It was hard to see out of the small mesh square of material, but the costume wasn’t designed for comfort. Sure, there are YouTube videos of people’s water skiing in them, playing basketball, and chasing their grandkids, but environmental awareness wasn’t their intended purpose.
“Mog, you’re pushing my head forward, lean back,” I said and of course that crazy twerp leaned back too far.
Stumbling, I leaned to the side, then felt Henry’s stabilizing hand on my shoulder. “You two make an unfortunate T-Rex,” he said.
I had to turn my entire body to maneuver the suit so I could see him, “The inflatable T-Rex costume wasn’t my idea,” I shot back, but Mogwai’s hands went over my mouth as two Chort walked near.
“They can’t smell us,” Mogwai said once they’d passed.
I had to snap my teeth at Mog’s little fingers before she moved her hands from my mouth.
“That’s because Axe body spray is warring with the smell of chili-cheese Fritos,” I growled, but kept a steady shuffle toward the door.
“Incoming,” Henry said under his breath moments before a large bare chested Chort stepped in front of him.
The Chort was larger than his cohorts, perhaps six and a half feet tall, with greasy black curls of hair on his powerfully built chest. Even inside the T-Rex costume I could smell his breath, and it was a long way from pleasant. Which pretty much summed up his entire demeanor, unpleasant.
“Bounty Hunter,” the Chort said, almost more of a challenge than a question.
“Why, Charlie Daniels, I never would have guessed that you are a science fiction enthusiast,” Henry said and reached up to curl his moustache.
“Name is not Charlie, name is Chuck. Why you here Bounty Hunter? This is none of your business, ” the creature demanded.
Henry laughed a little and held up the Manilla folder with my signed contract on it. “Oh, don’t be like that Charlie Pride,” he drawled.
“You know I’m a Bailiff, besides I’m just here collecting documentation from Chloe. I presume you remember Chloe, our esteemed hostess?”
Charlie, or chuck, whatever you call him, glanced around quickly, then his unrelenting brown eyes glared back down at Henry.
I could feel the heat coming off his body, and his odor was seeping in through the mesh view screen. It was an odd smell, like warm mushrooms and oil, that wasn’t entirely unpleasant, but it made me want to wash my hands for some reason.
Chuckie boy puffed up a little more and stepped forward, his cloven hoof coming down right on my costume. “Hostess is only inside. You’ll go outside, eventually.”
“I would not sooth yourself with that perceived future,” Henry said and stretched as he looked around. “I kind of like it here,” Henry looked around like a squatter at a retirement village.
“There’s sustenance, beverages of a sort, and a lot of eye-candy.”
After a second, Henry looked at me, then at Chuck, before returning his glance at me with a puzzled look.
“This is not a Television mid-morning drama, kindly be on your way,” he said with a shooing motion of his hands.
Turning to leave was a failure with the Chort’s foot on my costume. With a single step, I was suddenly thrown off balance. “We’re falling,” Mog said as if it were a forgone conclusion.
Struggling for another step, I did a little double step movement, and reached for balance. The only thing in reach was the author’s table that we’d seen Chuck knock over before. A thin man with long black hair screamed, high and loud. I could see the panic on his face as I fell, as if in slow motion, right into his newly stacked books.
“Gee-whizz Charlie Brown, see what you did now?” Henry said, and Chuck stepped back, letting my costume free. As the newly liberated costume was released, my fall was accelerated and instead of just wiping out the book display, I grabbed the banner and pulled it down with me.
“No! God no! Why?” the presumed author cried out, but his panic just made me more frazzled. In a hurry to get to my feet, I moved too fast, too inconsiderate of the inflation bulk, and ended up back on my ass, with Mogwai, somehow head down in my lap, and her ass in my face.
For a moment, I just sat there in a daze. Mogwai was already recovering and doing her best to crawl backward over my head and back behind me. This pressed her ass and crotch into my face more, and I got way more familiar with Mog than I ever wanted.
Helping hands were there suddenly and several booth operators and guests were helping me up. After a few minutes, Mogwai securely in piggyback position, Henry once more gave us a nudge toward the door, with a *Squawk* and a *Squeak* with each step.
The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.
“Stupid humans!” Chuck bellowed behind us, but I’m pretty sure his face was a little red, because most of the people who helped me up, spent the last five minutes pointing at him and whispering.
Believe me, folks, nerds know a bully, and they had Chuck pinned for our fall.
Finally, at the door a thin ticket seller stopped us, his hand out firm and back rigged. “You need a stamp to come back inside, or you will have to purchase another ticket to gain entry.”
For a second I just stood there staring at the self important little shit, then said, “Yeah, I’m not coming back,” and tried to push my way past him.
“I hear that all the time, its better to just get a stamp,” he insisted and grabbed my hand, directing me to his stand.
“But I don’t want a stamp,” I fired back and tried to pull my hand back. Unsurprisingly, inside the suit, I was very limited in my range of motion. Add Mogwai to my mass, and anything more than a slight tug, and I’d be on the ground again.
“Sure, but then you’ll get to the car and remember you forgot your cell phone in the bathroom, or left your debit card at the register when you bought your official copy of Boobs in Space, signed by Jack Handey,“ he said and pulled my T-Rex mitten off.
He was one of those Poindexter types. With pants that were too short and too wide, being held up by suspenders and a belt, he didn’t cut an intimidating figure. But his manner was uncompromising, like he’d become used to being in charge.
