The Mighty Boosh Halloween Special of Doom - Chapter 2
As the days passed, Howard’s insomnia-addled mind drove him closer to the edge. He found himself grasping to keep control of his thoughts, often lapsing into an almost meditative state to reset himself. Maybe it was the stress of Fossil’s campaign, maybe it was something in the air of this new town, or maybe it was that damn alabaster fool in the clouds. Whatever the trigger, Howard could feel that dark secret he’d worked so hard to control clawing for the surface.
Fortunately for Howard, Vince was often too distracted by glittery shop windows to register his struggle to keep his worsening condition under wraps. One day, as the two strolled through the town market, Vince caught sight of a particularly shimmery silver cape. Within seconds, the dazzling flurry of fabric came swooping out of the shop around Vince’s shoulders.
“Howard look!” he shouted, pure delight radiating from his toothy grin. When Howard didn’t turn to appreciate his find, Vince strolled up to him and began waving the garment in front of his zoned-out gaze. The sunlight bounced off the bright, glossy fabric into Howard’s eyes. He reeled backward and cried out.
“Vince! What’re you doing? Get that out of my face!” He waved his arms about furiously, batting at the fluttering nonsense. Vince simply responded by twirling about a bit more before proudly posing with the cape pulled partway across his face.
“Pretty cool, yeah?” Vince raised his eyebrows and poked his nose over the top. “I’m like a glam rock Dracula! Glamcula? Wait, wait. Moonage Nightwing! No, wait! Aladdin Transyl…van…ia… Fill your hearts with blood today?” As Vince struggled to produce a functional pun from behind his mystical curtain, Howard remained transfixed. Not a wearied sigh nor an eye-roll suggested he heard a word Vince was saying. He gazed at the vision before him almost mesmerized. His eyes were so small Vince couldn’t see that he was squinting just slightly as he tilted his head. In the shimmering glow of the cape, Howard could just make out the watery edges of his own figure reflected back at him. Vince saw a change in Howard’s visage. He furrowed his brow and let the garment fall gently to his sides. “Howard?” Still motionless, Howard slowly raised his gaze to meet that of his concerned friend. Although their eyes met, Vince couldn’t shake the feeling that Howard seemed to look right through him. Or was he still caught in that moment, still looking right back at himself? Vince took a tentative step toward him.
“Let’s go.” Howard’s voice was firm, but somehow detached. Vince shuddered, the cape sweeping softly off his shoulder as Howard strode past him.
That night, Vince was stirred from his sleep by a soft, rhythmic chanting. At first he thought perhaps Naboo had sent him a vision, a message in a dream to let them know he’d be late. But he was assured this was a waking madness as he shifted to roll over and was startled to feel the rough texture of old rags where he expected soft sheets. As he grasped at reality through his sleepy fog, the strange chanting filled his head. Four syllables. Four words. Over and over, pausing just slightly between each phrase like a glitch. And that voice. It wasn’t Howard’s, but somehow, he recognized it.
Silently, Vince reached out into the darkness. He prayed for his eyes to adjust so he could go find Howard. The volume of the chanting now told him he was moving toward its source, but he had to keep stumbling toward the light switch. He had to find Howard. Suddenly, Vince’s bare foot landed on something sharp and slippery. He cried out and leapt forward, tearing down the curtains as he scrambled for purchase. As the curtain rod clattered to the floor, moonlight flooded the room. Vince began to wrap the curtain around the oozing gash in his foot, but when he saw the scene before him, he froze. The great mirror which hung behind the bed had been smashed to pieces. Shards flicked moonlight in dizzying patterns across the walls. Vince couldn’t help letting out a sigh of relief that he still had his compact in his pocket. And then he realized why he recognized that voice. His heart pounded in his ears to the rhythm of that nauseating chant. With unwilling eyes, he traced the trail of broken mirror shards, their reflections skewed by streaks of blood as eager to show him his lovely visage as the glass they stained. Vince forced himself to turn and behold the ragged shape rocking in the corner. It continued its high pitched chant unabated as the reality dawned on the terrified Vince.
“Look at them shine… Look at them shine... Look at them shine... Look at them shinin’… Look at them shine…” The creature held a shard in its hands. A drop of blood ran down the smooth edge, glinting in the moonlight before it seeped into the creature’s porous grip. Vince’s breath hitched as he tried to speak.
“H-Howard?” The creature went silent. Its dark little eyes, eyes Vince knew too well, darted up and peered into his own. The shadowy lump continued to twitch in time to the chant still hanging in the stale air. Vince felt a flash of panic in the oppressive silence. Suddenly, the creature spoke again.
