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The Zipper By Aaron Knute (note: "Monsters And Angels" is copyright 1991, Voice of the Beehive. Bugs Bunny is copyright Warner Brothers Studios. Indiana Jones is probably copyright LucasArts. The "Spells 'R' Us" shared universe is copyright Bill Hart. All other distinctive character names and descriptions belong to their respective creators. Thanks for letting me play with your toys, guys; I hope I haven't broken 'em...) (This story is dedicated to the memory of all the animators from Warner Brothers, especially the late Mel Blanc, whose joyful lunacy lightened many a child's heart for decades after their work first hit the scene.) The doorbell tinkled as I stepped inside, still focused on the shopping list in my hand. "Sodas, chips, food coloring, dry ice..." I mumbled to myself. "Sorry, Steve, but I'm fresh out." The voice snapped me out of my momentary fugue. Glancing up to take in my surroundings, I realized that I had somehow gone into the wrong store; instead of the Five-and-Dime (objective: a couple dozen sets of paper plates, orange-and-black bunting/streamers, and 'twisted' plastic flatware), I'd gone into some kind of theatrical supply store... or was it? I shook my head a bit to clear it, then looked around. The store was huge, with at least three or four thousand square feet of floorspace... not including the display racks, cases, and the like. Costumes, props, masks, gloves, shoes and hats galore met my eye, until I heard the same voice clearing his throat. "First time in the shop?" the man inquired. I homed in on the voice, seeing an old man behind the glassed-in front counter. He looked to be in his late sixties, in good shape, but going bald on top. "Excuse me, I was aiming for the paper-goods store," I told him as I stepped closer and glanced at his distinguished-looking, purple bathrobe. "But since I'm in here, I was wondering if you could..." "Actually, Steve, I can't help you with much outside of costume stuff," the old man said. "Although I could arrange something for snacks or a few set pieces." He indicated the back wall, which held a collection of strange furniture and stage-magic props. I glanced briefly at what I think was a sofa under a sheet (there was a standing sign on the seat, with the phrase "CURIOUS?" on it... and no price), but looked back at the old man. "The snacks would be..." Beat. "You know my name?" The old man gave me a cultured, European roll of his eyes. "Well, duh," he said, jerking a thumb at the sign above his head: SPELLS 'R' US, it read, and beneath it was: "Yes, he knows your name. Get over it." "I'm the wizard-in-charge, hereabouts. Knowing my customers' names is just part of the charm." "Wizard," I echoed, to make sure I'd heard him correctly. He released a long-suffering sigh. "Yes, a wizard." "Oh." I thought about it, and shrugged. "Well, okay." I handed him my shopping list. "Can you help me with any of this? I'm on a budget and I'd really like to..." He cut me off with a wave of his hand. "You volunteered to help out with the Halloween party at the Fraternity house, right?" "Yeah..." "...Just so you could attend without actually having to join the Frat, wear much of a costume or bring a date. Since this technique got you into the Senior Prom at your high school four years running, you think that it'll work here, too." "Uh, yeah," I affirmed. "Hey, that's private!" I said, glaring at him while I covered my head with my hands. The wizard looked at me with new curiosity in his eyes. "It doesn't bother you that I'm a wizard, capable of reading your innermost thoughts, but it does bother you that I'm willing to speak them out loud?" "Well, yeah," I said, lowering my hands. I glanced at them, then back at him. "That wasn't very effective, was it?" I asked in a lame tone of voice. His thin grin and shake of his head was all the answer I needed. I shrugged. "Well, that's really neither here nor there, since I've still got to scare up this stuff, anyway." I tapped the list. "Can you help me with any of it or not? The last thing I want to do is waste a wizard's time." He blinked at me, then put the list down. "Hold on a minute and I'll see what I can find in the back." I couldn't recall seeing him looking at it, but I figured that a wizard wouldn't actually need to move his eyes for something like that. "Good guess," came the old man's voice floating in from the back. Was it my imagination, or was there much more of an echo to his voice than a small backroom in the Mall would have allowed? "Here you go," the old man said with a grunt, pushing a cart with two large boxes (one full of chips and cookies and other snacks, and the other full of two-liter bottles of soda) in the main compartment, and a dozen different kinds of candy in bulk-bags below. "You need some help with that?" I asked, but he grunted again and shook his head as he pushed. Eventually, he maneuvered the cart behind the counter and next to me, angling it so I could push it out the front door. Then