Welcome to Gaia! ::

Little kids were the first to approach him. Roch looked down at the scarelings curiously, not jerking away as they reached up and touched his clothing. “He’s weird,” one little ghoul said--was she a ghoul? What did they call females here, anyway? “Hey, mister, why do you got metal sticking from your lip? Did it get stuck?”

“Why aren’t you wearing a shirt?” another asked. “Aren’t you cold?”

“Your pants have burnt parts on them,” a boil said, as if Roch didn’t know. “Did you catch on fire?”

And then the parents came up, grabbing their scarelings and looking sheepish. “Ah, don’t pay attention to them,” one of the mothers said, flushing slightly. She was dressed in a dress shirt and a skirt that went down to her ankles. “They’re young.”

“This is Roch,” Sam announced. “Roch Scythe. He’s from the east. Is there anyone that can rent him a room for a week or so before he moves on?”

There was a hint of confusion on all of their faces, as if the idea of ‘moving on’ was foreign. But finally a huge man stepped forward. He was as big as Vegas--maybe even bigger, Roch noticed, with a barrel chest and huge hands. He had a pair of overalls on and boots that looked as if they’d dent rock, were he to kick it. He was holding a huge scythe that was taller than even Sam in his hand.

“There’s only me, my wife, and Bubba at our farm,” the large man said. “And seeing as its harvest--boy, are you willing to work for your room and board?”

“Wait--what?” Roch hissed at the scarecrow. “I’m not supposed to get--“

“Tell the large man with the extra large scythe you’re willing to help,” Sam muttered. “You’re blending in, remember?”

Roch looked up at the reap--harvester, then at the huge scythe that he was carrying. “Um--I won’t be here for long--“ he started out.

“That’s fine. Any help is welcome help,” the big man said. “And you and Bubba--I figure you’re around the same age. You won’t mind sharing a room, will you?”

The idea of sharing a room with a guy called Bubba frankly made him think of prison. But he forced a crooked smile, remembering just why he was there. “Sure. Shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Then it’s solved!” the big man said. “My name’s Joseph, and Bubba’s official name is Joseph Junior, but he’s a bit... bigger than the name Junior, so well, you know how it goes. Why don’t you come along with me, son, we’ll get you set up and working before the sun goes down!”

“Um... yeah,” Roch said, glancing up at Sam--or the place where Sam had been standing. The scarecrow had casually sauntered away, leaving him to do it all alone. “But you’ll have to show me what to do?” he added.

“What sort of harvester doesn’t know how to bring in the harvest?” Joseph asked, looking a bit shocked.

“Um--I’m more of a--a blacksmith,” Roch said, taking a risk and thinking that people with scythes--regardless of what land they were in--would need them sharpened.

“Ohhh! Into shoeing horses and such?”

“Horses need shoes?” Roch asked blankly. Like Calder? Well, he guessed Calder--no, he had hooves, right? So why would they need shoes?

Joseph frowned and looked at him long and hard, a hint of suspicion in his bright blue eyes. “Son... you really aren’t from around these parts, are you.”

“Um, no, I’m from the city,” he said.

“Boy howdy does it show,” Joseph said, letting out a laugh. “Well tell me you can at least sharpen blades,” he said.

“THAT I can do,” Roch said, finally feeling there was something he was doing right. It had felt like he was completely useless, and that was an awkward, and surprisingly unfamiliar feeling to the punk. “I learned when I was eight.”

“Good with a grinding stone, are you? And Bubba will teach you how to harvest like a champ,” the big harvester said, clapping him on the back so hard that Roch almost fell over. “That and Ma’s cooking will get some decent weight on you. You look like you’ll blow away with a good wind!”

Roch winced at that statement--then wondered what would happen if he ate some of their food. Would he blow up? It wasn’t made of FEAR, it was made of vegetables. The idea was a bit foreign to the punk boil, as well--not being able to eat. But he couldn’t ASK the guy, that would blow his cover for sure!

“Hey, why do you have your scythe in town?” he asked, instead.

