Chapter Text
Frankly, this wasn’t exactly how Bruno was expecting to spend his evening. When his wife Trixie had told him she wanted to do something fun and different that night, he had one or two ideas what she could have meant. What he had certainly not expected was to be huddled at a table alongside his wife with a front seat view at a strip joint. Even so, here they were, surrounded by hooting, cat-calling onlookers, a sultry jazz track wafting seductively through the warm, crowded room, the floor littered with the stains of spilled drinks, or crumbs from countless snack foods buried in the carpet, dotted across it like a pointillist painting. And amidst the afritical purple mood lighting, a colorful cast of ornately dressed dancers strutted their stuff on stage while becoming...substantially less dressed. For as much as Bruno tended to scoff at humam customs, this was one he was...not entirely opposed to. Not that any of these performers were a patch on his beloved Trixie of course. Though frankly, she seemed pretty into the whole thing too. Cupping her hands around her mouth, she whistled enthusiastically as each article of elaborate clothing was thrown to the winds, stopping only to cuddle his arm (reassuringly, Bruno wondered?).
Neither of the couple could restrain themselves when they saw the star of the show however. A tall, somewhat heavily built man whose bald spot shone from the hot stage like a rare (if sweaty) precious stone. His costume was a collection of mismatched clothing articles. It was as if someone had taken several costumes and mashed them all together into a beautiful mess. Aside from busting plenty of fancy moves, he was also quite the showman, with the crowd going wild for his signature stage gimmick.
“Do you have any..silk scarves?” called a shrill voice from the back.
“Nope!” The dancer declared, as he whipped the scarf around himself before tossing it towards the ravenous audience with a casual flick of the wrist.
“Do you have any...striped aprons?” came a slurred voice to Bruno’s left.
“Nope!” Sure enough, an apron flew through the air and landed neatly on the catcaller’s head, as he chuckled tipsily to himself.
“Do you have any...gold-buckled belts?” Trixie shouted with an excitable giggle, her face flushed from the warmth in a way that clashed glaringly with her bright yellow dress.
“Nope!” came the reply, as the dancer unbuckled said belt, swung it above his head like a lasso, before slinging it towards the couple. At once, Trixie rose from her seat, lifting her head up as high as it could go, the belt landed neaty around her neck, where it coiled loosely, as she and Bruno doubled over in glee. Bruno couldn’t help but find his wife’s energy infectious. Ever since he’d known her, she’d always been supremely proud of her neck, measuring just over 2 feet in length, and nearly half the size of her body. ‘You should always have a good head on your shoulders’, ‘she would always say, and ‘a good sized neck to hold it up’. Bruno reached over and fondly buckled the belt so it hung around Trixie’s shoulders like an oversized necklace, as they gave the star of the show a resounding whoop of applause.
It may not have been what Bruno was expecting, but it sure was more fun than he’d ever imagined.
After another twenty minutes, during which many more articles of clothing had ended up scattered around the venue, Bruno and Trixie sat at their table, while the lighting became less luridly lavender, and the music finally quieted down enough that the couple could hear themselves think. They chatted amicably while they finished their drinks.
“Well that was quite the show, wasn’t it, dear?” Trixie remarked, giggling sweetly as she did. Bruno couldn’t help but laugh in turn.
“I’ll say. But what made you wanna come here in the first place, honey?” He shifted slightly, leaning on his elbow on the table, his hand buried in a fist against the deep, shaggy brown fur that ran down the side of his head. “In the all the…” he paused as if trying to recall the exact total, but whether through bad memory or the uncertain laws of comic book chronology, he couldn’t seem to put his finger on a number, so he pressed on “...all the years we’ve been married, you never seemed into this kinda stuff”. Trixie pulled a pouting face, as though she was thinking hard over her answer.
“Honestly, I’m usually not, but I suppose I was feeling a little crazy today. And I thought, what’s something I’ve never done? Something wild, something dramatic...maybe a little raunchy”. She winked at him as she said that last part, and he grinned, blushing.
“Fair enough”, he replied. “Though I don’t normally hear ‘strip clubs’ brought up as normal date night material for married couples, you know”.
“Sweetie, I don’t think our lives have ever been ‘normal’”. Trixie patted her husband on the head as she spoke. “And besides, no-one on that stage could ever be as strapping as you”.
