Chapter I do what I want - and I want to cry!
It was Labor Day weekend and for the first time ever, I had finally broken down and bought a ticket to DragonCon. I had lived in Atlanta for my whole life and finally - in my twenty fourth year - I had bowed to peer pressure and got myself gussied up for a weekend at a hotel full of fat sweaty people. Tickets were a hundred and fifty bucks and with that kind of dosh, I got to spend three full days smelling bad Taco Bell gas and the armpits of people not known for their personal hygiene.
I kid - they were mostly clean. But some asshat did manage to snag my bald skullcap on their really poorly made Voltron sword in a fit of spastic stupidity. Poor kid just about wet himself once he saw the guy he clocked. Luckily, he pointed me towards something I should have known would have been at such an event. A costume shop advertising 'cheap specials.' Lucky for me, all I needed was something to cover my luxurious brown stubble.
"See anything you like?"
I almost dropped the small package I had found at the sudden voice. With all the grace of a rampaging buffalo, I spun on my heal and was chest-to-face with a greasy little salesman in a red vest and name tag. Well, greasy average salesman I guess. We stared at each other as I tried to adjust my mind into a socially acceptable state - the question was rather surprising. Not because of the question itself. A salesman trying to drum up business is pretty normal, I guess. No - the question caught me off guard for a few special reasons. Firstly, it wasn't very often I was asked anything out of the blue. I'm seven-two and my size alone makes other people nervous. Seriously, you try being a large man in an under-sized world. Secondly, the place was pretty packed with customers but there didn't seem to be anyone at the cash register and I could only imagine what sorts of complaints the massive line was going to generate. I did not evny the manager his position. Thirdly, I was dressed like a clown. Literally.
"Uh," I said and looked at the cellophane-wrapped package in my gloved hand. Or at least, the white frill covering the package currently in my hand. My eyes returned to his face, framed as it was in slicked back salt and pepper grey hair with goatee to match. "Skullcap?"
The grey haired man glanced at my now outstretched hand and slowly one eyebrow arched upwards. I followed his eyes and realized how utterly ridiculous I must have looked. Baggy white shirt with black puff-ball 'buttons' and a black striped frill at neck and wrist, baggy white pants, over-sized white shoes and to complete the outfit - white clown make-up and a gold foil covered cardboard crown with a large 'P' in black.
"Uh, costume?" I was ever a font of intelligent and thought provoking conversation. The salesman smiled at me, standing there in a sea of expensive props and pieces holding probably the cheapest item in the store and taking up his valuable time. I could feel my face flush under the white grease paint. His smile never wavered and though I was suddenly very self-conscious about my attire, he didn't seem distressed over that. In fact, his smile grew wider.
"My, my. I haven't seen one of you in ages." He leaned to one side and started to circle me a bit - which was weird. The way he moved almost seemed inhuman. Serpentine. Like some ... sort of ...
"Discord." The man jerked back at my voice and I could clearly see his face contorting into surprise. I cleared my throat