“I was looking to get it sharpened,” Joseph said. “We’ve got a stone, but there’s a fancy sharpener in town, puts the edge on nice and clean,” he explained. “But if you can do it, then I’ll be saving myself a good ten gold seeds, and you’ll be saving yourself rent money.”

“I thought I was helping with the harvest to pay for my rent,” Roch said, seeing a trap.

“The harvest is for the food, son,” Joseph said. “You don’t work, you don’t eat, you understand.”

“Yeah, I’m starting to,” Roch said.

They were heading for a large two story house, one with a barn right behind it. He could see a fenced area beside the barn, and inside it was the biggest guy he’d ever seen--at least, a non monster one. The harvester boy looked like a small planet to Roch, standing at his height but four times as large. He wasn’t skinny--in fact, the harvester kid was definitely FAT. But he was also carrying a young cow over his shoulders as if it weighed nothing.

“Hey, Bubba!” Joseph shouted to the teenager. “We’ve got a new roommate for you!”

Bubba leaned down, letting the cow off of his shoulders before heading over to them. There was something about him that Roch found appealing. “You aren’t gonna complain about sleepin’ on a cot, are you?” Bubba asked.

“Nah,” Roch said. “I’ve slept on worse.”

“Joseph Junior Fallson,” Bubba said, holding out a hand. Then he looked at it and wiped it off on his overalls before holding it out again. “Most people call me Bubba.”

“Roch Scythe,” Roch said. “Most people call me... Roch,” he added a bit lamely. A tiny grin pulled at Bubba’s lips as they shook hands--only to fall into a slight frown as he looked at the hand in his.

“Still not sure why he chooses to use livestock for his workout,” Joseph said, shaking his head. “Boy can lift a full grown cow, he’s got no reason to be slinging them about like he does to try and get stronger.” He watched the other teen for a moment before changing the subject. “Supper’s at noon, dinner’s at seven, you’ll clean up before coming to the table,” he added. “Bubba will show you how. But first, let’s see how good that blacksmithing ability of yours is.”

A strange look crossed Bubba’s face, one that Roch almost missed as he turned to follow Joseph into the barn. It hadn’t been a happy look, Roch thought. In fact, Roch was picking up something that he wasn’t quite sure what to make of. The big teenager wasn’t certain of him--which probably wasn’t a good thing, considering somehow Roch had wound up being his roommate for this.

Roch wasn’t sure WHAT to do about dinner. Sure, this was a trial run, right? He was supposed to find out about Thanksgiving and the effects it had on FEAR creatures--so--

“Would you wash your hands already? You’re just starin’ at the water like it’s gonna bite you,” Bubba said, pushing Roch forward to the sink. “Soon as we get cleaned up, we can eat. And you’ll need the energy.”

“Yeah, sure,” Roch said, stepping forward and shoving his hands under the faucet. The water felt distinctly odd to him. It was like sticking your hand into an electric socket, practically.

“And take your hat off. Ma don’t cotton to people wearing hats in the house,” Bubba said, reaching up and taking the straw hat off for Roch. Then he stared. Then he turned his massive back on Roch--but that didn’t hide the shaking of his shoulders.

“What?” Roch demanded.

The harvester broke out into gales of laughter. It was so loud that chickens started squawking and birds took flight. Bubba didn’t even seem to notice, he was laughing so hard. “What--“ he gasped, finally turning around, only to start laughing so hard tears escaped, “what in the HELL happened to--“ another burst of laughter--“your HAIR!” he finally got out, in a high pitched tone that turned right back into laughter. “You get in a fight with a--a weedwhacker?”

“It’s a mohawk,” Roch said, feeling heat creep up the back of his neck. “I happen t’LIKE my hair.”

“And it’s PURPLE!” Bubba wailed, as if that was the most hysterical thing he’d ever heard of. “Y’look like a frozen rooster!”

“.....” Roch had a sudden picture of a frozen nugget. “I don’t see it,” he said. That had the big harvester literally howling. Roch’s eye twitched. “Oh shuddup already,” he muttered, shoving his hands into the water again and washing as quickly as he could. “Aren’t we supposed to be goin’ inside?”

