SS Halloween Special Ch 5

Colby emerges from her room, unrecognizable. She wears a dark, man’s suit that does not fit her well; it’s vastly too big, so she’s swallowed up in it. Her face is hidden by a cheap plastic mask of a smiling man that looks bizarre and sinister.

“Who the fuck?” Elsa says.

“Hey, guys!” Colby waves at them, her sleeve flopping absurdly.

“Who are you?” Ying asks.

“Ronald Reagan!” She waves both arms now. “Something scary, so the demons know that we’re not to be messed with! Scariest thing I could think of!”

“You’re so cute,” Ying says.

“My suit is too big, and the tie is too long. What if everyone thinks it’s Trump?”

“Jenny beat you to Trump,” Ying says.

Colby clicks her tongue. “For real? How long is her tie?”

“Way longer than yours.”

“Is it as wide as mine, though?” Colby waggles her necktie proudly. “This. This is the eighties right here. Not that stuff on Stranger Things. This.”

Ying just smiles, which Elsa knows is what she does when she doesn’t understand what’s being said.

“Can you close my door? I have no hands,” Colby says, tripping and stumbling past Apple, who obliges.

Elsa has taken on absurd debt to attend this UFG, in no small part because of her high school fantasies about what CCL life would be like. CCL is supposed to be transgressive and erotic.

“What’s this?” Apple asks, touching the bundles of pink yarn taped to each side of the Reagan mask.

“Ah.” Colby touches the yarn. “This symbolizes my brain dripping out of my ears because of dementia.”

Apple frowns. “I don’t understand.”

“You had to be there.”

“OK, enough,” Elsa snaps. “You’re both nerds, and your costumes fucking blow worse than mine. Are we doing this or not?”

Colby turns to look at her and gasps. Elsa feels a shameful jolt of anxiety, then realizes that Colby is not offended. The blonde lets out a noise of excitement and does a little hop.

“You look amazing!” she says, her mask coming slightly askew. One chunk of yarn comes free. She bends to pick it up and trips, falling to her hands and knees. “Balls,” she says, pawing around for the yarn.

“Was this what you pictured?” Elsa asks Ying. “When you dreamed of CCL?”

“I came here for petroleum engineering. And everyone has been very sweet to me.”

“Of course. They all want you to marry them and take them away from here.”

Apple helps Colby to her feet and tries to reattach the yarn. “That’s three. We need five.”

Elsa puts her hands on her hips. “Did you not prepare for this at all?”

“I prepared! Sally said she would help, but she’s gone to the CGH party,” Apple says with a pouting expression. “To see that hurdle girl.”

“Hurdle girl?” Ying echoes uncertainly.

Elsa rolls her eyes. “Don’t worry about it. Find someone else, Apple.”

“Hmm.” Apple puts on a thoughtful face and touches a black-gloved finger to her lips. Her glasses slide down her nose, and she absently pushes them back up. “I want to ask ChatGPT who is the most spiritually sensitive woman in the house.”

“I want to punch you in the face,” Elsa says.

“Well, there’s music.” Apple points at Kylie’s door. “Kylie’s in. Let’s ask her.”