he ran down a list of the contents, which fulfilled pretty much all my snack and soft-drink needs, plus a few other items on the list. "These eyeballs are great!" I enthused, holding up a pack of four from a display of around a dozen more blister-packs. They were little plastic balls with water inside; freeze 'em, and your drinks would stay cold without diluting. "Even better than ice." The wizard smiled. "You have _no_ idea." Then I picked up a small paper bag from the bottom of the main basket of the cart. Whatever was inside couldn't have been much larger than a couple of spools of thread on a backing card; I handed it toward him. "This must've fallen into the cart when you were filling it," I said. He smiled and held up a hand, motioning for me to keep it. "That's your tip," he told me, circling back behind the counter. "I'm just a sucker for young people who don't mind working around the rules." I blushed, and opened the bag up. Inside was an inch-wide zipper, about two feet long, with a slightly exaggerated pull-tab. It was rolled up and stuck on a card that proclaimed it to be an "Acme Instant Costume Zipper". I pulled it out for closer inspection; the instructions on the back directed the user to remove the paper backing from the self-adhesive on the back of the zipper, positioning the pull-tab just below the adam's apple and running it down the front to the pelvic area. They promised that he zipper would stick to any and all fabrics for a 'full night', while causing no damage. "What does it do?" "It's a visual gag," the old man explained, tapping the front of the card. "You look like you're wearing a Steve Warren suit. It actually opens, and underneath..." He shrugged. "I'll leave it to your imagination." I raised my eyebrow, considering it. "You mean like the disguises they use in cartoons? Unzip, peel off the skin, and that's it?" "You got it. It's yours; I've done some business with the Fraternity before, and they like everyone to at least try to have a costume. Wearing a nice suit and tie and calling yourself the Butler won't cut it as well as having this running down your front will." "Good point," I said. "All right, if you insist..." "I do. Now, let me ring you up for the rest of this stuff..." I plucked out a couple of his business cards while he counted out my change. "Maybe someone else would like to drop by for some of your costume items," I said to his inquiring gaze. "I hear that the Fraternity's parties almost always wind up being masquerades." "They do, don't they?" he said, with a smile. I was just wheeling the cart out of the door when I paused to look at him. "Would you like me to bring this cart back after I've loaded all the stuff in my car?" I asked over my shoulder. "Just leave it by the loading entrance on the south side," he answered, waving me on. "Enjoy your costume!" I smiled and waved, heading out. As I walked past the music store, I started humming along with the 80s revival music blaring through the doors: "There are monsters, there are angels There's a peacefulness and a rage inside us all There is sugar And there is salt There is ice and there is fire in every single heart There are monsters there are angels..." "Here's the stuff, Mitch," I told my friend-of-a-friend, who was waiting for me at the back door of the Frat house. He nodded and helped me lug it into the kitchen and stow the soda in the 'reserved for party' refrigerator; I could have sworn that there were no more than half a dozen bottles in the boxes, but I counted at least four times that many when I closed the 'fridge door for the last time. After checking with Mitch to see if he needed help with anything else I left the Fraternity house at just before sundown; the clouds above the western horizon were gorgeous in the dying sunset. I headed back to my dorm room. Not much to it; I'd lucked out and gotten a small basement room and no roommate. After checking my phone for any messages (I wasn't expecting many, but I might have forgotten something for the party), I decided to take a look at this 'magic zipper'. I pulled it out of my pocket and put it on my desk. I kept looking back at it while I got into my 'butler' outfit (actually the suit my uncle had given me as a graduation present), as if it would turn into a snake or something. Finally, I adjusted my tie one last time, halfway sure that the zipper's stickum would at least mar the shine of the dark silk, and picked up the zipper. The backing came off easily, and just before I started to stick it to my Windsor knot when inspiration struck. I set the zipper just behind and one side of the tie, following the rest of the instructions; if nothing else, I didn't want the thing to interfere with my pants' zipper when I used the restroom. When I had the black strip of fabric supporting the shiny metal teeth running smoothly and just off-center down my front, I checked myself in the mirror. Not a bad effect, if I skewed my tie to show it or hide it. Then I thought about the wizard's explanation. "'It actually