in Llanview 2005

Marcie's Blog:

October 31, 2005

Halloween has never been one of my favorite holidays. All that candy is just too tempting and I seem to have more leftovers than I know what to do with, which, of course, I end up eating. And the stores stock every aisle to the rafters with bags of it. Every aisle, that is, except the ones displaying Christmas stuff . . . right smack dab in the middle of August. Talk about commercialism. Oh no, I'm starting to sound like Andy Rooney and that wasn't what my blog was supposed to be about. I’m sitting here in Hallowed Grounds as I write this and some hipsters just walked in. You know the type, dressed in to-die-for fashions, cellphones permanently attached to their ears. And here I am sounding like Andy Rooney! I need to rethink my life.

Matthew put the finishing touches on his jack-o-lantern. He carved a goofy face so as not to frighten the little kids who came to the door. He stepped back to admire his handiwork. He especially liked the crooked smile, sitting frozen there under the triangle nose.

The phone began to ring and Matthew answered it. Static crackled over the connection.

"Hello?" he yelled over the crackling. "Who's calling?"

Matthew adjusted the volume and pushed some other buttons on the handset but still the static persisted. It was the loudest thing he'd ever heard. The noise was so awful it threatened to peel the paint off the walls in the tidy garret he shared with his dad and Paige. Or knock the flies off a shitwagon, as his Grandpa Asa would say.

Nobody was answering Matthew. He couldn't hear any human being on the other end.

"Hello! Buchanan Residence."

There was no one at all; there was nothing but the screeching metallic tone. Matthew felt this call was somehow sinister. Listening to the crackle sent a chill down his spine. Something was not right.

Cristian Vega, a/k/a "Mr. John Doe," stuck his face against the bars of his prison cell and called out for human contact. "Guard! Guard! Where's that razor I asked for?"

"No razor for you. You're on a suicide watch, Doe!"

Cristian sighed and scratched his facial hair. He had quite a growth going, more than was fashionable. Even for a man behind bars, he was a hairy mess. "I'm a monster!" he cried out.

Another corrections officer approached Cristian's cell. "Pipe down," this guard told him. "I have good news for ya. You have a visitor."

Cristian started to panic. He didn't want anyone from the outside world to see him like this. "Wait, what day is it?" he demanded an answer. "Is it Halloween? Did Hesser send you?"

The corrections officer opened the cell and placed handcuffs and leg irons around his prisoner. "Move."

The officer stuck to Cristian like glue and nudged him along the corridors, out of the cell block and into the visiting area.

Detective John McBain was perched on a chair. Cristian took one look at him and felt better. Gee, my beard isn't so bad after all, he thought. This guy's a werewolf.

The phone rang again while Matthew was busy painting his face like a zombie. Mary Ann was still out running a last-minute errand so he ran to answer it.

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Boo Buchanan there?" a male voice asked.

"Did you say 'Boo' Buchanan? My dad's name is Bo. Bo Buchanan. But he isn't home."

"Wrong number." Click. The caller hung up quickly.

Matthew went back to his makeup. First he applied a layer of pea green grease paint to his face and hands and then caked on some clown white, hoping to achieve a zombie-like pallor. A kid in Ranger Scouts had given him that tip about smearing two shades together for a ghoulish effect. And it was working. His makeup was coming along nicely. He looked like he'd been dead and buried in the cold ground at least ten years. As he picked up a tube of black lipstick, the telephone rang again.

"Oh, brother!" he said out loud. It was the closest he came to cursing now that Paige was living with them. It wasn't polite to use the "S" word in front of ladies. Matthew picked up the phone.

"Hello!" he said, annoyed.

"Can I speak to Mr. Stein?"

"There's no Mr. Stein here. Wrong number."

"I'm looking for Frank Stein," the caller said again.

"Not here. Wrong number!"

"Frank N. Stein?" At this, Matthew heard the caller break into laughter. There was somebody else in the background too. Just kids, he realized. Probably some kids his own age doing their Beavis and Butthead routine. A Halloween prank was all, but Matthew got angry.

