Free MIND FIELDS by Brad Aiken

turned to see where the greeting had originated.  JT made one of the gawkiest Henry the Eighths that one could ever imagine.  His six-foot three, one hundred and sixty pound frame made a mockery of a very fine costume. A bulimic Henry the Eighth, was the only thought that came to Paul’s mind as he saw the awkward sight.  He bit his lip and noticed that he was not the only one struggling to avoid laughing at the boss.
    “Uh, great costume, JT,” was about all he could muster up.
    “You really think so?”
    Just as Paul was about to open his mouth, JT mercifully interrupted him.  “No, don’t answer that.  I know I look ridiculous, but what the hell, so do most of the people in here.  I just love to see their expressions when I ask them how I look.  Actually, I preferred the Superman costume …”
    That goes without saying , Paul thought.
    “…but Superman looked pretty ridiculous standing next to Witch Wanda.”
    “I don’t know,” Paul asked, “which Wanda?”
    That stopped JT in mid-thought.  After a brief pause, he caught on to Paul’s dry humor.  “Oh …Oh, I get it.  Good one, Robin.” He laughed that stupid laugh again, but Paul didn’t even crack a smile.  Uncomfortably, JT perused the crowd.  “Well, I must be off.  Got to mingle with my subjects, you know.”  He darted into the crowd.
    Pauline had worked her way over just in time to overhear Paul’s joke.  “It’s not usually too wise to mess with the boss’s head.”
    “Yeah, I suppose you’re right.” He handed her the whiskey sour.  “But that was just too easy.  I couldn’t resist.”
    “Well,” she said, looking him over after a deep swig of  her drink, “I gotta admit, you look a hell of a lot better in those tights than King Icabod looks in those robes.”
    Paul cleared his throat and hoped that the flush in his cheeks was lost in the ambiance of the room.  “Shall we check out the decorations, my lady?”  He motioned to the darkened living room, from which some ghoulish music was emanating.  He hoped she would agree to leave before the band started in with the dance music out by the pool.  The only thing worse than dancing was dancing to The Monster Mash .
    “Ohh, trying to get me into the dark, eh Robin Hood?” she said seductively.
    Yeah, where I can’t see you .  He smiled meekly and led her into the living room.  Paul hated office romances.  The main reason he chose to come here with Pauline was because he knew that with her, he would not be tempted.  He felt bad, but he ditched her at the first turn into the darkness.  He knew that he would feel worse if she had tried to feel him, which he could sense was only a few more sips of whiskey away.
    Thankfully, the evening passed quickly.  He managed to avoid dancing as well as any uncomfortable moments of solitude with the Maid Marion.  By the time they left, she was too drunk to care anymore.  He knew she wouldn’t remember too much of this in the morning, and was thankful that their office friendship would remain intact.
    Paul was glad to get home.  A pair of running pants, which he kept in his car, was very effective at concealing his green tights, and his trench coat covered the rest of the ensemble.  He was able to get from the parking lot at Poe Towers up to his apartment without the embarrassment of any more jokes about his legs.  Thankfully, he had survived another Halloween.

Chapter seven

    November 19, 2050

    Rocky Stankowski liked gentlemen’s clubs.  He wasn’t too sure why they called them gentlemen’s clubs really; he had never seen what he would call a gentleman in one of them.  Never the less, he liked them, and so Saturday night would usually find him down at the Block in Baltimore.  Rocky lived and worked in Washington, but the Block was the place to go if you liked gentlemen’s clubs.  Besides, for a guy with a respectable job like his, Rocky had found that it was best to keep his club hopping as far away from