Pirates!

Bryan and Scott dug through their stuff to see if they had anything they could work up into costumes for tonight.

Scott was mumbling, "T-shirt, T-shirt, hoodie, bermudas, muscle shirt, hmmm..."

Bryan looked through his stuff. Oxford shirt, short-sleeved collar shirt, denim shirt, windbreaker, cargo pants, pea coat...

"Bri," Scott said. "I think we're screwed for costumes, unless we want to go as thugz or something, and even for that we'd need some bling-bling."

Bryan laughed. "I don't think that counts as dress to impress," he said. "Lemme see if I can find anything." Brian opened up his beat-up, sticker-covered old iBook and searched for 'Costumes' near their postal code. "Hmm, just some costume store names and phone numbers," he said. "Not much actually on line. Wait, this one is just a couple blocks away."

"Let's go," Scott said.

The costume shop was a high-ceilinged, narrow store running back into the depths of an old brick building on the edge of campus, wedged between a head shop and a used bookstore. Up front were the impulse racks -- eye patches, domino masks, Groucho Marx nose-glasses-mustaches, tiaras, ostrich and peacock feathered hair clips, famous and ugly rubber faces. ("Health Department Rule: No returns on rubber face masks.").

A young woman with purple hair sticking up in a crest and a nose stud was at the register, leaning over the counter with a bored expression. "Help you?" she asked.

"Yeah, we want some costumes for tonight," Scott said. "We're looking for a couple of matching ones for Bri and me," he said. He and the clerk started talking and waving their arms around as one suggested a style and the other one dismissed it. "How about the gangsters?" "Can't fit your friend there, how about the gamblers?" "Nah, they're pretty ugly. How about those rock stars?" "All out, how about..."

Bryan was looking around the costumes displayed up on the walls of the tall, narrow shop. "Hey, how about that one?"

"Yeah, that looks good," Scott said. "Have any?"

The clerk cocked her head. The raised crest of purple hair reminded Bryan of a tropical bird. "Hang on, let me check, they're real popular, but you guys are kinda odd sizes, we might still have a couple," she said. "Stand next to the door for a sec."

Bryan and Scott stoode next to the door, which had colored stripes marking every couple inches from 4 feet to 7 feet. Bryan had only seen those in convenience stores, and one restaurant that had some subtle metal strips on the doorframe at 5 and 6 feet. Maybe someone had robbed the place in the past?

"OK, 5'7" and 6'3"," the clerk said. She went through a narrow doorway behind the counter into a gloomy back room where Bryan and Scott could see shelves going up to the high ceiling. There were sounds of things moving around.

"One Jean Lafitte," she said putting a cardboard box on the counter in front of Scott, "and one Long John," putting one down in front of Bryan. "Comes with a crutch if you want it. I think we have a Captain Ahab in your size too," she said.

"You deserve better than a white whale," Scott said.

Bryan raised his eyes. "You went with Kristi all last year," he said, teasing his friend about the big girl he'd been dating.

"Kristi," Scott said. "was a pink Cadillac."

The clerk snorted.

Bryan's face felt warm, imagining everything Scott meant by that.

Scott looked through his costume, with the big black hat with a feather, the groomed mustache and matching wig of long, wavy dark hair, the pistols, telescope, sword, and long dark coat. There were glittery bits of costume jewelry trimming the outfit here and there. "Hey, this says he was one of the heroes of the Battle of New Orleans," Scott said.

"Cool," Bryan said. He looked through his costume. There was a long blue coat with heavy cuffs trimmed with gold braid and matching three-cornered hat, a white shirt with a string-closure collar, a pair of linen breeches, and a heavy metal buckle to attach to the shoe on his "good" leg. It also came with a pistol, a cutlass, and a fake stuffed parrot mounted on a shoulder patch. There was a band to wrap up his leg behind him like a stump, if he wanted to go all the way. "I think I'll skip the crutch," he said.

"Okay," the clerk said. "You can use the little peg there to get a wooden leg sound." It had an elastic band to attach under the shoe of Bryan's "bad" leg, with the shoe concealed by a long, loose trouser leg.

In place of a historical note, Bryan's costume had a sheet showing different ways to wear it, with and without the crutch and the stuffed parrot. One of the pictures had the model leaning on the crutch, with a real parrot on his shoulder and a buxom black woman in a head wrap, gold hoop earrings, and an old-fashioned dress snuggled up against him. It was followed by a quote from the end of Treasure Island, "I dare say he met his old Negress, and perhaps still lives in comfort with her and Captain Flint."

Each costume came with a leather purse and some brass coins to jingle. Scott's pistols came with smoke caps, and Bryan's pistol made a loud 'pop!' when cocked and fired. Bryan's parrot would scream, "Pieces of Eight! Pieces of Eight" if you bumped him or poked his belly.

The clerk helped them try them on and adjust them for fit.

"I think we got some winners," Scott said. "Thanks." he said.

"Y'welcome," the clerk said. She rubbed her purple crest of hair and handed them the rental forms.

In a couple of minutes they were on the sidewalk in front of the costume shop. Incense wafted from a stick in a burner in front of the head shop, and some sullen looking students were digging through the bargain boxes in front of the bookstore.

"Arr, matey, I'm hungry," Bryan said. "You want to check out the campus strip here?" he asked, waving a hand up and down the street, which looked like it catered to college tastes.

"Maybe, or we could just grab a bite and head back," Scott said. "I want to get settled in a little before the party."