Rep. Susan Maynard (R-TX) was sitting in her office when there was a knock on her door. Ariana, her assistant poked her head in. Her elderly face was void of color. “Ms. Maynard” her voice trembled. “There are some,” she paused, gulped, and whimpered. “People here to see you.”
Susan looked at her assistant puzzled. “Do they have an appointment?” She couldn’t identify the look on Ariana’s face. Fear? Shock? She wasn’t sure. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a…” Susan didn’t get to finish as Ariana opened the door and in walked a goblin, a witch, and a ghost. The door slammed behind the trio and Susan heard heels on tile rapidly click clacking away.
Susan stood up with her mouth open. She picked up the letter opener on her desk and held it out like a knife. “Stay back! I don’t know what you think you’re doing, but you can’t…” The witch snapped her fingers and the letter opener disappeared from Susan’s hand and into the pencil holder from where it was grabbed. She wasn’t a witch from stories. She was matronly. More Mary Poppins than Baba Yaga. She was dressed like a librarian: white button-down long sleeve blouse and a charcoal grey pencil skirt with mid-calf black boots. There was nothing about her that would signal she was a witch except her shifting-colored eyes. One was blue and the other brown. Then one was green and the other red.
“We didn’t mean to startle you, Ms. Maynard. We have something serious to discuss.” The witch said. “May we sit?” Susan nodded her head up and down, but it could have been shaking in terror. The trio chose to accept it as an invitation and sat. “My name is Prunella Baneberry. My associates are Josiah Jones.” She motioned to the ghost
“Howdy.” He said in a distinctive Texas drawl. Hearing such a familiar accent from the creature made Susan lean on the desk to keep from falling.
“And this is Blackcyst.” She pointed to the goblin.
“Blackcyst?” Susan squeaked out.
“Yes. Blackcyst!” the goblin said. He saw the woman staring at him in disbelief. “It’s a family name.”
The ghost looked like what anyone would expect a ghost to look like. Chalk white and a little hazy like a fading away image stuck in mid fade. He was dressed in old cowboy attire, and he had the remnants of a long thin bruise around his neck.
The storybooks got goblins all wrong. He was big even by football player standards, at least seven feet tall and powerfully muscled. He was hairless and covered with green and brown scales. His eyes were solid black, and his ears were long and pointy, but his left ear was ragged as if something had chewed it off.
“We’ve come to seek your help.” Prunella said.
Susan was breathing hard, but she saw the earnestness in their demeanor. They were downright professional. Susan sat back down in her chair and tried to calm down. First rule of politics: never let them see you rattled.
“What is it you think I can do for you?” Susan asked looking for the hidden alarm button on under desk, but not being able to find it. “You could have made an appointment.”
“Please, ma’am,” Josiah said as he shuffled a spectral desk of cards. “We didn’t even have to use the door.”
“We do apologize for our entrance.” Prunella said placing the button Susan was fumbling for on the desk. “But we felt a strong introduction would help bolster our cause.”
“We want to you to draft a bill outlawing Halloween.” Blackcyst said getting to the point.
Susan chuckled and shrugged. “Mr. Blackcyst, tell me you’re joking.”
“Please, just Blackcyst. Mr. Blackcyst was my father. I ate him.” He smiled revealing a mouth full of jagged brown teeth. She froze. Blackcyst leaned forward, “No. We are not joking, I assure you.” She thought there was something wrong with her that she was more impressed with the monster’s articulation than his hideousness.
Susan looked at the trio one after the other wanting to say something but having no words. Her mouth just opened and shut like a fish. She gathered herself and reached in her bottom drawer for what she called her “pick-me-up”, a glass and a bottle of Southern Comfort. Not thinking about it she said. “May I offer you a drink?” She winced. Her upbringing, and her mother, had literally beaten manners into her since she was a child. To have company and not offer a drink was unforgivable.
“Can’t drink.” Josiah said and passed his hand through the glass.
“Witches take a vow of abstinence to all vices.” Prunella said.
“Alcohol makes me sleepy.” Blackcyst said and scratched his scaly chin.
Susan nodded and poured the glass to near full. She quaffed it in one gulp. Very unladylike but very necessary for her stress. She wiped her lips in the most Emily Post way she could and said, “You want to outlaw Halloween?” The trio answered affirmatively. “Can you offer some context as to why? It’s a beloved holiday. It’s a grand tradition.” She said with all the politician’s grace she had.
