“A Good vs. Medieval Halloween Special”

Part 4
What Halloween night is complete without a wild party among friends? Hosted at the girls' apartment, this year's was sure to delight. No one having arrived yet, the place lacked movement, but Cade and Reese had made necessary atmospheric preparations. The living room was dimmed, illuminated by orange and green lava lamps; XM radio, softly tuned to the goth station, kept an eerie beat; and tables were decked out with snacks and dips. This was as far as the hosts went with food, though, for when it came to Halloween delectables, brother Kasey was the master. Who knew what kind of costumes Cade and Reese had in mind this year; they were locked in her bedroom in preparation for the big unveiling.

Little Billy was already present but far out of the way; he had been for much of the afternoon, transforming the outdoor fire escape into a tower of doom constructed of cardboard siding and spray paint. Certainly a piece of craftsmanship the local fire marshal would have disapproved of, but on Halloween, all was good. Scissors and glue in hand, the little tyke scrambled to have it finished in time.

The first guests arrived at eight o'clock. Wulfie, donned in vampire fangs, a shiny black leather straight jacket, rib cage collar lit with flames, and wheeling an intravenous unit stuck to her jugular, continued to gripe about not being able to find a decent costume. Behind her followed Gary, whom she had found hitchhiking along a back road, nearly crippled from hunger. He made a beeline straight for the cheese and crackers.

Wulfie sat down at the dinner table next to a mummy completely wrapped in bandages with only a single eye slit. The creature addressed her with a solemn grunt.

"Now there's a nice costume, Tyr," she complimented.

Shortly after they settled, the next couple made their announcement, and Wulfie got up to answer the door. As expected, Kasey and Yosmine took the simplistic costume approach with stylish wand masks over their eyes, and both revealed their faces at the same time, ever so elegantly and intriguingly.

"Kasey, Yoz," Wulfie greeted them. "Come on in!"

Yosmine smiled and gave a pretend kiss. "Bianca, nice to see you again, dear." To her beau, she added, "Don't forget the main course, hon."

Kasey nodded politely at the goth girl— "Miss Bianca."— then reached his hand back to grab the handle of a Radio Flyer in the hallway, which hauled crock pots full of goodies. The front wheel stuck against the door jamb, but Kasey gave it a yank to free it. He then assured Wulfie and his wife with another polite nod.

Gary sat at the table and tucked his placemat into his collar. Fork and knife clutched in his hands rhythmically banged against the tabletop. He was greeted by Yosmine in an informal fashion who then sat next to him.

In from the fire escape scurried Billy, his face plastered with gobs of fake skin and a stray plastic eyeball.

"Ooh, and what are you supposed to be, Billy?" Yosmine asked.

"I'm a depleted uranium child!" he answered so innocently before grabbing a chair of his own.

Wulfie tented her fingers over her plate. To the server standing at the wide edge of the table she said, "Kasey, Cade and Reese are gonna be a while, and who the hell knows where Nata is. We might as well dig in right now."

Three crock pots were set on the table ready for unveiling, but with Kasey doing the honors, the others expected a formal saying of grace from the dandy.

"First of all," he announced with a petite bow, "It is a pleasure to have Stumpy join us this day!"

Prompted, Gary smiled heartily and chuckled. "Why, yes, this is nice, isn't it? When do we eat?" A fart rippled his seat cushion. "Oop, there's that uncontrollable gas again." He shot bird-like glances to the others seated and only received blank stares in return. In fact, Yosmine nudged her chair farther from his location.

Kasey furthered, "There is no second-of-all. Let's just get to it, then!" Lifting a steaming lid off the first pot, he added, "It's funny you should all request lizard eyeballs and witch's intestines because I actually know how that's made!"

The inside of the pot revealed spaghetti with green grapes mixed in, sprinkled with rosemary and thyme in a haphazard attempt at fine cuisine.

Onto the second pot, he uncovered "Spiderwebs!" Its contents consisted of unshelled crayfish tossed over a bed of corn silk— and slivers of husk for color.

"And now my piece de resistance," Kasey proclaimed, hand on the third lid. "My famous bat wings in puss!" The atrocity revealed was a sour cream soup ridged with handguns.

"Ooh, that looks delicious!" Gary praised, looking around the table again. "We'll need nutcrackers."

Jaw agape, Yosmine turned to him as if to say, "What illegal narcotic are you on?"

Billy's eyes nervously wound from ten to two o'clock. "Um, I think I'm gonna go charge admission for my haunted tower now. See ya!" And with that, he excused himself.

Thankfully, dinner was interrupted by a knock on the door. More guests?

Intravenous pack clumsily in transit, Wulfie muttered, "I hope to Hell that's Dominoes!" She gave the door a pull to reveal a half-dressed, beardless King Edward on the other side.

"Wulfie!" he spat in panic. "Have you seen Ray and Nata? I've lost them!"

The goth girl shook her head. "No Ray and Nata here. Why the look of depleted batteries?"

"Let's just say the plan was in place, but the means of carrying it out are set at ludicrous speed!"

It was at that moment, the worst timing ever, that Cade and Reese made their appearance. They made no peep, but oohs and ahhs from Yosmine gave it away. Wulfie turned around, and Eddie's eyes grew wide at the spectacle.

Reese was gorgeous in her low-cut sorceress's gown adorned with gold amulets. Make-up skewed at the sides of her eyes gave her an enchantingly sly appearance, obviously a thing of beauty not to be messed with. Skin colored pink and hair a rich maroon, the six-foot Amazon truly demanded attention. Wait, demanding attention? Not when the romantic warrior Cade was present! Arms outstretched in a billowy white shirt, head topped in a long, golden wig, he cut in front of Reese to grab all the stares. Then he really hammed it up, dropping to one knee and flexing a bicep. "Yes, I am the greatest woya of all space and time," he announced to the gang before standing up and doing a little pirouette to introduce his mate. "And this is ma trusty womanly-steed, Hyacinth, also frum The Greatest Woya of All Space and Time!" Smiling pleasantly, Reese parted a bit of dress to show some leg.

Wulfie shook her head in dubious awe. "That's just wrong, Cade. I mean— that was supposed to be my costume!"

Suddenly a panel popped out of the ceiling behind them, and tangled in rope, Ray and Nata bumbled through with a thud to the living room carpet. The baseball butcher did not miss a beat, though; she stood erect and issued a vengeful finger at her age-old rival. "At last!"

Eddie squeaked, "Uh-oh! So much for our dress rehearsal!"

Too occupied in his role to notice, Cade continued posing sensually and invited, "Pictuhs. Pictuhs, please— HOLY CRAP!"

He barely ducked in time, golden locks caught in the breeze of a blinding swing of Nata's blood-stained bat. Its impact cracked a crater into the drywall.

"Nata, what has come over you?" Reese screamed.

Calm and businesslike of voice, though too hurried for the common ear to comprehend, Cade shared his disclaimer. "Possible spirit possession, could be demonic, immediate reaction calls for hasty retreat." And he grabbed Reese's wrist and pulled her along.

Baseball bat poised, Nata cried out, "YO HOOOOOO!"

Ray cast a magic spell— "Iceblitz!"— and held up his weapon: a tablespoon cupping an ice cube. With a flick, the projectile soared to the hardwood floor in between the sliding plate glass window and Cade and Reese's path. Yes, they slipped on it.