opens', huh? I wonder what's behind it," I said out loud. I imagined Bugs Bunny taking off the Butler-Steve-Warren skin after locking the Fraternity Master in a small utility closet with three bottles of Ripple and no bottle-opener. "Ain't I a stinker?" I asked my reflection with a pretty good Bugs voice. Grinning from the image, I tugged the zipper down with a single motion. I spread the two halves of the zipper apart and, for a second, thought that nothing had happened, since the surface behind it was the same shade of white as my shirt. But when I kept tugging, I realized that my 'shirt' peeking out between the zipper's teeth was soft and fuzzy. Eyes widening at the same rate as the zipper, I reached the edge of the white area and found a strip of grey fur on either side. Too much. I reached up to the top of the zipper and, in the mirror, saw my fingers disappear under the 'skin' of my throat. It took me another couple of deep breaths, but my curiosity demanded to know what was under the 'costume'. I rolled first one shoulder, then another toward the zipper opening and pulled out furry grey arms with a three- fingered gloves on the ends. Not wishing to put more stress on the 'zipper' than I had to, I reached up to peel off the 'hood' next... and the most famous bunny's face in history stared back at me from the mirror. "Dis betta not be some kinda illusion," I said in that inimical South Bronx accent of his. I stepped out of the legs to look at my huge, furry feet, checking the black spots on the soles and wrapping my fingers around the sticklike ankles. "Dat t'ing toined me inta Bugs Bunny!" I said to the mirror, unable to drop the accent. I reached out to touch my reflection, then looked at my hands. "Well, I'll be. Dat guy really was a wizard!" I checked my 'costume'. It still looked like the old 'me', including the brown eyes and fuzz on the earlobes. I chewed on a nice, fresh carrot as I held the suit up, turning it this way and that. "Neeeehhh, not bad," I finally opined after a mouthful or two of carrot. "Da 'butler' schtick'll do just fine wit' a coupla changes here 'n' dere." Hanging the suit in mid-air, I played around with the tie. My first effort produced a large hangman's noose, which I considered thoughtfully. "Nah, dis ain't dat kind o' pahty," I decided, and fiddled with it again. This time I produced two musical tools hanging down the front of the shirt; I broke the fourth wall to look out at you, the reader, and jabbed a thumb at my work. "Bow-tie," I explained, producing a pair of violins and playing a selection from Bach's Concertos with the 'bows'. Then I shrugged and made one last effort with the tie to produce a very nice, more traditional bow-tie; the fact that it had turned white bothered me not the least. That earned a nod. "Shine it up a bit..." I murmured, producing a brush which I ran all over the jacket and pants to turn the black nylon into a much more stylish silk. "Now dat's a butler-suit," I said with a final nod. "Betta try it on fer size." Struggling back into the costume, I zipped it up... ...and realized that for five minutes, I had been a genuine cartoon character! I had produced musical instruments and carrots from 'just off-screen', turned a silk necktie into a top-of-the-line bowtie, and... Wow! I looked at the package backing very carefully. It seemed that I had twelve hours' worth of 'juice' in the zipper before the adhesive wore off; I assumed that this meant that the magic would go away, as well. In the meantime, though, I re-read the last items on the instructions, very carefully: "The zipper can be used an unlimited number of times after the adhesive has been activated, but it will cease to function after twelve hours." Next and final item: "Acme Labs would like to encourage creativity in the use of the zipper. Don't be afraid to assume many different guises; let all the voices in your head out for a spell." My eyebrows rose. "I can become something else?" I asked the air. Only one way to find out. I stood up again, brushing some invisible lint of my shoulders and reaching for the zipper tab. Before I tugged it down, I thought about who I would 'become', underneath. It should be someone very different from Bugs, I thought, but whom? A different cartoon character? A real person? Hmmm... Suddenly, a back issue of TV Guide caught my eye, back from when the X- Files had really taken off. The cover photo displayed Mulder and Scully in their business clothes, surrounded by the strange interplay of light and shadow characterizing their world. I briefly thought about becoming Fox Mulder, but then I remembered that my personality was also subject to change when I activated the zipper. Frankly, between the four options (Mulder, Duchovney, Scully, and Anderson), I figured that Gillian Anderson was my best option: female, "'Noid" (as opposed to Bugs, a "Doodle"), game for some fun, and so on. Holding the image of Gillian Anderson in a business suit firmly in mind, I opened the zipper. The Steve Warren suit came off just