PUT IT ON OMG

    "PLEEEEASE OH MY GOD I PRICKED MY FINGERS SO MANY TIMES SEWING THAT OHMYGODDEACONPLEEEEASE."

    I groaned.  He got like this around Halloween.  It made working with him almost unbearable.  Tosya, see, always insisted we play the role of, as he called them, "candy drones", every Halloween.  This was to cater to the three children in the apartment complex we were currently occupying.  We'd only be there until the end of the month, but I was already itching to have my own space again.  Tosya is not a very tidy roommate. 

    Back to the children.  Their ages drastically varied from maybe-out-of-diapers to ready-to-dress-like-a-slut.  But did Tosya care?  Nope, he sure as hell did not.  It was an excuse to dress up, which apparently appealed to him more than it would a four-year-old girl.  

    "I don't care about your fingers.  I don't care about handing out candy.  I just do not care in totality, Tosya, you should seriously know this by now."

    He scoffed and crossed his arms.  He was already donning his costume for the evening, though it was only eleven in the morning.  I'm half certain he slept in it, to be honest.  All except for the hat.  

    Tosya was all about being ironic and taunting.  Near the beginning of our sprees together, he'd been named by the media the "Mad Hatter" because he'd commonly leave needles stuck in the bodies (reminiscent of voodoo dolls; a vibe the media blatantly disregarded) and would often tie ribbons or thread still on the spool to wrists, ankles or even ears of the body.  It'd always look so much more festive after he was done with it.  More completed. 

     So he was standing there in a tiny studio apartment, between my bed and his cot, sporting a patchwork trench coat and velvaty, needle-filled top hat, looking at me in disdain for not obliging him. 

    "I'm not wearing that.  It's humiliating to even consider," I said, glancing back at whatever fakey slasher flick they were broadcasting for the evening. 

    He released a mighty groan, throwing the apron at my face. "You're absolutely no fun, Deacon.  What'll the kiddies think if they see you without a costume on?"

    "They'll think they've found an adult with a sound mind and take comfort in knowing a few still exist."

    Tosya scoffed. "Yeah, yeah, because sociopaths are so sound-minded.  Totally." He crossed his arms. "That aside, I think they'll just see right through you." 

    I glanced sharply up at him. "What do you mean?"

    He smirked a little. "You don't follow Halloween custom, they'll know something's up."

    "Shut up."
    "They will," he sung, making the costume he'd picked for me dance in front of the TV screen.

    "And they'll intensely hate all of them," he crooned.

    "I don't care."

    "Not even a little?"
    "Nope."

    He mused a moment. "How 'bout--"

    "No, to whatever it is.  A million times, no."

    He waved me down. "Gimme a chance here, damn." He tapped his chin, eyes trained on the ceiling. "Uhh."

    I sighed softly.  He was a bother. 

    "How aboutttt..."

    "I swear if you suggest trick-or-treating." 

    He snapped his fingers in what I think was sarcastic jesting and said, "Well dang, you caught me there!" 

    I think it was sarcasm.  I'm not so good at discerning sarcasm.  That's Tosya's job.  I glanced down at him. "You weren't...?"

   Typically, I'd let something like this slide.  But here's the thing: I'm 6'3, I weigh roughly 200 pounds and I'm built like a pro football player.  There was no way I'd be dressing as Alice. 

    Tosya shot the girdle of the dress at my face like a rubberband. "You're absolutely no fun."
    I let it hit my cheek and shrugged. 

    "Please."

    "No."

    "Only like, three people will see it.  They'll think it's hysterical."

    "I don't want the cops to be called for indecent exposure." 

    He furrowed his brow. "Whatever do you mean, my dear Alice?" 

    "I mean we both know if I somehow fit in that dress, my junk will fall out."

    He grinned innocently. "Nahh." 

    I shook my head. 

    He insisted. 

    I gave in after a while.  The fight was disproportional to the consequence.  

    That's the story of the time I dressed in drag because a man in a top hat asked me to.