An adventurous child, dressed in a ghost sheet and lost in cardboard catacombs, peered back and forth looking for a safe path. Two crudely scrawled chalk outlines welcomed him ahead. He only had Billy's voice on periodic intercom boxes to guide him. Poetically devilish, it resonated, "Beware lost child, for you are drawing upon the death scene of Mister and Missus Witherbottom. Having lost their only child, they committed suicide by jumping out of a seventeenth-story window. Listen carefully and you can still hear their anguished screams carried over the chilling wind."

SMASH!

A shower of glass shards, and Cade and Reese with it, burst through spray-painted prop wall. The now urine-stained ghost child needed not imagine screams; they were real as life and shouting within arm's reach. Too frozen to move, he allowed the golden boy Cade to swipe him aside— "Outta my way, wanker!"— as he and his love shot to their feet and proceeded into the labyrinth mind of an eight-year-old evil genius.

Just when the funhouse goer thought he was off the hook, next came Nata, straight out of Hell. Trigger-happy of reflexes, her bat hand reared back for a shot, but Ray stopped it. "Remember, they're just kids," he reminded.

"You live today, bodiless harbinger of despair," Nata chided the youngster, "but your days are numbered!" And the chase resumed.

Cade and Reese skidded to a crossroads, scared and confused. Billy's broadcast voice was no help. "You have invoked the mummy's wrath!"

The monster in question staggered from the left, so the couple darted to the right.

Nata and Ray followed in hot pursuit; no way were they going to let a mere mummy obstruct their path. In receipt of a home-run slug across the chest, Tyr stepped aside with a simpleton's "Ow", and Nata and Ray advanced.

At the location of a wooden dungeon door painted onto the wall, Reese had enough. She stopped in her tracks and screeched at Cade, "This is ridiculous! I'm calling the police!" Phone in hand, she punched 911 and put it to her ear. "Yes, we need assistance over at Bayview Apartments. There are two murderous lunatics on a rampage, possibly under the influence of an illegal narcotic. Repeat, possible illegal narcotic. Send officers immediately!"

From behind the wall, Gary's voice spoke. "I'm on it." Then suddenly the sergeant's muscular arms burst through the door, wrapped around Reese's waist, and lifted her off her feet with a tearing of construction paper facade. A steady scream poured from her throat; she milked it for all she was worth.

Snapping into rescue mode, Cade removed his Italian shoe and proceeded to beat down the possessed cop. "Bad Gary! Bad! Bad!"

Gary relinquished his hold, and Cade and Reese fled like a couple of underdressed blondes in any teen-scream movie.

Billy's maniacal laughter sounded over the intercom. "Ooh, I hope there are no trap doors around here!"

The escapees put this clue to good use. Cade saw the trap door drawn onto the floor, so he grabbed Reese's hand and, one, two, three, made a dynamic leap across the obstacle. Unfortunately, with only Radio Shack logos facing them from three sides, they appeared to have come to an unfinished part of the tower, a dead end!

Nata and Ray scrambled into view, and a dramatic face-off commenced. Although no blazing inferno backed them up, the deathly glare on Nata's face certainly could have called for it. Bat poised, she slowly stepped forth, Ray in tow.

"You have stolen our glory for the last time," she growled. "It's time for you, pretty boy, to meet your ugly demise!"

"That actually sounded cold and heartless," Ray noted.

Nata smiled and jounced her shoulder girlishly. "It's the company I keep!"

However, these two made a habit of charging forth without searching for traps, so they both fell for it— literally! The prop hatch— actually the folding ground-floor stairs of the fire escape— released, and Nata and Ray were ejected, right into the alley dumpster.

Blue lights and sirens drew near, and Nata and Ray saw this as their cue.

"The castle guards!" exclaimed Ray.

"I ain't being Edna-snagged twice in the same night," Nata assured. "Roll doubles!"

The two stumbled over garbage bags and hopped the dumpster lip, running into the night. Meanwhile, what an amazing sight to behold: Sergeant Gary Swift and the gentleman Kasey being ushered into the back seat of a cruiser.

###

"Okay," Wulfie verified, sitting in the front seat of Eddie's stationary car. "I know you explained this to me before in dropped-call dialogue, but for the folks at home, what's with Nata, Ray, Gary, and Kasey?"

"They are possessed," explained Eddie, just now remembering to wear his white king's beard. "Spirits of ancient heroes passed through a door today, one that formed by just the right circumstances: echoes of long forgotten bravery as told by Madame Beaulieu's storytelling combined with the release of The Greatest Warrior of All Space and Time."

"But what's TGWoAS&T got anything to do with it?"

"It's simple," Eddie said with a duh expression. "The movie paints the image of a great, golden-haired warrior who, in reality, only claimed to do all the things that the four heroes did. It's false advertising. And of course it doesn't help that Wondero's character is played by Brad Pitt, and Keno and Gregor's characters are collectively played by Rob Schneider. You can understand why the heroes are pissed!"

"So how do we set things straight?" Wulfie asked. "You know I can't sit by and mind my own business when cool shit is going down!"

Eddie reasoned, "Well, having a pretend duel between them and Cade and Reese went over like a Linfield versus Glentoran FC Championship. We need to somehow shift attention away from that movie and more toward the men who deserve it. That should put their souls to rest."

"Great!" exclaimed Wulfie. "So how do we do that?"

Silent wonderment followed for a few minutes. A dark side street lie unoccupied and motionless in the windshield view. The radio was off. No movement in the hula dancer bobble-head. Then Wulfie snapped, "I got it!" which jumped the king out of his seat.

###

Cade and Reese certainly felt ripped off this Halloween night. Stripped of their costumes and standing on a city corner, shopping bag in Cade's hand, they made the notion of finding a nightclub— any nightclub— and just getting wasted.

"We need to find a place that awards prizes for best costume," Cade suggested.

"You think you have a chance with that last-minute plan B?" Reese asked, pointing at the bag.

Cade had already begun to unwrap it. "Hell, yeah! Who can deny faceless death?" He draped the costume over his body thus resembling a tattered robe with stick-like appendages jutting from it.

If the second coming of Wondero were not enough of a summons, Nata and Ray appeared out of nowhere to bum rushed the likeness of the spirit who zapped them into senselessness the first place. Knocked to the ground like the victim of a common mugging, Cade endured bat hits, stomps, and scrambled banter— something about vengeance, bringer of blights, and dirty old specters. Sirens squawked down the street, and Nata and Ray were gone just as suddenly as they had appeared.

Providing a caring hand, Reese knelt down to check on her boyfriend. His disgruntled face peeked out of the hood only to mutter, "There goes my lung again."

###

Thanks to Facebook, telephone pole flyers, and tried-and-true graffiti, Eddie and Wulfie's crusade of awareness was already underway. The next step was to air public service announcements before every screening of The Greatest Warrior of All Space and Time, but to do that, the revolutionaries would need something they lacked: cash!

In a cozy house, an older gent weighed the thought of removing the candy bowl from the entrance table at this late hour. Lo and behold, a knock sounded on the door. Bowl readily in hand, he opened it to find, yes, more trick-or-treaters. Only one child was present, accompanied by three adults. The child wore a white robe, long red hair streaming from its hood, and carried a broken tree limb. Behind him stood an Irishman in red and blue pajamas stuffed with cushions; a wild-haired woman dressed in a green tunic, magenta tights and jester's hat; and a dazed-looking, yellow-eyed fellow wearing a metal trash can, lid topping his head, and white beard handed down from King Edward.

"Oh, hello folks," the kind resident greeted them. "I suppose you want some trick-or-treats?"

