#i thought about having it be longfurby but in the end Horrid Fucking Monkey is an institution

[xxxdragonfucker69xxx]

Calibration is a holiday celebrated, or feared, across Creation. For five days at the end of the calendar, the laws of Fate bend; demons slip through the cracks between worlds, ghosts walk in the daylit lands, and raksha stalk the earth. Many cultures treat it as an inversion festival, where the normal social order is turned upside down and all rules are suspended; others treat it as a time to be feared, when literal monsters walk among us; still others treat it as a time of carnival, to celebrate surviving another year and to make merry in light of the fact that they might not survive the year to come.

It was in this context that Leo had tentatively tried to explain Halloween.

+++

"What the fuck are you supposed to be?" asked Seal.

Des twirled to show off her cape. "I'm Dracula. Obvioushly," she said, drooling only a little. She was wearing something not too different from what she normally wore, black accented with purple and red, save for three additions: a floor-length cape, the slicked-back hair above her forehead, and what appeared to be false teeth. False fangs.

"Dracula fucking who?" Seal asked. He had opted to dress as Jason, the cool guy from that movie Lion had shown them; the mask was easy enough for Harv to sculpt, and Des had managed to find a spirit who could disguise Glorious First Light as a hockey stick. Perfectly reasonable. Des rolled her eyes. "Dracula fucking Dracula, idiot. Vlad Tepesh. The Impaler. It'sh a classhic. Barbarian." She rolled her jaw for a minute, then spit the false teeth out. "Actually, fuck these though. I feel like Star."

"Not sho eashy, ish it?" Star crowed. He was dressed with a similar cape, but in more fashionably cut clothing that Seal had to admit suited him. Over his mask he wore another half-mask, white and sculpted to fit the right side of his face. Seal had the vague recollection that he was supposed to be some sort of singer or musical performer, but frankly Seal had been distracted by the costume and not paying attention while Star talked or sang or whatever.

"You have fangs, idiot," Seal agreed. Des smiled at him and let her fangs slide out smoothly. Seal snorted and looked around the room to take in the rest of the costumes. Lion had appeared earlier in a buff jacket, with his head made up to look like a flaming skull. Tower had a white cloth draped over them with eyeholes cut out, and claimed to be a ghost when anyone asked. Shadow was covered in dirt and cloth intestines, and claimed to be Harvester when asked. Harv, on the other hand, was dressed as finely as Seal could remember ever seeing him; he was wearing what appeared to be jewelry made of bones, and....black lipstick? Seal raised an eyebrow at Des, who followed his gaze and started preening. "I helped him pick it out," she explained.

As they watched, Harv pulled a flask from beneath his costume, took a swig, and started heading unstably but steadily towards Shadow. Des sighed. "I'm gonna go take care of this," she told Seal, and headed to intercept.

+++

"We have a problem," Star hissed to Des urgently as he accosted her.

Des squinted as she poured herself a cup of (unfortunately nonalcoholic) punch. "What problem? Nobody's even here anymore."

It was true; Lion had excused himself early, and Harv and Shadow..... had disappeared somewhere. Star flapped his hand dismissively. "Whatever. Not that. I wasch, uh, shnooping, a little, and I maybe broke into the closhet."

Des' eyes flew to the closet, adorned with warnings and arcane symbols. Sure enough, the padlocks were hanging off the latch, snapped and rusted. Des turned back to Star and raised an eyebrow. The Day Caste blushed and looked away, muttering about Chains-Cannot-Hold Technique.

Des sighed. "Whatever. That's just where Harv and Shadow put the stuff they don't want us to mess with. Old Artifacts, gross necromancy stuff, candy stashes, that kind of thing. It's fine if you didn't take anything."

Silence.

"Star, did you take something?" Des asked with deceptive calm.

"It washn't sho musch that I took shomefing," Star hedged, "asch I let shomefing out."

Des narrowed her eyes. "Explain."

Star broke immediately. "There wasch thish ugly little monkey shtatshue with shymbalsch, right, and it wasch jusht labeled Horrid Fucking Monkey, sho I picked it up to look at it but then it shtarted fucking clapping, on itsh own, like shome fucking demon --"

"Star, calm down," Des said. Star was pacing back and forth in front of the doughnut table. He stopped in his tracks. "Anyway," he said, "I dropped it on the ground, and it rolled under a shelf. And I got down to look for it, but I couldn't find it, and then I heard it. Over there!" He pointed, and Des looked.

