a costume? "Tell me, Darth, will you be taking this thing off to dine, or are you planning to eat dinner through a straw?"
"I'll take it off for you. Later. In private."
If I got lucky, he might even take off more than just the mask. I tapped my finger on his tinted insect eyes. "Can you actually see through these things?"
"I was managing fine until I saw your costume." Air shot out of his mask like steam from a volcano. "Now I'm having a small problem with condensation."
"We've identified our mark," Alice Tjarks announced in a flurry as she seized my arm. Her dwarf's hat was so big it drooped over her head like a flaccid bucket, blinding her, but at least her mouth was still visible. "He's over there." She swung her pickaxe toward the back of the room, accidentally thwacking the Lone Ranger in the holster as he passed.
"Hey!" he warned. "Watch it."
"Oh, honestly," Alice scolded him. "As if that hurt you." She lifted my forearm and whacked it a few times with her miner's pick. "See? It's made of foam rubber." She grabbed Darth's arm. Whap, whap, whap. "The only way this pick can hurt you is if you eat it. So how about if you 'Hi ho Silver and away.'"
I blinked in surprise. Eh! This didn't sound like sweet, shy, demurring Alice. What was wrong with her? I glimpsed at the name embroidered on her tunic. GRUMPY? Oh, my God, it wasn't a fluke. It wasn't just me. Everyone was morphing into their Halloween character! Eh! I shuddered to think what this meant for Jonathan.
"Dumb dwawf," the masked man spat as he hitched up his holster and stomped off. I followed him with my eyes, suddenly privy to one of the Lone Ranger's best-kept secrets. He wasn't from the Old West. He was from New England!
Alice coaxed her hat off her nose and latched onto my arm again. "Listen, Emily, Gjurd is going through the meat buffet right now, dressed like Hagar the Horrible, and Osmond is hot on his trail. Or is that tail?"
"Trail," said Darth.
Alice squinted up at him from behind her mask. "Do I know you?"
He shot to attention and clicked his booted heels together. "Darth," he said, offering her his gloved hand.
Alice continued to squint. "Not Batman? You look a lot like Batman. Or Zorro. But Zorro's cape is shorter, and he has a sword."
Darth whipped a cylindrical rod off his belt. "I have a light saber," he said in a digitalized monotone.
Alice hovered over the weapon, nodding. "Does this have one of those new fluorescent bulbs in it? They're supposed to save you lots of money, but personally, I don't think they give off enough light. It's a scam, if you ask me."
"Alice," I asked, troubled by a sudden niggling concern. "Which dwarf is Osmond dressed as?"
"Sleepy."
SLEEPY? EHHH! If behavior patterns stayed true to form, that could spell disaster! I grabbed Alice by her shoulders and spun her in the right direction. "Look, Alice, you've gotta get back to the meat buffet right away. Stay close to Gjurd and, whatever you do, keep Osmond awake!"
"Who's Gjurd?" Darth asked, bending so close to my ear that I could feel his hot breath on my cheek.
"He's --" My attention got diverted as Catwoman sashayed away from me with a plate piled high with greens, her tail dragging on the floor behind her like a broken exhaust pipe. Uff da. There was too much happening all at once! "Would you save my place in line for a minute?" I asked Duncan, unwilling to lose sight of her.
I darted, bobbed, weaved, and threaded my way through the crowd after her, relieved when she finally sat down at a table that was within view of the table where I'd planted Jonathan. Scurrying back to Duncan, I hopped in front of him and within two minutes, filled an ice-cold plate with enough fresh fruit and salad to feed the state of Florida. When I exited the line, Duncan remained close on my heels, but unlike me, he wasn't carrying a plate. I stared at his empty hands. "What seems to be the problem? No straws or no appetite?"
A torrent of unsettled air swirled around him as he cradled the small of my back with his huge vinyl glove. "I have an appetite. But not for food."
Unh. I locked my knees to prevent them from buckling. Never having been hit on by an evil warlord with a retractable