"I do, snapper!" sassed Billy.

"Billy, behave, or I'll put you in a bear hug," chided Eddie.

"But you told me to play my part, snapper number two!" argued the child.

"I'm doing the same," Eddie returned, followed by an over-dramatized double flex of his muscles for the old neighbor.

Wulfie honked a bicycle horn in Eddie's ear for good measure, to which he slapped the side of his head and said "Ow!" in a less than pleased manner.

"Well, I think I have something for the little wizard," the man played along, dipping a hand into his bowl. "And does Oscar the Grouch want something too?"

A string of drool escaped Tyr's lip; that was his only response.

Eddie stopped the resident. "Oh no, kind sir, peaceful citizen of this pink-and-yellow-ribboned flower basket of harmony you call your hometown. We're not here for treats."

"We're not?" complained Billy. "Freakin' A!" He reached into his robe for a canteen of apple juice and took an exaggerated swig.

"No sir, we're not," Eddie reiterated. "We come to you tonight to ask for something greater. You see, while children of this town will snack with abundance tonight, there are children in third-world nations who continue to starve." Hand over his bulgy, throw-pillow heart, he looked to the stars. "Gods bless their little hearts and tiny little stomachs."

Wulfie cocked her head and grinned girlishly. "This has nothing to do with demonizing one of the most anticipated movies of all time and tarnishing Brad Pitt's name, no-sir-ee!"

Eddie reached around to put his partner in a head-lock. As she struggled in his firm yet snuggly soft vice, hat falling off her head, the pajama warrior grinned and spoke through his teeth. "Hahaha! If only we had a funny jester on our team, eh, Stumpmeister?"

Tyr replied with a sickly groan; a squeaky rocking chair could have been more of a conversationalist.

"I guess I don't know what you expect of me, O fearless leader," Wulfie choked. "Neighborly citizen, please call 911."

The old man laughed. "You know, I enjoy donating to charities in the first place, but I really love your act." He reached into back pocket for his wallet. "I happen to have twenty bucks kicking around in here. You may have it. Oh, and who did you say you were again?"

In unison they cheered, "We're Good vs. Medieval!" along with finger peace signs. Snap! Freeze frame! The one name that mattered synonymous with legendary do-gooding was on its road to success.

Eddie and company hit several houses within the hour. They were amazed by how much funds they had amassed so far. If only their unit could stay cohesive. Drunken banter outside of any nightclub paled to the constant trading of words among the pretend heroes as they traversed from one spot to the next.

"Must you dump sawdust down my pants?" Eddie whined to Wulfie.

"Hey, you had your chance to be the jester, dumbshit!"

"Oh, are you still on that?"

"The first forty-five percent of this idea was technically mine," Wulfie pouted. "I should be Keno."

"That wouldn't make sense, though! Keno is a man's man!"

"True. I've often said the same about you!"

Billy interjected, "Will both of you snappers shut the hell up? Freakin' toad your asses!"

Still attacking Wulfie, Eddie barked, "I'm glad you constantly honk that horn in my ear. It spares me from having to hear your nonstop ragging!"

"Oh, bite me! There's one more house on this street; let's get it out of the way before I kill you."

"Yeah, let's do that," Eddie agreed. He then offered an off-topic elbow nudge to Tyr. "You're doing an amazing job, by the way. You're a FIFA World Cup champion at everything Stumpy."

Following the weedy path and stepping onto the stoop, fake Keno rapped on the door of the last house. On its other side stood the beer-sipping man in the leather jacket. "Oh, what the f—-?" The door nearly closed in the party's faces but was blocked at the foot by Tyr's head— whatever his head was doing down there in the first place.

"Please, kind sir," Eddie made his pitch. "You look like a generous man."

"Look," the resident insisted with forced smile, "I've had a really bad night; I mean, this one is a doozy. I'll tell you once: I don't answer to trick-or-treaters, and I sure as hell don't do Unicef. Take your Green Giant girlfriend, your Garbage Pail Kid, and your little Klan member there, and find some other bat signal to answer!" And the door closed with little more than crickets speaking to the solicitors now.

Inside his dark kitchen, the man took one last swig of his beer and opened his refrigerator. "You all set, Bobby?" he called to his friend. A voice might have answered, but another knock on the door rang more prominent, making the young man curse. "Balls!" He jerked around to answer it again, and this time two people in clean dark suits— a red-headed man and blonde woman, both hairstyles professionally slick— stood before him. Both presented badges and tucked them away in a blink.

Wulfie did the talking. "Good evening, sir. I'm Agent Metalhead, and this is my partner, Agent Heehaw-Reject. We're with the FBI; we'd like to ask you a few questions."

The resident blinked dumbstruck, dubiously so. "Questions about what, exactly?"

"You wouldn't have happened to experience anything odd this night, would you have?" Eddie questioned.

The man paused, eyes narrowed. "Odd how?"

"As in— supernatural?"

The man scoffed. "No! What do you think this is, Lifetime? There are no unsolved mysteries here. I'm sorry, Agent Metalhead, Agent Heehaw, but this house is clean." Offering a sly smile, he continued, "Why don't I keep in touch in case anything comes up, how's that sound?"

"Clean," Wulfie threw back in businesslike condescension. "If this house is so clean, how do you explain that tow truck starting up all by itself?"

"What?"

Sure enough, amid the vehicle junkyard, the drunken uncle that Christine never told anyone about lit up its headlights and growled with raspy engine. Its door read, Singer Auto Salvage. However, that was as scary as it got. In actuality, the ride was only being car-jacked by Nata, who sat upright into view to adjusted the mirror, trying to look like an experienced badass. She had a point of her own to make, and the heavier the machinery, the better.

"Whoa, whoa! Hey!" shouted the resident. He threw his beer aside and took a couple of hasty steps but to no avail. The tow truck screamed out of the driveway, dung-filled Impala attached to the hook.

Nata gripped the wheel, and Ray ignorantly lay on his belly to work the pedals with his hands. Obviously neither knew how to drive, but that did not matter. Their target lie straight ahead, at the end of the street and beyond only a mildly busy city intersection.

###

Theater-goers settled in their seats with tubs of black and orange popcorn in their laps and, in their hands, gallon cups of "anemic plasma" drinks— anemic plasma being a Halloween promotion and not an FDA disclaimer. Images flashed on the screen in whiplash succession— not the main feature but rather a preceding commercial starring Brad Pitt as The Greatest Warrior of All Space and Time. He was pushing a soft drink, one called I Can't Believe It's Not Cancerous. The audience indulged in the larger-than-life, golden-haired character with far too much masculinity chugging on the bottle of yellow-green stuff when suddenly they received something more awesome than any 3D regurgitation of a classic. The unbelievable happened, just when Wondero unbuttoned his shirt to liberate his oiled chest: the cab of a tow truck slammed through his sternum, and audience members tossed their popcorn.

Suspended in torn screen fabric, a soapbox to end all, Nata opened the door of the cab and propped her arm on the roof. "Wayward citizens of this pottery-wheel mindscape," she hollered to her potential followers. "What you are witnessing is a ruse perpetrated by the most diabolical of frauds, the fool's gold of the collapsed banking system you know as humanity! Your speech in this realm is strange, so I will not convince you with words—"

Ray rolled his eyes. "That's a new one."

