CCP Costume Challenge

10/09/2010
D1: 10/28/2010
D2: 10/30/2010

-1- Getting Ready for the Party

Patrick closed the front door behind him. Running a tired hand through his short, blond, slightly spiky hair he dropped his briefcase just inside. He trudged and flopped onto the couch near the coffee table. "Oh man, what a day at work." With a deep, energizing breath, he leaned forward and attacked the mountain of mail in front of him. "Who knew it would be so busy on Halloween?" Bills piled to one side, and junk flung toward the trash in the next room. "Now to rest for a minute before the party tonight."

Ring!Ring! "And just as I was about to close my eyes, too." Ring!Ring! With a mighty effort, he dragged himself out of the comfort of the couch. The trash was collected and deposited in its receptacle. Picking up the phone he yawned. The number belonged to his girl friend.

"Hey, Vicki."

Her cheerful voice bubbled over the line, "Patrick! How are you? Are you tired? I thought I heard you yawn."

At the mention of it, he yawned again. "I'm fine. It was a rough day at work."

"I'm sorry to hear that. Anything I can do?"

For a moment, he was tempted to tell her to hang up so he can rest for the party, but a more tactful reply presented itself, "No."

"That's too bad. I hope you feel ready when it's time for the party. Speaking of which, are the costumes there yet?"

He was surprised she didn't have them delivered to her apartment. "Here?" Ding!Dooong! The sound echoed through the house and into the phone.

"I guess they just arrived. I'll be over in a few minutes. Wait until I get there. Please?"

"Okay."

"Bye!" The phone clicked telling him the call is over. He returned it to its cradle. Back through the living room he reached the door.

There before him was a delivery guy with horns poking through his uniform cap and sunglasses over his eyes. The man's goateed mouth spoke in a bored tone, "Patrick?"

"That's me."

"Sign here." Patrick did so. "This is for you." The strange looking man handed him a three foot square package.

"Thank you." After banging his fingers a few times, Patrick turned it on its side, pulled the box in, and closed the door. As he did so, he saw a cow tail coming out of the receding man's pants swaying slightly. Setting the box on the now almost clear coffee table, he mumbled to himself, "They must let workers dress up today. Wish I could have."

While he waited for her, he checked the box to see where she bought them from. The return address was a business called Crazy Cow Productions. "Huh. I've never heard of the place. I wonder if they do good work."

It didn't take long before Vicki let herself in. She rushed over and gave the box a hug. "There it is!"

She opened it with gusto. Crumpled papers balls flew everywhere. A black sombrero with gold trim filled the majority of the box. Below it was a green pants and jacket combo also decorated with gold. Following that was a brown furry bundle and then a white shirt. Below that was a reversible purple and yellow cape. At the very bottom was a stack of blank, white paper in the shape of a manual.

Patrick tried to make sense of this. "So, we are going as a bull and matador? Aren't those both guys?"

"Yes, but I figured I could hide in the bull costume and let you lead me around." Before he could argue with her, she added, "Let's try them on! I call the bathroom." She scooped up the brown furry bundle and bounded to her changing place.

He eyed the pile of costume and grabbed what he assumed was the instructions on top. "What would we need this for? They are just clothes." Blank page after page confused him. "Why would they send this? There's nothing here."

Distant rustlings reminded him of his task. He stripped and slid the costume on. Grabbing the cape in one hand and the hat in the other, he finished right as she trudged from her changing place. His green jacket seemed odd. It was very tight and didn't go around his front. "I guess that's why I need the white shirt."

Her baggy suit flopped around with each step sometimes giving glimpses of her figure. Hooves adorned the fringes of her four limbs. The only free portion of her body was her head. Her brown ponytail touched her horned hood that waited to be pulled over her head. The male part dangling between her legs disturbed him a bit, but Victoria's joyful expression outshone the rest of her.

Vicki pulled the masked hood over to complete the ensemble. He quipped as he pulled a word from an ancient Spanish class, "Hey, maybe we should call you Tori the toro."

She came over, took the cape from him, and placed it on his shoulders, "Whatever you say, Rick."

All the mocking voices asking him to sing "that song" caused him to flinch at this despised name. "Okay. Okay. No Tori." He finished his costume by placing the ornate hat on his head. A tight squeeze caused him to close his eyes in pain.