“You don’t gotta worry about my eyes wandering, Trix”, said Bruno, beaming dopily, yet lovingly at his wife. “You’re five times cuter than every raunchy dancer in Vegas put together”. They continued cooing over each other in this manner for several minutes, curled up together in their seats. It was a sight sweet enough to soften the hardest heart, or alternatively sicken the steeliest stomach. By the time the sasquatch and his giraffe-necked sweetheart broke apart, the club-room was practically empty (one couldn’t help but suspect partly thanks to them).
It seemed they’d been there so long, absorbed in their overzealous affection, that many of the performers had already gotten changed and left. Now that Bruno wasn’t otherwise preoccupied, he could somewhat make out the bustle of them filing out through the back exits. What he didn’t expect to see was the central attraction himself striding up the aisle, a glass in his hand.
“Oh!” he stopped short when he spotted the couple, cuckling awkwardly. “I, uh, wasn’t expecting anyone to still be here”. He paused, looking down at his feet for a moment.
“You wanna join?” Bruno ventured, surprising himself at his own boldness. The man perked up at the invitation.
“Uh, yeah, Sure!” Without preamble he plopped himself down in a chair opposite the two. Being neither dolled up in a maelstrom of mismatched clothing items or bare for the world to see, he made for a much less...dynamic presence, dressed in a mustard yellow shirt and brown slacks. Still, he seemed comfortable enough, gulping down his drink and exhaling contentedly.
“You were...um, really good out there. You put on quite a show”, Trixie began. Her tone was genuine and friendly, but a little shy. Bruno couldn’t blame her. If going to a strip club with his wife had been low on his list of his expectations for the night, casually sharing a drink with said stripper hadn’t even been on the list.
“Well, thank ya kindly, ma’am”, their companion responded, with a warm smile. “Nothing nicer than knowing I put on a good show for all the folks out there tonight. But where are my manners? Name’s Bosco. Roscoe Bosco.”
“Well it’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Bosco. My name’s Trixie. This is my husband, Bruno”. Bosco’s eyes widened in surprise. Privately, Bruno wasn’t sure if Bosco was more surprised at meeting a husband and wife at a strip joint, or seeing a bigfoot and a human woman as a married couple. Even though half the reason they had settled down in Vegas in the first place was to blend in among the oddballs, eccentrics, performers and chronic gamblers, they’d had more than their share of odd stares.
“Gotta admit, we don’t get a lotta married couples in the seats very often”. He finally said, a little awkwardly. Trixie still smiled sweetly with a slight laugh.
“Perhaps. But hey, it’s all in good fun, right?”
“Uh, yeah, I-I guess…” Bosco murmured, sounding rather bemused. Honestly, Bruno couldn’t blame him. Frankly, he was feeling kind of awkward that he himself had barely said a word. Sure, Trixie had always been the resident sweetheart and people person, but it felt rude to say nothing. He racked his brains for a conversation starter.
“So, uh...you been doin’ this long?” Bosco perked up, perhaps welcoming the potential ice breaker.
“Few years, now, actually. I actually started to pay off some debts as a matter of fact. Came to Vegas with a...friend and millions of dollars to spare and finished...well… kinda broke”. Bruno and Trixie nodded sagely. They’d been living amidst the rampant, exploitative capitalism of Vegas long enough that this was a decidedly familiar story. It wasn’t uncommon to see people making the walk of shame back from the casino, their pockets emptier than a monk’s address book. “Wasn’t very easy to find work being stuck in the city with only the clothes on my back. But, then, for this job, I didn’t even need those!” He laughed at his own joke. “This place was a little low on male performers, so they gave me a shot”.
“So you’re still paying it off?” Bruno inquired, awkwardly scratching the back of his head. “Must’ve been a lot”.
“Oh no, it’s cool. Got in touch with my mother eventually, and she bailed me out”.
“So why’d you stay on?”
“I like being naked”.
Bosco’s tone was perfectly matter of fact and Bruno found himself at a loss with how to respond. “Well, it’s partly that, but there’s a little more to it. I spent years bein’ kinda...on edge. Used to spend every day thinking someone was watching me, followin’ me when I least expected it. Here, I can show myself off (so to speak) and have people watch...and it’s easy and it’s fun. No need to worry about people with their eyes on me when I want them look at me, y’know?” This was getting a little more personal than Bruno had anticipated. He found himself flattered, but somehow even more nonplussed than before. Fortunately, Trixie piped up cheerily.