as easily as it had the first time. I considered it, refraining from twirling a lock of hair around a finger; I was much shorter than Steve Warren (who was six-three), yet the suit (or was it the zipper?) adjusted perfectly. I folded the suit over one arm like a towel as I checked myself in the mirror, tugging the lapels of my blouse and brushing my red hair behind my ear. Being in the suit hadn't smudged my makeup, not even the liner around my green eyes, for which I was grateful; even my shoes weren't so much as slightly scuffed. "God, Scully would freak if she saw this," I said in Gillian's voice, grinning at the sound. I smiled at my reflection as I sat down onto the bed, laying the Steve Warren suit down beside me. The zipper's backing sank toward my seat, and I picked it up to read it again. Something about the wording tickled my brain with an idea. I stood up again and put a hand to my pale throat, right at the spot where the zipper was on my 'real' skin. The zipper tab appeared under my fingers. I looked at the empty Steve Warren skin on my bed and visualized my old self as I opened the zipper; in a moment, the Gillian Anderson suit was stretched out on the bed beside "Butler Warren", and I was standing in a t-shirt and jeans, I considering them both. "This has possibilities," I understated, and reached for my throat again. In fairly short order, I had cluttered up every part of my room with the fully- clothed skins of Bugs Bunny, Pamela Anderson, Bruce Lee, Superman, Dot Matrix from the "Reboot" cartoons, Sharon Stone, and Fred Ward. I found that I didn't have to worry about what order I put the suits back on again: putting Sharon over Bugs over Bruce, then thinking about Pamela when I removed Sharon produced Pamela, and Woody Allen was blinking through his glasses in my mirror when I thought about him while removing Pamela. My alarm-clock went off, reminding me that I had one hour to get to the party for setting-up; so much for my afternoon nap to keep me going. I decided to put all the suits back on, layers after layers of identities that I felt not a bit, so as not to clutter up the place. When I finally zipped up the last one, Butler Warren, I knew that this evening was going to be a night to remember. "So, let me get this straight..." said Rory Doogan, the current Frat-guy in charge of the party. "...You're going to be the Butler?" "Yes, sir," I replied, in my best upper-crust British accent. "I would be delighted to assist in any way possible to make sure that this soiree is a smashing success." "Well, we are a little short-handed around the place," he said, scratching his head and glancing around. Apparently there was a dearth of Frat brothers willing to help set up; they all had to 'put on their costumes' or 'meet with their date's parents' or something. Even the freshly-rushed pledges had all been tapped by the senior brothers for help in some wild scheme or another. "If I may say so, sir, given the usual run of such events, it seems likely that a dedicated refreshment staff may be a wise choice. Unlike the rest of the Fraternity, I will retain full use of my facilities for the entire run of the evening, barring unusually exhaustive circumstances." That seemed to do it. "Well, I'm sold, but you'll have to clear it with Chris Jorgensen, the current head of the Fraternity. He's upstairs in room 23. Oh, and you'd better get a move on; his girlfriend could show up any time." "Thank you, sir. I shall be expeditious." He shook his head. "Killer accent, Warren. Keep it up and we might let you stick around." I gave him a stiff little bow and trotted off toward the stairs. Once I was out of sight, I ducked into the bathroom (no "Men" sign on it; I guess they'd make arrangements once the party started). Luckily for me, I had seen the delightful Caroline DeLocca with Chris once or twice; in a matter of moments I was peeling off the Butler Warren suit, flicking my shoulder-length cinnamon hair over my ear. Caroline normally wore light cotton sundresses that fell to mid-thigh, but I had on an unbottoned cotton blouse over a blue bodysuit and a black skirt. Her usual black inch-heel shoes were unchanged. I regarded the husk in my arms. "Now, where should I hide you for the next few minutes?" I asked it. One gold-nailed finger found its way into my mouth as I considered, then I spotted an abandoned paper bag by the sink. Inspired, I rolled up the butler suit and put in the bag, then I went to Chris's door. "Hey, sexy," he said in a sexy growl as he opened the door. He put his arms around me and kissed my throat. I released a surprised, giggling shriek as he tickled me, my right foot coming off the ground. I rolled my eyes at him as he pulled back to look at me, then put my finger across his lips. "Not yet," I told him in an exasperated sigh. "I have to go get into my costume." I held up the paper bag for emphasis. He gave me a funny look and relaxed his hold on my waist, but not completely. "It's not like I haven't seen what you've got," he told me, fingers