Marie had come, Toulouse had come –well, what was his excuse? He had the feeling that everyone else he knew, from his mother and his... Well, his mother’s friend, to Alice and... And whoever else he knew in town, they must all be there at the Hootenanny event. Berlioz dashed through the main street, the cape fluttering behind him. After much deliberation he had finally decided he wouldn’t go and make a fool of himself –and then he decided he would go, even if he made a fool of himself –and then he realized that most of the town would be there –and then, he remembered that this was a masquerade party, so it wouldn’t really matter, right?
He almost tripped when he reached the main floor, all tired from running, but managed to steady himself. The party was in full swing already. Berlioz quickly fixed the mask he had found lying around with some old costumes in the attic, and retied the knot of his childhood Dracula cape. The original, hastly-conceived idea had been to go as the iconic count ( the formal outfit was always at the ready, obviously), but the plastic vampire teeth had been lying for who knows how long in the bottom of the trunk, all squished and unhygienic. Pre-bite Dracula, then?
“Hey, where can I get one of those canapés?” he asked, suddenly very hungry indeed.