FSE

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formerly SoFurry search engine

The sound of chimes filled the air before it was abruptly interrupted by a door closing at the back of a particularly agitated rottweiler. Vincent looked up from the counter. He'd been organizing different shades of face paint for what had felt like an eternity, so any distraction was welcome.

"Welcome," he greeted the customer, tilting his head. "Can I help you?"

To be fair, Vincent knew who the customer was. The rottweiler was actually kind of a regular. He'd walked into the store a few times and had always been quite demanding about the costume he wanted to wear. Cosmetics, accessories - he only wanted the best of the best for the parties he went to. Vincent had thought, for he hadn't been able not to think about it, that the handsome guy would look even better with no costume all, but of course that wasn't the kind of information the tiger was supposed to share with his customers.

Today, the rottweiler - Samuel was his name, Vincent thought - looked different than usual. He was breathing heavily and there was a shadow of utter hopelessness on his face. Vincent wondered if something had happened. Maybe Samuel had just come back from the gym, which was the only other place he could picture the rottweiler being a regular at.

"Listen," Samuel said, walking towards the counter hurriedly. "I need your help."

It almost sounded like a plea. Vincent raised an eyebrow.

"What with?"

"With a costume, obviously."

Looking back in retrospective, the tiger could see how obvious the answer had been. He smiled apologetically. That one had been completely his fault.

"Then you've come to the right place."

"The only place that's still open, I think," Samuel gasped, still trying to catch his breath. Vincent could easily picture the rottweiler running around town in search of an open costume shop.

Most costume shops were closed on November 1st, of course. After all the Halloween madness, most shop assistants were likely to think they deserved a rest - that was, if they were allowed to take it. Which Vincent was not, unfortunately.

"A bit early to go looking for Christmas costumes, isn't it?" Vincent asked. He was aware of Samuel's seasonal record and that was the only explanation he could find for his sudden agitation.

But the rottweiler shook his head.

"I'm not looking for a Christmas costume," he clarified. "I have a Halloween-themed party tonight."

Vincent held his gaze for a few seconds, unblinking.

"It's November 1st," he pointed out.

"I know."

"And it's half past seven. We're about to close."

"I know!" Samuel rubbed his forehead, visibly annoyed. "I just... Stupid Tom thought I had received a message but he didn't even send it. Or maybe he did. I don't care, really! Who sends e-mails for this stuff anyway and what's a _spam_mailbox supposed to be?"

"Like I know."

"I wanted to come up with an excuse not to go. I mean, if I can't wear a cool new costume, what's the point?"

"You could always use the costume from yesterday", Vincent suggested. He wrote a quick mental note that maybe suggesting customers didn't need additional costumes wasn't such a good business strategy.

However, time proved he had no reason to worry.

"Use the same costume twice?" Samuel raised his voice, as if the very idea was outrageous. "Impossible. Plus, there's a ketchup stain on it now."

"Oh. Sorry about that."

"That's okay. People thought it was blood." A proud grin appeared momentarily on the rottweiler's face.

"Then don't go." Vincent was determined to push Samuel further, just to see how big his necessity to buy a new costume was. The shop wasn't even his anyway, so a sale less wouldn't make a huge impact on his monthly income.

"I thought about that, but then Shareen called, and apparently his boyfriend is coming. And he's a dick. He's always boasting about how good his costumes are and what am I supposed to do? Costumes are my thing. I can't let him win, can I?"

"God, no."

"That's right. So." The rottweiler made a short pause, placing an open paw on the counter. He looked a bit less exhausted now that he'd had time to tell his story. Vincent was definitely much more entertained. "Got any Halloween costumes?"

"Only leftovers," Vincent admitted. "I sold the last good ones yesterday."

"Shit!"

"I can show you the catalogue if you want," the tiger proposed, feeling slightly sorry for the rottweiler. "Maybe you can still find something."

"... yeah. Right. I think that's a good idea. Thanks."

