October Flash #1 - "Croc" 🐊🎃🧒

A bonus-length flash tale to kick off one of AR's favorite holidays. Let me know if you like it!

Halloween

The first thing Paul does when he gets home is stare at his girlfriend.

Suzie spins around on her toes and then giggles. “What do you think?”

Paul exhales. “I think…didn’t Dee say it was a vintage theme? Isn’t that supposed to be like something from the 1950s?” He points at the pink outfit that doesn’t look vintage, but rather something designed for an over-sized four-year-old.

Suzie pouts, but it is theatrically childish, obviously an act. “You don’t like it?” She has even adopted a little-girl voice. You don’t wike it?

Paul gives a helpless shrug. “Suzie, I don’t even know what you’re supposed to be.”

She laughs, waving a cheap plastic wand at him. “I’m a fairy…” She waves the wand at him. “…Ballerina…” She swings her hips, showing off the sparkling pink tulle of her skirt. “Kitty cat!” She points at her head; the cat ears hairband, the whiskers painted on her cheeks.

“Oh,” says Paul. “Right.” And if he’s completely honest, maybe his girlfriend can pull something like this off. She’s pretty enough. She can do cute; she can be adorable. But what about him? What is he supposed to wear? He thinks of the upstairs closet, and the tuxedo he was intending to wear. He could comb his hair back and be Fred Astaire.

Suzie skips up to him and puts her hands around his waist. “It’s just a bit of fun,” she says, kissing him. “It’s Halloween. And this is exactly what Dee meant.” She snorts. “She’s expecting cowboys and princesses and superheroes…” She laughs. “It’ll be a riot.”

Paul detaches himself from Suzie and says, “This isn’t my thing.” He stuffs his hands into his pockets. “You go without me.”

Suzie shakes her head. “Don’t be silly. I already got your costume. It’s upstairs.”

Paul narrows his eyes. “What is it?” He thinks of cowboys, of spider-men.

She laughs. “Go and see!”

“I don’t want to…” I don’t want to look as ridiculous as you, he doesn’t say. “Look, baby, I’m not…this really isn’t my thing.”

“What?” She reaches out with her magic wand and taps him gently on the nose.  She winks. “Having fun?”

“Dressing up. I had a long day, I’m just…tired.” Does he wonder what Suzie has chosen for him? Of course. Does the thought that his girlfriend would be thrilled by him wearing a ridiculous costume make him feel uncomfortable? It really does.

“Honey,” Suzie says, her arms back around his waist. “Sweetheart. Don’t make me go without you, I’ll be so shy.” She hangs her head, and then looks up at him with a pleading expression.

Paul can feel his resolve weakening. How can he resist her kitty ears, her whiskers? Is this how a father of a little girl feels, being wrapped around her finger?

But then he thinks of being a party where everyone is dressed as childishly as Suzie, where someone will take pictures, where he’s so far out of his comfort zone that he might just fall off the edge and go to pieces.

“Babe,” he says softly, retreating from her embrace, putting hands on her shoulders. “You look great, everybody’s going to love you. But this just isn’t my thing. I’ll just stay here…I’ll hand out candy to the trick-or-treaters.” He won’t. He’ll turn off the lights, ignore the doorbell, and watch Netflix. All of which is better than the so-called ‘vintage’ party.

Suzie frowns. She purses her lips. Perhaps she is about to throw a tantrum, maybe she is going to act out her costume for real.

Instead, she says, “Go and see. Try out your costume, and if you don’t like it, then you don’t have to go. She looks him in the eye. Fair?”

Paul looks back at his kitty-eared girlfriend. And he nods. “Okay.”

Suzie jumps up and down, making her skirt sparkle. “Awesome!”

“I probably won’t like it,” Paul warns with a pointed finger. Probably, meaning definitely.

“Go and see,” Suzie says again. “You get changed and I’ll make you a little snack.” She makes a sad face and says, “Don’t want you getting all cranky, do we.”

Paul and heads for the stairway. “We still got those Spanish olives? And the aged cheddar?”

“I’ll make you a plate,” promises Suzie, “Just get changed. Dee’s expecting us in half an hour.”

Paul goes upstairs and into the bedroom. He wrinkles his nose at the folded green garment on the bed. He picks it up to discover that it’s an enormous, fuzzy, green, one-piece…something with a tail. He carries it to the bedroom door and calls down, “What am I supposed to be? A dinosaur?”

Suzie’s peal of laughter makes him blush. “Alligator.” There’s the sound of cupboards opening and then she calls out, “Or crocodile. I can’t remember the difference. Anyway, hurry up. Or do you need my help?”

It’s Paul’s turn to pout. He holds the fuzzy costume in his hands and says, “I can do it.”

Of course he can. He’s reminded of the fact as he gets undressed, taking off clothes that aren’t nearly as fuzzy as the costume. He can dress himself, he can do all kinds of things. Because he’s all grown-up.

He leaves his work clothes in a pile on the floor and steps into the legs, pulling the heavy, thick costume up and then threading his arms through the sleeves.

And then he frowns. He can dress himself, because he’s all grown up. Except he can’t, because…

He fumbles around his waist, up and down his front. There’s a zipper at his crotch. Of course, he has to pull up the zipper like a big boy. Although…do big boys have zippers? He looks over at the closet. His tuxedo doesn’t have a zipper. Don’t they belong on girls dresses? He feels his cheeks warm at the idea of dressing like a girl, and then he remembers. The zip for a girl’s dress is on the back, and boys zippers are on the front, like on his pants! He nods, relieved. And then he pulls up the zipper, past his stomach and chest.  For a moment he feels a tingle of achievement and then he strokes the front of his costume thoughtfully. So silly, so childish. Won’t people laugh at him?

