The Costume

You stand in the costume shop and cough, the heavy smell of incense and potpourri overpowering your fragile sinuses as you gaze at the mounds of multi-colored clothing piled in huge masses all over the cramped shop. You hear a voice come from somewhere in the back of the shop,

“Just a minute please.” It is a feminine voice, sounds like a slightly older lady. It reminds you of the voice of some of your grandmother’s old bridge club friends, the blue hairs that always pinched your cheeks and commented on how you were such a handsome young man and how well you were doing with your writing career. You ran your hand through your hair, the short, prickly hairs tickling your palm and reminding you of how fresh your hair cut is considering there are going to be loads of attractive women at this Halloween party tonight.

Your thoughts are interrupted as a woman almost matching your thoughts walks out from a tiny door set somewhere behind a tattered Darth Vader costume. She is short, with frosty white hair and a pair of large glasses perched precariously on her small nose. The thick lenses magnify her blue eyes as she peers up at you, wrinkled face showing its’ age yet retaining some sense of intelligence and wit.

“May I help you son?” She asks and smiles, instantly putting you at ease with her grandmotherly charm. You smile.

“Yes ma’am, I’m looking for a costume.” You say and she gives you a sarcastic look.

“Of course you are, this is a costume shop after all.” She chuckles softly as you blush.

“Just ignore an old lady’s attempt at humor son, what kind of costume are you looking for?” She asks and you scratch the back of your head and shrug.

“I really don’t know.” You reply. The little old lady eyes you up and down for a moment and then a smile brightens her face.

“I’ve got it! Bo Peep!” She says and you blink.

“Excuse me?” You ask and she claps her hands together and heads around you and a pile of costumes to a rack situated near the front door.

“You can be Bo Peep, you know, Little Bo Peep has lost her sheep.” The lady says over her shoulder at you and you frown.

“Isn’t that a woman’s costume?” You ask. She waves a hand as she shifts through the costumes on the rack.

“Think of how funny it would be, I would bet you could win a contest if you went as Bo Peep.” She says.

You think it odd that she mentioned a contest since the cover charge for the party was twenty bucks which went into a pot for the best costume.

“But wouldn’t I need…um…breasts to be Bo Peep?” You say, almost embarrassed to say breasts in front of this elderly lady. She turns and holds up a short dress with a frilly lacy lining and a plunging neck line. She then rifles through a shelf and presents you with a pair of white stockings and a pair of white four inch heel clogs. You take the proffered items purely on instinct as she shoves them into your hands.

“No, it’ll be a gag costume son, don’t you get it?” She says and leads you to the wigs, selecting a blonde wig with two long golden ponytails hanging down for you. This is added to the pile of clothing in your hand, one of the hairs tickling your nose and making you sneeze. You follow the old lady as she leads you through her shop, your mind telling you it’s a dumb idea while some part of you, the comedian part, tells you it will be hilarious.

“Shouldn’t I try it on first?” You ask as the lady approaches her register but she just waves you off.

“It will fit, it’s a one size fits all.” She says and rings up the costume. You pay with Visa, who carries cash nowadays, and head out the door with your new costume hidden securely in a large brown bag.