Sitting atop the TV cabinet was a small monkey statue, either taxidermied or lovingly upholstered, holding a pair of cymbals. Its glassy eyes gleamed in the Sanctuary's harsh light, its smile stretched wide to show all its teeth. Des had faced ghosts and zombies and hekatoncheires, had dueled a Deathlord singlehandedly, but she felt a shiver run down her spine. Next to her, Star was probably hissing at the thing.

"Okay," Des said. "You've convinced me. Shitheads, assemble."

+++

The Shithead Squad had been named by Seal, probably trying to fill a hole left by his old gang, Des rationalized. The name had grown on her. It had begun as just her and Seal, but Tower went along with whatever they cooked up and they'd somehow pulled in Star as well. Des liked to think that they were fostering cooperation between the young Deathknaves. At least Star and Seal fought less when they were aimed at the same thing.

Currently the Shithead Squad was assembled under the Sanctuary table, which was actually two tables under one tablecloth. Des and Star had lost their cloaks; Seal had dropped his mask just beyond the table but refused to reach for it. Tower was still covered in a cloth.

"Thisch ish shtupid," Star whispered. "I'm just going to --"

"Shh," Seal hissed. "I think I hear it." The assembled Abyssals fell silent and strained to hear.

Nothing happened.

"I'm making a run for it," Star said, and moved toward the edge of the table. As he did, his head bumped against the support of the table above, causing him to reel backwards clutching his face and whispering "ow, ow, ow," repeatedly. As the Shitheads fumbled to catch him, Seal jostled the leg of the other table.

Immediately, there was a screeching noise from above, accompanied by repeatedly crashing cymbals. This set off a panic underneath the table, all the Abyssals tangled up and struggling to get free. "Get off -- no you -- ow, that's my fucking leg -- Sol's sake, Star, you're gonna stab my eye --"

As they struggled under the table, the screeching proceeded closer to the edge, and closer, and closer, until there was a thump from beyond the tablecloth. Silence fell and the Deathknights froze. Slowly, Des reached out to lift the tablecloth.

The Horrid Fucking Monkey was sitting there, on the ground, upright. The moment Des made eye contact with it, it was banging its cymbals again and screeching like it had never stopped. Its eyes gleamed an unholy red, and Des could feel them burrowing into her Essence, into her very soul.

"Fire in the fucking hole!" Seal shouted from behind her, and Des launched herself to the side to avoid a cascade of golden spears aimed at the monkey.

+++

"Oh Schol, oh Schol, oh Schol," Star muttered, holding himself and rocking slightly. He was curled up next to the oven, in a puddle of what might have been grease.

"Shut up," Des hissed at him from the kitchenette door, peering back out into the Sanctuary. Seal was standing just behind her, ready to summon Glorious First Light. "Why won't it die," he muttered to himself, "why won't it just fucking die..."

"We shouldn't have sent Tower," Des said finally. "I don't care where Harv and Shadow are, we should have stuck together. Come on, let's go look for them."

Star's head shot up. "What? No, no, you're crazhy, I'm not going out there --"

"Yes you are," Des snapped. "Do you want us to leave you here instead?"

Star scrambled to his feet. "No it's ok I'm good," he said hastily. "I got the Wingsh, I can murder, I can fly, I'm sho ready for thish. I'm sho fucking ready for thish." He moved to join them at the doorframe, holding onto Seal for support. For once, Seal didn't shoulder him off.

"Okay, everyone get ready," Des whispered. She pulled up the deadliest necromancy she knew, and behind her Seal pulled out his spear, and the feathers on Star's wings bristled with deadly intent. Slowly, she swung open the door.

The Sanctuary was a mess. The tables were overturned, the chairs were scattered, costume pieces were strewn everywhere. In the middle of the carpet, however, there was a stain that all their senses immediately pegged as blood, and sitting directly next to that stain was --

"You horrid fucking monkey!" Seal cried, hurling himself at the statue. It started screeching as soon as he set foot outside its kitchen, banging its cymbals more loudly than Des thought was possible. Star dropped to his knees next to the stain, wailing, "it got them, it fucking killed them, it killed Tower, they were so young....."

