EVERY AMERICAN CITY - Something dark is brewing in the abandoned Famous Footwear downtown. Under the cover of night, a mysterious figure from a faraway land (perhaps New Jersey) conjured an entire storefront from the aether, nearly three whole months before traditional All Hallow’s Eve festivities are set to begin. The man, clad in a dark cloak bearing only the insignia of his master, The Spirit of Halloween, has been seen in these woods every year, although he is wont to sell his arcane wares in the crisp autumn, when the shadows grow longer each night and death begins to claw the leaves from once-verdant boughs. What superior forces have led him here into the heat of the midsommar sun we may never know, but the arrival of his cursed emporium is certainly no benevolent portent. Readers are well-advised to avoid the area at all costs lest they, too, be swept away to a realm of cheap plastic swords and various copyright-infringing nylon costumes.