Grim expectations
third-place winner, Halloween contest 2000

© 2000 K. Irving
All rights reserved.

Although the sun had recently set, it had left behind an orange halo, a dabble of light to shine a path for children in pursuit of candy. Giggles and shouts sounded from the street. Doorbells rang. "Trick-or-treat!" There was laughter and the patter of sneakered feet.
Leo Grimes sat in his recliner, feet up. Beside the chair was a TV table loaded with beer cans, all empty but one, and a bowl of Tootsie Rolls. He unwrapped a candy, popped it into his mouth, chugged some malt and chewed.
His attention traveled from Wheel Of Fortune to the window. Through the dirty glass, he glared at the little ones dressed as ghouls and princesses, monsters and cowboys scurrying, in a hurry to fill their bags with treats before the Halloween curfew forced them home.
Leo snorted. "Rugrats. Snot monsters."
A group of youngsters stopped in front of his house. One little boy, outfitted as an alien with glow in the dark antennae, an orange pulsing belly and a red ray gun put his foot on the grass in Leo's yard. Immediately, an adult hand grabbed his shoulder and steered him back onto the sidewalk. "That's right little boy, follow your mama. Big bad Leo might eat you up." Leo laughed, drooled brown spit, wiped his chin, then refilled his mouth.
"What's that, Leo?"
He turned to Summer and grimaced. She'd dressed for the occasion. He'd invited her over with the promise of a party and twenty dollars. Summer worked with Leo at the factory on the assembly line and at one time or another, she'd partied with every male there, married and single. All it took was twenty dollars. Leo had sweetened the pot with the offer of a party and apparently she had put two and two together and assumed Halloween party. Summer had come dressed as a cat.
When he'd opened the door and found her standing there, swinging a pinned-on tail in her hand, dressed in black stretch pants, black turtle neck sweater and cardboard ears glued to a pink head band, he's had to fight the desire to slam the door on her face or worse, punch her for being so sorry.
However, Leo needed Summer, so he'd swallowed his insults and allowed her inside. Without speaking, he motioned her to the couch and she'd sat for an hour and a half while Leo drank beer and stuffed his mouth with candy. He hadn't offered her anything, not even a snippet of conversation.
She stared at him awaiting an answer. Reluctantly, he obliged. "I'm talking about the stinking trick-or-treaters."
Her eyes lit and she smiled. "Oh yeah? Yeah. Aren't they sweet, Leo, all dressed up for Halloween?" Summer straightened her shirt. She was braless and her baggage was slightly inviting. The black whiskers she'd painted on her face were almost cute.
"No. They're not sweet. I hate them and their stupid costumes." He wriggled his rear in the seat, adjusted his crotch and took his attention back to the television.
"Oh?" Summer fiddled with her headband and twiddled her thumbs. "Well, uh, I always liked Halloween. Good times, usually. Get to dress up and be something you're not."
"So what're you telling me? You're not really a cat?" Leo glared at her.
Surprise shone in her gray eyes. "Oh! What? Of course not. Now, Leo, ya know I'm wearing a costume. You're a tease."
"Uh huh. Can't say the same about you, now can we?"
"Huh?"
"Never mind." Leo stuffed his mouth and looked out the window. Two ghosts and a tall zombie wearing a blood-soaked mask, eyeballs hanging onto the cheeks moved toward his door. "What?" Leo leaned forward.
Three eggs splattered on the window. Before he could rise from the chair, three more joined. Raw scramble dripped down the glass. "Little sons of ...."
He yanked open the door and screamed profanities at the trio. Several adults yelled back and warned him that small children were within earshot. He told his neighbors to stuff their complaints in the soundproof vacuum located within the flaps of his furry rear. Before anyone could take him up on his offer, Leo slammed the door.
Summer giggled girlishly. It was a sad sound coming from a middle-aged woman. "Boys will be boys."
"You're profound, Summer. Anyone ever tell you that?"
Summer blushed. "No, Leo, you're the first."
"Bet it's been awhile since you've said those words without lying."
"Huh?"
"Never mind." Leo walked directly to the recliner, plopped down, grabbed a fistful of Tootsies and swallowed some beer.
"Ya gonna clean your window?"
"You think it deters from the beauty of my home?"
"Oh now, I think ya got a real nice place here, Leo. It's ... it's very ... utilization." Pride bloomed like roses on her cheeks.
"Yeah. And the word's utilitarian." He stuck his finger in his nose and twisted.
"Oh. You are? Well, good for you. I for one, couldn't live without my hamburgers. I'm a real beef eater. It's real good for your heart not to eat meat. Good for you, Leo."
