Tales from South Rock

   "Carved pumpkins with the squirt yesterday, over at her mom's place."

   Even with gaze locked on the screen of his phone, thumb flicking idly, Farad could feel the narrowing of the drummer's eyes as Ballister lurked past him, shadow of both the man and the supply box tucked under his arm looming over from behind. The vampire, legs kicked up over the loft railing, flexed his wings nonchalantly around the back of the folding chair.

   He heard the oni behind him sigh, and open his mouth.

   "Halloween is a r..."

   "Yep," Farad cut in, cutting him off, "I know. A 'reductionist production of human xenophobia, both appropriative and offensive, serving to celebrate and perpetuate stereotypes of non-human races and patently harmful to our people as a whole.'" He tilted his head back, hair sliding away from his eyes. "That sound about right?"

   Ballister's mouth flapped dumbly. His eyes twitched as he stared down, distressed, at the little man so far below him. "Y... How..."

   Farad grinned. "You said the same thing last year."

   The oni's lips slammed shut.

   "You gotta get over it," the vampire continued. "You know it ain't like that anymore. What we gotta do, when things are like that, if it's already about us then it's gotta actually be about us. It's about pride. There's a lot of things we do now that weren't always for us," he said, somehow finding the tact not to remark on colonialism, and the roots of a certain oni's faith. "Anyway, sometimes you just gotta have fun."

   The tall man snorted, before starting again on his way. "Yeah, whatever."

   "Hey," Farad called, "don't you even wanna see what she carved?"

   Ballister halted. Long black hair swished as he looked over his shoulder. "What?"

   He leaned down, squinting at the image on Farad's phone screen: a mid-sized white pumpkin, crudely carved with what looked to be eyes and a wide, fanged mouth, some odd, thin appendages stretching out from the sides. Ballister straightened.

   "What is it?"

   A devilish look flashed across Farad's face.

   "She told me it was her 'Uncle Bal.' She said she hopes 'it makes him happy,' and that she's sorry for kicking your drum set last time I brought her to practice. But I mean," he crooned, drawing back the phone and miming swiping out a message, "if you want me to tell my daughter how much you hate Halloween..."

   "No!" A long-fingered green hand shot out, and wrapped around the phone. "No, I uh..." Ballister stopped, and cleared his throat of its nervous rattle. "It's fine. I-I don't care... Tell her it looks great."

   "Even if it's a symbol of the institution?" Farad mocked.

   The fingers released his phone. Ballister began to move again, with a heave and a grumble.

   "It's just a pumpkin, Slice. Lighten up."

   Farad watched the oni stalk away, vilified. Then, by degrees, the smile on his face softened. He pulled up the picture again, warmth spreading through his chest, as he flicked back to his text conversation with his ex, still eyeing his bandmate's retreating back.

   'Tell Kizzy he loved it ;)'