"—rather, I will squash this sequential hypnotism with in-your-face truth and reality!" Her finger pointed upward, supposedly at the screen although fluctuating light covered her very image. "That is not what a real man looks like. This is what one looks like!" And with that she tore open her #99 shirt and wagged to the crowd what nature had granted her. Ray, too, shared in the indecency by mooning everyone atop the roof of the cab.

###

Harrowing adventure had always defined the heroes' lives. Sometimes their quests involved powerful people of distant lands who did not quite see things their way. It was not uncommon for one of the noble-hearted men to find himself dungeoned every now and then. Quadruple arrest, however— that took some real pissing off of the locals. Back at North Precinct, one AM, two jail cells were occupied with two prisoners apiece.

Keeb and Stumpy, who shared confinement, took this as any naughty time-out and bided their time. But boy, boredom and starvation were never kind.

Kasey had played enough connect-the-dots with dings on the walls; he used the polish of his shoes to draw with. "Look, a bow tie strumming a harp," he explained half-heartedly to Gary.

"Don't mention food," the sergeant groaned with a pitiful droop of his shoulders. "I don't know how long I can go on."

Kasey's hand drew closer to Gary's head. "Let me spin your skullcap."

To which the cop grabbed his head in panic. "No, don't touch it!"

"Come on!"

"Stoppit!"

"I just wanna—"

"Get away from me!"

The two took their "sibling rivalry" to the corner of the cell where Gary proceeded to slump to his knees and duck his head underneath shielding forearms while Kasey comically piled onto his back.

Strange thing, being a spirit possessing a host: only memories and inference dictated outward appearances. Keeb saw the cap that, as far as he knew, was permanently infused to the dwarf's head, even though Gary wore no hat; Stumpy had never stopped to think why he bumped his head so many times today; and Keno assumed his book of bodily problems were all Aminogen or Fibersol-based. In the next-door cell, Nata took to her usual contemplative prowling while Ray stretched out on the cot.

The door's hydraulic hiss sounded through the hallway, and in walked three guests: Eddie, Wulfie, and Yosmine, coming to pay their borrowed loved ones a visit.

Although the nightmare was not yet over, the Irish ghost hunter seemed optimistic. To Nata and his business partner he chimed, "Man, you guys know how to make yourselves memorable!"

"That was rockingly awesome!" praised Wulfie.

"Luckily everyone ignores those movie theater reminders to turn off their phones." Speech traded back to Eddie. "Mpegs of you guys are already starting to flood YouTube! I predict that within the hour, you'll hit every news.com site and utterly destroy Wondero in Google trendiness!"

"He may be the greatest warrior of all space and time," added Wulfie, "but not cyberspace and Facebook-is-wasting-your time! And I thought medieval people were so drab and boring; my most reckless and indulgent moments were maybe a four or five on the espresso scale, but you guys are the whole Starbucks! You will always have a place in my heart, Keno the barbarian, Gregor the wizard—" She turned to the neighboring cell to see Gary and Kasey begging like shelter puppies. "—and you two."

"This quest is not over!" Nata demanded. "Midas Welby is still out there. He's still out there, and he's causing blight!"

Yosmine sadly shook her head. "This is a different world, Keno. There is no blight. Midas Welby was a pawn in your far grander scheme. He was not your unfinished business— that which you have certainly resolved this night— in true Good vs. Medieval style, I might add. You finally fulfilled your quest. You won the ultimate fight."

Ray sprung from the cot and added his share. "But Midas Welby and his apparent army are our unfinished business! He got the jump on us and made us look like dweebs! Luckily that spell he cast on us didn't do diddly-squat, but—"

Yosmine put her finger to her mouth, and Ray hushed. "As the river of life flows, black-finned evil and white-finned justice will persist," she stated. "The scales will balance with Good vs. Medieval on them or not."

"Spare me the oral rebus of your cosmic brochure," Nata griped back, metaphor-for-metaphor.

"We have precious minutes left," reasoned Yosmine. "Do not dwell on your worries. Relax now. Accept your restored legacy as your prize and proceed onto the next leg of your spiritual journey with pride and satisfaction."

Confused, Wulfie scratched a pigtail. "Who's Midas Welby?"

"He wasn't part of the two-dimensional theater play?" Nata asked.

The young lady shook her head. "The only monsters in the movie are stupid Claymation drow elves."

This bit of news actually cracked the icy barrier behind the glaring facades of Nata and Ray. Finally the counselor smiled and let go a laugh. "Can you believe that? Not even the fictional Wondero had the balls to beastmaster up to our reputation!"

Nata, too, placed her hands on her hips, nodded in acceptance, and suppressed a laugh. "So this is what it came down to," she justified. "As a noble hero, I vowed to keep answering the call, kick some ass, and right every wrong until the very end. When would the very end be? Well, that's not necessarily something our teams sits down and discusses like the household budget after being charged with punitive damages. The end just happens. Fate doesn't play favorites. In a never-ending gamble with the cosmos, she bet us all on red when the day turned black. And you know? I guess I did learn a moral to this story. If you want to be heard, all you have to do is expose your manly pecs under extremely insane circumstances, and the people— they will listen to you for that." She approached closer to the bars and gave her visitors a sincere nod. "Thank you, Yosmine, Eddie, and Wulfie, for helping us overcome our greatest grudge."

Ray scoffed in classic Gregor style. "Pft! They didn't do anything! It was us who beast-napped that mechanical monster and had it do our bidding!"

"True," Nata returned with a sideways nod. "But it was our new friends here who helped us learn the meaning of— putting lotion inside the glove and ever so gently—" She assumed an interesting position as if about to share the true meaning of private enjoyment when she stopped cold and stared at her audience. "Uh— where am I? Last thing I remember, I was teaching baseball techniques to my girlfriends at the Halloween Fest."

Ray rubbed his head, the familiar Shinukaze glint returning to his eyes. "Man, I feel like a werewolf after a full moon. I hope Gregor didn't make a complete ass out of me."

Somewhat sound of mind, Officer Swift did a double-take at the barred door and the people standing beyond. "Wulfie? Eddie? Yosmine? What are you doing in jail?"

Kasey's reaction was completely unexpected, though, as if his experience had scrambled his brain. Naturally blessed with divine power, he resorted to a fourth-dimensional stage act. The jail turned into a box in which the lid was lifted off by a larger-than-life Kasey. In a room of blank white, box in hand, he commented, "Such drivel. Such textual nonsense. I am appalled to be associated with this literary travesty. Here's one keyboard-mashed abomination that shall indubitably not see the light of Nanowrimo!"

Twisting portions of the box like a Rubix Cube, he turned reality into lorem dolore consent exerat si etummod eu feum volobortis. Forget everything that was read up to this point. Kasey tossed the cube away, stepped aside to reveal a grateful Yosmine behind him, took her passionately in his arm, and posed like Superman about to take flight on angel wings. "And now for the eleven o'clock news," he quipped before vaulting into another dimension.

THE END

###

"Good evening. I'm Taka Headington, and this is the eleven o'clock news. Fun World released its latest Halloween costume named 'basic death,' hoping to exceed the popularity of its previously released 'ghost,' made popular by the Scream franchise. However, this expectation was dampered due to a mass recall of the costume. Twenty-six-year-old Cade Angelos was the victim of a severe beating by a pair of close friends as a result of wearing the 'basic death' costume. In a statement issued shortly after the incident, Fun World declared, 'If the image of basic death stirs such a violent reaction among friends, it definitely has no place in society.' The company plans to add safeguards to the costume, such as glitter, to make it more consumer-friendly for next year's release."

