We thought we would do the blog in two parts this month. The first part is a short Halloween tale which is linked to our blog from April which you can read here [http://www.fanfunwithdamianlewis.com/?p=2744].
The second part is a discussion of what costumes we think Damian’s various characters would wear and why. A Happy Halloween to you all.
The house is eerily quiet. Stepping in to the kitchen, Bobby finds himself a glass and takes the bourbon out of his bag. Do hedge fund managers drink bourbon? Screw it, he’s a hedge fund manager and he’ll drink what he likes. Pouring himself a shot, Bobby notices the note taped to the fridge door and makes his way over, downing the bourbon in one.
“Boys and I have gone to get more supplies.”
God, he loves this woman. She knows his dislike of modern technology and leaves an old fashioned note rather than bother him with a text. How the hell were you meant to type on those touch screens anyway? He is always missing out letters and screwing up words.
“See you later.”
God, yes, he needed her. She looks right into his soul and doesn’t reject him. Knows the worst of it, but is still right there just as she had been when the dreaded rope didn’t do its job. When he’d been distraught and in the depths of despair and confusion, when he thought he could never trust another living soul with his heart ever again.
Looking around, it is difficult to understand how they could possibly need more supplies. He could complain cynically about Halloween being a money making scheme, but that would be terribly hypocritical of him. Though why his house had to be decorated to resemble a scene from Sleepy Hollow he really didn’t know. Off with his head. He rubs a hand across his neck, pours himself another shot and downs it.
Today is not a day to lose it, but it can’t be helped. Paying for a hit on someone no matter how reprehensible that someone may be is not something his conscience takes lightly. If he needs to justify it, he can. No one threatens his kids. No one!
He leaves the kitchen and walks down the hall, past what he thinks is supposed to be the tree of the dead, towards the vast living area which is done up as the woods. It gives him the creeps and sends a shiver down his spine, the sort you get when you wake from an awful dream not knowing whether it was just a dream or had actually happened. The icy cold dread, the sickening feeling clenching your stomach and the fear. He hopes Lara and the kids will be back soon as he really doesn’t want to be left alone with his thoughts. More Bourbon can fill the void until then. Another and another and he’s losing count and he’s not sure if his vision is becoming blurry or getting sharper.
“Bourbon, straight bourbon. Good choice, friend. Good choice.”
Turning around towards the voice, Bobby’s mouth went dry as he tightened his grip around the shot glass, breaking it.
“Easy there. Hand injuries are a bitch.” His double says knowingly, holding up his transparent hand with a nasty scar on the back of it.
“How the fuck did you do that?” Bobby snorts, fully aware he’s conversing with an apparition. One that looks scarily like himself. But this is a dream. Or the liquor. Or a combo. There is no fucking way this is actually occurring. He takes it as a bad alcohol induced trip and just decides to roll with it.
“An asshole stabbed me in the hand with a screw driver. The medics in the bunker though took care of it, bandaged it up.”
“What bunker? What the fuck are you talking about?”
“I’d rather not bring it up, wasn’t one of my better moments if you know what I mean,” Brody scoffs, leaning back against a tree in the faux forest.
“I don’t actually. Know what the fuck you mean.”
“I guess you don’t actually. Guess that makes sense though. I was a little before your time.”
“Before my time?”
“Never mind,” Brody shrugs, thinking he best not explain how his death in Tehran facilitated him becoming a hedge fund manager in Manhattan. That was too complicated to get into at the moment.
“Look,” Bobby sighed, perching on a plastic stump and resting his chin on his interlocked hands. “I guess I’m really self centered to be haunted by my goddamn doppelgänger. If you’re here to let me know that, consider your message sent. Then get the hell out.”
“What makes you think that’s why I’m here? You think I don’t have any place better to be tonight? Not that I don’t miss the woods,” Brody said wistfully before regaining his composure and calm, cool stance.
“You can consider me a cautionary tale, Bobby. I know pretty well what happens when you’re determined to eliminate threats. You think you can justify it to yourself. What you’re doing. But it can cost you more than you ever expect.”
“Cost me what? A few thousand dollars? I can earn that back with my eyes closed!”
“What about this? This house? Your kids, your wife. The woman you love.”
“You’re not exactly in the best shape to be threatening me,” Bobby scoffed.
“Sorry I’m a little gaunt. Didn’t get a last meal before my hanging.” Brody retorted, wiping the smug look from his double’s face. Seeing it replaced with a fearful one he sighed, rolled his eyes.
“I’m not trying to imply that’s where your headed. I am trying to tell you to think about the people who care about you the next time you send a man to an early grave.”
“I was thinking about them. That’s all I was thinking about when I-”
“Hey, I get it. Believe me, I do. But you’re heading down a fucking dark path, Bobby.”
“I’m in a house decorated like the dark, fucking woods,” Bobby scoffed.
“Well take it from me. The woods are a hell of a lot darker when you’re walking them alone.” Brody said softly, turning to leave before he felt a hand pass through his vaporous shoulder.
“Hey! What the fuck does that mean? You can’t just tell me shit like this and walk away! Who the fuck do you think you are!”
“Bobby, for Christ sakes, will you stop fighting me so I can get you out of this tangle…and stop yelling.”
The familiar and friendly voice pierces through the dread and fear and brings him back to reality. She’s right there and he reaches for her face to make sure it’s not a hallucination or dream. She’s there.
“Jesus, are you okay? Your eyes are bloodshot and you look terrible.”
Bobby nods his head never taking his eyes off his wife as his heartrate slowly returns to normal. He’s okay now that she’s there.
“Good. We’ll talk tomorrow, but we need to get you back down into the party. People are starting to notice your absence. You’ve been gone for half an hour and Dean wants to see your costume. I’m not sure he’ll get the joke right enough.”
Ten minutes later Bobby finds himself downstairs. It’s half past midnight. He looks around his house confused at the bright Lanterns and pumpkins everywhere.
Brody- I was always stuck on the idea of him being JFK to Jessica’s Jackie. Or Carrie’s Marilyn Monroe. 🙂
Crews- I could see him in one of those big pink bunny costumes. If only for the Flemish rabbit bit. (15 pounds of pure bunny. 🙂 )
Bobby Axelrod – with various jokes about soulless hedge fund managers, I thought Bobby would make an excellent Dementor for Halloween.
Jonesy – he has to be ET. Either that or dress up as a big worm.
Dan Murphy –. A CIA agent constantly at odds with superiors… has to dress up as Carrie Mathison to be honest.
Charlie Crews – It is really difficult not just to say a gigantic pineapple. Charlie is a bit of a dual character in that outwardly he can appear to most to be so happy and joyful, displaying all the energy of a five year old on a sugar rush. However, we know that Charlie has a dark side and those who set him up and killed his friends are high on his wish list. So, Charlie Crews as the Grim Reaper, anyone?
Mark Rose – poor sweet Mark, oblivious to a wife that is bored of him and pining for his ‘more interesting’ brother. He’d either have to dress up as a spare tire or a broken heart. Either would be appropriate because he is one and has the other by the end of season 1.
Do you have any thoughts on who or what a particular Damian character would dress up as for Halloween? Let us know and enjoy your weekend.