creeping down the back of my shorts and playing with the elastic of my panties. "Look, I just wanted to ask a quick favor." "What?" "There's this guy named Steve Warren..." I began. "That dweeb? Didn't rush, but he wants to help with the party. Oh, I know about him. He probably couldn't get a date or a decent costume, so he's grasping at straws to get in." "Well, is it such a bad idea?" I cooed. "I heard him talking with Rory, and Rory likes the idea of a butler." He hemmed and hawwed, but I batted my chocolate eyes at him and he gave the go-ahead. "Hey, he might be up here any minute," Chris said, realizing that he and Rory were probably wrapping up their discussion. "You'd better get out of here and get into that costume so I can talk to him." I gave him a dazzling smile. "Are you afraid of what the poor boy will think of you if you've got a woman in here?" "No, I'd just rather not have him see any more of you than he has to," he riposted. "Now, git!" he put a hand on my seat and pushed, getting a squeeze in the bargain. I squealed and scooted, but paused just before he closed the door. "One favor, honey?" I asked him. "Don't mention that I put in a good word for him, okay? I'm kind of embarrassed about it, so I don't think I want to talk about it later tonight, either. You know, I don't want him to know and I don't want anyone to overhear, okay?" He nodded and I gave him a 'thank you' peck on the cheek, then escaped into the bathroom before he could turn that into something more. Back in the bathroom, I stepped back into the Steve Warren suit and closed it up. As I opened the door, Caroline DeLocca's knuckles were just about to impact on the door. She was wearing an unbottoned cotton blouse over a blue bodysuit and a black skirt, with her usual black inch-heel shoes. "Oh, I'm sorry," she said when she failed to recognize who I was. "I was just checking to see if there was anyone in here." She glanced down at the paper bag in her other hand. "Gotta change into my costume, y'know." I nodded and stepped out, making a grand bow and sweep of my arms. "I can assure you that the facilities are, as of now, unoccupied, madame. Enter freely, and of your own will." She giggled at me and stepped inside, locking the door behind her. I made three precise raps on Chris's door. "Oh, it's you," he said. "Master Doogan has informed me that you're expecting company," I told him. "So I shan't stay long. May I simply have your blessing to play the part of the Butler at tonight's festivities?" "Yeah, yeah," he said, staring at the door to the bathroom. Absently, he pulled a piece of paper off the pad by his phone and scribbled his permission and signature on it. "Thank you, sir," I said when he'd put it in my hands. "I'll see that you and your..." I cleared my throat as I glanced at the bathroom. "...'guest' aren't disturbed until the party begins." He looked at me. "You do that," he said. And with that, I bowed and took my leave. "Cool costume, Warren... NOT!" "Such wit," I returned to the chunky fellow in the badly-fitting Superman outfit. "You're faster than a speeding bullet." "Aw, go buttle something," he spat back, leading his giggling date (dressed as the Teri Hatcher 'Lois Lane') inside. I carried a silver tray in my white- gloved hands, which currently bore a fresh bag of barbecue-style potato chips on its way to refill the appropriate bowl on the snack table in the main room. I dodged and sidestepped around the usual monsters, celebrities, superheroes, and other assorted costumes, moving to the beat of "The Devil Inside" as it blared from the DJ's station. I freshened the chips bowl and took a quick mental inventory of the rest of the snacks. "Steve?" came a bass voice to one side. "Is that you?" Turning to face the voice, I found myself meeting the gaze of Indiana Jones, bullwhip and all. I had no idea who was in that costume; the face was a perfect likeness of the famous Dr. Jones, and from the challenging stance I could tell that whomever it was, they weren't going to tell me straight out. Hmmm. Perhaps a counter-attack was in order. "Actually, no," I replied, reaching for the zipper and tugging it open. "Ah'm actually Henry Aaron Presley, theynkyuvurruhmuhch." The King's sequined white suit and pompadoured head emerged from under the Steve Warren costume. "Ah thought ah'd check out this here Fraternity pawty t' see how you young folks have fun these days." 