Seal was wrestling the statue, trying to keep its cymbals apart. It was apparently possessed of unholy strength, because nothing should have been able to overpower a Dusk Caste, but Seal was rolling around on the carpet like he was fighting an attack dog and every so often the cymbals managed to crash together anyways. Pushing where she could, Des helped steer them to the Sanctuary door and hold it open, revealing a dark hallway beyond. "And fucking stay out, you devil fucking bastard!" Seal shouted, hurling the statue into the darkness and slamming the door shut.

+++

"HOW DID IT GET BACK IN!" Seal howled, holding the bathroom door shut with all his strength. Something thumped against it on the other side. Star was sitting on the toilet with the lid closed, rocking back and forth, muttering "we're all gonna die, we're all gonna die."

"Okay, get ready," Des said, reaching deep within her. "Ready, steady, go!"

Seal flung open the door and Des retched, throwing up a mass of black slime. Sure enough, the monkey was on the other side, screeching and clapping its cymbals, and Des directed the spell towards it. She felt the slime lengthen into the shape of her shadow and begin creeping towards the monkey. "Close it, close it, close it," she yelled, slamming the door shut.

The two of them braced their backs against the door, sliding to the floor together. "Do you think it got it?" Seal asked.

Des shook her head. "I'm afraid to check," she confessed.

Seal snapped his fingers at Star. "Hey. Hey, birdbrain. Snap out of it."

Star whipped around to glare at Seal. "What the fuck did you call me, you little shtringy bashtard?"

Seal grinned. "Yeah, that's the spirit. You got Stealth Charms, right? See if Des got it."

Star muttered, but Seal's taunt seemed to have broken him out of it. He rolled up his sleeves and concentrated, and Des watched him fade out of sight. She cracked the door open for a second, then closed it again.

"Well, shomefing happened," Star said when he was visible again. "I don't know what you did to it, but shomefing."

Des opened the door again, and she and Seal peered out. The monkey was visibly straining to clap, embroiled as it was in the tarry shadow-substance. Its screeching was muffled, but its red eyes shone with just as much hatred.

"Quick!" Seal yelled. "Fire! Fire cleanses!"

"I'm the occultist here!" Des yelled back, but she picked it up begrudgingly. The shadow-stuff was oily and sticky, but the monkey-fur was pulsatingly warm in a way that was simultaneously disgusting and terrifying. Star held the kitchenette door open for her, and she set it on one of the burners then cranked it to full blast. The Hungry Creeping Shadow spell quickly burned away, leaving the statue free to clap and scream, but Des captured it under a pot and weighed it down with all her weight. They listened to it crashing and banging inside the pot, but eventually the noises quieted down.

Des turned off the burner and cautiously cracked the pot open. No noise emerged. She lifted it higher, then cursed. "Shit," she said. "It's still here."

Seal demanded to see, shoving her aside and throwing the pot off. Sure enough, the monkey was sitting on the burner, its fur streaked with black. "It'sh not making any noishe, though," Star said hopefully. "Maybe that meansh it'sh dead?"

The monkey's eyes lit up red.

Seal's anima erupted to iconic, but before he could do anything, Harvester walked into the kitchen. "Oh, hey," he said. "You found the monkey." The Daybreak picked it up, fiddled with something on the underside of the base. The light in the monkey's eyes died away.

Des' jaw dropped. Harv called out through the door, "Is this what you were talking about?" And Tower's head poked through the door.

"Yeah, that's it--" they started to say, before being ambushed by all three Shitheads flinging themselves onto them. Even gargantuan as they were, they staggered backwards a little. "We thought you were dead!" sobbed Star dramatically. Seal stepped away hastily, muttering about how he didn't, no, he knew they were fine --

Tower blinked confusedly. "No. I cut myself on the cymbals and went to go find bandages so I didn't spill blood on the walls. It's very hard to clean. Then I found Harvester. He said he knew how to fix it."

Harv poked his head out of the kitchen, frowned at where the four of them were sprawled on the Sanctuary floor. "Did you guys try to set this thing on fire?" he said. "You know there's an off switch, right?"

The Abyssals, looked down, unwilling to meet each other's gazes. Harv chuckled. "What's that thing Lion was saying?" he said. "Trick a fucking treat."