“Welcome to Uncle Jack’s Costume Shop!” John laughed, “Or at least what’s left of it.”
Storage Unit 96 was tucked away in an unassuming corner of Big-Stash-Little-Cash. The self storage place on the edge of town wasn’t much to look at, but the units were air conditioned and the pad locks were hefty.
John unlocked the unit with a loud click. He grabbed onto the bottom of the shutter door and motioned for his roommate to follow suit, “Give me a hand here.”
“When I asked if you knew where I could find any good Halloween costumes, this isn’t exactly what I had in mind,” Scott crouched down next to John, “This better not be an elaborate ploy to steal my kidneys.”
“Would you relax?” John glared, “This is going to be worth it.”
The two tugged on the door. The metal joints groaned for a moment before finally rolling up to revealing the unit inside. Or rather, before kicking up an enormous cloud of dust.
They coughed in unison, waving their hands to disperse the particulate. Scott pulled his shirt sleeve up to his nose, “Seriously John, what the hell is all this?”
“I told you,” John flipped the light switch, “It’s my uncle’s old costume collection.”
The fluorescent lights flickered on overhead. The storage unit was packed to the gills with boxes and clothing racks. It looked vaguely like the back room of a department store. Some of the racks were starting to look a little tarnished, but everything else seemed to be in good shape. Whoever had packed all this up had made sure to get plastic garment bags for all the hanging clothes. A few bits of paraphernalia were poking through their bags. Large horse masks, bags full of paw shoes, and oh so many outfits.
“Woah,” Scott blinked, “This is all Halloween stuff?”
“Kind of? My uncle Jack was a bit of an eccentric guy. He made his living selling elaborate costumes,” John explained, “It was an all-seasons sort of place, not a fly by night Halloween store.”
“It must not have done that well if you’re talking in the past tense,” Scott pinched one of the hanging bags, trying to see inside.
“I think he had a couple of solid Hollywood contracts actually,” John started poking around the unit, “But he just up and vanished like sixteen years ago.”
“You’re not helping any with the spooky storage unit vibes John,” Scott laughed.
“Halloween’s still a few weeks away,” John chuckled, “Anyways, there was no sign of foul play. He just… disappeared one day. Maybe he decided to head out west or something?”
“Maybe,” Scott watched him skeptically, “He sounds like a pretty weird guy.”
“You don’t know the half of it. He fancied himself a wizard of illusions. Or costume magic or something,” John laughed.
“Are you serious?” Scott blinked.
“I know, I know. But he was a nice uncle. I spent a summer with him once when I was young. I don’t remember much of it to be honest, but it was fun helping out in his shop. Here, I think I’ve got a picture on here somewhere,” John reached into his pocket and started fiddling with his phone.
He eventually held up a blurry first-generation camera phone picture. The image had a ton of jpg compression, but Scott could get the general gist of things. A young John was standing in front of a quaint mainstreet looking storefront with a suitcase at his side. Over the front door was an ornate wood carving that read, “Uncle Jack’s Costume Shop.” Standing beside John was the eponymous purveyor in question. Uncle Jack had some amount of family resemblance (at least what Scott could make out through the chunky pixels). He had John’s same messy brown hair, but he’d chosen to accompany it with a bushy brown beard. Most striking though was what the man was wearing: He had an ornate wizard robe on.
“You weren’t kidding. Talk about being committed to the bit,” Scott squinted at the picture, “He’s got theme park extra vibes, maybe he did run off to Anaheim.”
“Hey,” John huffed, putting his phone away, “Do you want a free costume or not?”
“Depends on the costume. I really want to find something to win work’s costume contest,” Scott unzipped one of the garment bags, peering down at a bundle of fur, “I could use that free week of vacation.”
“Here’s hoping,” John said, “My folks said the movers who cleared out his shop should have left an inventory sheet around here somewhere, but maybe we should just start poking around?”