Originally Posted: 4:58 PM - Feb 12, 2012

A cool autumn breeze ruffled James Lucas' hair just before he dashed into the employee entrance at the old department store. It felt nice, really, for he was sweating profusely under his jacket; he had run all the way from the bus stop in the hope of being on time for once. He raced to the lift and jabbed the first floor button, panting as he did so, and removed his jacket. The machine groaned and gave a mighty shudder as if young Lucas were asking it to carry a small pachyderm instead of just one man in reasonable good shape. However, it managed to rise up and a moment later it dinged to announce his arrival on the first floor.
Captain Peacock glared at him as he got out of the lift. Mr Lucas glanced down at his watch and was amazed to see he still had five minutes to spare.
"Would you look at that?" he remarked to the floorwalker. "Five minutes to go! Must be a new record," he joked.
Captain Peacock held up his own watch. "Not according to my watch," he said. "You are two minutes late, Mr Lucas."
"Well, that can't be right," Mr Lucas replied. "I just set my watch last night and..." He looked down again and saw that the hands were not moving. Swearing under his breath he tapped it a few times. The second hand gave a feeble jerk. The battery must have just gone.
"I will look the other way this time, Mr Lucas," Captain Peacock sighed. "But only because it is quite clear that you have been making a real attempt to be here on time. You've purchased a new watch, albeit an unreliable one; and Mr Humphries informed me just the other day that you not only have been setting your alarm for an earlier waking time but you have also obtained a bus schedule and nearly memorised it. However," he added, "you are still arriving well after nine o'clock. You must make a better effort or face the consequences."
Mr Lucas nodded solemnly. "Will there be anything else, Captain Peacock?"
"No," the floorwalker replied gravely. "Now put away your coat and assume your position."
Mr Lucas did as he was told and a minute or so later he was at his usual spot at the end of the counter, whereupon he looked around to make sure no one was watching before taking out a small paperback copy of The Fellowship of the Rings. Mr Humphries walked by, looked down, and tutted.
"Put that away before Peacock catches you," he advised.
Mr Lucas sighed and stuck the book back into his personal drawer.
"Now come over here and help me with these new vests," Mr Humphries said. "They're supposed to be fantastic for keeping you cool and dry. According to the label they pull moisture away from your body, even if you're running a marathon. Harman was supposed to deliver the new display model this morning."
As if on cue a middle-aged man came strolling onto the floor pushing a covered display in front of him. He hummed a merry tune to himself as he positioned the display in front of the mens counter.
"'Ere you are, Mr Grainger," Harman called out. "The new Sweat-Smart wicking vest display model."
"Mr Harman," Captain Peacock groaned. "How many times have I told you that staff from Maintenance and Packing are not allowed on the floor during opening hours?"
Mr Harman reached into his coat and extracted a small book. He flipped it open and searched for an entry. "As of today..." He took out his pencil and made a quick note. "...three hundred and forty-two times."
Captain Peacock rolled his eyes. "Just leave it and get off the floor."
"I'm afraid I cannot acqueese to your demands," Mr Harman replied in his thick Cockney accent. "I was instructed by a higher aufority to deliver this display then to await furver instruction from Mr Rumbold. As he has not arrived yet and given me said instructions then I shall remain here."
Captain Peacock flushed but before he could say anything Mr Rumbold appeared on the floor carrying a clipboard. His newest secretary followed, bouncing jubilantly in his wake, much to the appreciation of Captain Peacock and Mr Lucas.
"Ah, there it is," Mr Rumbold said, beaming at the still-covered display. "Gather 'round, everyone!" he called to the staff. "Mr Harman is going to demonstrate the new Sweat-Smart wicking vest display."
Mrs Slocombe and Miss Brahms left their counters and came to stand next to Captain Peacock. Both looked very bored and had every right; the display had nothing to do with the ladies' department.
"Please begin, Mr Harman," Mr Rumbold requested, gesturing with his clipboard.
Mr Harman gave a stiff bow. "My lords, ladies, and gentleman," he announced, "may I present the new Sweat-Smart wicking vest!"