Vincent crouched and pulled the heavy book out of the open drawer. As soon as he opened it on the counter, Samuel leaned forward eagerly, as if he'd been thirsty for ages and had just found a spring.

"Spooky-themed or are you looking for something a bit more general?" the tiger asked. No matter the answer, he wouldn't be able to turn a page - the rottweiler's face was on the way.

"Spooky-themed, yeah," the dog answered, turning the page himself. "Uh, I like that vampire one. But lately everyone's been dressing as a vampire. I want to be more original than that. I want all eyes to be set on me."

"Uh-huh. We ran out of vampire costumes yesterday anyway."

"Shit. I was thinking I could save it as a last resort." Samuel licked his upper lip and stood up straight again with a bit of an embarrassed face, as if he'd just realized his nose was practically touching the catalogue. "We can skip all the pumpkin variations. I don't like those too much and they all look cheap."

"Good eye. They are."

"Although... sometimes, things that are expensive are worse," the rottweiler reasoned. "I still remember when Jack came to that party last year with a very detailed alien costume. It was brilliant, but he could barely move. He couldn't even go to the toilet by himself."

"Nothing ventured, nothing gained, or so they say."

"Mhm. He didn't win the prize though. I did."

"Ah. Congratulations then."

"Thanks." That proud smile appeared on Samuel's face once again. "So no aliens. Oh, and no werewolves either. I've used that card too many times now. It looks good on me."

"It's a classic though," Vincent mentioned.

Samuel nodded and seemed thoughtful for a second.

"Hmmm. Maybe something classic would be good. I know the people who're going to the party will get trendy costumes and stuff like that, so maybe something... uh, how's that word...?"

"... timeless?"

"Yeah, maybe. I think. Yeah, something timeless would make me stand out, which is what I'd like, of course."

Samuel raised his head from the catalogue and looked at Vincent straight in the eye. Up until that moment, their conversation had basically been a monologue, but now he was expecting the tiger to help him more actively. He could have sworn there was a sparkle of interest in the shop assistant's gaze.

But Vincent shook his head, as if getting rid of an intrusive thought that had clung to his mind.

"A classic that refuses to die, you say?" the tiger asked, narrowing his eyes. "I think I have just the right thing for you. Might look a bit cheap, but that makes it seem more casual and not like you've been running around town for hours."

"What is it?"

Vincent's eyes moved to the catalogue again and he flipped a few pages. To Samuel he seemed slightly agitated and premeditated, as if he'd had that idea for some time. Finally, one of the tiger's thick fingers fell on one picture that remained practically hidden on the corner of the page.

"... zombie?" Samuel asked, a bit confused.

It wasn't the most appealing costume, to be honest. It wasn't complex, either - just some ripped old clothes. Oh well, he thought. At least it's cheap.

"Ever dressed up as one?"

"Not really," the rottweiler admitted.

"It's a tricky one. Very simple, so everything will depend on your acting. It's the kind of costume that asks you to be in character all the time. If you can do that, I bet you'll be the life of the party. And I know no one else will be wearing this costume. I haven't sold it. Not a single time."

"I've never been a fan of zombie films," Samuel confessed, scratching the back of his head. "But... uh, yeah. I guess it could work. And I'm in a hurry, so it'll have to do."

"It will as long as you act properly," the tiger insisted.

"... yeaaah. That's what scares me. I've never been a very good actor."

A brief smile appeared on Vincent's face, almost as if he'd been expecting that answer. The tiger really hoped he didn't look like there was more going on in his head than it should. He didn't want to scare his customer. Not now, of all times.

"Well, I can give you some tips," he whispered, leaning closer. "The zombie part isn't really that difficult, you know?"

"It shouldn't be hard," Samuel admitted.

"We can go to the backroom," Vincent offered. "I was about to close the store anyway."

Samuel stepped back, a skeptical half-grin on his face.

