through mud, or stirrin' a chunky stew.

Carefully, I made my way towards the noise.

At the end of the row, I took a deep breath, before bracin' myself and peerin' around the rear of the last car.

All attempts at silence then vanished.

I didn't even know I could scream that loud.

There was a body on the ground, lyin' in a pool of its own blood, entrails strewn about as though its perpetrator had invented his own sadistic jig-saw game.

Then, there was Rachel. Unconscious, she lie limp in the lap of the lunatic.

“Get away from her!” I yelled.

As though I weren't even there, the masked man raised his knife above his head, plungin' it into Rachel's stomach. A river of blood surged from the wound, dribblin' down her side.

I think I screamed again.

He pulled the knife from her - another surge of blood fillin' her belly and findin' the floor - and then pushed her off of him.

My feet were as solid of lead weights. My eyes could not NOT see what was happenin' before me.

He rose slowly, but finally he spoke. “You're next sweetheart,” he said then, his voice garbled by somethin', soundin' like Darth Vader.

He took two steps forward before I reached down and grabbed my heel off my foot. I held it high, bein the only weapon I had. But the shiny blade of his knife, dulled by the blood drippin' from its tip, was certainly more anxiety provokin' than I'm sure my heel was.

He laughed. He laughed at me!

Wait...Wait a minute, I thought. I know that laugh. I know that laugh even with that stupid device attached to it!

Seein' that I'd registered his identity, the lunatic finally removed his mask.

Kevin.

“Kevin!” I yelled, raisin' my heel ready to rush him.

Then I heard Rachel laughin'.

Now they were both laughin' at me. And I was also now noticin' that the 4th person in our morbid little party was of the plastic variety.

“Happy Halloween!” they chimed together, Rachel lickin' the “blood” from her finger, and Kevin slappin' the disappearin' blade against his leg.

“I'm goin' to kill the both of you!”

“Not with that you're not,” Kevin chuckled, motionin' toward my “weapon.”

I was seethin'. And I was very near peein' my pants. And the whole thing reeked of Kevin.

“Was that you screamin'? They sounded so real!”

Grinnin', he replied, “There's an App for that.”

Lungin' at him with my shoe, ready to deliver a good sisterly beatin', I asked, “Oh yeah? Well is there an app that'll save you from me?”

Happy Halloween!