He yanked back the sheet to reveal two male dummies standing together side by side. One was wearing a smart suit over the new vest while the other was wearing the vest with running shorts.
"No matter if you're running a marathon from Yorkshire to Souf'end," Mr Harman continued, "or simply making a presentation in front of the board members, the new Sweat-Smart wicking vest will ensure that you stay dry and comfortable by pulling moisture away from your profusely perspiring body and absorbing into its organic cotton fibres. Shall I demonstrate?"
Mr Rumbold smiled and nodded. Mr Harman pressed a switch and the dummy in the suit began moving his arms up and down and it swivelled once to face the other dummy for a moment, as if addressing a group. The other dummy, however, remained motionless.
"What's wrong wif that one?" Miss Brahms asked, pointing to the athletic dummy.
"Maybe he's got a cramp?" Mr Humphries grinned.
"Sorry 'bout that," Mr Harman apologised. "Must be a short circuit somewhere. Lemme have a look." He switched them off, prised a panel open on the back of the sporty dummy's head, and twiddled about inside for a moment with his screwdriver. Then he snapped the cover shut and pressed the switch again.
Both came to life this time. The business dummy began gesturing then turned to face the sports dummy, which was running in place. There was a loud 'ping!' and all of a sudden it turned away from the business dummy and bent over where it remained still. The business dummy, however, still moved its arms up and down and even bent over a little at the waist.
The visual effect was all a bit much for Mr Humphries, who fainted on the spot and was caught under the arms by Mr Lucas.
At lunch time the staff huddled around their regular table, which they had just won back after a short battle with the now-defunct chemists' shoppe. The first few meals and breaks had been small celebrations of victory. Now they resumed their usual gripes about the terrible food offered by the Canteen.
"Is it just me," Mr Lucas grumbled, "or does this shepherd's pie seem a little underdone?"
"It would explain why it tastes so 'baa'd," Mr Humphries bleated as a joke. He grinned but everyone else groaned. "Oh come now," he chuckled. "They're always trying to pull the wool over our eyes! 'Ewe' have to give them credit. Otherwise they'd just try to 'ram' it down our throats."
This time he was rewarded by chunks of bread that were thrown not only from his own table but from a few other staff members who heard him. He still chuckled at his puns as he tucked into his minestrone soup.
"What are you so chipper about, anyway?" Mr Lucas snapped.
"Halloween is nearly here," Mr Humphries replied. "And this year they're having a fancy dress party and competition down in the social club. I've got my costume all ready and I know it will win!"
"What are you going as?" Miss Brahms asked.
Mr Humphries shook his head briskly. "I shan't say. Don't want to spoil the surprise."
"Oh come, give us a hint," Miss Brahms coaxed.
Mr Humphries looked around to make sure no one was listening, then they all leaned in close to listen.
"Without going into details," he whispered, "it involves a lot of latex, makeup, and a few pairs of socks."
"I know," Mr Lucas said. "You're going as a creature from Doctor Who."
Mr Humphries rolled his eyes. "No, Mr Lucas. I'm..." He leaned in closer so only his immediate coworkers could hear. "I'm going in drag."
No one seemed the least bit surprised or shocked at this revelation. Miss Brahms even gave Mrs Slocombe a look that clearly said, Who didn't see that coming?
"How's that going to win the contest?" Mr Lucas asked. "I mean, lots of guys dress as girls for fancy dress parties. It automatically gets you laughs."
"Ah, but not like this," Mr Humphries winked. "By the time I'm done with my frock, my makeup, and made my-" he pretended to grab non-existent breasts on his chest- "adjustments, no one will recognise me."
"Except for your voice," Miss Brahms pointed out. "And that wonky tooth of yours."
Mr Humphries, who had been grinning up to that point, suddenly closed his mouth and seemed to be contemplating his dental issues.
"When is this party?" Mr Lucas asked.
"Eight o'clock, next Friday," Mr Humphries muttered, trying not to show his teeth.
"Tell us about the competition," Mrs Slocombe said, trying to cheer her friend up.