“Good for you, Mr. Bosco. Truth be told, my husband and I have done our fair share of performances in our time, and we also know what it’s like to be...something of a spectacle. That kind of thing’s a lot nicer when you can do it on your own terms”. Bosco beamed appreciatively, and even Bruno found himself smiling warmly. There was his Trixie. Her infectiously sweet charm was enough to win anyone over eventually.
“Oh, you two done some stage too, then?”
“Sorta,” Bruno replied sheepishly. “I mean, it’s kinda more li-”
“We were in a carnival freakshow” Trixie interjected in cheerful voice. Now it was Bosco’s turn to sit in befuddled silence. After a moment, he opened his mouth as if to speak, then closed it again lamely. Trixie just smiled innocently, before continuing. “We were in the Kushman Brother’s carnival back in the day. Bruno here was frozen in a block of ice, star of the show, in fact. He’d already been there for a good number of years before I ended up there’. She tilted up her head to better expose her neck (not that it was really necessary). “There was an accident with a hole in the wall, a garden hose and a gravity distorting generator. So when I stopped by the Kushmans’ carnival they...uh...insisted I be a permanent guest, so to speak”. Bruno put his thick arm around her sympathetically.
“Gosh,” Bosco murmured. “I...uh...I’m sorry to hear th-”
“But that’s when I met my honey!” Trixie perked up again, hugging the arm still slung around her shoulder as she spoke. “There he was; a tall, noble figure standing strong and proud in the ice, and it was love at first sight! I would make him cakes and sing him the Scrantonese folk songs my mom used to sing to me. Oh, perhaps you’d like to he-”
“NO! No, please, carry on with your story!” Evidently, Bosco had enough to take in without also experiencing a Scantonese folk song too. So, instead, Trixie sighed dramatically as she continued her story.
“But I couldn’t bear to see my poor Bruno trapped forever in that ice, and besides, I didn’t want to stay stuck in that horrible place either. So I asked a friend who worked at the carnival as a firebreather to melt the ice and let him out. We set out that very night, and we’ve been together ever since”. She gave a content sigh as she finished speaking nuzzling into the fur on her husband’s arm.
“Well...That’s...I mean...what a...heartwarming story...” Bosco’s eyes were practically bulging out of his head as he stammered out the words. Clearly he hadn’t expected to be regaled with a tale of inhumane tourist traps, star crossed lovers and garden hoses this evening. He turned briefly towards Bruno, perhaps to ask how the bigfoot ended up in that ice in the first place, but seemed to think better of it. Bruno was inwardly grateful. He’d rather not overwhelm this poor man any further. So he decided to carry on to a lighter topic.
“Obviously we had no plans to go back there any time soon, we checked back in with some friends of mine at the annual bigfoot party, then we came here to get hitched”.
“Well, it wasn’t quite as smooth sailing as that, sweetie”, Trixie reminded him. “Between getting kidnapped by a deranged country western star, seeing half of America sprout gigantic trees and being chased by a dog and a rabbit halfway across the country, it was a rather packed wee-”
“HOLD ON!!!” The couple turned to Bosco with a start. He was sat bolt upright now, his eyes somehow even wider now, to the point that they seemed to take up half of his face. He looked absolutely terrified, as if a tidal wave of long-buried memories were suddenly being stirred up at Trixie’s words. “Y-y-you didn’t just say a...dog and a rabbit, right?”
“Yeah”, Bruno replied with a frustrated sigh.”Damn jerks called themselves 'Freelance Police' and tried to drag us back to the circus”.
“Oh, sweet Jesus…” Bosco groaned, his head falling limply into his palms.. “You wouldn’t be talkin’ about Sam & Max would you?” Trixie’s eyes lit up in recognition.
“Yes! That was them. Are you saying you know them?”
“Know them?” Bosco gave a dry laugh. “I used to live next to those nutcases. They were my neighbours when I ran my store in the big city.”
“You lived with them?!” Bruno asked, sounding horrified.
“Goodness, that sounds...interesting” Trixie remarked weakly. “From what little we saw of them they seemed to have...strong personalities”. Bosco laughed again at that, a little more harshly this time. As he began speaking again, his voice steadily rose in excited aggravation.
