...and it was perfect
It came from the thrift store—the last one they had
It came from the thrift store—the last one they had
and it was perfect.
Not just a mask, the entire Batsuit, all one piece: helmet, black cape, blue tights, and blue shirt with the official Bat signal across the chest
-the real one -the official spread-wing bat emblem—in black over a broad gold oval
-Batman.
Black gloves with gauntlets up to the elbow, black boots, a gold utility belt with real utility pouches filled with capsules that went SNAP! when they hit,
and poison pills that turned water red,
and antidote pills that turned water blue.
The helmet had ears of its own—bat ears—and a mask that completely covered the face, eyes, and nose, leaving only a mouth exposed.
Batman.
It was perfect.
Home was never perfect.
Mom didn’t feel good, laying on the couch, like always.
“When your father gets home,” she said. “He can take you. Now go find something to do.”
Dad was tired and angry when he got home, like always.
“Just want to relax and have a beer in peace and quiet.”
“Is that too much to ask?” he said. Like always.
That got them fighting, Mom and Dad, yelling back and forth…
so they didn’t hear the doorbell.
“Trick or treat!” they said.
Older boys from some other neighborhood.
Not from around here.
“Trick or treat!” they said again.
By now, the streetlights were on.
Total Darkness
“Hey, it’s Batman!” they said.
“What, no candy?” they said.
“Why aren’t you out with your Justice League Super Friends?”
They all laughed.
“Go on now,” Dad said. “Go on out with your buddies there. Just don’t be late,” he said.
“And stay out of trouble.”
“All right!” the boys laughed some more. “Batman’s with us. Come on, Batman. Let’s go!”
There were three of them.
A pirate with an eye patch, a white shirt, and a red bandanna on his head.
A big green rubber-headed Frankenstein with big green rubber hands, black pants, and a big black suit coat.
Those big hands must have made it hard for him to carry a bag …so he didn’t.
And a ghost…a ghost like no ghost anyone had ever seen --wearing a big white sheet with two big eye holes that never stayed straight.
They laughed and smoked cigarettes and walked real slow, the three of them --sometimes going up to the dark houses with no lights on just to look in the windows.
On a really dark street, at one of the really dark houses, Pirate leaned in.
“Okay, Batman,” he said. “You ready?”
“There’s not a moment to lose,” he said. “This city needs you -now more than ever.”
Ghost shoved Frankenstein forward with a ghostly sheet-covered hand.
"Okay, Batman,” Ghost said. “Ole’ Frank here will give you a boost up to that window.”
Ghost said it all while pointing with his ghostly hand.
“Then you’re going to move through the dark all quiet -silent, like a bat -all the way up to the front door and let us in,” he said. “You got that?”
The boys laughed and giggled –like boys ought not to do.
Inside the house was dark alright, dark as night.
But bats can see in the dark, so that was alright.
The phone was yellow, hanging on the kitchen wall with a long, curly yellow cord that touched the shiny yellow-squared kitchen floor.
“Police and Fire,” the lady said. “What’s your emergency?”
“Hello?” she said.
The front door opened wide, and the boys came inside: Pirate, Ghost, and Frankenstein.
“Now you go wait outside,” Pirate said. “Right over there,” he pointed with his plastic sword.
“There in the shadows, and keep your eyes peeled for the Joker and the Penguin and anyone else who might show up,” he said.
“You let us know if anyone’s coming, okay?”
“You can do that, can’t you?” Pirate said.
Frankenstein interrupted. “He’ll be just fine,” Frankenstein said.
“He’s Batman. Batman would never let his friends down. Ain’t that right, Batman?”
Frankenstein didn’t wait for an answer.
“Now come on. Let’s go,” Frankenstein said.
Those boys made so much noise inside, laughing and breaking things. They didn’t hear what was coming -didn’t hear anything at all -until it was too late.
“You were very brave,” the officer said. “Your Superfriends would be proud. Now, let’s get you home.”
The policeman drove slowly through the streets with no sirens, but his blue and red lights flickered against the neighborhood houses on either side.
A pale blue glow from the dashboard lights glinted off his badge, handcuffs, and gun.
It was a real gun because he was a real cop, the kind people could trust, the kind who isn’t afraid of danger, the kind who never says bad words or smells like beer or does mean things to moms or dogs or little kids.
Dad was passed out -asleep on the couch. Like always. The policeman couldn’t wake him, and Mom was gone. Like always.
The policeman looked around. “Will you be alright all by yourself?” he asked, then left his number by the telephone.
“You just call if you need anything, okay?”
The Batsuit was smoothed out, hung up, and hidden in the closet where no one would ever find it…
…back behind the clothes that didn’t fit but didn’t get thrown out either,
"Just in case,” mom always said. “Money doesn’t grow on trees, ya know.”
That’s what she always said.
“Your grandmother sewed all my clothes by hand,” she would say. “So you should be grateful I don’t make you wear clothes like that.”
That’s what Mom always said. But Mom couldn’t sew anyway.
The next day at school, things were different.
No one knew the difference, and that was how it was supposed to be.
But at recess, the boys were more careful now, and they didn’t push the girls around. They knew there would be consequences if they did.
And teachers were always on their best behavior, not yelling or screaming or making a fuss like always.
Yeah, everything was different now.
People behaved themselves and treated each other with kindness…
Somehow, they all knew.
Somehow, everyone knew.
-and it was perfect.
Hey Friends 👋 it’s me, Paul ☺️
Forgiveness, please. It’s a few days past Halloween, but my friend
published a great story titled Day of the Dead and I was inspired to revisit one of my own.Anne’s Halloween-inspired story is simply heartwarming and wonderful, as nearly every Anne Roche story is. And it inspired me to republish this story, originally published in 2022.
The story here was my first attempt at “submerging the I”—which means it’s told entirely from the ‘experiencer’s perspective’—which is another way of saying there is no “I.”
If you skim back through it, you’ll notice that the costume's wearer never refers to him or herself. They don’t say, “I did this,” or “I saw that.”
The entire experience is told in ‘apostolic revelation.’
Sound difficult?
Give it a try.
It’s actually quite fun 🥳.
…until next time!
I love you all 🥰
Be gentle with yourself.
May each and every one of you be honored now and forevermore by those in your circle of love. 🙏
—Paul
What a ride! So many unexpected turns. Felt real and raw with a couple chuckle outbursts. I don't know if these were supposed to be as funny as they were: A rubber-headed Fra😂kenstein. M🤭m couldn't even sew anyway.
So good!