“A Good vs. Medieval Halloween Special”

Part 4
What Halloween night is complete without a wild party among friends? Hosted at the girls' apartment, this year's was sure to delight. No one having arrived yet, the place lacked movement, but Cade and Reese had made necessary atmospheric preparations. The living room was dimmed, illuminated by orange and green lava lamps; XM radio, softly tuned to the goth station, kept an eerie beat; and tables were decked out with snacks and dips. This was as far as the hosts went with food, though, for when it came to Halloween delectables, brother Kasey was the master. Who knew what kind of costumes Cade and Reese had in mind this year; they were locked in her bedroom in preparation for the big unveiling.

Little Billy was already present but far out of the way; he had been for much of the afternoon, transforming the outdoor fire escape into a tower of doom constructed of cardboard siding and spray paint. Certainly a piece of craftsmanship the local fire marshal would have disapproved of, but on Halloween, all was good. Scissors and glue in hand, the little tyke scrambled to have it finished in time.

The first guests arrived at eight o'clock. Wulfie, donned in vampire fangs, a shiny black leather straight jacket, rib cage collar lit with flames, and wheeling an intravenous unit stuck to her jugular, continued to gripe about not being able to find a decent costume. Behind her followed Gary, whom she had found hitchhiking along a back road, nearly crippled from hunger. He made a beeline straight for the cheese and crackers.

Wulfie sat down at the dinner table next to a mummy completely wrapped in bandages with only a single eye slit. The creature addressed her with a solemn grunt.

"Now there's a nice costume, Tyr," she complimented.

Shortly after they settled, the next couple made their announcement, and Wulfie got up to answer the door. As expected, Kasey and Yosmine took the simplistic costume approach with stylish wand masks over their eyes, and both revealed their faces at the same time, ever so elegantly and intriguingly.

"Kasey, Yoz," Wulfie greeted them. "Come on in!"

Yosmine smiled and gave a pretend kiss. "Bianca, nice to see you again, dear." To her beau, she added, "Don't forget the main course, hon."

Kasey nodded politely at the goth girl— "Miss Bianca."— then reached his hand back to grab the handle of a Radio Flyer in the hallway, which hauled crock pots full of goodies. The front wheel stuck against the door jamb, but Kasey gave it a yank to free it. He then assured Wulfie and his wife with another polite nod.

Gary sat at the table and tucked his placemat into his collar. Fork and knife clutched in his hands rhythmically banged against the tabletop. He was greeted by Yosmine in an informal fashion who then sat next to him.

In from the fire escape scurried Billy, his face plastered with gobs of fake skin and a stray plastic eyeball.

"Ooh, and what are you supposed to be, Billy?" Yosmine asked.

"I'm a depleted uranium child!" he answered so innocently before grabbing a chair of his own.

Wulfie tented her fingers over her plate. To the server standing at the wide edge of the table she said, "Kasey, Cade and Reese are gonna be a while, and who the hell knows where Nata is. We might as well dig in right now."

Three crock pots were set on the table ready for unveiling, but with Kasey doing the honors, the others expected a formal saying of grace from the dandy.

"First of all," he announced with a petite bow, "It is a pleasure to have Stumpy join us this day!"

Prompted, Gary smiled heartily and chuckled. "Why, yes, this is nice, isn't it? When do we eat?" A fart rippled his seat cushion. "Oop, there's that uncontrollable gas again." He shot bird-like glances to the others seated and only received blank stares in return. In fact, Yosmine nudged her chair farther from his location.

Kasey furthered, "There is no second-of-all. Let's just get to it, then!" Lifting a steaming lid off the first pot, he added, "It's funny you should all request lizard eyeballs and witch's intestines because I actually know how that's made!"

The inside of the pot revealed spaghetti with green grapes mixed in, sprinkled with rosemary and thyme in a haphazard attempt at fine cuisine.

Onto the second pot, he uncovered "Spiderwebs!" Its contents consisted of unshelled crayfish tossed over a bed of corn silk— and slivers of husk for color.

"And now my piece de resistance," Kasey proclaimed, hand on the third lid. "My famous bat wings in puss!" The atrocity revealed was a sour cream soup ridged with handguns.

"Ooh, that looks delicious!" Gary praised, looking around the table again. "We'll need nutcrackers."

Jaw agape, Yosmine turned to him as if to say, "What illegal narcotic are you on?"

Billy's eyes nervously wound from ten to two o'clock. "Um, I think I'm gonna go charge admission for my haunted tower now. See ya!" And with that, he excused himself.

Thankfully, dinner was interrupted by a knock on the door. More guests?

Intravenous pack clumsily in transit, Wulfie muttered, "I hope to Hell that's Dominoes!" She gave the door a pull to reveal a half-dressed, beardless King Edward on the other side.

"Wulfie!" he spat in panic. "Have you seen Ray and Nata? I've lost them!"

The goth girl shook her head. "No Ray and Nata here. Why the look of depleted batteries?"

"Let's just say the plan was in place, but the means of carrying it out are set at ludicrous speed!"

It was at that moment, the worst timing ever, that Cade and Reese made their appearance. They made no peep, but oohs and ahhs from Yosmine gave it away. Wulfie turned around, and Eddie's eyes grew wide at the spectacle.

Reese was gorgeous in her low-cut sorceress's gown adorned with gold amulets. Make-up skewed at the sides of her eyes gave her an enchantingly sly appearance, obviously a thing of beauty not to be messed with. Skin colored pink and hair a rich maroon, the six-foot Amazon truly demanded attention. Wait, demanding attention? Not when the romantic warrior Cade was present! Arms outstretched in a billowy white shirt, head topped in a long, golden wig, he cut in front of Reese to grab all the stares. Then he really hammed it up, dropping to one knee and flexing a bicep. "Yes, I am the greatest woya of all space and time," he announced to the gang before standing up and doing a little pirouette to introduce his mate. "And this is ma trusty womanly-steed, Hyacinth, also frum The Greatest Woya of All Space and Time!" Smiling pleasantly, Reese parted a bit of dress to show some leg.

Wulfie shook her head in dubious awe. "That's just wrong, Cade. I mean— that was supposed to be my costume!"

Suddenly a panel popped out of the ceiling behind them, and tangled in rope, Ray and Nata bumbled through with a thud to the living room carpet. The baseball butcher did not miss a beat, though; she stood erect and issued a vengeful finger at her age-old rival. "At last!"

Eddie squeaked, "Uh-oh! So much for our dress rehearsal!"

Too occupied in his role to notice, Cade continued posing sensually and invited, "Pictuhs. Pictuhs, please— HOLY CRAP!"

He barely ducked in time, golden locks caught in the breeze of a blinding swing of Nata's blood-stained bat. Its impact cracked a crater into the drywall.

"Nata, what has come over you?" Reese screamed.

Calm and businesslike of voice, though too hurried for the common ear to comprehend, Cade shared his disclaimer. "Possible spirit possession, could be demonic, immediate reaction calls for hasty retreat." And he grabbed Reese's wrist and pulled her along.

Baseball bat poised, Nata cried out, "YO HOOOOOO!"

Ray cast a magic spell— "Iceblitz!"— and held up his weapon: a tablespoon cupping an ice cube. With a flick, the projectile soared to the hardwood floor in between the sliding plate glass window and Cade and Reese's path. Yes, they slipped on it.

