After showering I pull on a clean pair of my usual holy jeans, that have seen better days. A second-hand sweatshirt for Team Something and my beat up combat boots from home, with the laughing skulls on the tip tops. My old skinhead skull stomping boots seem appropriately festive enough for the day, and remind me of bloody beatings past. I throw the Raisins final "Later haters" farewell on the way out to Hell, and I am out of the house of the Blazing Raisins and into the chilblain morning.

I skate my sorry ass the whole three streets up the hill to the school that I, unfortunately, attend on purpose. My school sits on top of a hill bluff looking judgmentally down Hill street. To my eye, the whole place has that Conquistador slavery Mission vibe thing going on. Like someone recreated what they thought a private high school for Conquistador kids would look like so that they could learn to whip the shit out of the local indigenous kids. It even has one of those three-story tall judgmental Spanish copula bell tower things but without the bells. This thing is like a looming Tower of Doom, that seems to serve no apparent purpose, other than to loom above the seven flights of concrete stairs judgmentally. Which I personally think only adds to that rarified impression of oppression.

At the final stop sign across the street from the seven flights of stairs up the Hill to Hell, I wait at the corner and give the Tower a glance to see if it is still watching out for me again. I kind imagine this is what the Tower of the Eye in Mordor would look like...but like after the giant evil eye left when all the fun was done. All impotent empty and angry. And for the fiftieth time in as many days, I really have to wonder what this thing would look like on fire. With orcs and wraiths and shit, running and screaming everywhere like towering inferno. I mean how bad could just one match be right? Go ahead stupid flocking tower look at me all wrong again?

Thought of this whole place burned to the ground is one hell of a cheery thought as I join the rest of the flock of pissed off early risers, stomping up en mass up the seven flights of stairs to the entrance to Hell. San Fallcon Hills High School - Home of the Falcons.

Personally, I think they should ditch the Home of the Falcons signage over the entrance and just get real and embrace the truth of this place.

"Welcome to Hell. Abandon all hope...ye who enter here."

"PS...have a nice day and don't be late for class."

When I finally stomp to the top of the stairway to Hell, the first thing that constantly strikes me as wrong is that people are just walking right into the entrance as usual. Like just walking right in, like they own the place. There are no metal detectors run by wannabe cops in windbreaks acting like a Taliban terrorist attack is about to break out and they are the thin line between chaos and complete anarchy.

On the way through Hell, I chance to stroll past the glass windows of the main office. I note in passing that Miss Crystal, the friendly former strippery bleach blonde turned off lady, has gone all out. She is super sexy witchy wench with some serious cleavage in full effect, that pretty much confirms my initial impression of her. Just a small town girl looking for any holiday with beads and Jägermeister shots to indulge her inner flashdancer. I also note that my so called PE coach "Brad" is all over that witch today. Looks like Brad dressed up in his best, local lifeguard at large costume, complete with mirrored shades to check out the local talent at the bikini rotunda.

If I didn't know any better, I'd swear Miss Crystal looks like she about to go down to boneyard on old Brad and give him some mouth to mouth. While I don't particularly like either one of them at the moment, mostly for knowing some personal shit about me that they shouldn't ...I oddly kind of wish them well. Neither one has ever impressed me by being overly bright, so I'm thinking these two crazy kids have a real chance at being truly happyish in the density of their lives together.

I hit the main hallway which is already packed with screeching flocking Falcons, all decked out in what passes for their Halloween best. It's pretty obvious that leprosy seems to be really in vogue this year for some reason. Oh right...on second thought, they're not Lepers they're Zombies. Probably thanks to the rise of the Walking Dead in the local zeitgeist or maybe a Jacko Thriller revival is in town. Either way, to me San Fall is sort of a place that bleeds strange.

To begin with, and the kids that live here don't seem to be really alive anyways? So I'm thinking the zombie thing sorta works on a lot of levels.

Besides everything said and done it's a pretty cheap way to go costume wise. All you have to do is buy one of those DIYS kits for a bone or two at the Quickie-mart, and paint your face zombish, toss a few bloody facials for effect. After that magic happens, just wear your regular clothes and go. It's not even like you have to be artistically inclined, seeing that Zombies seem to be pretty much sloppy eaters anyways.

Case in point, the flock of retarded zombie football players in front of me staggering down the hall like Frankenstein's monsters. Save that apparently, San Fall football zombies have an odd compulsion stop to grab their crotch, then groan and moan. But moat especially when Zombie cheerleaders pass them in the hall.

"Eat me..." I hear groaned repeatedly by one particular Zombie Football player.

Sadly a voice I recognize only too well. This of course, is followed up by a super creepy giggle, that comes after his constant invitation to partake in the glory dome that is him.

So I slide around the horde of super stupid leatherheads, all staggering around trying to cop a feel on scantily clad zombie nurse hookers and grown-up girl scouts sluts.

"Zup Butcher." I smirk in passing.

"Hey Surfer D." My monster smirks back. "Check it out, I'm a zombie football god. What the flock are you dude?"

"Oh, I came as a total asshole." I shrug him off in passing. "See ya in English later."

"Cool. Then we can compare your asshole costume to Or'sir's. Then see which of you'z is the bigger asshole for Hallo'wiener." Butchy make an actual fast funny on the fly for the first time. It's a known fact that we both hate our creepy little English teacher Or'Sir to death.

"Classic." I snort in appreciation of his keen observation.