Mr Humphries sipped his soup and grimaced slightly before responding. "There's a notice on the staff board, it's got more details. But I believe they'll have four categories; best male costume, best female, best couple, and best overall. The best overall winner receives forty pounds and a charcoal grill from the camping department.
"Some good that'll do," Miss Brahms scoffed. "It's October. No one wants to cook out in this wevver."
"I think that's why they're giving it away," Mr Humphries chuckled. "They ordered too many over the summer and now they're trying to get rid of them to make room for the new stock."
"What about the other categories?" Captain Peacock asked.
"Best female, male, and couple wins twenty pounds and a new toaster each from Kitchenware," Mr Humphries replied. "They ordered too many of those as well and they can't shift 'em fast enough."
"Mrs Grainger would love a new toaster," Mr Grainger mused aloud. "Our old one quit working weeks ago. She's been toasting our morning crumpets under the broiler. Half the time she forgets and burns them."
"I could definitely use a new toaster," Miss Brahms said. "And twenty nicker."
"And I would love to have a grill for cooking out next spring," Mrs Slocombe added. "Mrs Axelby and I used to cook out nearly every weekend, rain or shine, spring through autumn! Only last month we were grilling some shish-ka-boobs and little did we know that the bottom of the grill had worn through. We were talking and laughing about all sorts of things without a care in the world. Next thing I know my pussy is wailing like a banshee. A coal had slipped through and landed on her poor tail, singing it to the skin!"
Mr Lucas and Mr Humphries both looked very shocked and aghast at this statement.
"Well, it seems we all have some interest in the prizes at hand," Captain Peacock remarked. "Perhaps we should all attend the party and enter the competition."
"But I've no idea what to dress up as," Miss Brahms complained. "I 'aven't got any costumes at 'ome. Not to mention I'm nearly skint."
"All you've got to do is visit a consignment shoppe," Mrs Slocombe told her. "Or a thrift store. Get some cheap second-hand clothing and use your imagination."
"Yes," Captain Peacock nodded. "You could even find some used costumes there as well."
"That's how I've prepared mine," Mr Humphries added. "I went to this thrift store down the road. Friend of mine owns it. They've got a magnificent collection and you can find just about anything you like for next to nothing."
"How late are they open?" Captain Peacock asked.
"I think they're open 'til eight-thirty," Mr Humphries replied.
"Well, why don't we all make a little trip there after work?" Captain Peacock suggested. "We can have a good look together and perhaps advise each other on costume ideas."
"I know what he'd really like to look at," Miss Brahms muttered under her breath. No one heard her, though, for they were all nodding in agreement with Captain Peacock.
"Very well then," he smiled. "Mr Humphries, would you care to escort us to this thrift shoppe after five-thirty?"
"Why not?" Mr Humphries replied. "I've been wanting to go back and see if I can find another skirt."
"For your costume?" Mr Lucas asked.
"Not necessarily," Mr Humphries grinned.
At five-forty-five the first floor staff arrived at Buttons and Bows, which was just down the street from Grace Brothers. Mr Humphries led the way into the shoppe, where he was immediately greeted by a stout woman with brilliant red hair.
"DAH-ling!" she cried out before embracing him warmly. "It's been too long, Claybourne!"
"It's been a week, dear," Claybourne corrected her. He gave her his charming smile and they exchanged air-kisses. "Allow me to introduce my coworkers: James, Ernest, Betty, Shirley...and Stephen. This is Deidre, the owner of the shop. We're all attending the fancy dress party next week at work", he told her, "and they need costume ideas."
At the mention of his first name Captain Peacock bristled slightly but said nothing. Shirley and Betty went right for the womens section to peruse while James and Ernest merely looked bewildered.
"Well, this looks interesting," Captain Peacock said casually, admiring a tuxedo in the mens section. "Yes...I imagine with a toy pistol and a nice watch I could create an ensemble and go as a secret agent. James Bond, double-O-seven!"
"You'd make a better Bond villian," James chuckled. This earned him a nasty glare from the floorwalker.
"I-I'm not sure where to look," Ernest stammered.
"You could always put on a suit and carry 'round a cigar, go as Churchill," James said. "You're always going on about your days in ENSA when you'd do your Churchill impersonations."