'Indiana' gasped and stared. "Jeez, Steve... how did you do that?" "Quid pro quo, my dear Doctor Jones," I responded, after hiding the King inside and zipping the Steve suit closed. "I showed you mine..." Indy smiled and handed me his hat. Then he reached around behind his neck and played with... His face peeled foreward, revealing Lucy Carruthers, an acquaintance from my Library Science class on Tuesdays. "Great costume, Lucy," I enthused. "Where'd you get it?" "Spells 'R' Us," she replied. "Same place you probably got that outfit." She glanced down at the mask. "Oops, this probably isn't too good for it. Hang on..." She sealed herself back up into the Indy suit, then continued. "Isn't this great? I'm an archaeology major anyway, so I can tell stories about all the old finds and stuff... So, how exactly does that costume work?" I picked up my serving tray and led her away from the snack table a bit, avoiding the rush from a platoon of elven archers who'd just arrived. Human-scale brownian motion and the roar of the 1996 version of the Mission: Impossible theme pushed us out of the main room and into a relatively quiet alcove. "It's actually just this," I explained, running my finger along the zipper's band. "The 'Acme Instant Costume Zipper'. It's like in the old cartoons, where they needed to be in a perfect disguise." "So you bought an Elvis costume to wear underneath?" I grinned at her. "Nope," as I opened it. Now, Indy gasped as Lucy Carruthers, wearing a red-and-gold 'Fall Queen' dress and with a cascade of flame-red hair falling down to my hips, winked at her with the top half of the Butler Warren costume around my waist. "Anyone I can imagine can be underneath," I explained in her own voice, stepping out of the costume and straightening the leaf-shaped panels of the dress that fell down to my ankles. I held up the butler suit. "Cool, huh?" Indy admired it. "Pretty impressive." She poked the cheek and got a close look at the eye. "A little creepy, too..." she admitted. Just then, the coat closet across the hall opened and a pair of coeds dressed as schoolgirls came out, blushing a bit but looking very relaxed. The redhead looked at me and sighed, "Love your hair, Titania." "Thanks, Jerry," I answered. "You really fill that blouse out well." Jerry Martins stopped. "How did you know it was me, Lucy?" Jerry demanded. He loosened his tie and tugged at a flap of skin under the collar of his blouse, peeling off the luscious schoolgirl mask and hair. "That wizard swore that this mask would fool anybody." I grinned at him and handed the butler suit to Indy. "Let's just say..." I began, as I pulled the zipper down. "...Dat I've got a knack for seein' t'rough disguises when it's funny," I added, as Bugs Bunny winked at him. "Besides, doc, ev'rybody knows that you and Sarah here are an item," I explained, nodding at his date as I stepped out of the Lucy costume. She shook her head, letting her long blonde curls spill over her shoulders. "I told you I should've gotten a mask, too, Jerry," she pouted. "We're having too much fun as the lesbian schoolgirls to let the cat out of the bag so soon!" I looked at her for a moment. "Well, doc, I think I can help you. Everybody, c'mere." They closed in, squishing into a huddle to hear me as I whispered my plan. I poked my head up out of the middle of the huddle once or twice to make sure that no one was listening in on us. When we broke the huddle, the two schoolgirls slinked away, now redheaded twins. "Have fun, you two," I called after them, waving. "Where did you get that extra mask and wig?" Indy asked me. I was stepping back into the 'Autumn Queen Lucy' costume, wriggling my huge toes to get them down Lucy's lovely legs. "Neeehhh, just sum't'in' I had lyin' around," I told her. "I knew it'd come in handy some day." I zipped up the Lucy costume with a final motion. "Well, I'd better get back into 'butler' mode," I said, motioning for Indy to hand me the other suit. "With this crowd, I'm sure that someone needs his..." "Warren!" came a shout from the kitchen. "...Drink freshened, or something," I finished. Indy handed me the Butler Warren suit, staring at me the whole time. "What?" I asked, as I got myself mostly inside the outfit but with the zipper still open. It was a stunningly surreal sight; Lucy's breasts in an autumnal red-and-gold patterned bustier, peeking out of a vaguely vaginal opening on the butler's chest. "I have never seen anything like that in my life," Indy said, still staring even after I had closed the zipper completely. I shrugged. "It's magic," I said, spreading my hands. Then I grabbed my serving tray and dashed off for the kitchen. "Help me," Rory slurred, slumped against a countertop. He was dressed as a human fly, with bulbous sunglasses surrounding his eyepits and tattered cellophane wings sticking out of his shoulders. "We're out of ice. And bananas. And vodka..." He listed another dozen or so items, half of which were alcoholic beverages; I was able to help him retain his level of coherency through keeping his half-full glass of... some highly alcoholic beverage from his lips until I was sure he'd given me his entire order. "But Rory," I protested. "I can't buy alcohol for another three months." He reached into his pocket and passed me his own driver's license. "So, be me. Just don't let anyone look too close and you'll do fine." He tried to upend his drink into his mouth again. It took him several moments to realize that the 'Screaming Orgasm on the Beach' (or whatever the toxic concoction he'd been drinking was named) was actually nothing more than pineapple juice. "Not very nice, stealing a