Charles squeezed his painted face, explaining the costume again.

“No,” he said, his high voice weary, “I'm not grapes. I'm a water molecule.”

The inquiring werewolf, a sixth grader, said “What?”

“Look, aitch-two-oh, right? That's water? So here's an aitch, and here are the two ohs.”

“Did you make that up?”

“No, my Dad did. He teaches chemistry.”

“That's really incredibly stupid.”

“So? You're just a werewolf.”

A 10-year-old molecule and a slightly older werewolf quietly beat each other. A short crowd of policeman, medieval crusaders, firemen, and Pokemons gathered to watch. Finally, a fourth grade ballerina turned and cried out:

“That werewolf is hurting those grapes.”