Leo wanted to laugh, but feared it would encourage more conversation. Instead, he wiped his finger on his pants and watched egg yolk dribble on the widow.
"Ya got some nice posters." Summer pointed out the collection of nude pin-up girls draped over toolboxes, pickup trucks and motorcycles. Tanned skin, long hair, high-heels and silicon. "And them's nice neon signs ya got. Kinda looks like a bar in here."
Leo didn't answer. He was busy fiddling with the remote control.
Summer fidgeted a moment, then cleared her throat. "Um, Leo, I was wondering ... when's the party start? Ya told me there was gonna be a party. I dressed for a party. I mean, if it was just gonna to be us, that woulda been okay, but then I wouldn'ta dressed for a party. I mean, look at me. I'm dressed for a party."
"Shut up. My guest should be here soon." Leo stuffed several Tootsies in his mouth. Colorful wax papers littered the floor. They looked pretty against the stained, orange shag carpet. The last time his house had seen redecoration, Nixon had been in office. He swallowed the rest of his beer, dropped the can, reached into the blue and white cooler by his chair and opened a fresh one.
"Guest. Did you say guest? Cuz that sounds like one other person ... guest. Did you mean to say guests? Cuz a party should have guests. More than one, see what I mean?"
"Look around. How many do you see?"
Summer did as she was told. She turned her head in every direction, then faced Leo with a smile. "Two."
"That's right. And a guest makes three. More than one. More than two. Three makes a party."
Summer drew her lips tight, nodded and stared at the television.
She amused him in the same fashion a mouse excites a cat on the hunt. Leo laughed and burped at the same time.
The procession of trick-or-treaters beyond the window continued for another hour. No one came to Leo's door for candy. The egg on the window dried. Game shows were replaced with sitcoms. Leo ogled, ate, burped and scratched. He pointed a dirty fingernail at the television. "You know what I'd do if that little hottie came at me, shaking those melons in my face?"
"What?" Summer waited for an answer.
Leo shook his head, grinned and slugged more beer. He'd always looked forward to Halloween, but that evening was proving to be the greatest fun yet. "Summer, you're a real...."
The doorbell rang.
"It's about time." Leo laughed and sprang from his chair. "Thought you chickened out on me. Wussy. That's 'wussy' with a capital 'P'!"
"Wussy? No. I think that's spelled with a 'w.'"
Leo stopped in mid-stride. "Unbelievable. You really are as stupid as they say, aren't you?"
Summer looked confused, as if she wanted to respond, but couldn't find the answer.
Leo helped her out. It was the only help he'd offered to anyone in his life. "Let me answer for you. You look a little stuck. Yes, Summer, you are as dumb as they say. You are way more than twenty dollars worth of stupid." He turned his back to her and walked toward the door. "You just sit there and keep your mouth shut. Every time you open it, I'm taking a dollar off the top. You're right now at nineteen."
"Oh. Okay. Uh huh." She frowned. Her whiskers twitched.
Leo grabbed the knob and pulled the door open.
The streets were vacant. Streetlights glowed, casting buttery beams on black pavement. Porchlights all over had been doused and the glow from the houses had softened. Candy corn kisses had been given and grease-painted faces washed. Excited children had finally been tucked into their beds.
On Leo's front stoop stood a tall man dressed in a charcoal-gray hooded cape. His face was hidden. In his hand he held a scythe.
"Boo!" Leo shouted, then laughed.
The Grim Reaper didn't respond. Rather he walked past Leo and into the house.
Leo smiled. "Come on in!" He slipped his hands into his pants, scratched his rear end, sniffed his fingers, then slammed the door. "Trick-or-Treat!"
Summer turned around on the couch and stared. "Now, that's a costume! Well, well, well, I'm glad I didn't dress up for nothing. Looky, Leo, now you're the only one at the party who ain't dressed up. Maybe you oughta."
"That's a lot of words, Summer. You're about down to a ten-spot."
"Oh. Okay. Uh-huh." Summer smiled. A smudge of lipstick dotted her front teeth. It was a nice color.
The Reaper turned to Leo.
"Tootsie?" Leo pointed to the bowl.
The Reaper shook his head, No. The action seemed slow, almost sad.
Leo's eyes danced and he nodded toward Summer. His lips curled up, an ugly Elvis. "Can I get you something else?" Excited, he bounced in place. The exertion forced a fart.
The Reaper held out his arm, cloaked by the heavy robe and motioned toward the door.
"I'm not going with you and I'm not in the mood to dance, Mr. Bone Man, so why don't we just make our deal now and be done with it."