“You’re gonna go in--lookin’ like that--“ Bubba said, his laughter replaced by shock. “Boy, my Pa would hide you!”

“Where?” Roch asked blankly.

“As in strip the skin off your back for lookin’ so strange!” Bubba explained. “How we gonna fix this--“

“Hey, there’s nothin’ wrong with my hair,” Roch said.

Bubba looked at him. “You seriously just said that.”

“Yes I seriously just said that! I like my hair.”

Bubba looked at him. Then put the straw hat back on Roch’s head. “We’ll tell them its ethnic,” he declared.

“Ethnic?” Roch repeated.

“Ethnic,” Bubba agreed. “You can’t really argue with ethnic, even if it looks odd and don’t make any sense.”

“What, the hat or the hair?”

“Both,” Bubba said. “Let’s get it over with,” he added, heading away from the pump and into the house. Roch followed, absently sticking a finger under his hat and scratching his head. He could have sworn that chipmunk that’d been sleeping there earlier had fleas.

The house was definitely not what he was used to, Roch thought as they stepped into the entryway. There were shoes there, and Bubba was shucking his massive boots, so Roch slipped his own boots off as well, almost unconsciously. “Ma! We washed up!” Bubba shouted.

“Then come in and help me bring the food to the table!” a woman called from inside. Roch hesitated, thinking about Monica. He wondered how she was doing...

“Well come on, then,” Bubba said. “No dillydallying. Ma’s the best cook this side of the Dixie!”

“Everything’s better on the other side of Dixie, huh?” Roch said.

“Well... I rightly wouldn’t know,” Bubba admitted, as if he’d only just thought of that now. “Never been.”

Roch looked at him, tilting his head slightly. Then he shrugged, not giving the other teen a hard time about it.

“Just what do you think you’re doing?” a tiny woman in a dress demanded as they entered the kitchen. “No hats in the house! That’s impolite!”

“Well--wait--Ma, he’s got a reason for it!” Bubba said. “He didn’t want to shock you.”

“Shock me? And wearing a hat inside wasn’t a shock?”

“Not compared to what he’s got under it,” Bubba said. “But before you say anything--it’s ethnic.”

“... Ethnic.”

“Yes, ma’am, ethnic,” Bubba said seriously. “It’s right out cultural,” he added, which Roch was positive was pushing it. “So it won’t be polite t’laugh, no matter how it looks.”

The woman gave him a sharp look. “And when was I the type to laugh at your friends?” she demanded. “Especially one that will be staying with us for a bit!”

“Don’t say I didn’t warn you,” Bubba said, reaching out and lifting the hat off of Roch’s head.

There was a tiny gasp from Bubba’s mother as she saw his hair. Then she turned away, and Roch was positive she was trying not to laugh. But she recovered much faster than her son had. “What... a pretty color,” she said, instead. “Ethnic, you say? How fascinating! Did you clean up?”

So the hair topic was dismissed for the moment. Until Joe saw it and the entire ethnic conversation was brought up--

Well, at least all the laughter gave Roch the ability to avoid eating by shoving his food around the plate (a completely foreign concept to the boil.)

He couldn’t sleep. Roch stared at the wooden ceiling of Bubba’s room, his hands behind his head. It was almost two... no, probably three in the morning, he figured, but all the lack of sound was making it impossible for him to sleep. Reluctantly he rolled over, tugged the pillow over his head, and forced his eyes to close.

In a blink he was being woken again. “Time to feed the livestock,” Bubba said. “Come on, then.”

“What time is it?” Roch asked blurrily, shoving himself up. His hair flopped in his face.

“Four.”

“In the afternoon?”

“Morning,” Bubba said. “Come on, then, daylight’s waiting.”

“IT’S not even awake yet, man.”

“You don’t come, you don’t eat,” Bubba said simply. Roch hesitated, then grabbed a FEAR candybar, shoving it down his throat before chasing after the teenager. “You can milk the cows,” Bubba added as they stepped outside. It was cool, and damp, as if it was thinking about raining any moment now.