“What’s up with this guy?” I muttered to Mogwai.
“Event promoter,” she said, as if that explained everything.
A pressure on the back of my hand drew my attention, but the flash of searing pain made me holler, “What the hell!”
“You received the Mark of Safe Passage,” Mogwai said with awe in her voice.
Looking down, I could make up the faded stamp mark of a black house, with a cutout of an adult walking a child.
“A street sign?” I asked, feeling the burn fade away.
“ I’ll explained later,” Mogwai said much less enthused, and pressed her heel into my side. Despite being treated like a horse, I got the idea it was time to leave.
Walking toward the door the damn costume did it’s annoying sound with each step.
*Squawk* *Squeak*
*Squawk* *Squeak*
*Squawk* *Squeak*
I felt like everyone in the convention center was looking at us. Sure, I had to admit the seven foot tall inflatable T-Rex outfit didn’t exactly blend in, but it hid our identity.
Standing just outside the door looking out into the parking lot, a smaller Chort stood smoking a cigarette. He was dressed in the same fuzzy leather vest and biker clothes as the rest, but clearly he’d been relegated to guard duty.
“What do we do?” I said in hushed tones, but Mog just watched the dude for a few long heartbeats then said, “I have an Idea, Get closer.”
Slowly I crept up behind him trying to ignore the annoying sounds of the costume that were now drawn out, like stepping slowly on a wooden floor. *Squaaaaawk* *Squeeeeeeaaaak*
The Chort couldn’t have been over five foot five. His potbelly and thin arms made me suspect he wasn’t exactly the leader type. If anything, more of the sit at home and yell at the kids from his Lazy-Boy type.
“So what’s the ---“ I started to hiss when Mogwai suddenly screamed at the top of her lungs.
“HEY GOAT CHEESE! RRRRAWR!”
I nearly shit myself when she yelled, but the Chort reacted much more dramatically. He turned in a flash, looked up into the looming maw of the T-Rex costume and his body went ridged, his arms falling to his side, like sticks on a scarecrow, and in an instant he was down. He hit the sidewalk like a sack of potatoes with his eyes rolled up in the back of his head.
"What the hell?" I blurted out, but Mogwai was laughing like a fool.
“Fainting Goat,” she giggled, and I knew it was time to leave.
Rushing toward the parking lot I made my way to the first row of cars before, behind me, the door burst open.
“Hey you!” a deep voice called, and I recognized it at once as Chuck the Chort, and quickened my pace.
*Squawk* *Squeak* *Squawk* *Squeak*
*Squawk* *Squeak* *Squawk* *Squeak*
*Squawk* *Squeak* *Squawk* *Squeak*
We broke through the double doors and out into the night at a breakneck, waddling pace. Even with Chuck after us I relished the feel of the cool night air coming in through the mesh viewing square and nearly stopped to catch my breath.
“Quick, to the bus stop!” Mogwai directed and dug her right heel into my side. Turning left, I spotted the well-lit stop, and hurried toward it. Behind me, the double doors flew open, Chuck the Chort was racing out behind me.
*Squawk* *Squeak* *Squawk* *Squeak*
*Squawk* *Squeak* *Squawk* *Squeak*
*Squawk* *Hiss* *Squawk* *Hiss*
“What was that?” I yelled and felt Mogwai reaching down behind me and mess with something.
“The fan’s battery must be dying,” Mog said, and I felt the physical wait of the costume falling down around me.
“What do we do? We’re deflating,” I gasped, now feeling like the convention hall would have felt less confining or smelly than the costume.
“Just keep moving! I’ll work on it,” Mogwai was suddenly squirming and pressing against me. My movement was cut down to less than half, and I could hear Chuck gaining ground fast.
“We’ll never make it! I need my gun,” I said to myself and started trying to pull my hand back inside the deflating plastic mass.
*Hiss* *Drag* *Hiss* *Drag*
“Stop right there! I need to talk to you,” Chuck bellowed and darted toward us. The technical term for our situation might have been something like, “Our situation was increasingly precarious.” The straight talk on it was, “We were screwed.”
Deciding to face him, I turned with a few little hops, and fought the elastic cuff more to get my hand inside. All in all, I bet we looked like a set of polecats in a burlap bag to anyone looking on. But I was determined not to go down without looking my aggressor in the eyes.
Chuck slid to a stop right in front of me, his breath blowing out in deep angry puffs, his eyes red with murderous intent. I knew it was the end for me.
“You dropped this manila envelope back there, Henry asked me to get it to you since I was the one who accidently tripped you up,” he said and held out the envelope.
I didn’t know what to do, and either did Mogwai, because she froze in place as I stared at him.
“Well, go ahead, take it,” he said between breaths and shook the envelope at me.
Slowly, I reached out with my left hand and took it, then stepped back.
“Thank you.” I said lamely.
“It’s okay. I needed to get out of there, anyway. I can’t smell anything but chili-cheese Fritos and body spray in that place,” The Goat man complained, then turned away, then back and looked us up and down.
“I think your costume is cool, but I think it might be broke,” he said and then walked back toward the building. Any interest he’d had in the deflating T-Rex evaporated as he scanned the parking lot of his would be prey.
Somewhere out there, he knew the Succubus Murdering Bounty Hunter, Rhett Remington, was just waiting to be discovered.