Christopher Moore Home Page

The bulletin board is currently closed to new posts. Instead, why not check out Chris' Twitter and Facebook pages?


bbs.chrismoore.com Forum Index -> Fan Fiction Here

Buffet the Vampire Slayer

  Author    Thread This forum is locked: you cannot post, reply to, or edit topics. This topic is locked: you cannot edit posts or make replies.
Elliot



Joined: 30 Mar 2004
Posts: 1676
Location: Seattle
Buffet the Vampire Slayer  Reply with quote  

Here was the last Story tag we did. Right before I left for Iraq the first time.

L

Buffet the Vampire Slayer

Chapter One (Taco Bob)

Sunrise painted gold across the great pyramid as Jolie
and Timmy left the San Francisco winter behind for two
weeks' vacation in sunny Margaritaville. It was a
welcome break for Timmy from his usual routine of
working as tax attorney for the Mammals Bowling Team,
and Jolie's constant nagging about the benefits of
being turned.

Jolie had never tanned well. She just burned, and
becoming a vampire hadn't exactly made her a
sun-worshiper. But this was something they'd always
wanted to do, and she was hoping that getting Timmy away
from his demanding job would give her the chance to
finally convince him to join her for eternity. If he
wouldn't listen to reason, she had a couple of other
ideas in her head, right next to her regular teeth.

After depositing their extensive luggage in the
room, they went for a leisurely stroll through the quaint
backstreets of paradise, looking for a stray homeless
snack for Jolie and a cheeseburger for Timmy.

Rupert Buffet, lovable island troubadour, writer of
children's books, and town drunk, staggered back to his
room in the Margaritaville Hilton after a long
strategy session in the hotel bar with Captain Morgan,
his favorite brand of rum. A strong man, especially
when commode-hugging drunk, Buffet was having trouble with
the key to his room. He managed to force his way inside
the room just in time to make it to the bathroom
before a generous amount of the Captain and some
half-chewed pretzels re-entered the atmosphere. At least
he thought it was the bathroom. Unable to find the
sink in the dark, or get what later turned out to be
the clothes hamper to flush, he lumbered back into the
living room and finally found the light switch.

A man of style and taste, Buffet wiped barf off the
front of his shirt with a shoe, then decided he needed
a drink. With the lights on, he was able to find the
bathroom. Filling the sink with coke and rum
from the room mini-bar, he gave it a good stir with a
convenient long-handled brush from behind the toilet.
He needed ice. The little fridge had almost no ice
cubes, but there was a big chest freezer in the room.
The thought quickly flashed through his rum-soaked
mind that he might not be in the right room, again.

Inside the freezer were dozens of packages of
Rice-A-Roni and the frozen body of Gary, his agent who
was last seen two years earlier in San Francisco, but
no ice cubes.

Feeling faint, Buffet rushed to the bathroom,
stuck his head into the sink, and sucked down a
half-gallon of rum and coke before slowly slipping to the
floor. His last thoughts before passing out were of
watching for waterspouts, searching for a lost shaker
of salt, and finally knowing why his agent hasn't been
returning his calls.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 2 (Q)

"Mom's Lost Shaker of Salt"

The greatest living vampire hunter in all the southeastern
United States pushed up to the pharmacy counter and ordered
a blow pop. Howie Howard, owner and proprietor of "H&H Apothecary"
for the last thirty years, served up a grape one and made change
of a dollar. "Got any Witch-hazel?" The vampire hunter asked,
struggling to untwist the wrapper.

"I got rubbing alcohol."

The Hunter of the Damned scowled at Howie. "That Witch-hazel?"

"Dunno. Think so."

"Really?"

Howie closed the register and nodded to the vampire hunters
upturned face.

"Sol? What's that you're wearing on your face there, son?"

"Night vision goggles," he spoke around the candy, "Picks up
objects that give off heat."

Howie frowned. "Ain't that most everything round here this
time of year?"

The vampire hunter removed the blow pop with a slurp and gestured
around the drug store with it, "What about wolfs bane? Any wolfs
bane in yet?"