“Frankly, Ms. Maynard,” Josiah said in a lazy yet charismatic drawl. “We’re tired of being misrepresented.”
“Ms. Maynard,” Prunella picked up where Josiah left off. “We have no issue with passing out candy. Why…I know a witch or two who regularly use candy to get children to,” Blackcyst put his huge, clawed hand on the witch’s arm redirecting her. “Yes. Well…in any case the traditions you call grand, we call cultural appropriation, and we want it stopped. We find it offensive and bigoted.” She sat like she had an iron rod for a backbone.
Susan raised an eyebrow. “Really? Black cats, trick or treating and bobbing for apples are offensive?”
“Do you know where bobbing for apples comes from!?” Blackcyst roared. His giant fist slammed on Susan’s desk cracking it. She flinched. “It’s an ancient goblin ritual where we plunge our heads into a pool of blood from our enemies! And let me tell you something.” He yelled and drew a finger across his neck. ”We’re not looking for fruit!”
Josiah covered his mouth to hide a chuckle. “Calm down, buddy. She obviously didn’t know.”
“As you can see, Ms. Maynard, the issue is very sensitive to us.” Prunella said patting the goblin’s hand.
“I’m sorry.” Blackcyst said gathering himself, “I take great offense when our sacred rites are mocked.” He wiped the sweat from his forehead with a cloth Prunella handed him.
Josiah leaned forward and tipped his hat back on his head. “We and our likeminded brethren have felt this way for a long time. And if we’re being totally transparent,” He grinned and motioned to his body. “We didn’t even realize there was anything y’all could to do help us until now.” Susan cocked her head to the side, still rattled by the goblin’s outburst but intrigued at the same time. She gestured for the ghost to go on. “We’ve done just about everything we can do in the way of hauntings, curses, abductions, mysterious goings on, etc. No one seems to be fazed by it.”
“Political awareness is what gets people to notice your cause.” Blackcyst said. “Professional sports teams change their names over cultural appropriation. There was a story in the news not too long ago where a girl was kicked out of her prom for wearing an Asian style dress. And if we’re talking about Halloween: blackface, Native Americans, banditos…all those costumes are now reviled with good reason. A kid can still be a pirate, just not a Chinese or Somali pirate unless their race matches. Ninjas are still in, but our research shows that sales for those costumes have dropped significantly over recent years, while sales for more traditional costumes,” he spread his arms indicating he and his companions, “Are up.”
“Don’t you think banning a holiday where being silly is encouraged is a little…” Susan hesitated, looking for the right word, “I mean it’s Halloween. It’s supposed to be fun. I agree, some costumes should be reevaluated, but…come on.”
Blackcyst gripped the armrest of his chair so tightly he heard the wood start to creak. Josiah shook his and said “tsk, tsk, tsk”. Prunella rested her hand on the goblin’s shoulder, and he relaxed his grip, but the snarl on his face went nowhere. “Ms. Maynard, with all due respect,” Prunella said, “We have come to you in good faith. As Mr. Jones said, we did not have to. Blackcyst has told you how he feels about being discounted. This is the second time you have insulted us. Please, let there not be a third.” For the first time both Prunella’s eyes were the same color at the same time, bleach white. The temperature in the room suddenly dropped and the space felt as if it was shrinking. Then everything went back to normal or what passed for normal considering.
“Ok” Susan said adjusting her chair and folding her hands on her desk. “You’re right. My apologies for being dismissive. Please continue.” Susan was able to either play ball or get turned into a small animal, eaten, possessed or whatever. The trio was sincere. She may as well take them seriously.
“Fun” Josiah said making air quotes “is not what we do. We are evil monsters after all, and that’s where the root of the problem is. Falsification. Contrary to what the cartoons might say, there are no friendly ghosts.”
“I see.” Susan said. “What exactly do you want from me? I’ve made my feelings about Halloween clear.”
Blackcyst sat up and grinned. He was already bigger than everyone in the room, but the act of straightening in his chair made him swell. “We think a successful marketing campaign will revolve around us revealing ourselves to the public. Legally, there’s nothing that prevents us from taking our rightful place in society as citizens.”