Maybe, maybe not. After all, being a crocodile isn’t as silly as looking like Suzie. She looks verysilly.

Crocodiles aren’t silly. Crocodiles are wild and they are dangerous. He strokes the arms of his costume. So fuzzy and green. There’s a hood attached the shoulder, and he reaches for it, and then lets it go. There’s something too much about the hood. Too close to being babyish, like Suzie’s pink sparkles.

“What a crock,” he mutters. And then he stares down at himself. “What a croc.” He bursts into laughter.

“You okay up there?” Suzie calls from downstairs.

“Uh-huh!” Paul shouts back.

“Are you done getting changed?”

“Uh-huh!”

“Do you like your costume?” It's a good question. Paul looks down at himself. Very green, very fuzzy. He smiles at his reflection. And then he bares his teeth, ferocious. What do crocodiles say?

It’s another good question. Paul realizes that he’s never seen one up close, never heard one say anything. Not like a dog or a cat.

“Well?” Suzie calls out. “Do you like it?”

Paul strokes the long tail protruding from the small of his back. “I’m all green,” he says.

Suzie’s laughter makes him grin. “Of course you are, silly! You’re a crocodile! Come on down, your snack is ready.”

A kitty. He smiles at the thought of seeing Suzie again and heads downstairs, his crocodile tail bouncing against the back of his legs. Now they’re both dressed up; the fairy, dancer, kitty thing and the crocodile.

He walks into the kitchen and stares at Suzie in confusion. “Hey!”

Suzie puts a plate with a single, giant cookie on the table. “There’s your snack, sweetie.” She beams at him. “Look at you! You look so cute!”

Paul continues to stare. He likes the look of the cookie, which is clearly for him, which is going to be just the perfect snack, but he doesn’t like the look of his girlfriend, who is no longer wearing her cat ears hairband, or indeed the rest of her juvenile costume.

He points at her elegant black dress and matching heels. “Where’s your…you’re supposed to be…” His tongue feels heavy. “You’re sposed to be a spar-kwee...” He shakes his head, making the heavy hood on his back bounce against his shoulders. “Spark-wee kitty!”

It’s Suzie’s turn to look confused. “A spar…” And then she seems to understand. She holds out her hands, and says, “No, sweetie, it’s only the little kids who wear special costumes tonight. The mommies and daddies wear their regular clothes.”

Paul is sure that he’s never been so confused. “The…Imma…?” He trails off, gazing down at himself, as if his costume might hold some kind of clue.

“You need Mommy to zip you up?” Suzie asks, walking over to him.

“No…” Paul replies. “I don-“

“Yes, you do, silly!” Suzie says, “look, you’re not zipped all the way.” She leans in to whisper the news, tickling his ear with her breath. “Mommy can see your cute little tail!”

She pulls on the tail playfully before pulling the zipper up to his neck. “There,” she says, much better.” She giggles, the sound threatening to derail Paul’s train of thought, but then he remembers something. Something important.

“I can’t wait to see you with your hood on,” Suzie says, circling behind him, with her hands around his waist. “You’re going to look adorable.”

“No,” says Paul. He looks at them both in the reflection of the kitchen window. “Suzie, this isn’t right,” he says. He takes a breath, and the words come together, forming a mercifully coherent thought. “We have to stop this before it gets out of hand. I’m not gonna wear this, I look ridic…ridic…I look silly.” Some words have gone – the bigger ones, just like some other big things like what he does for a living and why crocodiles aren’t the right thing to dress up as.

But his tone is firm, finally. And how could it not be? He looks at the reflection; he’s taller, broader. Because he’s not a little kid, and because Suzie is definitely not his-

With a single fluid motion, Suzie lifts the green hood over Paul’s head. “There,” she says simply. “All done.”

Paul doesn’t protest. He doesn’t cry out. As soon as the hood covers his head, he just sighs.

A sigh of increasing calm, as all those distracting questions and insecurities leave his mind. He gazes at himself, he stares at how funny, how wonderfully confusing he looks in his costume, an outfit as fuzzy as his blanketed mind.

“Yes,” Suzie says slowly, as if she’s telling a story, “You must be a crocodile, because crocodiles can’t hide their teeth, only alligators do that, Mommy looked it up on Wikipedia.” The idea of such basic research is lost on Paul’s dwindling intelligence, but Suzie helpfully runs her fingers along the teeth at the of the costume. Her tone, bright and condescending, captivates Paul, and he produces a naïve smile of his own.

“There’s that toothy grin!” says Suzie. She cuddles Paul. “Are you Mommy’s little crocodile?”

Paul manages the slightest of nods, his eyes glazing over. His mind is exhausted, but he smiles at the reflections. “Uh-huh.”

“Mommy’s little crocodile,” says Suzie, and she swings them both gently from side to side.

Paul puts a finger to his mouth and mumbles, “Mommy’s widdle…cocca-duh.”

When Suzie giggles and kisses Paul’s cheek, he knows that he must have said the right thing. With the mind of a three-year-old, he turns his attention to the table. “Wanna cookie?”

Suzie tickles Pauls’ sides, making him chortle. “Greedy little crocodile. Yes, you can have a little snack before we go to your party.” She sits him down and watches as Paul does his best to cram the cookie into his mouth.

Paul’s girlfriend smiles amiably at him. “We are going to have such a good time at the party, sweetie.”

THE END

“When Paul's girlfriend picks out his costume for the Halloween party, he's sure he'd never wear something so babyish…” - Sebtomato

(Credit to Bfboy for a similar take on the hooded Halloween costume – you got there first!)