"Yes, that's true," Ernest nodded. "And that won't cost very much, either. What a good idea, Mr Lucas! Thank you!"
Betty took her time sorting through the racks of clothing, until finally she pulled out a beaded dress.
"Ooh, would you look at that!" she said to Shirley. "It gives me a wonderful idea. I think I'll go as a flapper girl."
"Then you'll want these, then," Shirley said, and handed over a pair of long gloves. "I think I saw some beaded necklaces and a feathered headband somewhere, too."
"Isn't this fun?" Betty giggled as she clasped the clothes to her bosom. "I'm going to try this lot on, see how it suits me."
"I think I'll try this on," Shirley said, holding up a fringed leather skirt. "Not for my costume, though. It's just too groovy not to try it on."
"We're not here to buy casual wear, Miss Brahms," Betty reminded her. "We're here to find ideas for the fancy dress party. I'm determined to get that grill!"
"Oh, I've already decided on my costume," Shirley grinned.
"What's that, then?" Betty asked.
Shirley merely gave a sly wink. "You'll see." And with that she disappeared into one of the fitting stalls with the skirt. Betty scowled after her before slipping into the next stall.
Back in the mens section James was trying to find something interesting to wear that stayed within his pathetic budget.
"I've got three pounds to my name," he bemoaned to Claybourne, who was eyeing a beaded dress similar to the one Betty took in the fitting stall. "What can I do that won't cost me much and might win me that ten quid?"
"Very little," Claybourne drawled. "You'd have a better chance of getting together with Shirley and going for the couples prize."
James snorted back a laugh. A few seconds later he looked up from the rack and scratched his chin as an idea formed. He went to the fitting stall and just as he was about to knock on the door Betty's door was flung open, revealing her in a tight-fitting gold beaded dress with a neckline that plunged deep into the abyss that was her cleavage. She looked just like a flapper girl from the 1920s...if flapper girls had bright green hair and were in their late forties.
"What do you think, Mr Lucas?" she asked, somewhat indifferently, in accordance with the flapper girl attitude.
James looked as if he'd just walked in on his parents in a compromising position. "I-I-I..." he stammered.
"That good?" Betty drawled. She sauntered out and struck a pose in front of a long mirror that was on sale.
"My word," Claybourne remarked. "Josephine Baker rides again!"
Betty winked at him and turned to Deidre. "I'll have the lot," she said. "Oh, and do you have any fake pearls? I could do with a couple long strands. To complete the look, you know."
"You'll have to do something about your hair," Claybourne advised.
"Mrs Axelby can help me with that," Betty said. "She does a wonderful finger-wave. I'll call her tonight and see when she's available."
Deidre brought over a few strands of large white beads that looked somewhat like pearls. Betty put them on and nodded. Just then Shirley stepped out of the other stall wearing the fringed leather skirt and a very tight spaghetti-strap blue shirt.
"What do you think?" she asked, posing in front of the mirror. "It's a bit snug but I think I prefer it that way."
None of the men could answer; not even Claybourne, who was staring open-mouthed at her. Betty rolled her eyes and replied, "Don't you think it's a bit revealing?"
"Then it's perfect," Shirley chirped. "I'll take this lot home with me."
She started to go back into the stall when James came to his senses and stopped her. He whispered in her ear and instead of striking him in protest Shirley raised an eyebrow, then whispered back. James nodded and she went into the stall to change back into her work clothes. Betty followed suit.
"Well, I believe we have everything we need, then," Captain Peacock stated confidently. "All except, ah, James."
But James shook his head. "No worries, Steve. Everything is already taken care of. And I dare say I've got an excellent chance of winning a prize next week!"
Captain Peacock flushed at the young man addressing him so casually. He started to say something when Claybourne squealed with delight.
"OH! Would you look at that?!" He held up a black shirt that had the words 'I'm free' written on the chest in glittery paint. "I simply must have this for the club! It'll go fantastic with my green lame suit."
"Trust you," James chuckled.
Ten minutes later they walked out of the shoppe with their purchases (all except James and Ernest) and bade each other goodnight before disappearing in different directions.