“How do you--“

“You’ll figure it out,” Bubba said, heading off in the opposite direction of the cows. Roch looked around blankly, then headed for one of the cows. He stared at it, remembering what his granddad and dad had said about massive creatures that humans ate and drank from their... titties. Or something like that, right? He moved towards the front of the cow, because that’s where boobs were, right? There was nothing there.

“The udders, boy,” Big Joe said from behind him. “Here, I’ll show you,” he said, grabbing a stool and setting it down next to the cow. “Sit.”

Roch hesitated, then headed for the stool, sitting so he was staring at a pink... sack thing with tubes coming out of it. “This the... udders?” he asked finally.

“That’s right. Now--have you washed your hands?” he asked. “Go clean up first, then I’ll show you how to milk her.”

The next half hour was one Roch would have paid to forget. There were several comments about women, firm grips, and other things that Roch never wanted to hear. It, strangely enough, reminded him of the talk that Vegas had given him so long ago--except without the sex... sort of. Hell if he knew, really, his head was spinning so much that when he sat down to breakfast he started eating without thinking.

The words “oh s**t” stopped as soon as the food kicked in. He grinned happily, leaning back in his chair and looking at Mrs. Fallson. “That was GREAT,” he said eagerly. “I ain’t never had anything that good!”

“Why thank you, Roch,” she said with a smile.

Bubba was looking at him funny, Roch noticed, giving the other teen a wide grin. “Hey, I learned t’milk a cow this morning--I suuuucked at it!” he said cheerfully. “You coulda told me they didn’t like cold hands.”

Bubba stared a bit more. “You... ah... you feeling okay?” the big teen asked after a second.

“Fine! Never better, really,” Roch said. “Mrs. Fallson, did y’know that your kid can sing?” he asked Bubba’s mother. “He’s got a great voice, but he chickened out--“ His voice was muffled as a huge hand covered it.

“He’s sleep talking,” Bubba said. “He didn’t get enough sleep last night. I think it might have hurt his brain.”

Roch blinked, wondering if that was what had happened. Oh well, he decided, not as if I use it often, anyway! He reached up, tugging the hand from his face. “So... what do we do next, anyway?” he asked Bubba.

“We gotta go to the pumpkin patch,” Bubba said. “Come on, then.”

“Pumpkins?” Roch asked. “Man, I like you and all, but I think it’s a little too early for that sort of thing--“

“... What?” Bubba asked, seeing a strange look on Roch’s face and shaking his head. “Never mind, I don’t think I need to know.”

Roch laughed. “Hey, what are we REALLY doin’ at the pumpkin patch?” he asked, walking alongside Bubba with his hands in his pockets.

“Pumpkins are a big part of Thanksgiving,” Bubba said. “So we have a communal pumpkin patch to the side of town. We’ll be harvesting the ripe ones for decoration and for cooking. You can do a lot with a pumpkin. Even the seeds can be roasted.” He pulled to a stop at the edge of the pumpkin patch, looking at someone there.

“Sup, man?” Roch asked, almost running into him. He looked over, following the big teen’s eyes to a curvy redhead. “Ooooh, that her?” he asked.

“Shuddup.”

“She’s cute,” Roch said, patting Bubba on the shoulder. She wasn’t HIS type, sure, and she was lifting a pumpkin that HAD to have weighed over a hundred pounds, but he could see her and Bubba together! “Hey, wasn’t she there last night--“

“I said shut it,” Bubba said. “When did you get this happy, anyway? You’re not acting like yourself.”

“I’m happy!” Roch said with a huge grin.

“Yeah, okay, start cutting the pumpkins off the vine--the ripe ones. Your strange scythe can do that much, right?”

“Sure--“ Roch said, holding out a hand and sum--sum-- He looked at his hand curiously. “Huh.”

“Huh?” Bubba repeated. “What ‘huh’?”

“Can’t summon my weapon,” Roch said, more curious than anxious. “Huh.” He made a fist, holding it out again, as if he’d been doing it wrong the first time--

And still nothing happened.

