Going Prehistoric
by Jeff Rutkowski

The middle-aged man walked into the small shop tucked away in a dark corner of the mall. He couldn't see anyone around as most of the other stores had either closed permanently or were liquidating all their wares in preparation for such an event.
There wasn't much of note, mainly two thin aisles with industrial metal shelving on either side. He could just make out a figure moving near the front of the store near a high glass counter displaying a meager collection of trinkets.
"How can I help you?" the figure said in a soft yet authoritative voice.
"I'm looking for a costume. My company is having a Halloween party and I wanted to make the most of it."
The man nodded knowingly as if this kind of thing happened every day.
"My stock is running rather low but I can show you what I do have." he replied, stepping around from behind the counter. He lead the man down the aisle to the end of the shelving where a loan box sat at knee-height. It looked battered and had a picture of a scaly bipedal dinosaur across one side below a company name and logo.
The customer hesitated, weighing his options before asking, "Do you have anything else in stock?"
The proprietor shook his head sadly. "This is the only full-body costume I have at the moment. This store isn't going to be around for much longer. The online retailers are choking the life out of merchants like me."
The middle-aged customer hated these new-fangled virtual stores where you couldn't physically sense the products you bought until it was too late and you either had to deal with draconian return policies, or companies that didn't allow item returns period. He had experienced that with a candy re-seller. Once the product was paid for and the company shipped it out, that was it. If you didn't like it, too damned bad, you were stuck with it. He nodded to the owner in sympathy.
"They never make it easy for the real people. They love to hide behind computer screens, selling sub-par crap at outrageously high prices."
The proprietor nodded and hauled the box from the shelf. "Mind if I take a look at it close-up?", the customer asked.
"Absolutely. I'm not expecting to make many sales today."
The customer watched as the owner walked back to the counter and placed the heavy box on top. He walked back behind the counter, and returned with a small device. He ran the device along the box where the tape was clearly visible. As he did so, the tape seemed to dissolve, allowing the flaps of the box to lift.
A folded mass of green met the customer's eyes as the flaps of the box were pulled wide and the proprietor lifted out the costume. The costume was set on the floor and the man beckoned to the customer to step closer.
There were still a few wrinkles in the green material, but the reptile appeared to have no trouble standing on its two large feet and balancing on its stubby tail. The head and arms hung down at a weird angle but, they looked real enough. The customer reached out and cupped the beast's head in both his hands, examining it.
There weren't any eye holes, or any openings he could see. There was just loose material covering what felt like a rigid headpiece within the costume. He moved his left hand upward and grabbed the snout so he could pier into the mouth. Rows of white fangs appeared to shine wetly within the mouth and a forked tongue protruded from between them.
"This is impressive.", he told the owner.
"Wait until you try it on. Your fellow employees won't know what hit them."
The customer smiled and let the head of the costume fall onto the chest as if the creature had nodded off to sleep.
"I'll take it. How much do you want for it?"
"Usually these kinds of things sell for around one thousand dollars. Although, with my shop going out of business in a few weeks, I can lower the price by eighty-five percent."
One thousand dollars? Who the hell would ever be willing to pay that much for something like this? Sure, the detail was great and everything, but computers sold for easily less than half that. "Why are they originally so much?", he asked the owner.
"These costumes are special. I was a big re-seller of MX Costume products when this mall had more business. Now, however, you can see I'm struggling to make a living."
"I can sure afford one hundred and fifty dollars for this. With any luck, I can re-wear it next Halloween and noone will be any the wiser."
"Before I make the sale, I have to get this guy packed up. Also, there is a document I need you to sign."
"Sure, sure.", the customer agreed almost dismissively. If this re-seller or whoever he was would give him a discount this large, he would sign anything.
The proprietor expertly lifted the green costume and folded it so quickly, all the customer saw was a flurry of movement and the flaps of the box being sealed back up with that handheld machine. The owner disappeared behind the counter and popped back up, holding a single sheet of paper in his hand.
The customer glanced down at the paper and took a pen out of the jar atop the counter so he could sign whatever this was. "If you're not satisfied with the costume in the next thirty days, you can bring it back for a full refund. If this store ceases to exist within that time, simply call the number on the bottom of the document and I can make a house call."
The proprietor took the paper and filed it away in a drawer behind the counter. "If that's all for you, I hope you enjoy your purchase. Don't do anything I wouldn't do at that party though."
The customer picked up the box and walked out of the store. He saw the owner giving him a cheery wave and a friendly smile as he turned the corner to face the row of empty store fronts.

When he returned home, the man pulled the costume out of the cardboard box it had been stored in and leaned it up against the wall of his living room. He couldn't explain it, but, it looked different. Maybe it was the lights in the shop that had made the material look duller than it was now. At the bottom of the box, he could see some papers. He pulled them out of the now empty box and placed them on his desk to skim through later.
If he looked at it right, the costume almost looked like a saurian guard awaiting his orders. The head still lolled on the chest and the arms hung down limply. The only thing it needed was a spark of life, an inhabitant. He smiled mischievously. The party was tomorrow night. That saurian guard would have its orders. He fully intended to enjoy himself and get as drunk as he could without rolling into the office with a roaring hangover.
Roaring hangover. This caused him to chuckle. He got ready for bed, occasionally glancing back toward the deflated-looking costume.