"Still back ordered," said Howie, sticking to the same lie he'd
been using for the last few weeks. "Sol, does your dad know
you're running around this time of night with his goggles?"

The vampire hunter took a step back and sucked on the candy
defensively. He shrugged the Super-Soaker that was strapped to his
back into a better position and made a note to check the stopper.
Holy water was dripping down the back of his pants. As he headed
for the door he called back over his shoulder, "You sure about
that witch hazel/rubbing alcohol deal?"

"I think so."

"I'm going to check into that," and he was gone.

Howie watched the door swing closed then returned to his copy
of "High Times." He chuckled, "Happy hunting, you little weirdo."

* * *

It was a hot night in Margarita Ville and nine year old Solomon
Reins Belamy "Vampire Hunter" was sweating through his gear as
he made his methodical way down Tequila Drive. His Old Navy cargo
pants were starting to chafe under the weight of the tools of the
trade that filled the pockets. While it is true that Solomon was,
in fact, the greatest living vampire hunter in the southeastern
United States, he would've have been surprised to learn it. He
would've been more surprised to learn that there actually were
other vampire hunters anywhere in the US. He would've been stunned
to learn that his success rate of locating a vampire (exactly zero
to date) put him in a tie for first place among every single vampire
hunter currently living. But Solomon didn't know any of that and
wasn't likely to learn about those stats tonight. What he did know
was; tracking the undead was hard and took persistence. Naps in the
afternoons were good if you could get them. Carving your Mom's set
of colonial salt and pepper shakers into wooden stakes is best done
in secret, and vampires had taken his Uncle Gary.

He set off through the crowding streets.

* * *

An hour later, the diminutive stalker of the undead stood stock
still in the middle of the sidewalk, blind to the bemused glances
from passing tourists and oblivious to the fact that his status
among Vampire hunters had just been elevated.

The images in Solomon's infrared field of vision moved about in
a burning ballet. Glowing people strolled leisurely by, stumbled
out of bars and into taxis, leaving misty red contrails in their wake.

All except the couple standing at the end of the block. A young
looking couple. The glowing ember of a guy was adult aged, but Sol
sensed a "kid vibe" from him as he waved a Margarita Ville tourist
guide around and pointed to various landmarks. The woman had long
dark hair and long pale legs. Sol figured she was probably
attractive. (In that weird, ambiguous way that girls were different
from boys and it wasn't exactly all the time completely gross.)
She was listening to the dude, considering the options he pointed
out and shooting them down one by one with the shake of her head.

And she wasn't giving off heat.

Sol pushed the goggles to his forehead, looked at the couple, and
replaced them. He did this three times. His heart started to clang
in his chest, beating the drums of certainty. Now, however, the
debate appeared to be over and the couple was moving on down the
street. The guy stuffed the tourist guide into his pocket and put
his arm around the vampire. A huge question exploded in Solomon's
mind. What did he do now? He'd never doubted that he would succeed
and eventually find a vampire; he just hadn't plotted out the part
right after he had found one.

He decided he need more evidence. While he KNEW that she was the
genuine article (Heck, she didn't give off heat! What else was she
gonna be?) Sol figured it was prudent to back up that fact with at
least one other. Before he interrogated her about the whereabouts
of his Uncle and then plunged a stake into her heart. He was going
to need a safe place to watch them and look for more clues. Plus he
needed to call home. This was going to keep him out at least until
eleven thirty.

* * *

Sol hit the door of "Parrot Pate's Bookstore" and scurried through
the stacks, pushing past and knocking into the backsides of costumers,
book displays and a cardboard cut out of Gandalf the Wizard. He
ignored the admonishments that followed him, but did decide to push
the infrared goggles to his forehead and leave them there.

Near the back of the store was a table covered with books and
positioned with a perfect view through the store window that faced
the cafe across the street. Sol elbowed his way past the long line
of people, climbed up and stood on the table.

There. They were sitting at a sidewalk table, relaxing in the wrought
iron chairs, unaware of Solomon and his perfect view.

Someone cleared their throat next to him. Sol hadn't noticed the man
sitting at the table. The bearded man stood and said, "Hi kid. How ya
doing?"

