Short Circuit

Chapter 3: Jester's Smile

//Somewhere in St Canard, in a dark hideout...

"What d'ya think, Megsy?" Quackerjack asked, twirling in his new suit. He had a red jacket, purple trousers, and a bright blue bowtie. A brown Sherpa was pulled over his head.

"Amazing, Quacky." Megavolt nodded approvingly. "But, remember, we aren't Megavolt and Quackerjack tonight. We're Elmo and Jack."

"What am I supposed ta' call you?" Quackerjack scowled. "'Elmsy?'"

"It's just for one night, Qua– Jacky." Megavolt argued, putting his arms around the duck. Quackerjack flinched at the name. "I really want you to meet my civilian friends."

"Whatever." Quackerjack pouted. "Did you have to tell them I'm Jack?"

"I had to think quickly!" Megavolt protested. "We can give you a nickname, if you want?"

"It's fine." The hyperactive jester was unusually sulky. "Only you could make me bring Jacob back; I hope you know that, Mo."

"'Mo'?" Megavolt asked.

"It's better than 'Elmsy'." Quackerjack shrugged. "Now go get changed. You're the one that wants to go to this thing, you don't get to make us late."

You sure about this, Chris? Mr Banana Brain asked, once Megavolt was gone.

"Not in the slightest." Quackerjack was still frowning. "But he's so excited. I have to make an effort, right?"

You don't seem like yourself tonight, Dwight.

"Jacob Gooney is alive and well for the first time in years, I'm allowed to be nervous." Quackerjack grumbled. How long had it been since he'd last worn civvies? He could barely remember how he used to behave, underneath his jester act.

Of course, not all of it was an act. He has mood swings, he loves games and toys, he's not the safest nor sanest person to be around. But he could behave, right? He could play-act normalish for a few hours. For Megav– for Elmo, he'd have to. It was only one night.

"I'm ready. Do I look okay for a party?" Megavolt asked, causing Quackerjack to turn around.

The toymaker's brain stopped working for several seconds when he saw Elmo's outfit. It was a lovely yellow dress with matching gloves, a blue belt cinching his waist, his goggles switched for round glasses that brought out his eyes. His tuft of orange-brown headfur was somewhat brushed, but still poofing out from his static.

"J-Jacky? Hello?" Elmo waved in front of his face. "Is it too much? Should I change?"

"No, you look great, Mo." Quac– Jack grinned, bouncing a little in place. "Let's get going, can't show up late to a party!"

Ding-dong! Binkie opened the door, smiling at the latest guests. "Oh, Elmo! And you must be Jack. Come in, come in!"

"It's nice to see you again, Mrs Muddlefoot." Elmo smiled, hugging the canary. "Sorry if we're a little too early, I couldn't remember when it was supposed to start."

"Nonsense, dear. The other guests will be arriving any minute." Binkie chuckled. "Drake's been here for hours, helping set up."

Elmo nudged Jack, causing him to step forward. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs Muddlefoot. Elmo has talked so much about you." He held out a bouquet of multicolored candy roses. "These are for you, as a thank you for inviting us."

"Oh, they're lovely." Binkie took the treats, putting them in a dry vase. "I'm so glad you could make it, especially on such short notice. It's exciting to finally meet one of Elmo's friends!"

"May I just say, you have a lovely home." Jack smiled charmingly. "Tell me, where did you get those drapes? I simply must have the name of your interior designer!"

"Oh, I never hired anybody professional." Binkie answered, leading them towards the backyard. "Put it all together myself, though Herb has certainly helped. Herb's my husband."

"He sounds like a delightful fellow." Jack followed her at a serene pace. "I can't wait to meet him."

Elmo stared at Jack. Sure, he'd asked him to behave, but... Maybe he just acted differently as Jacob, like Megavolt acted differently than Elmo. Yeah, that was probably it. Everything was going to be great.

Two hours into the party, and Quackerjack was about ready to throttle someone. Especially Drake, who seemed both too friendly towards his Megsy and extremely suspicious of 'Jack'.

This polite act was too much. But he had to keep going, for Elmo. He could do it. He could make small talk and take small bites and not shout every other sentence. He could ignore that one nerdy kid leaving early to play videogames. He could refrain from bouncing and juggling and twirling. He could keep his jokes bland and his laughter quiet and, and, and...

"Jacky? Jacky?" Elmo was shaking him, and... when had he gotten under a table? "Quacky, are you alright?"