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The City of Trees
"This is the dumbest thing I've ever done," Ford said. The cap that he was fitting onto his head was covered with the same dusty-gray wool that covered his torso and arms, and it had two pert ears sticking out of the top. Underneath, he was wearing gray tights and black shoes. A small, golden bell hung around his neck on a red ribbon. His nose was painted black.
"Aw!" Lorna said, coming out of the bathroom. She was wearing a blue, checkered dress that scarcely reached the middle of her thighs, and a blonde wig with a white bonnet. "You're the cutest little lamb Mary ever had," she cooed, pinching his cheek.
"I don't want to be a lamb," Ford pouted, then taking in Lorna's costume he added, "but with a Bo Peep like this I might change my mind."
"Down boy," Lorna said, pulling her crooked staff out of the bathroom and fending him off with it.
"You realize I hate this costume," Ford said, plucking at the tights. "This isn't what I wanted to be."
"I know," Lorna replied. "You wanted to be Louie Anderson."
"Not Louie Anderson," Ford said. "Baxter."
"Whatever. It was a goofy idea."
"It was not goofy."
"All of your costume ideas are goofy," Lorna said. "Two years ago you glued cat hairballs to your chin, put on a black turtleneck, and said you were Evil Chris. Then last year you taped spatulas to your ears and went as a speculum."
"That was a big hit," Ford said. "If you'd have been here you'd know that."
A knock at the door interrupted them.
"Go answer the door while I get ready," Lorna said.
Muttering to himself, Ford walked to the front door and opened it. Standing in the doorway was a seven foot-tall skeleton in a black hood and cloak. In it's right hand, it held a scythe with a deadly looking blade on the end. Through the darkness of the hood, two pale, yellow lights shone from the skull's sockets. As Ford took in the sight, a desiccated moan came from somewhere deep inside the creature, and a small poof of dust came from between the clenched teeth.
"Hey Mim," Ford said.
"Damn," Fran said from inside the costume, her voice slightly muffled. "How'd you know it was me?"
"Because if anyone else had shown up dressed as Death you would have beat the shit out of them."
"You think you know me so well," Fran said, pushing her way in. "I like your costume. Sing the song."
"No," Ford replied.
"Come on," Fran goaded. "If you sing the song I'll walk around saying 'Tut-tut, it looks like rain.'"
"No," Ford said, shutting the door.
"Ok, I'll sing it with you," Fran said.
"No."
"I'm just a little black rain cloud," Fran sang, from inside Death.
"Drop dead, Mim," Ford said, walking into the dining room.
"I'm dressed for it," Fran said.
Ford walked over to the stereo and inserted a CD. After a moment, a sad piano started playing from the speakers.
"Yuck," Fran said.
"Yuck?" Ford asked.
"Yeah, you heard me, Yuck."
"I don't get you," Ford said. "You'll wreck your car trying to get tickets to see Tom Waits, but you turn your nose up at Nick Cave."
"Nick Cave stinks," Fran replied.
"Tom Waits is Nick Cave as played by Ron Perlman," Ford said.
Before Fran could reply, there was a knock at the door. Opening it, he found Karen and Jake, both wearing oriental robes. Karen's hair was pulled up into a loose bun, and Jake was wearing a baldy-cap with a fake ponytail coming from the back. A large, curved sword hung from Karen's hip.
"Well," Ford said. "It's the crouching tiger and the hidden dragon."
"Hai!" Karen snapped. "Want to see me jump across tree tops?"
"What are you?" Jake asked, looking at Ford's costume. "Michael J. Fox in 'Teen Wolf'?"
"I'm a sheep," Ford muttered, letting the two into the room. "Lorna's Little Bo Peep. Or Mary, I haven't figured out which. Can you guess this was her idea?"
"Not at all," Jake said. Then, with a wave to Death, he said, "hey Mim."
"Dammit," Fran grumbled.
"How did you..." Karen started to ask, but Jake cut her off.
"It's better that you don't know," he said.
"Y'all want this party started right?" Ford asked.
