The Saturday Night Before Halloween

“Mom what are you doing?” Dobby asks walking to High Command and stopping at a tall white boot.

“I'm working on the blog kitty. What else?” Writer Lady answers.

“Why are you dressed like that?” Dobby asks.

“Dressed like what?” Writer Lady looks at her clothes. “Oh that. Thursday is Halloween. It is going to be too cold to wear this while I'm handing out candy. I'm wearing it now. It's inspiring.”

“A British flag dress is inspiring?”

“It inspires me to keep having fun. Also, I have been trying really hard to stay this size all summer. Just for Halloween. I'm wearing it a second time.”

“What if someone finds out?”

“Who's going to find out?”

“What if someone comes to the door and sees you like that?”

“Who's going to come to the door?” Writer Lady asks. “Are you expecting anyone?”

Dobby shakes his head.

“I'm not expecting anyone either. So it's fine. You know what I need kitty. I need lipstick.” Writer Lady gets up and goes to the bathroom. Returning to the computer, “Besides I need a picture for the book cover.”

“You're going to look like that in public?” Dobby asks.

“Not in public. There will be a picture. It will be public.” Writer Lady answers and keeps typing.

“Are you sure that's a...” Dobby asks.

“What should we do tonight kitty? A poem. A song. We can call it “The Saturday Night Before Halloween”.

Dobby reaches out and gently places a paw on the top of her booted foot. “Mom. You can't sing. Please don't write a song.”

“To the tune of another song maybe. Bohemian Rhapsody?”

Dobby takes his paw and covers his eyes.

Writer Lady looks at Dobby, “No?”

“No.”

“Well crap. Now I don't know what to do.” Writer Lady gets up from the Big Writing Chair. She goes into the living room and sits down on the floor in meditation pose.

Dobby follows her.

“Mom.” Nothing. “Mom. MOM!”

“What kitty?” Writer Lady asks.

“You're sitting in the floor.”

“Yes I know. I'm trying to meditate. I'm blocked.”

“Aren't there pills for that?”

“No kitty. My creativity is blocked.”

“Mom. I hate to tell you this. But sitting like that isn't going to help.”

“Sometimes a writer has to suffer for their art.”

“Trust me Mom. You're not the one who is suffering.”

“No one is here except us. The skirt covers all of the private stuff. If you have a problem with it go to another room.”

Dobby leaves, the room falls silent and Writer Lady is free to meditate. She is beginning to relax when she feels something being pushed against her. Between her legs is a pillow.

“Dobby what are you doing?”

“Covering you up. Sitting cross legged in that dress isn't right Mom.”

“Dobby no one is here. It's okay.” Writer Lady grabs the pillow and thrusts it across the room nearly taking out a potted plant. Dobby ducks and runs away.

A few moments later a piece of foam board is leaning against her crossed legs. Opening her eyes, Writer Lady reads the sign which says:

Do Not Disterb

This woman is suffering for her art.

She is kind, caring and modest (most of the time).

She is not a SLUT.

I know how she's dressed and how she's sitting.

Seriously.

Not A SLUT.

Thank you for not disturbing her.

SIN-cerely Sister Margaret Mary Magdalin Katherine of the Cherch.

“Dobby please! I told you there is no one here. Let it go.”
 

“Okay. Fine. I'm letting it go. You're on your own.” Dobby leaves the living room muttering under his breath. “She calls me high maintenance.”

 

“Trick or Treats!” TP, a large group of faeries and assorted pixies all appear on the floor in front of Writer Lady. All staring where the sign used to be. A sharp intake of breath is heard by all.

“This isn't a very nice trick not at all,” one of the pixies say.

“Hehehe...Writer Lady is such a silly human.” TP says running up to the offending site, snapping his fingers using a faerie size billboard with a screaming zombie on it to hide everything.

“Did you see that?” Another pixie said. “Her panties did not match that dress at all.”

“What was that stretchy stuff over her panties?” she continued.

“Panty hose.” A faerie answers giggling. “Control top.”

“Everything is under control here!” Another faerie chimes in.

“I thought it was a human chastity belt.” A pixie whispers.

“No you have to be seeing someone to need one of those,” a faerie giggles.

“Oh!” Lots of giggling.

“Let's just move on to the next room. Lots of fun to come.”

“You said it TP we didn't.” Giggling all around.

“I'm wearing Control Top because it was all the store had. Not because I need it.” Writer Lady yells as the group leaves the living room.

TP looks at Writer Lady with disappointment. “Halloween is good clean fun you said. It's for the whole family to get together and have fun you said. I brought everyone here so they could see what a good human looks like. Why we shouldn't pick on you anymore.”

Writer Lady looks at the floor in embarrassment. “I'm sorry TP.”

“We'll talk about this in the morning. Go put on some clothes.” TP says.

“Okay.” Writer Lady stands up and pulls down her skirt as far as it will go. The bra pops out of the neckline. At least the girls are covered. She quickly and quietly heads into her bedroom to change.

TP snaps his fingers. The living room is back to normal. The faerie flies into High Command to meet up with Dobby and the rest of his group.

Dobby watches TP enter. “Did it work?”

“Silly kitty. Of course it worked.” TP turns to his friends. TP snaps again. The room is empty except for the faerie and the cat.