Present

Starting awake, Evan Scovill patted himself down. "This is real," he said. "I am here, now." Wiping the tears from his face, his mood turned sour. "Spirit of Halloween Past, my ass," he spat out into the room as he rose from the bed. "More like food poisoning led to something seriously trippy." Stumbling into the bathroom to rinse away the recollection of former days (people who were brilliant, crucial moments that were bungled), Scovill scowled into the mirror. "Good riddance to all of that." "It's your habit of ridding yourself of anything good that got you into this mess," came a voice from Evan's bedroom (and he snuck to the doorway trembling to peek in). "How in the hell ... ?" he started. "I only look like Gabrielle from work - goth princess extraordinaire. I have to take SOME kind of form, and I like her vibe A LOT. I am the Spirit of Halloween Present," the apparition said. "I ... I need to go to the hospital," Scovill piffled weakly (and she laughed). "The kind of help YOU need cannot be provided at the neighborhood Poke-n-Prod; take my hand," the spirit directed. He hesitated, the hairs on the back of his head standing up, but did as he was told. "Buckle up, Buttercup," Faux Gabrielle whispered, her eyes glowing and her mouth wide in grin that stretched from ear to ear.