"Stop calling here, jerk-offs! Frankenstein?! Frankenstein's in the lab!" He slammed the cordless phone down and yanked the cord plugged into the charger base until it came loose from the jack. Then he took the batteries out of the phone. Enough with the interruptions: He had a costume contest to win.

Matthew went back into his dad's room to use Paige's dressing table, light-up mirror, and eye liner and junk. He picked up the lipstick once more.

Todd stood in his Penthouse looking smug. Starr was upstairs, anxious to get to the costume party at the Love Center. She checked herself out in the mirror and was pleased with the final product--Harley-Davidson biker chick. After all, she had her mom's approval to wear whatever she wanted.

Starr came down the stairs in her get-up and looked over at her father. "I thought you were going to wear a costume too. What gives?"

"I am wearing a costume," said Todd. He batted his eyes at her. "Can't you tell, Short Man?"

Starr treated him to her "I-Hate-You-Doofus" expression. "Uh . . . NO!"

Todd pointed to his right eye. "I'm wearing colored contact lenses," he declared proudly.

Starr sneered with her painted lips. "Oh, right. That'll fool everyone. They'll never recognize you. Lame, Dad."

She turned away from him and headed up the staircase, exposing Todd to the Harley-Davidson logo plastered across her back. "I'm calling a cab!" she told him. "I'm too cool to show up at the party with you. You can take Jack."

Matthew donned a black Harry Potter cloak which he had shredded with a pair of scissors and stomped on to make look ragged and rotten. That's what I'll tell people, he decided. That I'm Harry Potter walking out from the grave. He put on a pair of novelty eyeglasses and went in search of a wand. He'd need his dad's help later with the detached-eyeball part. But he was pretty much ready. All he had to do was wait for Mary Ann to get back and take him over to the Love Center to win First Prize. Come to think of it, why was Mary Ann so late, anyway? It was dinner time. If any trick-or-treaters showed up before she returned Matthew'd have to answer the door in his too-scary costume.

Just then Matthew jumped three feet in the air when he heard the phone ringing. How was that possible?! Hadn't he unplugged it earlier? He walked slowly over to the corner and peered down at the wall jack. The line cord lay disconnected on the hardwood floor. The phone kept on ringing. On the ninth ring, Matthew gave in and answered it.

"Hello?"

The awful, screeching static was back. Ahhh-Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!

Matthew dropped the telephone. Was there some high-pitched banshee on the other end of the line? And what was a banshee, anyway, he wanted to know. He looked down at his ghastly green hands, the hands of the undead. And then it dawned on him. He knew who was calling--who had been calling--tonight.

Bo walked in the front door. He inspected the frightened boy. "Hey, son, don't you look scary."

"It's Jen!"

"What's that?"

"It's Jen! Jen's been trying to call me. She doesn't want me to feel sad on Halloween. She found a way to make contact!"

Bo looked at Matthew in disbelief. "Now, son. . ." he stopped and look around the garret. "What did you do to the phone? And where the devil is Mary Ann?"

Before Matthew could explain, father and son heard the doorbell's peal. Bo grabbed a plastic pumpkin full of treats and padded over to the front door. He found Rex standing there.

"Hi, Commish."

"You're a little old for trick-or-treating, aren't you, Balsom?"

"Very funny." Rex put his hands on his hips and pushed past Bo to gain entry. "Nice place, he said under his breath with a touch of mock amazement. "Listen, I have an important piece of information for you and a document I think you'll find pretty useful. I needed to get it to you right away. I'm bringing it in person because I couldn't reach you. "

"I went home early to spend some time with my son. That okay with you?"

"Oh, hi, kid," said Rex. "Excellent costume."

Rex handed some papers to Bo and looked around. "And, before I forget, what's wrong with your phone? I've been trying to FAX YOU all night. Seems the machine at the station was the only one talking. Yours never BEEPED back."

Rex looked over at Matthew and saw the kid's mouth hanging open.

"Come on, you know," said Rex. "The faxes screech at each other." Rex demonstrated," Ah-eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee! Like that."

And with that, just as Marcie's had earlier today, Matthew's world, a world of wonderful, supernatural things, crumbled. He too needed to rethink his life.