The Reaper took a step toward Leo.
Leo flinched. Eyes showed surprise.
"Are you nuts? Don't you want her?"
Summer watched with the eager anticipation of child awaiting a surprise.
"What's the problem?" Leo's arrogance drained. "We've been trading out for years. You've taken my mother, my stinking wife, a crazy wino. the list goes on, pal." Leo shook his finger at Summer. "What's wrong with her?"
"Yeah, what's wrong with me?"
Leo looked at Summer as if she'd recited The Declaration of Independence in Latin. Her question couldn't have been more surprising.
"Shut your stupid mouth." He balled his fist.
With a pout, Summer fell into the couch. She mumbled and played with her fingers.
A look of concern squeezed his forehead and Leo turned back to the Grim Reaper. The trades had begun twelve years ago. Death had come to his door on Halloween. Leo had put up a good fight and finally offered his mother in exchange. The Reaper had been appeased and had returned each subsequent year. Every visit, Leo offered a substitute. It had always been a sure thing, until then.
Sweat rolled down the back of his neck. Leo scratched his underarms. The Reaper took another step forward.
"You know something, you stinking coward, I'm not going to make this easy for you. You stand there and think about what it'll take to seal this deal. I'm going to sit down in my favorite chair and finish my candy and beer."
Leo plopped into the recliner, passed gas, giggled and stuffed a handful of Tootsies into his mouth. He grunted as he chewed, breathing loudly through his nose, then guzzled warm beer. Brown foam bubbled from between his lips.
The Reaper stood watch.
Leo laughed. Summer joined the laughter as if she understood the joke.
Leo looked at her, bayed and slapped his legs. His eyes sparkled. "The two of you make a great pair. Both a couple of idiots. You deserve each other."
The Grim Reaper swung his scythe.
A wad of Tootsies lodged in Leo's throat. He punched his chest and the chocolate ball slid deeper down and completely closed off his windpipe.
Summer pointed her finger at him and laughed. The Reaper took a long step closer.
Leo kicked his feet. Beer cans scattered to the floor.
Summer jumped up and clapped her hands. "Charades, Leo?"
He fell out of the chair, grabbed his throat and crawled to her.
She scolded him. "Ya have to signal how many words first. What you're doing ain't in the rules."
He grabbed her feet and looked up; face flushed red, eyes wide and terrified. He opened his mouth. Fermented drool leaked from his lips. He couldn't speak.
"Looky, Leo, if you've never played before, that's okay. I'll tell ya the rules."
Leo fell onto his back. The color in his cheeks rushed to blue. Lips blurred purple.
Summer stared down at him.
"Leo?"
He glared up, the shock behind his pain obvious.
Summer turned to the Reaper and winked. "Well, I ain't gonna save him, so I guess he's yours."
The Reaper nodded.
Summer bent, bunched up her nose in disgust, stuck her hand in Leo's pocket and pulled out his wallet. She looked up at the Reaper with a cute smile. "He owes me twenty dollars." Summer removed a ten and three fives and dropped the wallet to the floor. "I know he'da given me a tip." She stood, smoothed down her pants and stepped over Leo. His eyes rolled back in his head. A stuffed cat's tail dragged across his face.
"Let me tell ya something." She reached out and took the Grim Reaper by the arm. He allowed it, seemed to welcome it.
"Ya did a real good job here. Good to see ya take a stand. Shows your backbone. Ya should've never let the likes of him push ya around. Made ya look bad."
The Reaper nodded.
"Ya know, we've met before. Recognized ya right away. Ya may remember me, Sol Santa's wife? Sol! He told me his name meant 'the sun'. Now that's a hoot. He was the sun all right. Son-of-a-ya-know-what!" Summer patted the Reaper's arm. He returned the affectionate gesture by leaning close to her. "Anyhow, ya did me a huge favor taking him away. I always knew I'd see ya again. And now looky, here ya are!"
The Reaper walked through the door, Summer on his arm.
"It feels real good being with ya. You're a good listener. I think Leo was right. We're good for each other."
They turned down the sidewalk.
"Anyhow, while we're in the neighborhood, there's a coupl'a guys ya might be interested in. A few of the boys from the factory. What'a ya say we pay a little visit? I mean, heck, after all, I am dressed for a party. It is Halloween. How about we do a little trick-or-treating? And after that ... well, who knows, Mr. Reaper ... anything can happen now, can't it?"
He nodded and Summer laughed.
Streetlights illuminated the odd couple—the Grim Reaper and a chatty woman dressed like a cat.
He stepped with pride. So did she.

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