They were starting to get strange looks. Bubba moved closer. “There’s a rack of sickles over there for the young’ins,” he said quietly. “We’ll tell people that you don’t want to mess up your pretty guitar with vine juice.”

“Sure, that sounds good,” Roch said, heading for the rack. He didn’t notice the strange expression on Bubba’s face at all.

“What were you two talking about?” Bubba asked as they headed home that evening. After Roch had gotten all the stuff to be the turkey, he and Bubba had headed out to the orchard to harvest apples. Although technically the Fallson family had their own farm to run, they still helped out with all the other farms in the neighborhood. Roch hadn’t felt this sore since he’d been rebuilding the stages for the battle of the bands. He didn’t mind. In fact, there were a million and one things he didn’t mind right now.

“Who?” Roch asked, his mind on dinner. He wondered if it would taste as good as it had this morning.

“Susie,” Bubba said. “She kept looking at me funny after you came out of the church. Did you do something to her?”

“Why would I do something to her? She let me try on the turkey tail!”

Bubba looked at him, raising an eyebrow. “Just tell me what you talked about already.”

“She’s real worried about you,” Roch said, shoving his hands into his pockets. “Kept goin’ on about how y’never stick around for the parties, stuff like that. Why DID you skip out that soon?” he asked. “Ain’t like they ran y’off or anything. Hell, they wanted you t’stick around.”

“I’m... that don’t matter,” Bubba said finally. “You’re changing the subject.”

“No I ain’t,” Roch said. “Cuz this is WHAT we were talkin’ about. Y’need t’loosen up, Bubba. Life is short and death’s a b***h, so live while y’can, y’know? And man up, bro, go tell her t’her face that y’love her.”

“To... her face? Did you say something to Susie?” Bubba asked, a sickened feeling grasping his stomach. He wouldn’t have thought Roch would say anything--but he’d been acting really strange--

“It sortta... slipped?” Roch asked. “But it ain’t like she ran screamin--“ he grunted as the huge harvester tackled him like a professional football player. They fell to the ground, leaving Roch pinned down by the massive male.

“What. Did. You. TELL HER?” Bubba snarled, pulling back a fist that could easily be the size of Roch’s head (well not really, but close.)

The problem was, Roch still wasn’t over the effects of the food. He grinned. “All I said was that y’couldn’t tell her who y’had a one sided thing for, but she took it t’mean that y’liked her, and--“

The fist slammed into his face. “Owwwww,” Roch groaned, reaching up and touching it. His FEAR shield wasn’t nearly as strong as it should have been, he noted. In fact it was practically non existent. The huge hand wrapped around his throat, throttling him.

“Why would you even bring that up??” Bubba yelled.

“Can’t... breathe...”

Bubba shook him, then let go, getting to his feet. “I don’t get what’s going on with you, but you and me--we’re over. I want nothing to do with you. You can sleep in the barn tonight.” Then he stormed away, leaving Roch laying on the ground with a black eye rapidly developing.

Roch stared up at the moon until it was blocked by a massive jack-o-lantern--no, wait, that was--

“You probably shouldn’t have eaten the food, boy,” Sam said, poking him in the forehead with a single gloved finger. “Your logic’s off. What else has it done? Can you summon your scythe?”

“No... can’t do that, either,” Roch said, only to cough because his throat hurt. “Why can’t I?” he asked.

“The food,” Sam said. “You can’t eat here, I take it. Remember when you asked what this place was made of?”

“GRACE,” Roch said. Then he sighed. “Yeah... I remember. But it tasted good.”

“Hey, we’re BASED on food, practically, I would hope it did.” The scarecrow shook his head with reluctant amusement. “That’s one heck of a shiner you’re getting there, by the way. You probably shouldn’t have messed around with Bubba.”

“But I like Bubba.”

“Most of us do,” Sam agreed. “But we aren’t stupid enough to forget that he can lift a cow.”

“She likes him, too, though.”

“You probably should have mentioned that before he gave you the black eye,” Sam said logically. Roch picked himself up, dusting off his clothes. “Where are you going?” Sam asked.

