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THE last float had pulled out of the lot and into the main procession when Lawrence rounded the corner and cruised the Caddy into its slot as the parade’s closing attraction. He waved to the crowds from behind the wheel, with Myrna blowing kisses beside him, Bootsy on her lap wagging his tail. Claude’s top hat was a little tattered, but its moth-eaten look fit with his image of a ghoulish magician. Myrna had worked a bit of her cosmetic magic on him during their drive, and by the time they reached the parade, Claude sported a passable facsimile of the Ghoulini makeup. The crowds cheered as he waved from the backseat next to his grandson.
“I’m sorry again for what I said earlier, Mr. Frightengale,” Justin said, leaning forward over the seat to make himself heard.
“About what?” Lawrence asked. “About your grandfather belonging in the parade instead of me? I understand. He was my hero too. I used to wait all week to watch reruns of the show on Saturday nights, praying they would dust off a Ghoulini episode. I even had a couple of videotapes I made on my VCR as a kid, but I wore those out years ago watching them over and over.”
“How far back have you seen?” Claude called out.
“The station ran shows from 1970 forward, so I’ve only seen a handful of your episodes. I would give my fangs to be able to see the one from ’65, when Lon Chaney Jr. dropped by the set!” Lawrence glanced into the rearview mirror and grinned, his elongated dental inserts on full display. Bootsy yipped and opened his mouth to the wind, his white fur streaming from his little face as he paced on the wide bench seat beside Myrna.
“That was a good one.” The skin around Claude’s eyes was almost black with makeup, as were his cheeks, where Myrna had gone to work with some spare eye shadow. “I still have the kinescope if you’d like to see it sometime.”
The car skidded to an abrupt stop as Lawrence stood on the brake. Myrna grabbed Bootsy to keep him from falling off her lap. Lawrence turned around in his seat. “Do you have any more?”
“Near about all of them, I guess. The station was tossing them out, so the guys doing the tossing told me I could haul them away if I wanted them. They’re all still in cans back home in the basement.” Claude fussed with the cape around his shoulders with fumbling fingers.
A policeman trailing the parade flashed his lights, and Lawrence turned back around to continue their drive.
“Dear, those old shows could be a nice retirement income for you if we can interest someone in releasing them on DVD,” Myrna said, unwrapping a new lipstick to dab some color onto Lawrence’s lips. “Or you might consider approaching the station to see what they’ll offer. Remember, Terror Time may be their show, but you own the only existing prints of over half the series. And possession is nine-tenths of the law. Hold Ellington’s feet to the fire, sweetie. He’ll have to cut you in for a nice percentage of the profits.”
Claude’s mouth moved from slack to an “O” of bewilderment. “You think so? People would want to rewatch them?”
“You heard Lawrence. You’re an icon, dear. Icons never die.” Myrna plumped her hair to draw attention to her own blonde curly locks. Bootsy barked his agreement.
“Well, that would be something,” Claude said.
Ahead, the crowds were at their thickest around the parade’s grandstand, and the Cadillac’s occupants could hear the amplified voice of the event’s announcer building up to their grand entrance.
“As our parade draws to a close, we have a special guest this year—Lawrence Frightengale, the host of Terror Time, joined by the lovely Myrna Boy!” Screams and applause rose to greet them as they waved to the crowd, smiling. Myrna slid toward Lawrence, and he placed an arm around her waist to draw her closer. She held onto the wiggling Bootsy, who yipped at the crowd as they passed.
“And with them, folks, is a special surprise guest, back from the crypt. It’s Harry Ghoulini, the original host of Terror Time! This man is a legend, and he hasn’t made a public appearance in over thirty years. Let’s give him a warm welcome back!” A roar of applause nearly deafened them, and Myrna felt her smile grow so wide it almost hurt. She glanced back at Claude to see him waving in shocked surprise and Justin bouncing in his seat with excitement. Myrna felt a hand clasp the one in her lap and turned to see Lawrence’s wide fanged smile.
To heck with smearing the lipstick, Myrna thought, leaning over to kiss her boyfriend in front of the roaring crowd.
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