An adventurous child, dressed in a ghost sheet and lost in cardboard catacombs, peered back and forth looking for a safe path. Two crudely scrawled chalk outlines welcomed him ahead. He only had Billy's voice on periodic intercom boxes to guide him. Poetically devilish, it resonated, "Beware lost child, for you are drawing upon the death scene of Mister and Missus Witherbottom. Having lost their only child, they committed suicide by jumping out of a seventeenth-story window. Listen carefully and you can still hear their anguished screams carried over the chilling wind."

SMASH!

A shower of glass shards, and Cade and Reese with it, burst through spray-painted prop wall. The now urine-stained ghost child needed not imagine screams; they were real as life and shouting within arm's reach. Too frozen to move, he allowed the golden boy Cade to swipe him aside— "Outta my way, wanker!"— as he and his love shot to their feet and proceeded into the labyrinth mind of an eight-year-old evil genius.

Just when the funhouse goer thought he was off the hook, next came Nata, straight out of Hell. Trigger-happy of reflexes, her bat hand reared back for a shot, but Ray stopped it. "Remember, they're just kids," he reminded.

"You live today, bodiless harbinger of despair," Nata chided the youngster, "but your days are numbered!" And the chase resumed.

Cade and Reese skidded to a crossroads, scared and confused. Billy's broadcast voice was no help. "You have invoked the mummy's wrath!"

The monster in question staggered from the left, so the couple darted to the right.

Nata and Ray followed in hot pursuit; no way were they going to let a mere mummy obstruct their path. In receipt of a home-run slug across the chest, Tyr stepped aside with a simpleton's "Ow", and Nata and Ray advanced.

At the location of a wooden dungeon door painted onto the wall, Reese had enough. She stopped in her tracks and screeched at Cade, "This is ridiculous! I'm calling the police!" Phone in hand, she punched 911 and put it to her ear. "Yes, we need assistance over at Bayview Apartments. There are two murderous lunatics on a rampage, possibly under the influence of an illegal narcotic. Repeat, possible illegal narcotic. Send officers immediately!"

From behind the wall, Gary's voice spoke. "I'm on it." Then suddenly the sergeant's muscular arms burst through the door, wrapped around Reese's waist, and lifted her off her feet with a tearing of construction paper facade. A steady scream poured from her throat; she milked it for all she was worth.

Snapping into rescue mode, Cade removed his Italian shoe and proceeded to beat down the possessed cop. "Bad Gary! Bad! Bad!"

Gary relinquished his hold, and Cade and Reese fled like a couple of underdressed blondes in any teen-scream movie.

Billy's maniacal laughter sounded over the intercom. "Ooh, I hope there are no trap doors around here!"

The escapees put this clue to good use. Cade saw the trap door drawn onto the floor, so he grabbed Reese's hand and, one, two, three, made a dynamic leap across the obstacle. Unfortunately, with only Radio Shack logos facing them from three sides, they appeared to have come to an unfinished part of the tower, a dead end!

Nata and Ray scrambled into view, and a dramatic face-off commenced. Although no blazing inferno backed them up, the deathly glare on Nata's face certainly could have called for it. Bat poised, she slowly stepped forth, Ray in tow.

"You have stolen our glory for the last time," she growled. "It's time for you, pretty boy, to meet your ugly demise!"

"That actually sounded cold and heartless," Ray noted.

Nata smiled and jounced her shoulder girlishly. "It's the company I keep!"

However, these two made a habit of charging forth without searching for traps, so they both fell for it— literally! The prop hatch— actually the folding ground-floor stairs of the fire escape— released, and Nata and Ray were ejected, right into the alley dumpster.

Blue lights and sirens drew near, and Nata and Ray saw this as their cue.

"The castle guards!" exclaimed Ray.

"I ain't being Edna-snagged twice in the same night," Nata assured. "Roll doubles!"

The two stumbled over garbage bags and hopped the dumpster lip, running into the night. Meanwhile, what an amazing sight to behold: Sergeant Gary Swift and the gentleman Kasey being ushered into the back seat of a cruiser.

###

"Okay," Wulfie verified, sitting in the front seat of Eddie's stationary car. "I know you explained this to me before in dropped-call dialogue, but for the folks at home, what's with Nata, Ray, Gary, and Kasey?"

"They are possessed," explained Eddie, just now remembering to wear his white king's beard. "Spirits of ancient heroes passed through a door today, one that formed by just the right circumstances: echoes of long forgotten bravery as told by Madame Beaulieu's storytelling combined with the release of The Greatest Warrior of All Space and Time."

"But what's TGWoAS&T got anything to do with it?"

"It's simple," Eddie said with a duh expression. "The movie paints the image of a great, golden-haired warrior who, in reality, only claimed to do all the things that the four heroes did. It's false advertising. And of course it doesn't help that Wondero's character is played by Brad Pitt, and Keno and Gregor's characters are collectively played by Rob Schneider. You can understand why the heroes are pissed!"

"So how do we set things straight?" Wulfie asked. "You know I can't sit by and mind my own business when cool shit is going down!"

Eddie reasoned, "Well, having a pretend duel between them and Cade and Reese went over like a Linfield versus Glentoran FC Championship. We need to somehow shift attention away from that movie and more toward the men who deserve it. That should put their souls to rest."

"Great!" exclaimed Wulfie. "So how do we do that?"

Silent wonderment followed for a few minutes. A dark side street lie unoccupied and motionless in the windshield view. The radio was off. No movement in the hula dancer bobble-head. Then Wulfie snapped, "I got it!" which jumped the king out of his seat.

###

Cade and Reese certainly felt ripped off this Halloween night. Stripped of their costumes and standing on a city corner, shopping bag in Cade's hand, they made the notion of finding a nightclub— any nightclub— and just getting wasted.

"We need to find a place that awards prizes for best costume," Cade suggested.

"You think you have a chance with that last-minute plan B?" Reese asked, pointing at the bag.

Cade had already begun to unwrap it. "Hell, yeah! Who can deny faceless death?" He draped the costume over his body thus resembling a tattered robe with stick-like appendages jutting from it.

If the second coming of Wondero were not enough of a summons, Nata and Ray appeared out of nowhere to bum rushed the likeness of the spirit who zapped them into senselessness the first place. Knocked to the ground like the victim of a common mugging, Cade endured bat hits, stomps, and scrambled banter— something about vengeance, bringer of blights, and dirty old specters. Sirens squawked down the street, and Nata and Ray were gone just as suddenly as they had appeared.

Providing a caring hand, Reese knelt down to check on her boyfriend. His disgruntled face peeked out of the hood only to mutter, "There goes my lung again."

###

Thanks to Facebook, telephone pole flyers, and tried-and-true graffiti, Eddie and Wulfie's crusade of awareness was already underway. The next step was to air public service announcements before every screening of The Greatest Warrior of All Space and Time, but to do that, the revolutionaries would need something they lacked: cash!

In a cozy house, an older gent weighed the thought of removing the candy bowl from the entrance table at this late hour. Lo and behold, a knock sounded on the door. Bowl readily in hand, he opened it to find, yes, more trick-or-treaters. Only one child was present, accompanied by three adults. The child wore a white robe, long red hair streaming from its hood, and carried a broken tree limb. Behind him stood an Irishman in red and blue pajamas stuffed with cushions; a wild-haired woman dressed in a green tunic, magenta tights and jester's hat; and a dazed-looking, yellow-eyed fellow wearing a metal trash can, lid topping his head, and white beard handed down from King Edward.

"Oh, hello folks," the kind resident greeted them. "I suppose you want some trick-or-treats?"