“You don’t know the half of it. Remember when I said that I always used to feel like people were watching me or trying to get me? Well, it’s hard not to feel like that when you’re gettin’ dragged into their brand of crazy every other week! I’ve had child stars breaking and entering, Toy Mafia scouting out the place, giant robots up and down the streets, NUKES aimed at my shop!!!”
“Sounds like we only a got a taste of ‘em, huh?” Bruno chuckled. From here the conversation became much more animated, as Bosco recounted story after story of the madness which the self-proclaimed Freelance Police delivered unannounced (with an additional fee of violent mayhem) to his little store every other week. As he continued, Bruno and Trixie’s reactions went from mortified shock to hearty laughter. Even Bosco seemed to enter better and better spirits as he kept the absurdities coming.
“Frankly, I’m amazed you shook ‘em off to get here”, Bosco said at last, still chuckling from the end of his latest story of the time Max had used the soft drinks aisle as the base of his ‘science experiment’. “Those two can be pretty damn relentless. If they were dead set on taking you too back to the circus, I’m a little surprised you’re not there now”.
“Well, it’s kind of a funny story”. Bruno answered. “But those two actually bailed us out. If it weren’t for them, we’d be back in Bumpusville as attractions for Conroy Bumpus while he sings those god-awful songs every other day”.
“Clearly, I’m not the only one with stories then”, Bosco laughed. He was quiet for a moment before answering. “You know, whenever Sam & Max got into a scrape, they always used to come to my store, and ask if I had anything to help. I had a little aspiring inventor gig back then, so I used to hook them up with whatever I had handy. Course, I had my price. I was running a business and that stuff didn’t come cheap. But no matter how much I charged, they’d always rustle up the cash by the end of the day. Didn’t matter how much it was, they always pulled it off. Paid my mortgage at least ten times over thanks to them. And it was gettin’ that money that led me to come here”. He looked almost wistful, an affectionate smile on his lips. “And I guess I owe those guys too. I’d still be six feet under if it weren’t for them”.
“Still…?” Bruno asked, half-fearful that he’d regret finding out, but Bosco ignored him, clearly preoccupied with his own thoughts.
“I’m glad to get away from all that foolishness and start over here. But, when I look back, for as much as they refused to give me a lick of peace, for all the gray hairs they gave me, those two idiots did a lot for me”. There was a lull in the conversation. Bruno looked over at Trixie and even they couldn’t help but smile slightly. After a moment, when all three seemed lost in thoughts they’d rather not admit, Trixie eventually broke the moment of reprieve by clearing her throat.
“So, tell us more about the time Max tried to sell you Jesse James’ severed hand, Mr. Bosco”. Bosco lit up again, clearly welcoming the excuse to cheerfully complain about the two little more.
“Oh right. So Max comes marching into my store, and he and Sam are both tugging at this severed, rotting hand. It’s a warm day and the thing stinks to high heaven, but of course these two don’t give so much as a ‘how do you do, Bosco? Hope you don’t mind us bringing a piece of a rotting corpse into your establishment’. Instead, Max just turns to me and says ‘Hey there, Bosco. Would you be interested in purchasing this gruesome yet precious historical artifact? You can put it next to the weenies.’ Then Sam clamps down on Max’s head and he’s all like ‘Please excuse my partner, Bosco, it’s not actually for sale. He’s just confused and has forgotten I was gonna sell HIM for snatching this out of my personal collection when my back was turned. Then Max bites his hand and pops up again, going ‘Don’t worry Bosco, he’s just pulling a temper tantrum because I had the brilliant idea of getting us enough money for a lifetime supply of Glazed McGuffins by selling his hideous little trinket’. And then they start tearing the place up, fighting over this hand, and then…” And so the story went on, with Bosco animatedly narrating yet another time he’d been pulled into their shenanigans, while Bruno and Trixie laughed and groaned sympathetically throughout.
Truthfully, for as much of a nuisance as the Freelance Police had been on their own trek across the country, they had saved them from Conroy Bumpus’ barbaric menagerie and warbling tenor...and protected all the bigfoots from his clutches...and eviscerated half of the United States just to give the bigfoots land in which to thrive. In many ways, Sam & Max were just as much the reason they were here, as it seemed they were the reason Bosco was. But God knows, even if they did see them again none of them would ever dare admit as much to them. Besides, it was much easier to sit here and laugh at how annoying their antics were. After all, it seemed like doing so had made them a new friend.
...In a way, maybe they owed Sam & Max for this too.