"To the backroom, huh? You realize how weird that sounds."

"I mean, you don't have to if you don't want to," Vincent clarified, "but then, how are you going to stand out?"

Samuel held his gaze for a few seconds. He seemed hesitant.

"Look, I don't want to force you to do anything you don't want to," the tiger stated.

"Uh. Okay. I believe you. It's just, weird, you know," Samuel repeated, a bit uncomfortable. "But if it helps to make Shareen's boyfriend look like the idiot he is, then it's worth it."

"There'll be some physical touch involved," Vincent warned him. It seemed as if the tiger was the one hesitating now.

But, much to his surprise, Samuel just shrugged.

"I don't care. Touch as much as you like. A favor for a favor and all that."

The tiger chuckled softly.

Minutes later, Samuel walked into the backroom dressed in his zombie attire, which wasn't really that fancy - precisely, the rottweiler kept on thinking, because its goal was to not be fancy at all. The zombie costume consisted of some ripped jeans, a yellowish T-shirt with suspicious fake stains on it and an equally ripped denim vest. Samuel thought the clothes would have looked great on him, if only they hadn't been "zombified" so to speak. Plus, they had that costume-ish feel to them.

Vincent was waiting for the rottweiler, sitting on a footstool with his legs crossed.

"Looks good on you," he noted.

"Hmm. You really think so? I believe it's a bit too..."

"Tight?"

"Yeah. Uh, revealing."

"Well, I told you before. Nothing ventured, nothing gained," the tiger insisted, winking an eye.

Samuel supposed the tiger was right.

"So, what do I have to do now?" he asked, feeling a bit self-conscious all of a sudden.

Vincent stood up and placed one of his heavy hands on the rottweiler's shoulder, trying to reassure him.

"We'll start with a few relaxation exercises. Have you ever done those before?"

"Hmmm nope."

"Well, they're good for clearing your mind so you can focus on acting," Vincent explained. "It's easier than it sounds like. You just need to breathe in deeply through your nose."

Samuel held the tiger's gaze, as if trying to determine whether the tiger was making fun of him. Once he realized Vincent looked serious enough, he did as he was told and took a nice, deep breath in.

"Hold it for a second. Now let it out through your mouth."

The rottweiler did as he was told.

"Do it again, now. Deep breath in through your nose. Hold it. Breath out through your mouth. Good. And again. Feeling more relaxed?"

"Yeah," Samuel admitted. He couldn't help but notice Vincent's paw was still resting on his shoulder.

"Now, I want you to focus on how that relaxation is manifesting itself in your body. I want you to notice how much calmer you're feeling. Focus on how easily and naturally your breathing is slowing down. Your shoulders are sinking slowly. You might be feeling warm and fuzzy or light or heavy and tired. Whatever it is, I want you to focus on it and keep breathing for me. In. Hold it. And out."

Samuel had to admit following the tiger's instructions was quite relaxing. He made a quick note to memorize that process for the next time he was feeling nervous. He had a tendency to get agitated easily.

"Now raise your arm." Samuel did as he was told, although it took him more effort than he'd thought. "Good. I want you to stretch it in front of you, just like that. Close your fist. Right." Vincent's paw left the rottweiler's shoulder and moved to his arm, patting it softly, then it moved to his fist and squeezed it. "I want you to imagine a steel bar going from your shoulder to your fist."

"Uh what," Samuel mumbled, a bit confused.

"Don't worry, it's just dramatic visualization. Do that for me, come on. A steel bar, going from your shoulder to your fist. Making your arm stiff. Stiff. Stiffer." With each iteration of the word, the tiger squeezed a bit tighter on his fist, or at least that's what it felt like. "Focus on how stiff your arm is growing. Stiffer and stiffer and stiffer. That's it. Rigid like a steel bar."

The rottweiler growled. It was a weird sensation. Vincent let go of his fist.

"Now I want you to try and bend your arm. Go ahead."