The next morning, he slept until eleven thirty. Good thing the party was being held on a Saturday. He would have had some explaining to do showing up this late. The day passed uneventfully until five o'clock. He knew it would take him at least half an hour to drive to the location of the party. His workplace just wasn't equipped to handle any kind of festivities so the boss decided to hold it at a dance club where everything could be taken care of with the right amount of money.
The costume had to be packed back into its box if he didn't want anyone to gawk at him before the moment of truth. He couldn't manage to pack it as cleanly as the proprietor of the shop had done. The green material just didn't seem to fold that neatly for him. He couldn't get the flaps to close as seamlessly as they had done in the shop, so, he used one of his belts to hold the box closed over the now heavily creased costume.
At around six, he pulled up to the club's parking lot. There was nowhere to park within the lot itself because every space was occupied. This place sure was busy today. He parked his car on the side of the street and hauled the costume box from the trunk. Hopefully, there would be a bathroom he could use to change.
It was a struggle to carry the box while elbowing his way through the doors of the building but he managed as best as he could. The loud music made it impossible to ask anyone where the changing rooms were so he relied on his sense of sight, attempting to scope out an appropriate location.
He wandered around the club's main room before he glimpsed a narrow hallway that led away from the cacophony. Following it revealed two doors that did indeed grant access to the bathrooms. He elbowed the door to the men's room open and entered one of the stalls, dropping the box onto the dirty floor.

The instructions he had skimmed last night indicated a seam running down the back of the costume. The illustrations accompanying the written instructions showed him how to dawn the costume and the fact that the seam would seal itself back up after twenty seconds. To remove the costume, all he had to do was run his finger back down the seam and step out as if it were a bulky jumpsuit.
It seemed easy enough so he opened the seam and stepped inside. At first, the material felt cold and clammy, but it quickly warmed as he stuck his arms through those of the costume. The headpiece was indeed rigid as if it were made from hard plastic. Darkness closed in as he stuck his head inside and waited the twenty seconds for the seam to re-seal.

A jolt like electricity flowed through his body as the twenty seconds elapsed. As he stood on the cold tiled floor, he noticed that the costume had disappeared. No, not disappeared, took over was more like it. He had read about virtual reality gear that made experiences seem real but this wasn't like any VR gear he had ever used. This thing felt as if it was his own body.
He looked around, seeing the costume box on the floor along with his clothing neatly folded within. The stall door was still locked so, he bent down, feeling his balance shift as his tale left the floor. His short arms just managed to reach the box and he dug his claws into the cardboard as he lifted it to chest height.
He risked the second or two of imbalance as he removed a scaly hand from the box and quickly unlocked the door, allowing it to swing inward passed him.
Walking was slow going. Holding the bulky box, coupled with his slightly diminished vision, not to mention his tale kept striking things along the way out of the bathroom and back down the narrow hall.
He knew this probably wasn't the wisest choice in the world but, he dropped the box holding his clothing at the reception desk, hastily scribbling a note for whoever was present that these were his things and he would be returning for them. Now, on to the party.
His boss had told him on Friday which room held the party and he did his best to locate it. Eventually, the number plate above the door caught his attention and he lumbered inside to see most of his coworkers hovering around the refreshment table.
He sidled over to a male coworker and growled out what passed for a greeting. The man nearly leapt through the ceiling, taking the cup of punch with him. He turned and stared in disbelief at the scaly figure that had just entered the room.
"Great costume. Who is this?"
The man tried to identify himself to his coworker but could only gnash his fangs and growl.
"Trying to stay in character huh?"
The man contorted his scaly snout into an expression he hoped was a smile before nodding slowly. He lumbered after his coworker who was approaching the punch bowl to refill his now empty cup. One thing the man noticed were all the different smells that wafted around the huge room. Not only that, but, he could identify who and what made those scents.
The coworker offered him some punch and he clumsily held the cup in his talons. Drinking proved a challenge. Sure, lifting the cup to his snout was easy enough, but, he kept biting through the thin Styrofoam. He eventually gave up and leaned his head back, pouring the contents of the cup into his gaping maw.
When the liquid hit his tongue, he nearly showered his coworker with the vile concoction. The sour tang of lemon, the exotic tropical flavor of the pineapple, the astringent alcohol, and the sickly chemical sweetness that didn't even touch the wide flavor spectrum coated the inside of his mouth with an unpleasant film.
He just managed to choke the stuff down and toss the useless claw-marked cup into the trash can. No more of that today. What he really wanted was water. Pure, unadulterated water.
The man saw the coworker busy chatting to a slim woman close by so the man waved a talon in the direction of the couple hoping to gain their attention. When the coworker glanced back at him, he held one of his hands up to his snout and mimed drinking while at the same time pointing toward where the smell of food reached him through the door.
The coworker nodded and resumed the conversation with the slim female the man sometimes glimpsed around the office. The man elbowed his way through the throng as he hobbled toward the freedom of the opening. A few people stepped on his tail, causing him to wince and let out sharp growls. It may have been only a costume he was wearing, but, that really hurt. He crept along the wall and sighed with relief as he felt the smooth floor of the room give way to the carpet of the reception area.
Not only did the punch make him extremely thirsty, but he wanted to get away from all this stimulation. He couldn't quite put his finger on it but something in him felt very uneasy around all these creatures. People, he corrected himself mentally. People wearing costumes, people enjoying themselves, people I work with five days a week.
He remembered where the bathrooms were and he hobbled as fast as his two-legged gate would allow. A few people were waiting in line near the door and he could smell the alcohol on three of the patrons. Hurry up, he thought. I'm dying of thirst. The line seemed to move immeasurably slow before it was finally his turn. All the stalls were occupied and four of the five urinals were in use. He didn't care about that, he just wanted water.
The man nearly bowled someone over on his journey to the sinks. "Sorry.", he tried to say. The drunk guy wasn't looking directly at the man so received the shock of his life when what looked like a seven-foot-tall bipedal dinosaur looking down at him with hunger in its eyes nearly ran him into the ground. The sharp smell of fear stung the man's large nostrils as the drunk tripped over his own feet in an attempt to hurl himself out of the enclosed space.
The man turned on the faucet, held his taloned hands under the cool jet, and slurped down the refreshing tap water.