The days leading up to the fancy dress party were filled with speculation, excitement, and even rejection as a few staff members attempted to land dates for the event. Captain Peacock could be overheard in the Canteen bemoaning to Mr Rumbold's voluptuous secretary the fact that Mrs Peacock refused to attend with him. She feigned sympathy until he subtly dropped the hint that he'd like for her to come with him as a Bond girl. At that point she dropped the sweet smile and told him she already had a date - at another party altogether - before walking away with her coffee in hand.
"Why can't you get Mrs Peacock to come be a Bond girl?" Mr Lucas asked casually as the floorwalker sat down at their regular table.
"Ah, well..." Captain Peacock stirred his own coffee as he tried to think quickly. "Well, Mrs Peacock is a bit shy when it comes to dressing...oh, what's the word?"
"Like a slut?" Mr Lucas offered.
Captain Peacock glared at him. "I shall ignore that, Mr Lucas. I believe it could be phrased as a 'tart' or 'coquette'. Anyway, she's a bit old-fashioned and tends to prefer her skirts fall below her knees."
"And I'll bet you would prefer they simply fall off," Mr Lucas grinned.
Captain Peacock shot him a belligerent look before sipping his coffee, which made his expression all the worse.
"Did you ever find a costume, Mr Lucas?" Mr Humphries asked.
Mr Lucas nodded. "Yes, everything's ready for tomorrow night," he replied.
"What are you going as?" Mr Grainger asked.
Mr Lucas shook his head. "It's a surprise," he grinned.
"You're not going to come naked," Mr Humphries asked, "stick a potato over your goods and call yourself a Dick-Tater?"
"Why not?" Mrs Slocombe smirked. "That's his middle name."
Mr Lucas stared, shocked, at Mrs Slocombe. "How do you know about my middle name?" he asked in a low, dangerous voice.
"Mrs Johnson in Accounts told me," Mrs Slocombe said, still smirking. "And I would warn you...if you're cheeky to me at all tomorrow evening I shall let it slip to everyone at the party."
Mr Lucas muttered something under his breath that sounded a lot like, "Flippin' flapper fu-"
"What was that, Mr Lucas?" Mrs Slocombe asked sweetly.
"Nothing, nothing," he lied before taking a long pull from his coffee.
At five-thirty the next day everyone scrambled either to get home and change or they bagged the fitting rooms. Mr Humphries had brought his drag with him and kept it under wraps the entire day. When Mr Lucas tried to take a peek he was quickly admonished by his superior and told that if he tried it again he'd get his wrist smacked.
Soon people were making their way down to the basement where the social club was located. Fake cobwebs were hung everywhere with fat plastic spiders. A mummy in a coffin was propped next to the door and when someone walked by it reached out to grab the person's arm, making them shriek with fright. At least until they realised it was only Mr Mash, then they walloped him.
Betty swaggered into the club wearing her flapper girl outfit and looking slightly uncomfortable. It was tighter than she'd realised when she bought it the week before. Still, she looked sensational with her faux pearls, finger-waved red hair, and enough makeup to cause even Tammy Faye Bakker to shake her head in disapproval.
Captain Peacock arrived a few minutes later wearing a tuxedo and carrying a toy pistol in his jacket. A young girl was with him, giggling coyly in her sequined mini-skirt and skimpy blouse. He ordered a martini - shaken, not stirred - before spying Betty and giving her a warm smile.
"My word, Betty, you look absolutely charming," he complimented her. "One would almost believe it was 1927 all over again."
"Why thank you, Stephen," Betty trilled. "It's too bad Mrs Peacock couldn't accompany you tonight."
Captain Peacock blushed for a moment. "Er, yes. A tragedy." He sipped his drink and nodded in satisfaction. "Has anyone seen Ernest or the others?"
"H-here I am, Captain Peacock," Ernest said, appearing at his elbow. "I would have been here sooner but I had to stop and buy a packet of cigars. What do you think?" He turned slowly on the spot to show off his dark grey suit, his arms stretched out, a cigar in his right hand.
"A superb effort," Captain Peacock said.

continued...