-2- A Little Detour

The murmur of the crowd opened his eyes. When did they get here?

He looked to the sides, and six foot fences were on either side of the street. Looking in the spaces between the large horizontal slats he saw behind each was a crowd, anxious from the sound of them. A woman called his direction, "Hunee, shur yule bee ohkae?"

The man next to him turned to her, "Yes. Isle bee fien."

"I should know these words. They sound familiar." Patrick muttered to himself.

One of the dozens of men around him bumped him. Looking at his sleeve, Patrick realized he was still in his costume. The sky brightened as the sun rose higher. "Wasn't it evening when I put this on? How did I get out of my house? Where am I?"

A rocket fired off. The swarm of men around him pressed against the police force holding them back. Crushed, the questions flew from his mind.

The same woman cheered, "Eye em sew hapee wee caem inn July two sea –"

"July? It's October." A second rocket went off. The police climbed the fences. The horde rushed forward pushing him along.

"What's going on," he called out.

The crowd started a frenzied chant, "Bull! Bull!"

Patrick looked back to see the horned animals headed his way. Head to head bodies blocked the path leaving him only one way to go. Tiredness from his day at work flew from his body as his feet started moving.

Some cries of "Run!" joined the cheering for the vicious creatures behind him. While all of the bovines looked familar, one looked like it was looking right at him. He tried to think about this but his attention was diverted to running, escaping.

Wall! His mind screams at him. Oh. Corner. He turns.

The animals behind him had a little more trouble navigating the curve. Their hooves slipped giving Patrick a lead. He slowed to gather his thoughts and breath. What's going on here? Cheering answered him. This seems familiar like something I should know. The roar of the crowd grew louder.

Patrick turned back to see what they were telling him. The bulls were almost on top of him! One was in the lead. Is that the same one as before? He charged ahead to stay out of their reach.

Upon reaching another corner, he gained some breathing room again. The bull in the lead got a horn stuck in between the slats of the fence. The beasts backed up into a bovine traffic jam. Some trickled around the trapped animal pressuring him to continue moving forward. The moment of relaxation is short but Patrick's mind engaged. Sorta. "I'm running. With bulls. I'm in the Running of the Bulls!" Then after a moment, "Doesn't that take place in Spain?"

Nearby snorts and cheers reminded him that it was not the time to think. Looking back he saw them bearing down on him and some people pushing the bull from fence, freeing it. He laughed a little at the sight and continued on.

The second straightaway and third curve were uneventful. Adrenaline rushed through his body making it easy for Patrick to stay ahead of his pursuers.

That was until he feels a scraping along the back of his pants. He looked back to see a horn coming back for another pass at his butt. He sprinted forward to see the head and pointed appendages swayed back and forth almost touching him.

The frantic matador turned back just in time to see the fence in front of him. He rolled out of the way to continue down the walled path. The fences around him rattled as the full weight and inertia of the bull crashes into it. Patrick looked back hoping for another trapped bovine. Instead, there was a dazed animal flush against the fence aimed right at him.

"How much longer until -- ?" A coliseum looms into view. Oh good. A frustrated moo called from behind him. Oh crap. Hooves resounded and thundered toward him. Adrenaline surged again. In this second wind, he managed to stay ahead and into the arena. He turned a sharp right to parallel the inside of the ring. The bull continued on into the center of the stadium.

Another rocket went off.  The crowd roared. Among the rest of the noise, cries of "killer" and "bull fighter" reached his ears. A final rocket exploded and the crowd hushed a bit.

Patrick slid back to the way he had come in. Locked doors and angry beasts greeted him. Crap, I'm stuck here.

The chants for him to fight grew louder with each repetition. The matador finally remembered the other occupant. He saw that its steely eyes were watching his every move. Is that a smile?

Realizing he had no room to maneuver, Patrick stepped out of the shadows toward his opponent. A quick eruption of cheering pressed him on. The cape was lifted from his shoulders and placed in his hand. In his other hand was placed something narrow. He turned to see a figure fleeing. Lifting it, he discovered the narrow thing is a sword that he attached to his belt.

Sounds of cheering quieted as his mind tuned them out. His focus was only on one thing, escape. However, to do that, he must avoid the bull. So he watched the bull watching him. Maybe I can get the beast to charge into the gate to get me break me out of here.

