[[Disclaimer: I don't own any of the Layton characters or Ghost Busters (which I LOVE by the way) or Mozart symphony #40 in G minor.

Description: This is a day late and its not at all as good or long as I hoped it would be. I'm sorry.

Anyway, I really think Don Paolo has tied with Clive for the title of "butt monkey" in all my stories. BUTT MONKEY is such a beautiful phrase, isn't it? It's used to describe an object or person of abuse and ridicule.


If there's one thing that Don Paolo despises more than Professor Layton, children, DescoLay, prime-minister Bill Hawks and dreadful fanfiction, it's Halloween.

Now, dear reader, I can imagine you're quite baffled as to why I'm suggesting this. Surely, a time of the year when it's traditional for many members of the public to go out in spooky costumes would be perfect for a criminal like Don Paolo. He could use the holiday as an excuse to prowl the streets of London and break a few laws. No one would be aware of his identity; the great Don is a master of disguise, after all. He could make kids cry by stealing their candy. He could scare the life out of little old ladies. He could chuck eggs and toilet paper at Layton's house and laugh at his mildly infuriated reaction.

This brings us right back round to the question: Why does Don Paolo hate Halloween?

Well, I'm about to inform you of the terrifying events that took place one October 31st (for Don Paolo, that is). So, you might want to grab your teddy bear and jump behind the couch because this is definitely not a tale for the faint hearted—

Don Paolo: "Just get on with it!"

Alright, alright. Geez. Here it is...


In a sleazy apartment room with peeling wallpaper the great Don Paolo laid on a moth eaten grey settee listening to an old wireless set. The ancient radio was in decent condition considering he had found it in the dumpster outside; a renowned scientist like him required only seconds to repair the simple appliance.

Though Mozart symphony #40 in G minor was accompanied by the scratchy sound of static, Don Paolo felt uncharacteristically at peace with himself and the entire world. Classical music always calmed him in this way, induced him to put aside his evil schemes of revenge against his arch nemesis, Professor Layton. One could truly lose themselves in the enthralling masterpiece of the pure genius that was Mozart.

Suddenly a presenter announced "We interrupt this boring program to bring you a holiday special..."

"What?!" Don Paolo shot out of his chair as the catchy theme song to a certain supernatural comedy film came on:

If there's something strange
in your neighborhood
Who ya gonna call?

If there's something weird
and it don't look good
Who ya gonna call?

The villain ground his teeth together. How dare they discontinue Mozart's beautiful composition and instead play this... this modern filth. It was an insult to music— his ears were bleeding!

Don Paolo picked up the blaring radio and lobbed it out the window. The wireless set fell three stories until it hit the oncoming traffic below, causing a collision between two vehicles. There was SCREEECH of brakes and an audible CRASH! Thena car alarm went off.

Of course, Don Paolo didn't notice any of the chaos he had created on the road because he was still fuming about his favourite radio show being cancelled. He was so busy grumbling that he nearly missed the knock at the door. Initially he ignored the visitor (it was probably someone from the bank come to inquire about that fake account he'd set up) but the knocking persisted.

With a growl, Don Paolo practically ripped the door off its hinges. Standing in the threshold was a little brunette girl who he recognised lived across the hall with her crazy single mother. She was dressed in a purple witch's hat and held a plastic bag in her hand.

"Trick or treat," the brat giggled.

Trick or treat, eh? Don Paolo's eyes flickered to the cheap calendar nailed on his wall. October 31st was circled in black marker ink. It was Halloween... and the allocated number of days he had allowed himself to stay in this area was up. He would have to pack away all of his possessions, hightail it out of here and find a new hideout before the authorities caught whiff of his trail again.

The girl pouted and shook the bag directly under his nose. "Hey, Mister, ain't you gonna give me some sweets?"

"Get lost, I'm busy!" Don Paolo barked, slamming the door in her face.

"Mummy, the mean ugly man yelled at me!" He heard the kid wail and run off to fetch her mother.

"He WHAT?" Said female shrieked.

Oh, here we go... A rant from his "delightful" neighbour, Miss Michaela Jameson was the last thing he needed right now. Don Paolo recalled the day he had moved into this crummy accommodation, (How could he forget, that instant was burned in his memory) when the damned woman three doors down from him had come to complain he was making way too much racket during her kid's naptime. He told her tough luck (he'd been doing a crucial experiment that involved high pitched frequency waves that evening), suggesting she and her spawn should clear out of the building if they had a problem with it. That had earned him a slap across the face.

The man suspected there would be many more slaps aimed in his general direction today as Michaela kicked down the door with her high heeled black boots. She'd dyed her hair a bleached blonde this week, he noted, and the colour looked terrible on her. (Meh... She was still a MILF to him.)

"Oi, Pal! Have you been yelling at my baby?" Michaela demanded.

Her daughter clutched at her waist and peeked out at Don Paolo. "He did, he did, he did, Mummy!" she tattled tearfully.

"Wha— No, I did not, you lying brat!"

"Did too!"

"Did NOT—!"

"Shut up, will you?" Michaela glared at Don Paolo before she sighed and massaged her temples. "Honestly, no one has any idea how hard it is being a twenty-three-year-old mum without a man in her life. The thing is, you can't start dating again because you have to keep your kid happy by taking her out trick or treating and stuff. So, could you stop being a jerk and make my job a tiny bit easier? Just give her some freakin' treats!"

"Fine!" Don Paolo spat. He stomped around his room, checking if there was any stale candy wedged between the settee arms or hidden under the cracked white floor tiles. His search became frantic when Michaela began tapping her foot with impatience. Eventually the villain's gaze fell on a pile of unsuccessful inventions he had been thinking of throwing out. He retrieved a random metal sphere from the junk pile and thrust it in Michaela's daughter's bag. "There, happy? Now buzz off."

The child's face immediately lit up like the sun. "Thanks, Mister! Happy Halloween!"

Michaela appeared satisfied with her kid's reaction— despite the fact that the offering was definitely not candy— and the pair finally left to visit the more generous tenants of the estate.

Once they were gone, Don Paolo dashed around the apartment shoving everything he owned into an extensive brown sack.

Thirty minutes later Don Paolo was eyeing the items he had collected in his sack "Let's see..." He muttered "Pot noodles supply; check... Coffee; check... Blueprints; check... Lethal weapons; check... Tool kit; check... Keys to flying contraption; check... Radio..." Don Paolo cast a forlorn look to where his precious music player had once sat and sighed "...No check... Dart board made with a picture of Layton's face; check... Disguise kit; check... Smoke bombs..."

The villain had recently created five silver balls that released smoke upon exploding which, if he did say so himself, were completely brilliant for making quick, clean getaways. However, there were only four silver spheres in his sack. Where could the fifth one have gotten to...?

Don Paolo winced when someone banged on his door for the third time that evening.

"This is Scotland Yard, open up!" Came the order of the notorious Inspector Chelmey. (God, not him again!)

Thinking fast, the criminal disguised his voice. "What seems to be the problem, Dearie?" he asked in the tone of a sweet elderly woman.

"Sorry to disturb you, Madam," He heard a gullible constable with a squeaky voice answer his question "But we've had a distress call from a young mother whose daughter has been sent to hospital. Something about an exploding metal ball...?"

Oh, crap, Don Paolo thought. Somehow, he knew he was going to end up blaming Layton for this.

[[Note: Basically, I don't approve anything that comes under the category of "illegal" on Halloween (apparently Don Paolo does). Hey, I celebrate the holiday but it's not for everyone. So respect others' views and I hope you just enjoyed this :)]]