“To sleep in the barn,” Roch said simply, yawning. “I’ve had a seriously long day.” He reached up, touching his eye--then sighing. “Can’t even heal. Well, that sucks,” he said as he sauntered away. He stopped as the Fallson farm came into sight, watching it with a slight smile, then looked up at the moon.

It wasn’t cold enough to bother, Roch decided as he headed for a grassy part of ground and dropped down on his back. He reached up, twining his fingers behind his head as he stared up at the moon. He would probably feel differently in the morning. But for now, he thought...

“Jack do I love their moon.”

There was a wind blowing. It whistled past them, tugging brightly colored fall leaves along with it. Bubba was just staring at Roch, a blank expression on his face as the words Roch had just said seemed to echo. It was starting to get awkward, Roch thought.

“So... you’re saying... you’re from another holiday.”

“Yeah, pretty much. An’ I blew my cover with you.”

Bubba turned, looking out at the fields that seemed to stretch out in all directions. “Why are you here, if you’re from Halloween?”

“Just to look,” Roch said. “Just to see what it’s like. We ain’t plannin’ on kidnapping your leader or anything like that--“

“Good thing, it’d take more than just you to lift the cornucopia.”

“See... it’s part of my future job. I’m in trainin’ t’be a Trick or Treater--they’re the guys that go into the human world on Halloween and scare kids a bit t’get FEAR--“

“There’s no fear in Thanksgiving,” Bubba said.

“Yeah, trust me, I noticed. But we don’t hurt the kids--well, at least the group I’m joinin’ doesn’t--we just freak ‘em out a bit, then head on. But there’s more t’it--jack, I dunno. Listen, I’m made of FEAR, you’re made of GRACE, so is the food you eat, and when I ate it, well, I guess my body didn’t know how to process it. I turned stupid happy, couldn’t summon my weapon, couldn’t keep my mouth shut--and I screwed up.”

“What does scaring little kids have to do with us?” Bubba demanded. “Why did they really send you here? Tell me the truth, Roch.”

Roch looked at him, feeling confused. “I already did. Basically this is trainin’ me to not stick out. I’m not gonna do anything to your holiday, man, I’m not like the hunt--well, I’m not a jerk--actually, no, that’s a lie,” he said honestly. “I can be a jerk. But that wasn’t my aim here. I came t’learn about the culture, check out the sights, and learn t’fit in. Once I’m done here I’m gonna go home, take my ghoulfriend on a date and eat a cake for my seventeenth birthday. Those are my plans.”

“But what about the guy that sent you here? Those trick or treaters. How do you know THEY don’t have something more planned for when you’re done?” Bubba asked. “You might think all you’re doing is checking the place out, but you might be setting us up for some screwed up situation like you put Christmas in back in the past!”

“... Heard about that, huh?”

“Everyone has.”

“I still don’t get that one, myself. I got stuck in a Christmas like thing once, it ain’t no fun--and trust me, nobody’s gonna want to squeeze cow titties every morning back in Halloween.” Roch said logically. “Plus, you might notta noticed? But most of the stuff you do here is WORK. Harvesting and cooking and takin’ care of animals--we got enough work back home, y’know? And how y’do things with pumpkins could traumatize some of ours. Those become SCARELINGS in Halloween, y’know? Babies.”

“So that’s why you apologized to the pumpkin!” Bubba said.

“Well, yeah,” Roch said. “Y’don’t kick a prospective scareling--not that I did, but I got a little too close. But honestly those are in special pumpkin patches--eh, better safe than sorry,” he decided. “What does Thanksgiving use?” he asked.

“Cornucopias,” Bubba said. “Little ones, though, nothin’ like the big one on top of the mountain.”

“Huh. Well, anyway, we’re getting off topic. Halloween doesn’t want Thanksgiving--although the idea of havin’ a giant feast DOES sound good, but we aren’t gonna try and steal your holiday over it. Not even a single barbecued batwing t’be found around here. That’s gotta be a sin against food.”

“Barbecued... bat wing,” Bubba repeated.