With that plan in mind he ruffled the cape as he had seen cartoons do many times. The bull pawed the dirt. So far, so good. And then the charge.

Patrick's eyes went wide as the horned beast aimed not for his cape, but rather for him.

His mind told him only one thing. RUN!

Like animated characters, the two ran around in circles. At last, Patrick tired, his third, fourth, and fifth wind exhausted. His sword fell from his belt dooming him.

The opponent stalked the unmoving, weary matador. With a short burst of speed, the bull rammed Patrick with a horn to the side of either hip. Sky flashed and then darkness.

-3- Taking the Bull by the Horns

And then tails. Cow tails. And a horrible smell. A smell like everyone in the whole stadium went to the bathroom all in the same spot, right next to him. And the flies. There was no way to get rid of them. They were everywhere. He blinked as one tried to land on his eye.

Suddenly it was all gone. Patrick discovered that he was back in his apartment. Something was different about it. The coffee table was there and almost in his face. All the pictures on the wall were the same only higher.

A familiar female voice spoke in wonder. "What happened? All I did was take off my hat when I bowed to the crowd." He turned to the voice. "Woah! Watch those horns, Buddy."

Next to him was Vicki who was taller than him. The next thing he notices was that she was wearing the green pants and jacket combo. But they looked better on her. And her white blouse was low cut making her look quite sexy. She was holding a matador's hat instead of the trimmed sombrero. Patrick was certain she looked much better as a bull fighter.

So. Then. Where's the –- All the pieces clicked into place for Patrick. Vicki figured it out at the same time. "You're the Bull."

"Moo'm moo mooo." He said at the same time.

She poked him once and he felt it. "Wow. Solid muscle." She touched him again. "This is a," doubt began to fill her voice as it trailed off, "really good costume."

Her finger traced down his neck until it caught. Zzz. Patrick deflated a little as the zipper moved an inch.

"Vicki?" A hoof touched to his throat. "I can talk! Finally. What happened to us?"

"I don't know. You put on the hat and I became a bull and then I was chasing you. And then I got you in the arena and then I had had to fight a bull. And then I was here."

"Yeah. Same with me." He realized what he said. "Except I was on the other side of things." They pondered this for a moment. "Could the costumes have done this to us?"

"That seems to be the only logical answer." She glanced at his clock. "Oh no! We are almost late! We've got to go."

She zipped him up and he regained his muscle tone. They both went to the front door and found that he was too big to exit. After wrangling with head and horns, they returned to the living room defeated.

With a wave of her cape in frustration over him, she exclaimed, "Well, shoot. What are we going to do now?"

Patrick looked around. Something had changed again. The table was almost at his nose and the pictures were higher. He saw that Vicki had noticed this too. "Did you just shrink?" He nodded. "This must be more of the magic. The cape passed over him in the other direction. Everything returned to the way it was.

She got a mischievous smile. "Well, that solves the problem."

She waved the cloak over him multiple times. Smaller and smaller he got. Patrick tried to tell her "I can fit out the door now." But it came out as Moos.

She stopped for a moment and rubbed his head. "It's okay. I'll put you back the way you were after the party." Then she continued to shrink him. At last he found that he could only see the top of her shoe and everything else seemed like a skyscraper into the heavens.

Vicki gently picked him up and placed him in her palm where he fit easily. Her hand rose bringing him to eye level. "I love you, Patrick. Enjoy the party because you'll have the best seat in the house."

Then she grasped him and placed him between her two partially exposed mounds of flesh. His euphoria blocked any claustrophobia from his back legs and most of his body being pleasantly locked into place.

On her way out the door, she whispered to him, "I'll make sure to tell everyone to Pat the Bull."

-4- Epilogue

Back on the table the book-like papers finished changing. In their place sat a copy of the newspaper, La Lidia. It was dated July 8th of this year. On the top was the headline "Toreadora sorprende los espectadores" Under it was a big picture of a bull's backside as it charges under an unfurling yellow mantle held by a beautiful Vicki.

Lower on the front page was a smaller picture of Patrick being tossed into the air. Its caption read, "El torero novato tiene mucho que aprender."

Later that night after they came back from the party they would find it. The pictures would be clipped and saved as mementos of the night they spent in magical costumes.