“But you’ve never been a part of society at large. You have no history, no political capital or influence other than, forgive me, stories and the very holiday you want to get rid of.” Susan leaned back in her chair.
“Reclusiveness does not override citizenship.” Prunella said, crossing her legs. “Like it or not, we are already a part of this country. We want the validity of our culture recognized and not ridiculed.”
“We just want what every other person wants.” Blackcyst smiled again but more predatory.
“And why me? Why not a more well-known person?” Susan said brushing her blonde hair behind an ear.
“Not being well known is precisely why we chose you.” Josiah said. “We need someone that is,” he started counting on his incorporeal fingers “young enough to see this idea to the end, appealing to large constituency, ambitious, and corruptible.”
Susan’s eyes went wide. She was doing well handling monsters, magic and the undead, but assaulting her character was a bridge too far. She finally lost herself. “How dare you!” She said with her palm firmly on her chest. “Regardless of what you think about politics, I am not one of those elected officials who disregards the will of the people for her own gains!” She stood “This meeting is over.” She picked up the button Prunella had placed on the desk before and started frantically pressing it.
“Please sit down, Ms. Maynard.” The witch said. Her voice was low and different from before. It was still her, but it sounded like she was speaking through a big tube directly in Susan’s ear. The next thing she knew, Susan was back at her desk and the trio was staring at her impassively.
“Try to understand.” Josiah said, “We see unscrupulousness as a positive trait.” He smiled in his charming cowboy’s way.
“Do you realize there are roughly 19 million monsters like us in the United States?” Blackcyst asked. “Goblins, witches, ghosts, ghouls, werewolves, vampires, and every other manner of foul demon among that number. What if they were all registered voters? What if they were single issue voters all proud of their heritage?” He puffed out his already gigantic chest. “Citizens of this great nation who have allowed their customs and lifestyle to be made fun of for far too long.”
“If they had a champion helping to fight for their rights, they would be eternally grateful.” Prunella smiled.
Susan looked up at the ceiling and considered their words. She got into politics to help people. But she also wanted more for herself. The higher she rose in the government the more people she could help. But if she went along with them, she’d literally be siding with the unholy. Could she do that? How could she reconcile between the rights of her people and her own morality? She was duty bound to help, but that meant promoting the wicked. Susan must have been thinking about it longer than she realized because the “ahem” from Prunella was curt and deliberate. She looked them over once more and rubbed her hands together. “Alright. If I do this, I’ll need allies and financial backing.”
“Do you know how many wretched souls of the damned there are in Washington, Ms. Maynard? It’s a long running joke that the number runs neck and neck with…” he pointed a finger down. Susan let out a nervous laugh. “I can get you support if it means folks stop cutting holes in sheets.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but goblins have gold. A lot of gold.” Blackcyst said. It made Susan feel at ease that the storybooks got at least one thing about them right.
Prunella waved her hand and Susan’s desk was repaired. The monstrous trio stood and bade Susan to join them. She waved it again and a small wooden chest appeared next to a platinum jewel encrusted goblet on a sliver tray. She raised the lid to the chest and pulled out a wavy bladed dagger. Prunella’s eyes went white again, and she chanted a few words in a language long forgotten and drew the knife across her hand. Ooze, not blood, spilled into the goblet. She repeated the chant over and over all the while looking at Susan. The politician’s heart was racing, and her head was swimming like she had downed the whole bottle of liquor in her drawer. And suddenly she saw herself as an older woman standing at a podium addressing the press. She was explaining the country’s recent economic windfall. People were cheering her name and clapping all the time calling her “Madam President”.
Susan was snapped back to her senses and all three of her visitors were smiling at her. Prunella held out the blade. Susan took it and raked it across her palm. The spike of pain made her wince, but it didn’t make her stop. She held the trickle of blood over the jeweled cup and watch her blood mix with the witch’s ichor. Prunella picked up the goblet and drank. “Do we have a deal…President Maynard?” She held the cup out. Susan took it and half smiled. She put the cup to her lips and tasted the metallic saltiness of her blood and the cold decay of the Prunella’s greasy liquid. The pact was done.
“HA!” Blackcyst roared with excitement and slammed his great palms together. “We need to celebrate!” Susan wondered what kind of horrible things goblins did to celebrate. “I’d like to eat an old lady.” He said.
“I think I know where we can find one.” Susan said, and she pulled out her phone and texted Ariana.