"I do, snapper!" sassed Billy.

"Billy, behave, or I'll put you in a bear hug," chided Eddie.

"But you told me to play my part, snapper number two!" argued the child.

"I'm doing the same," Eddie returned, followed by an over-dramatized double flex of his muscles for the old neighbor.

Wulfie honked a bicycle horn in Eddie's ear for good measure, to which he slapped the side of his head and said "Ow!" in a less than pleased manner.

"Well, I think I have something for the little wizard," the man played along, dipping a hand into his bowl. "And does Oscar the Grouch want something too?"

A string of drool escaped Tyr's lip; that was his only response.

Eddie stopped the resident. "Oh no, kind sir, peaceful citizen of this pink-and-yellow-ribboned flower basket of harmony you call your hometown. We're not here for treats."

"We're not?" complained Billy. "Freakin' A!" He reached into his robe for a canteen of apple juice and took an exaggerated swig.

"No sir, we're not," Eddie reiterated. "We come to you tonight to ask for something greater. You see, while children of this town will snack with abundance tonight, there are children in third-world nations who continue to starve." Hand over his bulgy, throw-pillow heart, he looked to the stars. "Gods bless their little hearts and tiny little stomachs."

Wulfie cocked her head and grinned girlishly. "This has nothing to do with demonizing one of the most anticipated movies of all time and tarnishing Brad Pitt's name, no-sir-ee!"

Eddie reached around to put his partner in a head-lock. As she struggled in his firm yet snuggly soft vice, hat falling off her head, the pajama warrior grinned and spoke through his teeth. "Hahaha! If only we had a funny jester on our team, eh, Stumpmeister?"

Tyr replied with a sickly groan; a squeaky rocking chair could have been more of a conversationalist.

"I guess I don't know what you expect of me, O fearless leader," Wulfie choked. "Neighborly citizen, please call 911."

The old man laughed. "You know, I enjoy donating to charities in the first place, but I really love your act." He reached into back pocket for his wallet. "I happen to have twenty bucks kicking around in here. You may have it. Oh, and who did you say you were again?"

In unison they cheered, "We're Good vs. Medieval!" along with finger peace signs. Snap! Freeze frame! The one name that mattered synonymous with legendary do-gooding was on its road to success.

Eddie and company hit several houses within the hour. They were amazed by how much funds they had amassed so far. If only their unit could stay cohesive. Drunken banter outside of any nightclub paled to the constant trading of words among the pretend heroes as they traversed from one spot to the next.

"Must you dump sawdust down my pants?" Eddie whined to Wulfie.

"Hey, you had your chance to be the jester, dumbshit!"

"Oh, are you still on that?"

"The first forty-five percent of this idea was technically mine," Wulfie pouted. "I should be Keno."

"That wouldn't make sense, though! Keno is a man's man!"

"True. I've often said the same about you!"

Billy interjected, "Will both of you snappers shut the hell up? Freakin' toad your asses!"

Still attacking Wulfie, Eddie barked, "I'm glad you constantly honk that horn in my ear. It spares me from having to hear your nonstop ragging!"

"Oh, bite me! There's one more house on this street; let's get it out of the way before I kill you."

"Yeah, let's do that," Eddie agreed. He then offered an off-topic elbow nudge to Tyr. "You're doing an amazing job, by the way. You're a FIFA World Cup champion at everything Stumpy."

Following the weedy path and stepping onto the stoop, fake Keno rapped on the door of the last house. On its other side stood the beer-sipping man in the leather jacket. "Oh, what the f—-?" The door nearly closed in the party's faces but was blocked at the foot by Tyr's head— whatever his head was doing down there in the first place.

"Please, kind sir," Eddie made his pitch. "You look like a generous man."

"Look," the resident insisted with forced smile, "I've had a really bad night; I mean, this one is a doozy. I'll tell you once: I don't answer to trick-or-treaters, and I sure as hell don't do Unicef. Take your Green Giant girlfriend, your Garbage Pail Kid, and your little Klan member there, and find some other bat signal to answer!" And the door closed with little more than crickets speaking to the solicitors now.

Inside his dark kitchen, the man took one last swig of his beer and opened his refrigerator. "You all set, Bobby?" he called to his friend. A voice might have answered, but another knock on the door rang more prominent, making the young man curse. "Balls!" He jerked around to answer it again, and this time two people in clean dark suits— a red-headed man and blonde woman, both hairstyles professionally slick— stood before him. Both presented badges and tucked them away in a blink.

Wulfie did the talking. "Good evening, sir. I'm Agent Metalhead, and this is my partner, Agent Heehaw-Reject. We're with the FBI; we'd like to ask you a few questions."

The resident blinked dumbstruck, dubiously so. "Questions about what, exactly?"

"You wouldn't have happened to experience anything odd this night, would you have?" Eddie questioned.

The man paused, eyes narrowed. "Odd how?"

"As in— supernatural?"

The man scoffed. "No! What do you think this is, Lifetime? There are no unsolved mysteries here. I'm sorry, Agent Metalhead, Agent Heehaw, but this house is clean." Offering a sly smile, he continued, "Why don't I keep in touch in case anything comes up, how's that sound?"

"Clean," Wulfie threw back in businesslike condescension. "If this house is so clean, how do you explain that tow truck starting up all by itself?"

"What?"

Sure enough, amid the vehicle junkyard, the drunken uncle that Christine never told anyone about lit up its headlights and growled with raspy engine. Its door read, Singer Auto Salvage. However, that was as scary as it got. In actuality, the ride was only being car-jacked by Nata, who sat upright into view to adjusted the mirror, trying to look like an experienced badass. She had a point of her own to make, and the heavier the machinery, the better.

"Whoa, whoa! Hey!" shouted the resident. He threw his beer aside and took a couple of hasty steps but to no avail. The tow truck screamed out of the driveway, dung-filled Impala attached to the hook.

Nata gripped the wheel, and Ray ignorantly lay on his belly to work the pedals with his hands. Obviously neither knew how to drive, but that did not matter. Their target lie straight ahead, at the end of the street and beyond only a mildly busy city intersection.

###

Theater-goers settled in their seats with tubs of black and orange popcorn in their laps and, in their hands, gallon cups of "anemic plasma" drinks— anemic plasma being a Halloween promotion and not an FDA disclaimer. Images flashed on the screen in whiplash succession— not the main feature but rather a preceding commercial starring Brad Pitt as The Greatest Warrior of All Space and Time. He was pushing a soft drink, one called I Can't Believe It's Not Cancerous. The audience indulged in the larger-than-life, golden-haired character with far too much masculinity chugging on the bottle of yellow-green stuff when suddenly they received something more awesome than any 3D regurgitation of a classic. The unbelievable happened, just when Wondero unbuttoned his shirt to liberate his oiled chest: the cab of a tow truck slammed through his sternum, and audience members tossed their popcorn.

Suspended in torn screen fabric, a soapbox to end all, Nata opened the door of the cab and propped her arm on the roof. "Wayward citizens of this pottery-wheel mindscape," she hollered to her potential followers. "What you are witnessing is a ruse perpetrated by the most diabolical of frauds, the fool's gold of the collapsed banking system you know as humanity! Your speech in this realm is strange, so I will not convince you with words—"

Ray rolled his eyes. "That's a new one."