man's booze," he said, eyes crossing as he tried to focus on what was apparently three of me at the same time. I held up his own tumbler, sloshing it to get his attention. "You just misplaced it," I told him. "I'll give it back to you if you give me some money for the liquor and other items." His eyes locked on the tumbler and followed it no matter how I waved it, his hands seemed to be moving according to someone else's will as they pulled out his wallet and passed over three crisp twenty-dollar bills. "I'll bring a receipt," I told him as I swapped the drink for the money. I headed out to the parking lot. Unzipping the Butler costume, Rory (in street clothes, naturally) stepped into my car and headed off to the nearest liquor store. There, I bought the sundries that Rory had requested, along with a bottle of vodka and... Hello, what's this? A large ceramic jug labeled "Ol' Pink Eye", with its namesake on the label, stared at me. I added it to my purchases, flashing Rory's driver's license at the clerk's request, and left the four pennies in change in the liquor store's penny cup as I tucked the receipt into my pocket. Back at the party, and back in my Butler Warren costume, I dropped the fundaments off in the kitchen. Then, as the night wore on, I found myself assisting the party in dozens of ways: Aaron Fernandez and his girlfriend Janey Martins (dressed, respectively, as Xena and Hercules) had a screaming fight and threatened to break up. First taking the guise of Ricardo Sandoval (Aaron's best friend, who was conveniently dressed as Gabrielle) and then Alice Graham (Janey's best friend, dressed as Salmonius), I managed to get the two back together to talk things out. A young Fraternity pledge, Albert Reuben (who had been forced to attend the party dressed in various sandwich components for his namesake), had consumed too many Screaming Orgasms and needed some assistance in 'voiding himself'. I held his head above the most convenient toilet as his body did what came naturally, then performed another experiment with the Zipper's power while he was unconscious. Under the Butler suit, I was myself in a sweatsuit, which I then removed before putting my Butler suit back on. I removed Albert's slowly-molding 'costume' and put him in the sweatsuit, then gathered him up in a fireman's carry to put him to bed. I left a large pitcher of water on his table before closing the door and putting a sign on it: "Recovery Room. Please do not disturb". A drunken orgy erupted in one of the larger rooms upstairs. I stood by as Bugs Bunny, the Butler and affected an air of supreme resignation as I held my serving tray of 'party favors', doling them out on request. "Ostrich feathers!" "Certainly, sir." "Cherry lubricant!" "Of course, madam." "Eight-inch knurled dildo!" "Blue, black, or crystalline, sir?" "Red rubber, dammit, and hurry!" "As you wish, sir." "Ben-wa balls!" "How many on the string, madam?" "Six, six, oh, God! Six!" "Naturally, madame." "Softball bat!" "Here you are, sir." "Small, furry forest creature!" "My apologies, sir, but I am on duty." "AAARGH!" One young lady, dressed in rather skimpy, curve-hugging latex, a neon-blue boa and an electric green wig whose wavy hair fell down to her rather shapely bottom, accidentally let the plastic eyeball/iceball get into her mouth as she downed a scotch and soda. She closed her eyes and opened her mouth to giggle... and froze. The eyeball peeked out between her lips, rolling this way and that. I noticed her consternation and engaged the eye in a staring contest. Upon forcing it to blink, it rolled away from her lips and she regained command of the eyes with which she'd been born. I pocketed the offending orb and made a mental note to... keep an eye out for other oracular accidents. And many other adventures. Evenutally, the party began to wind down. Lucy, her Indiana Jones costume in a roll under her arm, met up with me as I was tidying up after the last of the professional revellers had taken their parties into their rooms. "Steve," she asked, then paused. "Yes?", I prompted, putting my soapy rag down and facing her. "I was wondering if you could do me a favor." "Lucy, the Zipper is going to lose its power at dawn, which is in half an hour." "I know, but I was just hoping you could be me in that 'Titania' or 'Autumn Queen' costume again." "Certainly," I said, unzipping and facing her as herself in that luscious gown, then revealing Bugs Bunny beneath that outfit. She accepted the 'Autumn Queen' costume with a shudder as the empty head and staring eyes flopped from my hands. She folded the hanging hood, careful not to drop the leafy crown, and looked at me. "What will you do now?" she asked. "I mean, do you think you'll get another Zipper?" I pulled out a carrot and chewed, turning the carrot from this way and that as I considered her question. "Neeehhh," I said after a moment. "Don't worry about it. I gotta plan..." Bugs Bunny walked in through the door of the Spells 'R' Us shop the day after Halloween, dragging a large