I am starting to think that maybe there is hope for Zombie Butchy after all. Of course not even ten steps later I abandon all hope when I hear Zombie Butch groan out.

"Eat me Zombie chick. But no teeth this time...look what you did to my Zombie..." Butchy bemoans.

Sadly, knowing Butchy as I do I'm pretty sure he finished off that thought with something that rhymed with "chick". But thankfully I lose the droning bone dome groan as soon as I turn down C hall towards my spot. Finally able shut out all the stupid that is all horrorshow in the hallway behind me, and prepare myself for the stupid in front of me.

I slide down the hall to my homeroom C-2-2 or what I refer to as The Lair of the Littel Lilliputian. As my homeroom/English teacher is an evil little midgety buff asshole. One in the same asshole I will be seeing with Butchy two periods from now in English. I glance into my homeroom class to see if my Grimm girl has arrived yet and dropped into her spot, but to no avail. All I can see in the empty room is the lonely little mini man in the far corner of the room underneath the Important Announcement speaker box in the corner.

He must catch my glare of loathing in the corner of his evil little eye. As he twists his midget head around, glaring his height hate back at me. I note that he's not dressed up today as anything but what he is in real life. A vile little circus midget pretended to be a person. To say I would love nothing better than to stomp the smirk right off his little boy bearded face is a vast understatement. But unfortunately, they have rules in this place about bullying up the teachers ...no matter how much they might deserve it.

"Flock you too dude." I snort under my breath and loom back from the battle of Hater Heights. After my withdraw to the hall I find my usual spot across the hallway on the floor against the lockers and await my fated rendezvous with the girl who haunts my waking dreams.

"Maayyybeee..." I breathe out.

It's been a little over a month since I first kissed the strange girl in the Park after Dark in the rain, during the storm of the year. Which makes me wonder if I might have screwed this up when I didn't plan one of those "Month'iversary" things, for the second kiss that changed everything. But I am not really sure we aren't those sort of kissers or whatever? The ones that are supposed to do cute couple things like that?

Things between Maybe and me aren't exactly profoundly complicated, so much as they are complicatedly profound. Which is to say that we are not like any other two souls that haunt these hallowed halls of Hell. I think if anyone found out about us ...being us ...they would think we are the two most interesting kids here in Hell. Or then again they might think me a monster of epic proportions and burn me at the stake. It's sorta hard to say either way what the local flocks would think ...and even harder to care, one way or another.

Then again, the very next day after the first seventy-seven kisses of my life, Maybe presented me seventy-seven small paper cranes to keep safe. She explained that there was one for each kiss in the rain that day. On each individual crane, was a small date scrawled in the corner of the wing to mark its flight. So while I found this a super profound Maybe thing to do, as it almost shattered what was left of my soul into a thousand pieces. Still, I had to wonder how it was that she was able to write those dates out so precisely? Which also made me think that somewhere in the background of our secret liaison, there is a monster known as Someone's Sinister Sister lurking in the shadows. A unholy hellion just waiting to rise up and rip my new heart out.

Truth be told, I really dislike Someone's Sinister Sister on a certain base level. Namely she is one sinister smile shy of a serial killer. I accept that fact that her foul presence is part of the cost of doing business with the Devil to remain by May's side.

While musing through these dark thoughts of pending gloom and doom, I almost miss the telltale shift in the flocking flying falcons down the hall from my spot. The flockers at the end of the hallway are starting to give way to a pending darkness approaching. Soon enough the flock's are moving to the locker walls on the sides of the hall to make way for the nightmare walking in their midst. Now bereft of all noise save the cold sound of Death's scythe as it taps echoes down the tile hallways.

For Pale Death, herself has come to San Fall Hills High. In the from of a small black robed girl, with a bone white face and a pair of uber dark sith nightshades. The lady death herself wears the wickedest grim grin on her khol black lips...looking for one last kiss.

"Maybe." I intone worshipful of my dark goddess of the night.

Her darkness towers over me and her scythe looks poised to take my head off, lest I offend. So I say the only thing a clown like I can think to say.

"Wo Maybe, damn but death doth becomes her." I whisper worshipfully of my maker.

"Hey look you, you made our rendezvous." She smirks savagely. "Happy Halloween, Mr. Devil."

"Happy Halloween, Maybe." I rise to my feet to greet death eye to eye. "I gotta say May, that is one seriously wicked cool costume."

"Yeah well, it was either this or go as a mime. And have you ever seen a blind mime?" She snorts amused. "Not good."

"Mimes scare me." I agree wholeheartedly.
"They always seem so angry."

"Yeah, but I can identify with them." She sighs sadly. "Everyone always says that Mime's are super annoying. But do they ever try to think about it from the blind mimes point of view?"

"Trapped inside an invisible box that no one else can see? With all the air running out and only your tactile senses to escape before you die? Let me know how that goes for you?" May snorts fire in the local custom fo hell. "Yeah, I think you might be angry too if people were annoyed with me for trying to get out of an airtight invisible box before I died."

"That's some true truth." I sigh sadly. "But I still can't help thinking that those Mimes must have done something to deserve that fate on some level."

"Anyways ..." May drones back. "Com'on Mr. Devil, shall we go to homeroom and listen to all the important non-blind mime related announcements?"

"And so we shall." I obediently follow the Lady Death into the classroom towards our usual dark spot, scythe and all.