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Undead-wear

After a harrowing Halloween night encompassing a fantastical rebirth, an ancient magical gemstone conspiracy, and a sinister murder plot, you wouldn’t think underwear would be the main topic of discussion at breakfast. Yet, it was utmost on Deilune’s mind.

"I have to get out of this suit," Deilune stated for the third or fourth time. "I need something more comfortable and clean. Do you realize I haven't changed underwear since August?"

"Dale! I get your point, but we really don't need to go there, especially at the breakfast table."

Lottica had stopped buttering her toast during the exchange, while Nick charged into a second helping of hashbrowns. Grandfather and Grandmother Breima simply stared over their delicate teacups.

"Considering all that's happened in the last twelve hours or so, don't you think there are more important things to discuss than our wardrobe?" Linda quietly demanded of her husband.

"Well, facts are facts and a rather important fact to me, now that we have rejoined the living, is that I would like to dress like the living and not be draped in this funereal garb!"

Linda Breima's shoulders sunk slightly as she conceded this point. "That’s a more practical way to look at it. So how are we going to get clothes? I guess we could have your parents do some shopping for us, since we can't exactly go out looking as we do."

"Why not?” Deilune rejoined. “We look a bit bruised and beat up, but I've seen tougher looking cases wander into all-night convenience stores."

"Dale, we're supposed to be dead. What if we run into someone we know?"

"Yeah, Dad. Besides your eye looks like it could pop out anytime," Nick observed.

"My eye isn't going anywhere. In fact, it works better than before. I used to have to wear reading glasses, and now I can read the fine print on that cereal box easily."

"How could your eyes be better than before?" Linda asked.

"Beats me. Maybe it has something to do with the new ticker,” he said patting his chest.

Grandmother Breima set her teacup down firmly in front of her. "Of course is Kareima! Kareima is strong. Make you stronger.”

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Onto his third helping, Nick watched his father, supernaturally undead, being chided by his mom. And realized moms would always have super powers over their kids, even if they were newly minted zombies.

"Maybe it would be best if we tried to accept what has happened for now and try to understand it later," Linda calmly interjected. "I think Dale is right. It would be good to get out and buy some clothes. It's a practical step we can take, and I think we might be able to do it without arousing suspicion."

"How's that, Mom?" Lottica asked.

"For your father, a hat and sunglasses will mask a lot and I think a bit of make-up will take care of the rest."

"What about you, Mom?"

Linda brushed back her tangled hair about as coyly as a zombie supermodel declaring, "I think a veil could make a quite modern fashion statement."

An hour later on their way to the mall when her mom asked Lottica for her opinion of the black overcoat, gloves and veil borrowed from Grandmother Breima, all Lottica could politely manage was, "Well, you just look like you're going to a funeral—in the 1950s."

“That’s fair,” Linda admitted, a bit queasy at the thought.

Her dad, on the other hand, was feeling jaunty, sporting a fedora and leather gloves, as well as dark sunglasses that made little sense on the wet, gloomy morning of All Souls Day. His face was spackled with a thick foundation make-up that conspired to turn his pasty undead complexion a non-descript beige. To Lottica, beige commanded all the allure of a paper sack. She hoped her father wouldn't ask her how she thought he looked.

When they pulled into the mall parking lot and exited the car, Lottica decided she wouldn't give him the chance to ask, and walked ahead with Nick as they crossed to the main entrance. Glancing back over her shoulder at their parents performing a limping entrechat over a puddle, she whispered, "Do you really think this is a good idea?"

"What? Coming to the mall? Or coming to the mall with zombies who happen to be our parents?"

"Nick!"

"Well, Lottica, it seems ridiculous to worry about what makes sense after last night. Basically, our whole understanding of the world has gone topsy-turvy. I'm inclined to roll with whatever happens."

"But, we might run into people we know, or…" she pulled Nick to a stop, "people we don't want to see!"

Nick lifted his jacket collar so it half covered his face and peered down at his sister. "You mean like Count Dracu-Beilla?"

"Stop it! You almost wet yourself last night when they were chasing us. And if they really did try to murder Dad and Mom to get the Kareima, then they could try again."

His jacket collar slipped back down around his neck, and Nick gave his sister a more serious nod. "You're right. It's just that it feels so different now. Having Dad and Mom back, especially the way they came back to us. It makes me feel as if they're somehow immortal now. That they're meant for something amazing. I'm not that worried."

"Who's worried?" Their father had caught up with them and heard Nick's last few words.

"No one, Dad," Nick said. "Lottica's a little concerned that someone may recognize us here and ask questions about who you are."

"Right. Your mother and I were discussing that as well, and we agreed that, as much as we want to be with you as a family, we’d better keep a bit of distance when we are in public places. So we'll keep out of your way, and we'll meet back at the car in two hours. But, we'll keep an eye out," he said, as he lifted his sunglasses to wink his bulging left eye at them.

"I'd rather you kept your eye in, Dad," Nick shot back with a pat on his father's shoulder as they split up and entered the mall.