Oogie Boogie inspected the tree design from afar and laughed. They called that a good design? Puh. He could do so much better than that. It needed neon, he decided. Lots and lots of neon. And skeletons. And bats. And dice. And more neon.
But why was he wasting his considerable talent there? After all, you couldn’t gamble at a gate.
Well, he conceded, maybe you could. But there would be no jazz to it, and what’s the point of doing something if it’s got no jazz?
He grinned and turned his attention to the people in line, wondering how many of them he could dupe before he got caught.
Ah, who was he kidding? He was Oogie Boogie, Gambling Boogieman Extraordinaire. He never got caught.
Where he was, how he got there, how he was going to get back to Halloweentown…none of it particularly concerned him. He’d figure out all that boring stuff later, once he’d established the more important facts.
Like where the nearest casino was, for example.
There obviously wasn’t going to be anything out in this grassy waste of space, that was for sure. Abruptly making up his mind, he strode as quickly and proudly as his little legs would take him towards the gate with the decidedly lame design, cutting in front of the first person in line and shrugging off the multitude of dirty looks he received in return. He was Oogie Boogie, after all. These people should be grateful cutting in front was all he did to them.
“Name, sir?” said the decidedly uninteresting man at the gate, who either didn’t notice the minor disturbance or didn’t care.
Oogie decided to make the most of it. “I’m Mister Oogie Boogie,” he replied with his biggest, nastiest grin (the one involving several particularly hairy spiders of which he was quite fond) and leaned in to leer at the man. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Yes, sir,” said the gatekeeper automatically, taking the name down and gesturing towards a booth within the gate. “Now if you’ll kindly go there, you’ll receive your journal.”
Oogie simply stared at the man. This was the first time his biggest, nastiest grin had failed to get any kind of reaction. Was this guy even looking? Heck, was he even alive? All that yellow hair sure didn’t look real to him.
“Well.” He stepped back and gathered his thoughts. “Well fine then.” He straightened up as best he could and marched over to the other booth, taking his little black box and pamphlet and entering the city – his new Bug Day Town, if he had anything to say about it – with all the confidence in the world.
no subject
It looked like a gate.
Oogie Boogie inspected the tree design from afar and laughed. They called that a good design? Puh. He could do so much better than that. It needed neon, he decided. Lots and lots of neon. And skeletons. And bats. And dice. And more neon.
But why was he wasting his considerable talent there? After all, you couldn’t gamble at a gate.
Well, he conceded, maybe you could. But there would be no jazz to it, and what’s the point of doing something if it’s got no jazz?
He grinned and turned his attention to the people in line, wondering how many of them he could dupe before he got caught.
Ah, who was he kidding? He was Oogie Boogie, Gambling Boogieman Extraordinaire. He never got caught.
Where he was, how he got there, how he was going to get back to Halloweentown…none of it particularly concerned him. He’d figure out all that boring stuff later, once he’d established the more important facts.
Like where the nearest casino was, for example.
There obviously wasn’t going to be anything out in this grassy waste of space, that was for sure. Abruptly making up his mind, he strode as quickly and proudly as his little legs would take him towards the gate with the decidedly lame design, cutting in front of the first person in line and shrugging off the multitude of dirty looks he received in return. He was Oogie Boogie, after all. These people should be grateful cutting in front was all he did to them.
“Name, sir?” said the decidedly uninteresting man at the gate, who either didn’t notice the minor disturbance or didn’t care.
Oogie decided to make the most of it. “I’m Mister Oogie Boogie,” he replied with his biggest, nastiest grin (the one involving several particularly hairy spiders of which he was quite fond) and leaned in to leer at the man. “And don’t you forget it.”
“Yes, sir,” said the gatekeeper automatically, taking the name down and gesturing towards a booth within the gate. “Now if you’ll kindly go there, you’ll receive your journal.”
Oogie simply stared at the man. This was the first time his biggest, nastiest grin had failed to get any kind of reaction. Was this guy even looking? Heck, was he even alive? All that yellow hair sure didn’t look real to him.
“Well.” He stepped back and gathered his thoughts. “Well fine then.” He straightened up as best he could and marched over to the other booth, taking his little black box and pamphlet and entering the city – his new Bug Day Town, if he had anything to say about it – with all the confidence in the world.