"—rather, I will squash this sequential hypnotism with in-your-face truth and reality!" Her finger pointed upward, supposedly at the screen although fluctuating light covered her very image. "That is not what a real man looks like. This is what one looks like!" And with that she tore open her #99 shirt and wagged to the crowd what nature had granted her. Ray, too, shared in the indecency by mooning everyone atop the roof of the cab.

###

Harrowing adventure had always defined the heroes' lives. Sometimes their quests involved powerful people of distant lands who did not quite see things their way. It was not uncommon for one of the noble-hearted men to find himself dungeoned every now and then. Quadruple arrest, however— that took some real pissing off of the locals. Back at North Precinct, one AM, two jail cells were occupied with two prisoners apiece.

Keeb and Stumpy, who shared confinement, took this as any naughty time-out and bided their time. But boy, boredom and starvation were never kind.

Kasey had played enough connect-the-dots with dings on the walls; he used the polish of his shoes to draw with. "Look, a bow tie strumming a harp," he explained half-heartedly to Gary.

"Don't mention food," the sergeant groaned with a pitiful droop of his shoulders. "I don't know how long I can go on."

Kasey's hand drew closer to Gary's head. "Let me spin your skullcap."

To which the cop grabbed his head in panic. "No, don't touch it!"

"Come on!"

"Stoppit!"

"I just wanna—"

"Get away from me!"

The two took their "sibling rivalry" to the corner of the cell where Gary proceeded to slump to his knees and duck his head underneath shielding forearms while Kasey comically piled onto his back.

Strange thing, being a spirit possessing a host: only memories and inference dictated outward appearances. Keeb saw the cap that, as far as he knew, was permanently infused to the dwarf's head, even though Gary wore no hat; Stumpy had never stopped to think why he bumped his head so many times today; and Keno assumed his book of bodily problems were all Aminogen or Fibersol-based. In the next-door cell, Nata took to her usual contemplative prowling while Ray stretched out on the cot.

The door's hydraulic hiss sounded through the hallway, and in walked three guests: Eddie, Wulfie, and Yosmine, coming to pay their borrowed loved ones a visit.

Although the nightmare was not yet over, the Irish ghost hunter seemed optimistic. To Nata and his business partner he chimed, "Man, you guys know how to make yourselves memorable!"

"That was rockingly awesome!" praised Wulfie.

"Luckily everyone ignores those movie theater reminders to turn off their phones." Speech traded back to Eddie. "Mpegs of you guys are already starting to flood YouTube! I predict that within the hour, you'll hit every news.com site and utterly destroy Wondero in Google trendiness!"

"He may be the greatest warrior of all space and time," added Wulfie, "but not cyberspace and Facebook-is-wasting-your time! And I thought medieval people were so drab and boring; my most reckless and indulgent moments were maybe a four or five on the espresso scale, but you guys are the whole Starbucks! You will always have a place in my heart, Keno the barbarian, Gregor the wizard—" She turned to the neighboring cell to see Gary and Kasey begging like shelter puppies. "—and you two."

"This quest is not over!" Nata demanded. "Midas Welby is still out there. He's still out there, and he's causing blight!"

Yosmine sadly shook her head. "This is a different world, Keno. There is no blight. Midas Welby was a pawn in your far grander scheme. He was not your unfinished business— that which you have certainly resolved this night— in true Good vs. Medieval style, I might add. You finally fulfilled your quest. You won the ultimate fight."

Ray sprung from the cot and added his share. "But Midas Welby and his apparent army are our unfinished business! He got the jump on us and made us look like dweebs! Luckily that spell he cast on us didn't do diddly-squat, but—"

Yosmine put her finger to her mouth, and Ray hushed. "As the river of life flows, black-finned evil and white-finned justice will persist," she stated. "The scales will balance with Good vs. Medieval on them or not."

"Spare me the oral rebus of your cosmic brochure," Nata griped back, metaphor-for-metaphor.

"We have precious minutes left," reasoned Yosmine. "Do not dwell on your worries. Relax now. Accept your restored legacy as your prize and proceed onto the next leg of your spiritual journey with pride and satisfaction."

Confused, Wulfie scratched a pigtail. "Who's Midas Welby?"

"He wasn't part of the two-dimensional theater play?" Nata asked.

The young lady shook her head. "The only monsters in the movie are stupid Claymation drow elves."

This bit of news actually cracked the icy barrier behind the glaring facades of Nata and Ray. Finally the counselor smiled and let go a laugh. "Can you believe that? Not even the fictional Wondero had the balls to beastmaster up to our reputation!"

Nata, too, placed her hands on her hips, nodded in acceptance, and suppressed a laugh. "So this is what it came down to," she justified. "As a noble hero, I vowed to keep answering the call, kick some ass, and right every wrong until the very end. When would the very end be? Well, that's not necessarily something our teams sits down and discusses like the household budget after being charged with punitive damages. The end just happens. Fate doesn't play favorites. In a never-ending gamble with the cosmos, she bet us all on red when the day turned black. And you know? I guess I did learn a moral to this story. If you want to be heard, all you have to do is expose your manly pecs under extremely insane circumstances, and the people— they will listen to you for that." She approached closer to the bars and gave her visitors a sincere nod. "Thank you, Yosmine, Eddie, and Wulfie, for helping us overcome our greatest grudge."

Ray scoffed in classic Gregor style. "Pft! They didn't do anything! It was us who beast-napped that mechanical monster and had it do our bidding!"

"True," Nata returned with a sideways nod. "But it was our new friends here who helped us learn the meaning of— putting lotion inside the glove and ever so gently—" She assumed an interesting position as if about to share the true meaning of private enjoyment when she stopped cold and stared at her audience. "Uh— where am I? Last thing I remember, I was teaching baseball techniques to my girlfriends at the Halloween Fest."

Ray rubbed his head, the familiar Shinukaze glint returning to his eyes. "Man, I feel like a werewolf after a full moon. I hope Gregor didn't make a complete ass out of me."

Somewhat sound of mind, Officer Swift did a double-take at the barred door and the people standing beyond. "Wulfie? Eddie? Yosmine? What are you doing in jail?"

Kasey's reaction was completely unexpected, though, as if his experience had scrambled his brain. Naturally blessed with divine power, he resorted to a fourth-dimensional stage act. The jail turned into a box in which the lid was lifted off by a larger-than-life Kasey. In a room of blank white, box in hand, he commented, "Such drivel. Such textual nonsense. I am appalled to be associated with this literary travesty. Here's one keyboard-mashed abomination that shall indubitably not see the light of Nanowrimo!"

Twisting portions of the box like a Rubix Cube, he turned reality into lorem dolore consent exerat si etummod eu feum volobortis. Forget everything that was read up to this point. Kasey tossed the cube away, stepped aside to reveal a grateful Yosmine behind him, took her passionately in his arm, and posed like Superman about to take flight on angel wings. "And now for the eleven o'clock news," he quipped before vaulting into another dimension.

THE END

###

"Good evening. I'm Taka Headington, and this is the eleven o'clock news. Fun World released its latest Halloween costume named 'basic death,' hoping to exceed the popularity of its previously released 'ghost,' made popular by the Scream franchise. However, this expectation was dampered due to a mass recall of the costume. Twenty-six-year-old Cade Angelos was the victim of a severe beating by a pair of close friends as a result of wearing the 'basic death' costume. In a statement issued shortly after the incident, Fun World declared, 'If the image of basic death stirs such a violent reaction among friends, it definitely has no place in society.' The company plans to add safeguards to the costume, such as glitter, to make it more consumer-friendly for next year's release."