Goosebumps

‘Goosebumps’

They were old, and perhaps a bit too much reliant on descriptions of oozing fluids, and he rolled his eyes every time he came to the end of a chapter with some tasteless, pronounced cliffhanger - seriously, half of them were punctuated with actual exclamation points - but overall they were amusing, at worst.  His true reasoning for his current interest in them, however, was obviously not due to the subpar writing; there were two separate explanations.  The first being that, in the chaos of Bat-chasing, planning, running away, and short-lived incarceration, he often forgot the importance of having fun with his craft.  The research was ever important, of course, but as Edward would have - and had - advised, was it really worth doing if there wasn't any fun to be had?  He would never admit it to the insufferable brat, of course, but he was right.  Sometimes there needed to be cause to remind him why he'd started all of this.  Besides the obvious bent of revenge, anyway.  The second reason being that, in his professional capacity to do so, it was fitting that he attempt to give the stories the interpretation they deserved.  He had looked into the screen adaptations and was even more disappointed with them than the original writings themselves.

He thumbed idly through the book a last time before putting it down with the stack of its brethren, found in a box of library discards tossed carelessly behind a dumpster.  He couldn't rescue all of the books left behind, unfortunately, not that he had anywhere to put even these, but sometimes concessions needed to be made.  If he hadn't had such respect for libraries, havens as they'd been in his unfortunate youth, he would have given them a piece of his mind for throwing them away.

"All right then," he said to his very captive audience.  "I believe I've gotten all of the major points covered here.  With a few... minor enhancements of my own, which goes without saying.  You see, this book professes, 'reader beware, you're in for a scare,' but quite frankly I wasn't scared at all.  Very disappointed, certainly, but not scared."

The subject of this little experiment certainly was, and they hadn't even begun yet.  Interesting.  This was little different from, for example, a stage play, and already the anticipation of playing his part had terrified him without anything even having happened!  What an intriguing result.  He smiled to himself, though he knew all the subject could see was the glint of his glasses.  He'd lit the scene that way intentionally.  He stepped forward. 

“I discussed this little setup with some acquaintances of mine… one is quite proficient in deathtraps and the other… she likes to encourage me to try new things.  We decided ‘The Scarecrow Walks at Midnight’ was a suitable place to start.  It’s not midnight as yet, so I’m afraid you’ll have to wait a little longer.”  He smiled to himself and pulled the mask over his face. 

Perhaps he would start the experiment a little early…