“My name is Mr Susan,” it screeched. The eerie melodic tone which had bored into Vince’s ears now slipped into a deep, rumbling slur, as if dialing into a slow motion roar. “And now it is time for your soul fusion!”
Vince’s scream had barely left his lips before it was stifled in a wave of blood-dampened sponges.
Fortunately for Howard, Vince was often too distracted by glittery shop windows to register his struggle to keep his worsening condition under wraps. One day, as the two strolled through the town market, Vince caught sight of a particularly shimmery silver cape. Within seconds, the dazzling flurry of fabric came swooping out of the shop around Vince’s shoulders.
“Howard look!” he shouted, pure delight radiating from his toothy grin. When Howard didn’t turn to appreciate his find, Vince strolled up to him and began waving the garment in front of his zoned-out gaze. The sunlight bounced off the bright, glossy fabric into Howard’s eyes. He reeled backward and cried out.
“Vince! What’re you doing? Get that out of my face!” He waved his arms about furiously, batting at the fluttering nonsense. Vince simply responded by twirling about a bit more before proudly posing with the cape pulled partway across his face.
“Pretty cool, yeah?” Vince raised his eyebrows and poked his nose over the top. “I’m like a glam rock Dracula! Glamcula? Wait, wait. Moonage Nightwing! No, wait! Aladdin Transyl…van…ia… Fill your hearts with blood today?” As Vince struggled to produce a functional pun from behind his mystical curtain, Howard remained transfixed. Not a wearied sigh nor an eye-roll suggested he heard a word Vince was saying. He gazed at the vision before him almost mesmerized. His eyes were so small Vince couldn’t see that he was squinting just slightly as he tilted his head. In the shimmering glow of the cape, Howard could just make out the watery edges of his own figure reflected back at him. Vince saw a change in Howard’s visage. He furrowed his brow and let the garment fall gently to his sides. “Howard?” Still motionless, Howard slowly raised his gaze to meet that of his concerned friend. Although their eyes met, Vince couldn’t shake the feeling that Howard seemed to look right through him. Or was he still caught in that moment, still looking right back at himself? Vince took a tentative step toward him.
“Let’s go.” Howard’s voice was firm, but somehow detached. Vince shuddered, the cape sweeping softly off his shoulder as Howard strode past him.
That night, Vince was stirred from his sleep by a soft, rhythmic chanting. At first he thought perhaps Naboo had sent him a vision, a message in a dream to let them know he’d be late. But he was assured this was a waking madness as he shifted to roll over and was startled to feel the rough texture of old rags where he expected soft sheets. As he grasped at reality through his sleepy fog, the strange chanting filled his head. Four syllables. Four words. Over and over, pausing just slightly between each phrase like a glitch. And that voice. It wasn’t Howard’s, but somehow, he recognized it.
Silently, Vince reached out into the darkness. He prayed for his eyes to adjust so he could go find Howard. The volume of the chanting now told him he was moving toward its source, but he had to keep stumbling toward the light switch. He had to find Howard. Suddenly, Vince’s bare foot landed on something sharp and slippery. He cried out and leapt forward, tearing down the curtains as he scrambled for purchase. As the curtain rod clattered to the floor, moonlight flooded the room. Vince began to wrap the curtain around the oozing gash in his foot, but when he saw the scene before him, he froze. The great mirror which hung behind the bed had been smashed to pieces. Shards flicked moonlight in dizzying patterns across the walls. Vince couldn’t help letting out a sigh of relief that he still had his compact in his pocket. And then he realized why he recognized that voice. His heart pounded in his ears to the rhythm of that nauseating chant. With unwilling eyes, he traced the trail of broken mirror shards, their reflections skewed by streaks of blood as eager to show him his lovely visage as the glass they stained. Vince forced himself to turn and behold the ragged shape rocking in the corner. It continued its high pitched chant unabated as the reality dawned on the terrified Vince.
“Look at them shine… Look at them shine... Look at them shine... Look at them shinin’… Look at them shine…” The creature held a shard in its hands. A drop of blood ran down the smooth edge, glinting in the moonlight before it seeped into the creature’s porous grip. Vince’s breath hitched as he tried to speak.
“H-Howard?” The creature went silent. Its dark little eyes, eyes Vince knew too well, darted up and peered into his own. The shadowy lump continued to twitch in time to the chant still hanging in the stale air. Vince felt a flash of panic in the oppressive silence. Suddenly, the creature spoke again.
“My name is Mr Susan,” it screeched. The eerie melodic tone which had bored into Vince’s ears now slipped into a deep, rumbling slur, as if dialing into a slow motion roar. “And now it is time for your soul fusion!”
Vince’s scream had barely left his lips before it was stifled in a wave of blood-dampened sponges.