Myth-Ing Persons By Robert L Asprin

“I am a gangster!” my bodyguard snarled back. “Besides, what’s wrong with the way I walk? It got us to the jail, didn’t it?”

“Half the town wasn’t looking for you then,” Tananda argued. “Besides, then you could pick your own route. We don’t know where the opposition’s holed up. We’re going to have to walk through crowds on this hunt, and that walk just doesn’t make it. Ninety percent of costuming is learning to move like the character you’re trying to portray. Right now you move like you’re looking for a fight.”

“Try walking like Don Bruce,” I suggested. “He’s a gangster, too.”

That earned me a black look, but my bodyguard tried to follow my instructions, rising up on the balls of his feet and mincing along.

“Better,” Tananda said, leaving Guido prancing up and down the room with a scowl on his face.

“How are we doing?”

“Lousy,” she confided in me. “This is taking a lot longer, than it should. I wish there were more mirrors in this place… heck, any mirrors would be nice.”

It hadn’t been until we started gearing up that we realized the Dispatcher had no mirrors at all. He claimed they weren’t popular or necessary among vampires. This left us with the unenviable job of checking each others’ make-up and costumes, a chore which would have been Homeric even if less sensitive egos were involved.

“How’re my teeth?” Massha demanded, sticking her head in front of me and opening her mouth.

It was like staring into the depths of an underground cave.

“Umm … the left side is okay, but you’re still missing a few on the right. Hang on a second and I’ll give you a hand.”