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The air was crisp, with the scent of chimney smoke floating through the autumn leaves. Candles glowed in carved pumpkins, decorating the doorsteps of those celebrating the annual tradition of treats and more treats. Though trunk-or-treats and other gatherings had already taken place, as the sun set, little gatherings of adorable witches and goblins still ventured door-to-door. And, in a little mountain town, a particular group was being watched over by a somewhat cranky looking man with a full black goatee. A man who was wearing a large, inflatable duck costume.
“Quack quack!” Clyde Logan’s daughter (well, stepdaughter, if you wanted to get technical but he’d punched more than one person who dared to differentiate) looked up at him. Just like her mother, Daisy Logan had bright green eyes that sparkled like diamonds when she was happy. Which was why the tall, stoic bartender was dressed up as a duck, because Daisy liked ducks, loved that her Daddy worked at ‘the Duck Bar’, and begged for the family to go trick-or-treating as a flock.
“Quack quack,” he squeezed Daisy’s hand with a slow smile. She was wearing a smaller version of the same inflatable duck costume, with a large plastic bucket to collect all her sweets. Halloween was a sacred time of year for the Logan family, at least for this particular branch. After all, if it hadn’t been for a trunk-or-treat, Ophelia and Clyde might have never met!
”Now remember, only take a few pieces and say thank you,” Ophelia’s smile rivaled her daughter’s, perched on the passenger seat of a golf cart that Clyde had fixed up for just this occasion. He’d draped yellow lights all over the roof and the horn made a loud quaking noise when honked. Daisy’s parents didn’t know how long she’d be into the duck thing but they were rolling with it for as long as she was. Even the newest member of the flock was dressed up to match. Clyde Jr was wrapped up in a brown blanket (Daisy explained it had to be brown cause it was supposed to be the nest), and a white onesie that Ophelia had drawn on with a black sharpie to look like a cracked egg. Atop the baby’s head was a yellow hat that Aunt Mellie had carefully glued yellow feathers to, giving little ClyCly (as Daisy called him) the appearance of a duckling in the midst of hatching.
“Yeeesssss, I know,” Daisy might be a little older but she wasn’t any further impressed with Mom insistence on manners.
“Ahh, she’s got it. Go get ‘em, little duck.” Clyde’s broad hand gently nudged his duckie daughter forward. While Ophelia sat on the passenger seat of the golf cart, which Clyde moved forward every few houses, he stood at the end of each driveway to make sure their duckling made it to the front door and back safely. Ophelia had also been spared wearing an inflatable duck suit but had a bright yellow sweatshirt with ‘wings’ attached to the arms - mostly because Mama duck successfully pointed out that it would be hard to hold Daisy’s little brother in that thing.
“Love you, Daddy duck,” Ophelia smiled as she leaned her head against the headrest of the golf cart. It was always hard not to admire him but it was especially hard in moments like this. Oh sure, there were all sorts of different views and the redhead certainly couldn’t complain about the private sorts of admiring that she got to do when they were alone. But there was something particularly special about times like this - when the big, bad man let his baby girl paint his fingernails or dress him up as a damn duck.
“Love you too, Mama duck,” he chuckled quietly, glancing back at Ophelia with a slow but wide grin. Clyde would be enduring teasing from the local community for years about this. Worth it though, anything was worth watch Daisy come running back shouting happily cause this house had given out prime candy and knowing that her little brother would be running beside her in a few years. And maybe a few more ducklings as well, the Logans did like big families after all!