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.