As he was closing the door, a voice from the hallway called out. When Ford opened the door again, he found a heavyset man hustling down the hall toward him. However, more disturbing than the jiggle of the man's jogging girth, was his costume: a pair of tight, black pants (from which he was overflowing), a halter top (from which he was underflowing), and a blonde wig. An atrocious amount of blush and thick, blue eye shadow completed the ensemble. As Ford was looking him up and down, the man was studying Ford.
"Oh, Sweetie, no, no, no," he said in a husky, faintly lisping voice. With a wiggle of his index finger, he indicated Ford's costume. "The bestiality thing just does not work for you."
"It was Lorna's idea," Ford replied. "Besides, Annie, you of all people have no room to criticize costumes. What are you supposed to be, Sally Struthers as a crack whore?"
"Funny, skinny boy," Annie said, before giving Ford a kiss on each cheek and a quick slap on the ass. "I was having a hard time deciding between dressing up as Britney and dressing up as Christina, so I decided to go as both."
"You look like Christina ate Britney," Ford replied as they walked into the apartment. "So how's life treating you?"
"Like a parrot treats the New York Times," Annie said. "I've forgotten what the San Francisco heat can feel like. You know, they don't tell you when you're a pre-op about the places you'll sweat. Six years and I still haven't gotten used to jock-itch."
"Ah, that's what I missed about you," Ford smiled, closing the door. "You never fail to find a way to disturb me."
"Glad to help," Annie said. "Where's that annoying little sister of mine?"
"In the bathroom, still getting ready," Ford said. Raising his voice, he called out, "Lorna! Your brother Annie is here!"
"I suppose going to get her would have been too much trouble," Annie said.
"You bet," Ford replied. Then, with a wave of his hand, he indicated the other three in the room. "That's my partner Jake, that's Karen, and you remember Mim, right?"
"Of course," Annie said. Death's hood nodded slightly.
"Annie!" Lorna squealed, sliding around the corner.
"Lorrie!" Annie squealed. He pulled Lorna into a bear hug and spun her around in the air. Once on the ground again, Lorna adjusted the top of her dress with a sheepish grin.
"My god," she muttered, looking at Annie. "What are you dressed as?"
"Britney Aguilera," Annie said.
"You look like a transvestite plumber," Lorna replied.
"And you look like Maryanne from 'Gilligan's Island,'" Annie retorted. "But I'm guessing you had this costume left over from some kinky fetish thing."
"Anyway," Lorna said, ignoring him. "How's Idaho?"
"Scary," Annie said, his eyes widening. "You wouldn't believe the suburban freaks out there. It's like living in the 'Dick Van Dyke Show.' Well, except for my cute new neighbors."
"Brother Annie?" Jake whispered to Ford.
"Nee 'Sister Annie,'" Ford replied. "Long, long, long, long story."
"I see," Jake said.
Another knock at the door and Ford excused himself. He opened the door to find himself staring down a long, oaken staff. At the other end of the staff was Danny Huerta, a.k.a. Banana, in a gray robe and beard. Suddenly, a lick of flame leapt from the tip of the staff. Ford jumped backwards with a scream.
"That's not funny, y'idjit!" he shouted. "Sheep are flammable." He took a second to calm down, then looked at Danny's costume. "So what are you supposed to be, Banana? Oh wait, let me guess, some call you... Tim?"
"Wrong wizard," Danny said, shaking his head. "I'm Gandalf."
"Gandalf doesn't shoot fire from his staff," Ford pointed out. "That was Tim. Gandalf does fireworks."
"So I took a creative license," Danny replied. "Are expecting Peter Jackson not to?"
"You got me there," Ford nodded.
"So you live in Boise?" Jake asked, sitting across the table from Annie.
"More like I've been banished to Boise," Annie replied. "Let's just say that I was selling things in San Francisco that not everyone likes to have sold in San Francisco."
"I'd say I see," Jake frowned, "but I really don't."
"He's so cute," Annie said to Lorna, loud enough for Jake to hear. "I just want to stitch him onto a pillow and throw him on my couch."