Samuel had been really focused on following instructions, so knowing he had to do something on his own puzzled him for a split second. That feeling only grew stronger when he tried to do as the tiger had suggested and realized he couldn't bend his arm.

"Huh," was the only sound that left his mouth. "How..."

"See? Now you're playing the part of someone who can't bend his arm," the tiger said, walking right in front of him and winking an eye. "Cool, right?"

"Uh, yeah." Samuel had to admit it was pretty cool indeed, even if he was still struggling and squirming to bend his arm pointlessly. "I wasn't expecting this to happen."

"It's a nice old trick of mine," Vincent explained. He seemed really satisfied - Samuel wondered if he was fond of his own skills or just glad he had reacted the proper way. "Now, let's move on to the next step. You're still feeling relaxed, aren't you?"

"Yeah," Samuel answered. In fact, he'd been feeling slightly drowsy before the tiger asked him to try to bend his arm.

"Good. Let the stiffness in your arm melt. Right. Just liiiike that." The tiger gently shook Samuel's arm left and right, making it sway as the tension softened. The rottweiler felt himself regaining control of his arm, which dropped easily to his side once the tiger let go of it. "Now you could bend it if you wanted to, but we're going to do a different thing, so don't worry."

Vincent grabbed Samuel's other arm and lifted it swiftly until the rottweiler's paw was right in front of his face. Samuel couldn't help but smile a bit clumsily as he stared into his open paw.

"What's this...?"

"I want you to look straight into your palm. Find a spot in the center and focus right on it. Now I want you to imagine there's a powerful magnet both on your palm and on your forehead, and it's going to begin to pull both of them together. They're beginning to move, slowly at first." The tiger stroke the back of Samuel's paw with a finger and the rottweiler felt it beginning to draw nearer. "Good. You're doing a great job. Feeling the magnets pulling them closer and closer."

Samuel could only stare at his paw as it drifted towards his forehead, eyes slightly crossed and barely aware of what was going on. He had no idea what any of that had to do with acting, so it felt like he was simply going along.

"Now you're going to play the part of someone who goes to sleep when his paw touches his forehead," Vincent informed, placing a paw on the rottweiler's arm. "And it's going to happen automatically, just like it did when your arm was stiff and you couldn't bend it. Once your paw touches your forehead, your eyes will close and you'll drop into a deep sleep. Your body will relax even more. Your mind will let go of every single thought as you drift into the warm, soft relaxation. Imagine the most wonderful state of sleep you can think of - that's how you'll feel as soon as your paw touches your forehead."

It was getting closer now, Samuel noticed, and he wondered if he was ready to do as he was told, if he was ready to imagine that state or if he wasn't simply a good enough actor. His arm was twitching and swaying imperceptibly due to the effort of keeping it up. If I hadn't been for Vincent holding it, Samuel would have...

The tiger pushed Samuel's arm gently towards his face. The paw reached his forehead.

"Sleep."

Samuel's arm dropped to his side limply, swaying a few times before coming to a stop. His shoulders sank heavily and his head dropped to his chest, the muscles of his neck relaxing completely and letting all the tension go. His knees trembled and it seemed they were about to give in, but Vincent placed a paw on his shoulder firmly, keeping the rottweiler up.

"Good. Deeper and deeper into that wonderful sleep. Letting yourself go. Focusing on my words as you feel your mind drifting away. Your thoughts vanishing. Your worries melting. So relaxed and calm. Feeling soooo good."

Samuel answered with a soft sigh. There had been a small half-grin on the tiger's face the whole time, ever since the rottweiler had begun breathing in and out - it got wider and slightly sharper now.

"Now, Samuel, I want you to listen to me carefully. I'm going to speak to you and you'll find yourself doing what I say. If at any moment you feel uncomfortable, you'll snap out of this sleep and wake up. Nod your head if you understand."