steamer trunk. "Steve?" the wizard said, incredulous. "Neeehhh, what's up, doc?" I asked, chewing on a carrot I'd fished from my pocket. "I thought I'd drop by and set for a spell." To emphasize the point, I pulled up a wooden rocking chair and a straw hat, with my carrot substituting for a wheat-stalk. The wizard's face clouded, though I thought I could see a little relief in his eyes, too. "Look, it's not my fault if you didn't read the instructions completely," he began. It was obvious that he'd delivered similar protests in the past. "The Zipper only works for one night, and if you haven't returned to your usual appearance, then I can't really help you." I shrugged and, with a single finger, slid the steamer trunk closer to the display case. "Y'know, doc, dis 'Zipper' gag o' yours is a lotta fun. And it might be a real money-maker, too." With a single tap on the top of the trunk, the lock popped open and the lid flipped up to reveal a carefully-folded Angela Basset suit, with hair and costume like she'd worn in "Strange Days". I lifted it up and placed it on the counter for the wizard's inspection. Beneath that was a burgundy satin-accented Saloon Gal costume, complete with a pink feather in her up-done hair and a garter-holster for a holdout pistol. Beneath that was a Bruce Willis suit, with a torn white muscle-shirt and battered slacks. Eventually, there were twelve full-body costumes, folded like shirts and laid out in a row on the display case. The wizard's eyes widened for a moment, then he looked back to me. "Yes, I think I can offer a fairly good price on these," he said. "With a little help, they'll work marvellously. Of course, I can't reactivate the Zipper..." I gave him a dismissive wave. "Neeehhh, don't worry about dat, doc," I told him. "Let's just haggle over dese t'ings for a bit." I'd made a point of producing a good dozen or so 'skins' that I was sure the wizard would find a lucrative use for: actors, actresses, cartoon characters, and general categories galore. The two skins that weren't in the box were the Butler Steve Warren and the Autumn Queen Lucy outfit. Where were they? Well, Lucy had begged and pleaded so prettily that I gave her the Autumn Queen suit. With almost no effort at all, she'd separated the costume from the skin, which she'd asked me to get rid of. I had no idea how, so I'd chucked it into my closet. The Butler costume... well, I just couldn't bring myself to get rid of that one, even if the 'dress suit' part seemed to be fused to the zipper. In any event, the wizard and I haggled for another couple of hours, until we reached a mutually agreeable, very respectable sum. It was certainly enough to pay all my expenses for the rest of the year, and stylishly at that. "Tell you what," the wizard said, after we'd finished shaking hands on the deal. "Let me at least get you a disguise-pen, so you can walk around until you can get to the Warner Brothers studio." I smiled, breaking the fourth wall again and looking out at you, the reader, with hooded eyes. To you, I murmured, "Neeehhh, he doesn't know me very well, does he?" as I jerked my thumb at the wizard. Still grinning, I reached up to the top of my throat and pulled the zipper down. Steve Warren clambered out of the Bugs costume. The wizard stared; for the first time since I'd seen him, his mouth dropped open. "But... but... HOW?!" he spluttered. "The Zipper had no power after sunrise! You... you can't..." "Ah," I said, holding up the Bugs outfit. "...but Bugs can. The Zipper's transformations were all real; if I'd been stuck as Superman, then I would've been compelled to fight crime as he did... and I would've had all his powers, too. Since I was 'stuck' as Bugs, I knew that I could use his powers as a cartoon character to return me to my normal self." "Whoa!" the wizard said, visibly impressed. He stared, shaking his head. "Y'know, I do believe that this is the first time I've ever been beaten at my own game!" I bowed in gratitude at the compliment, blushing a bit. "I think it's because I wasn't here to get a costume in the first place," I hazarded. "Maybe since my motives were a bit purer than your usual run of customers..." "Or you just didn't have as strong a desire for social acceptance... or carnal conquests," the wizard riposted. "Just a vague impulse to help out... and to have some fun." He counted out the generous sum we'd agreed upon for my costumes, then reached below the counter to the wooden section under the cash register. He handed me my cash and a smallish paper bag of a very familiar size and shape. "It seems a shame to let you go without a parting gift," he said with a smile. "Especially considering how well you used the last one." "All right," I said, returning his smile and recalling my comment from the last time he'd given me a 'tip'. "...if you insist..." The end Author's note: Please feel free to use this idea for your own amusement. Constructive criticism will be duly considered, compliments gratefully accepted. Flames will be cheerfully ignored.