"Jake's straight," Lorna said.
"Jake's also sitting right here," Jake pointed out.
"So what about you, slacker?" Annie said to Ford. "Still playing Columbo? Or have you gotten a real job?"
"I work at the 'Foot Locker,'" Ford said.
"That's nice," Annie smiled. "It's good to have ambition. Any interesting cases?"
"I always have interesting cases," Ford smiled.
"And we don't want to hear about them," Lorna rebuked. Then, to Annie, she said, "I've got pictures of Essie's 74th birthday, wanna see them? Dad's wearing flowered shorts with black socks."
"How can I refuse that?" Annie said, as they stood from the table. "Black socks and bermuda shorts. Why couldn't we have had normal parents that drank and fought and cheated on each other? Instead we get June and Ward Cleaver. And people wonder why my therapy bills are so high."
Ford and Jake sat at the table for a moment, listening to the party in the living room. The moment Lorna and Annie vanished into the living room, however, Ford scooted his chair over next to Jake's and pulled a small, velvet box from his pocket. He opened it and showed it to Jake.
"This is the one you bought in Canada?" Jake asked.
"Yeah," Ford replied. "I'm going to do it."
"When?" Jake asked, taking the ring out to get a better look at it.
"Tonight."
"After the party?"
"No," Ford smiled. "Right in front of everyone."
"You're nuts."
"No I'm not. That's a tremendous amount of pressure. She has to say 'yes.' Everyone will expect her to. It's a foolproof plan."
"That's Evil Chris talking," Jake started to say. He got as far as the beginning of "Chris" before Fran accidentally whacked him in the head with the butt of her scythe. Jake grumbled, then noticed the ring was missing.
"Jake!" Ford snapped. They both dove into the bowl of onion dip that sat in front of Jake at the same time. After a moment, Ford produced a pile of dip with the ring buried somewhere inside. With a shake of his head, he got up and walked into the kitchen to rinse it off.
"It wasn't my fault!" Jake protested. Ford just looked at him and then started the water.
Just then, a "foosh!" and a few scattered screams came from the living room. The chatter of the party stopped instantly and someone started yelling directions at someone else.
"Look out!" Lorna yelled. She ran into the kitchen and shouldered her way past Ford. In her hands was a bowl of flaming punch, which she dumped into the sink in front of Ford. The sink filled with flames that were quickly dowsed by the running water. "Banana had a little accident with his staff and the punch."
Jake looked over and saw that Ford was looking back at him with a helpless expression on his face; his hands were empty. With a nod of his head, Ford indicated the sink, and Jake understood that Lorna had knocked the ring out of his hand.
"I told you not to make it so strong," she chastised Ford. Just has he was getting ready to reply, she reached up and flipped the switch to the garbage disposal.
"NO!" Ford shouted, reaching for the switch.
"Hey!" Lorna snapped, pushing him away. An angry crunching came from inside the sink as the disposal ran. "I'm not letting you save the limes. They're all burnt."
"That wasn't..." Ford muttered hopelessly, his eyes watching the punch twirl around the drain. In moments, the grinding was gone, completely. "I..." he muttered.
"What?" Lorna snapped.
"Never mind," Ford said, then walked away.
"Everyone go home?" Ford asked, surveying the empty apartment.
"You walk out on your own party and you expect people to hang around?" Lorna snapped. She didn't turn around as he came into the apartment; Ford knew that was a bad sign. She was also sitting on the couch with a half-empty bottle of Manischewitz in her hand; Ford knew that was an even worse sign. "Where'd you go, anyway?" she asked.
"For a walk," Ford mumbled.
"What are you upset about?" she growled.
"Because I was going to ask..." he replied, then stopped.
"What?" she asked, turning around. Ford could tell she wasn't going to stop being mad at him for some time.
"How've you been?" he said, feebly.
"You're going to have to do better than that," Lorna shot at him. "I'm going to bed."
Ford stood still, and watched her walk away. He stayed that way long after he heard her slam the bedroom door.
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