Smoking! 90's Julia Louis Dreyfus wears The Mask (Patreon)

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A short story...

Elaine Benes carefully jingled her keys against her apartment door, balancing a paper bag of groceries in one arm. She pushed her way inside, letting out a sigh of relief as she dropped the groceries onto the counter. It had been a typical Seinfeldian day—Jerry had teased her about her “close-talking” date from the previous night, and George had lamented an embarrassingly petty dilemma. She was hoping for a quiet evening.

But as she kicked off her shoes, Elaine noticed something unusual resting on her coffee table. It appeared to be an ancient wooden mask with wide, mischievous eyes carved into its surface.

“Where did this come from?” she muttered, gingerly picking it up.

She tilted it one way and then the other. The texture felt smooth, almost alive. Under her breath, she speculated maybe Kramer had dropped it off—after all, he was the only one likely to come across weird objects at flea markets or rummage sales and randomly decide Elaine should have them.

Right as she was about to set it down, a strange compulsion overtook her—she just had to try it on. Slowly, she lifted the mask toward her face.

A swirl of green smoke burst out from behind it, coiling around her hair and sweeping over her shoulders like a whirlwind. The grocery bag on the counter rattled, lights flickered, and her ears filled with an otherworldly hum. Before Elaine could scream, she felt a tingling surge through her entire body.

When the smoke subsided, her reflection in the hallway mirror made her jaw drop: Her face gleamed a brilliant, cartoonish green, her hair arranged itself in a glamorous coif, and she was suddenly dressed in a dazzling gold evening gown—complete with long gloves that showed off a dramatic, plunging neckline. Her eyes flashed with an impish, confident sparkle she’d never seen before.

“Get out!” Elaine shrieked at her own reflection in wonder, though her voice now oozed a kind of sultry bravado. “What the—this is…this is insane!”

Before she could fully process the transformation, her phone buzzed.

“Elaine, it’s Jerry. Are you on your way?”

“Oh! Right,” she said, noticing green wisps of smoke drifting from her shoulders. She was supposed to meet Jerry and George at their favorite Chinese restaurant. “Uhh…yeah, yeah, I’m on my way.”

She hung up, grabbed her purse (now somehow also transformed to match her golden outfit), and flung open the door. She sprinted down the hallway with the tails of her gloves fluttering behind her, leaving a thin haze of magical smoke in her wake.

By the time Elaine arrived, she was still quite literally smoking—wisps of purple-gray vapor curled around her shoulders as she strutted into the Chinese restaurant. Every head in the waiting area turned to watch.

Jerry and George were sitting on a bench near the hostess stand, looking bored and hungry. George glanced at his watch.

“Where is she?” George grumbled. “We’ve been waiting twenty minutes for a—”

He stopped dead in his tracks when he looked up. Jerry raised an eyebrow. Standing before them was not the Elaine they knew, but a glamorous, green-faced vision in shimmering gold. Her lips were parted in a mischievous grin, and her hair practically seemed to float with electric energy.

“Elaine?” Jerry asked, trying not to sound too stunned.

Elaine did a little spin, letting the hem of the gown flare out. “Well, what do you think?” she said, voice dripping with confidence.

George’s eyes were bugging out so much, Elaine worried they’d pop right out of his head. Jerry’s expression teetered between bewilderment and curiosity.

“What…happened to you? Did you lose a bet?” Jerry asked, leaning in as if to scrutinize her face.

She posed, a few more puffs of greenish smoke drifting off her shoulders.

George opened his mouth but found no words. He stared, half-fascinated, half-petrified. “Is it permanent?” he finally whispered.

Elaine let out a throaty laugh. “Oh, Georgie, lighten up! I’m still me…just with a little extra—pizzazz, if you will.” She leaned in, arching a verdant eyebrow. “So, are we getting a table or what?”

At that moment, the hostess called out to them. “Seinfeld, party of three!”

George scurried after Elaine as she swept toward the dining area. Jerry followed close behind, stepping over the lingering swirls of smoke Elaine left on the floor.

They were seated at a small round table, menus in hand. Elaine, still brimming with a zany confidence, scanned the options and grinned wickedly.

“Everything looks so good! I could order the whole menu.” She pointed at different dishes with flair. “General Tso’s, Kung Pao, Moo Shu…hehehe! I want it all!”

Jerry exchanged a glance with George, both of them still unsure how to process Elaine’s new look and personality. But the server appeared, unfazed by the swirling smoke and crackling energy, and cheerfully took their order.

As they waited for their food, Elaine leaned back and let out a blissful sigh, winking at a nearby table whose diners had paused their conversation just to watch her.