“Flies and ketchup, bloodburgers--you people ain’t got a CLUE how to throw a party.”

“I’ll take you at your word.”

“I ain’t seen a decent eyeball or gooze since I got here, and I ran out of candybars already,” he complained. “That burky--“

“Turkey,” Bubba provided, just listening to the rant now.

“That turkey, its fine an’ all, but it ain’t what I grew up on.”

“That’s pretty obvious. But... how are you going to cover this up? You’re acting strange enough as it is--“

“I should be leaving soon,” Roch admitted. “The longer I spend here the weaker I feel. I got a day in me, maybe two--I ain’t even gonna try for three,” he admitted with a yawn. “But before I go I gotta be the turkey in the play--“

“So that’s it?” Bubba said. “You show up out of curiosity, blow all my chances with Susie, prance around as a turkey and leave?” he demanded. “This might be some sort of field trip or training work or whatever for you, but it’s MY life! Mr. fancy pants alien trots right in with a smokin’ hot girlfriend--what IS she, really? But you just STROLL in and think you can muck things up--“

“She likes you,” Roch said. “And Amphi’s a mermaid.”

“Wh--what?” Bubba asked. “Not the mermaid part--the--“

“She. Likes. You. I know when a ghoul is just indulging a guy who’s got a crush, that ain’t it. Stop runin’ every time a party comes around, bring her presents, show her you’re serious, and maybe I won’t be the only guy with a ghoul--or girl in your case,” Roch said. “Start out by comin’ t’play practice. Added bonus? You get t’see me lookin’ like a complete moron.”

“How do you know she likes me?” Bubba asked.

“Because she spent the entire time she was showin’ me the costume asking about you,” Roch said. “And first person she headed for when y’were harvestin’ pumpkins was you.”

“Ain’t easy to MISS seeing me,” Bubba pointed out.

“Hey, maybe I’m readin it wrong, I’ll admit. But who’s the guy with the ghoulfriend here? You or me?”

“Fine. Let’s go to play practice.”

“I thought you’d say that.”
***

He looked like a moron. But that only mattered for the moments BEFORE he found out that the play thing took place on a parade float. Roch spent an entire hour riding this big, silly looking float through the town, waving at kids and throwing out candy. It was AWESOME. He couldn’t see why Bubba had been so adamant about not being the turkey.

“JackDAMN that was fun!” Roch said as he hopped off the float that afternoon. The entire town was gathered together for a massive feast in the town hall. He ignored the food, though, heading straight for where Bubba and Susie were talking quietly. “Hey, you--“ Then belatedly, stopped, because they were obviously having a serious conversation. “I’ll come back--“

“It’s fine,” Susie said.

“She said yes,” Bubba said.

“To ONE date,” Susie said. “I’ll think about it after that,” she added. “But it had better be a good date, Little Joe!”

“Uh huh.”

“With food! And one of those outdoor movies!”

“Yes’m,” Bubba said.

“There’s one playing this weekend. And I’ll bring a picnic--and you BETTER apologize to Roch for his black eye!”

“Yes’m.”

“Seven o’clock, remember.”

“Seven o’clock,” Bubba said, a little grin pulling at his lips.

“Oh, look--MOLLY!! Molly I have to tell you something!” Susie said, racing away.

“Think I’ll do okay?”

“Jack, bro, she just TOLD you what to do,” Roch said. “Can’t really fail in that case. She’ll have the entire town thinkin’ your going steady by the end of the night,” he added, watching the redhead with amusement.

“So... you can sleep in my room tonight--“

“Nah,” Roch said. “I think I’ll go back now. Hey, if I come back--“

“The offer’s standing,” Bubba finished, offering a huge hand. Roch shook it.

“And if you ever decide t’visit Halloween--“

“I’ll think twice,” Bubba said, making Roch laugh.

“I should get goin,” Roch said, grinning at the big guy. “Before I screw up someone else’s life. See ya, man.”

“Yeah. And about your eye--“

“Already forgotten!” Roch said, walking away with an easy wave. He had a scarecrow to find and a home to get back to. He had his own date to get, after all.