The nod came as a slow, drowsy movement. Vincent thought it made the rottweiler look even more adorable.

"I want you to remember how your arm felt a few minutes ago. So stiff and rigid. Motionless. That steel bar, going from your shoulder to your fist." Vincent grabbed Samuel by his wrists and lifted his arms. "Getting stiffer and stiffer. Feel the same sensation now in both arms now. Feel them locking into place. Stretching forward. Frozen, just like that. And now I want you to feel that tension in your closed fists - let it go completely, but only from your fists to your fingers. That's it. Relax your paws and let them open."

Samuel's fingers uncurled slowly, his paws growing limp. His arms were stretching right in front of him, and continued to do so even after Vincent let go of them.

"Gooooood," the tiger praised him. There was still work to be done, but at least the rottweiler's arms were already in place. "Now, I want you to raise your head just a bit. Exactly. Just a few inches. You'll open your eyes but you'll still be asleep. Your eyelids will be heavy... So heavy. You won't be able to keep them completely open. One of them might close from time to time."

The tiger chuckled softly as Samuel's eyelids fluttered open, then closed out of sync and opened again drowsily.

"Your legs will be stiff, just like your arms. You'll be able to walk and move around, but it'll be hard, almost impossible, to bend your knees. You'll feel something heavy on your back, making you hunch forward just a bit. And your body will feel slow. Reaaaaally slow. Like you're pushing through mud. Unable to move quickly - only slow, very slow, like the thoughts in your head now."

Vincent stepped back and admired his work. The rottweiler could have been an actor in a bad Halloween movie. With a bit more make-up, maybe he'd been a terrifying zombie, but the tiger thought it would have been a crime to hide that handsome, sleepy face behind a layer of gray paint. The result was pretty convincing anyway and that was what he'd been looking for.

"Now let's work on your vocabulary," Vincent said, winking an eye at the rottweiler, who had begun to sway slightly on his feet. "I want you to repeat this sentence: 'I am a zombie'".

"I am a zombie," Samuel mumbled. His voice was monotone, sleepy.

"Good, but I want you to remember how sloooow you're moving. Your jaw is heavy and it will get even heavier every time I snap my fingers. Your tongue will be just as heavy. You'll start drooling." Snap. "Repeat."

"I am... a zoooombie," Samuel managed to say, his words much slower now.

Snap.

"I'm aaa... zzzz... ooommbie..."

"I can feel we're getting somewhere. Repeat."

Snap.

"Iiiii... zzzz... oooombbbbb..."

"Hey, nice drooling. Very convincing."

Snap.

"Iiiii... ooooommmmbb..."

Snap. Snap. Snap.

"Uu... uuhhhhhh... mmmmmmm...?"

"Good. I knew you'd master it. Good zombie."

Vincent patted Samuel on his shoulder. The rottweiler's body swayed even further for a second before the tiger grabbed him firmly.

"Now, you're going to walk out of this room in this state. You'll head to the party. You didn't mention when or where it was, but I'm pretty sure by the time you get there it'll have started."

"Uuuu... mmmhhuuuuuu..."

"Yes. Just a little note before you go." Vincent looked at Samuel straight into the eye. "I noticed you were comfortable throughout our whole little session. If you enjoyed this... and I mean, if you really liked this, you can come back any time and ask me to help you more with your acting. Or whatever excuse we come up with. Say 'yes' if you understand."

"Mmmmmmrr... yyyyy..."

"You're a very clever zombie." Vincent patted him on the shoulder one last time, pointing at the exit of the back room. "Now go ahead and leave. I'm pretty sure you'll be the undead life of the party. No need to worry about the payment - we'll discuss that next time."

The zombie didn't even react. It just began walking towards the door, slowly, arms stiff and stretching in front of it, head bobbing with every step, foamy drool dripping down his chin. Vincent watched him go, arms crossed on his chest and a proud grin on his face.

"And there goes another satisfied costumer," he murmured to himself.