Page 9 of No Bones About It

I guess Tony did have one concern about BJ right. Where will I store him?

But that is a tomorrow problem, eclipsed by the monumental problem of today. I spent all weekend alternating between searching online help forums and scouring the internet for legal ordinances and staring out the window at BJ, trying to figure out if he really had hugged me and somehow gotten that beer bottle out of the trash or I was losing my marbles.

Heaving a sigh, I force myself out of bed to face the day. I have a couple of shoots I need to finish edits on and email out, and then I have to go to the grocery store. I want to be back in plenty of time to run through my speech for the HOA again, triple check my notes are in order, and print a copy of the zoning ordinance I obtained when I moved here.

Every passing hour ratchets up my anticipation, and work takes me twice as long as normal. Although I still love being a photographer, snapping pictures of the highlight reels of everyone else’s lives is quickly getting old. Maybe it’s time to pivot to pets or products.

A smile hits my face as I think of one particular model I would love to photograph. I imagine posing BJ with larger than life props, doing creative edits to make him appear as if he were traveling around the world. My imagined photo shoots morph to images of not just him, but us, together.

Just like all the people I’ve photographed—me and BJ on the beach, shots of us in the golden hour of sunset, spooky Halloween photographs with matching costumes. The very images that flood my social media page advertising my business.

“That’s it!” I announce to my empty office space. Leaping out of my chair, I run outside.

“BJ!” I call as I race towards him. “I have an idea.”

I pause, catching my breath so I can speak clearly. I pose in front of Mr. Bonejangles and start filming on my phone.

“Mayday! Mayday! Calling all Halloween lovers. This is a desperate SOS. Lois and the HOA say my skeleton has got to go, but there is nothing in the bylaws about a twelve-foot skeleton. The emergency meeting to decide his fate is tonight, and I need your help. If you love Halloween and you want to help me save Mr. Bonejangles, come to 42 Harvest Drive in Autumn Acres for a fun photo shoot! Together, we can save Halloween.”

I make sure to get a good shot of him all dressed up for Halloween and then post it to my social media accounts. When I show the uploaded post to BJ, his LED eyes flicker, and I take that for approval.

“All right, big guy, those of us with stomachs need food.” I head for the car and call over my shoulder, “See ya soon!”

I take the turn onto my road slowly, not wanting the bags of groceries sitting on the seat next to me to fall over. I glance over to make sure they’re still upright, and when I look ahead again, I slam on the brakes.

Both sides of my road are lined with cars and people are everywhere. I ease off the brake and move at a crawl as pedestrians cross the road, spilling off the packed sidewalks.

“What the hell…” I trail off as I inch closer to my house. But the further I go, the harder it is to make it through. I lower my window and hear some type of chanting I can’t yet make out.

When I reach my driveway at last, I have to give a little honk to get people to clear the way for me to turn in. When I do, the crowd goes nuts, pointing and yelling.

Confused, I get out and haul my bags of groceries out with me. That’s when the shouts of, “She’s here!” and “It’s Tori!” reach my ears.

I stand there, braced for impact when I realize, no one is shouting at me. This isn’t an angry mob. There’s a thrill of excitement in the air.

I juggle the bags into one arm and give the crowd a little wave, and they go wild, shouting my name and waving big signs in the air. I’m shocked to see they’re all about BJ.

“We heart BJ”

“Save Mr. Bonejangles”

“I have a bone to pick with the HOA”

“Bones Over Bylaws”

“Skelly Rights are Human Rights”

“Big Bone Energy”

“Team Bones”

And my personal favorite, “Lois is a Loser.”

I don’t know who any of these people are. Don’t recognize a single soul. But my heart swells, along with the tears of gratitude gathering in my eyes, that these strangers showed up because they love not just Halloween, but Mr. Bonejangles, as much as I do.

“I, uh, I’ll be right out,” I call to the crowd, nodding down at my groceries.

When I get into the kitchen, I can still hear the crowd buzzing outside. I throw the groceries in the fridge in record time and then sneak out the garage, ducking low so no one sees me over the fence, then crawl on my hands and knees over to BJ. Kneeling at his enormous feet I look up at him and say, “Do you see this? They’re here for you. For us.”