"Fine," he replied then waved him over a bit. "You mind? You're
blocking me."

"Sorry. My bad." The man stepped aside and followed Sol's gaze out
into the street. "So...what are we looking at here?"

"Vampire."

"Ah. Gotcha." The man glanced back at Sol. "Nice night vision
goggles."

Sol did a quick appraisal. The dude was smiling and didn't seem to
be faking it. Then it occurred to Sol that they were on eye level
with each other, despite the fact that Sol was standing on a table
and more than a few hard-bound books. He glanced down and did some
quick math.

"You're pretty tall."

"Thanks." The guy smiled. Sol turned back to the couple at the cafe.

"Ugly shirt, though."

The man looked down at his Hawaiian shirt and gave Sol a long look.
"This from a kid who's sporting a Cartoon Network tee-shirt, spray
painted black?"

"Hey! You gotta wear black to hunt vampires! My other black shirt got
marinara sauce on it."

The guy nodded sagely. "Yes, that wouldn't be any good. Garlic in
the marinara would set you off like a beacon." Catching Sol's look,
he added, "To the vampires."

"How would you know?"

"Oh, I know my vampire, brah. Trust me"

"Please." Sol snorted.

"Try me." He said, crossing his arms. Sol crossed his own and looked
him in the eye.

"Rick Springfield?"

"Eternal Night."

"Anno Dracula?"

"Kim Newman, first in the series." The man rolled his eyes. "Look,
if you're not even going to challenge me..."

"Father Callahan?"

"Salem's Lot, Stephen King."

"Edward Herman?"

"Head vampire in 'Lost Boys'. Really kid..."

Solomon took a deep breath and fired, "Lance Henrickson, Don Simon
Yisdro, Tom Waits, Damon Julian, P.N. Elrod, Stephen Dorf and AND
'Moon Over Bourbon Street'?"

The bearded fellow closed his eyes tilted his head and said in one
breath, " 'Near Dark', 'Those Who Hunt the Night' Barbara Hamply,
R.M. Renfield in Coppola's Dracula, 'Fevre Dream' G.R.R. Martin,
'The Vampire Files', Blade and, of course, 'Interview With the
Vampire'."

Solomon peered into the man's smiling face for some time. Finally he
turned his attention back to the couple across the street.

"Yeah, okay. You're cool."

Across the street, a waiter brought out two plates of food. Solomon
watched closely as the young man dug into his meal. The woman was
sitting back in her chair, legs crossed and watching the foot traffic
as it passed by. You're not going to eat, are you? Sol thought. Not
anything on that plate, at least. When her companion reached over and
took a bite from her plate, Sol was certain. He'd bagged a real one.

"HA! She's not eating!" He shouted. "HA!"

"Hey, how bout that. So, little man," the tall man held up a book
with a whale tail on the cover, "you want a book? My treat."

Sol took the book and gave it a quick perusal. "What's it bout?
Got any--"

"Bloodsuckers? No, not this one. It's about whales."

Sol handed it back and said, "Nah. I'm gonna need my hands free.
Thanks though."

"No problem. But look, I'm going to have to ask you to climb down from
the table so these other fine folk can get their books signed."

The guy pointed over Sol's shoulder. He turned around to find a long
line of people holding books (some as many as ten) and regarding
Sol with looks that ranged from mild confusion to outright annoyance.

"Oh." He said and climbed down to the floor. "That okay. I gotta get
closer to them anyway. I have to figure out what the deal is with
the guy she's with. Is he, like, her guardian? Her slave, you know?
Is he in her thrall?"

The bearded man resumed his seat and took up a pen. "Probably all
three."

Sol heard something in the remark, but not knowing what irony was,
couldn't identify it. "Well, good luck, my friend. That's a unique
creature you're trying to bag."

"Yep." Sol readjusted his equipment and put the goggles back on.
"But you can catch something that's unique."

"How?"

Solomon considered this for a long moment then took a last glance at the
couple still seated at the cafe.

"Unique up on them." And with that, he was gone.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 3 (Elliot)

"Lended Destiny"

After Sol got down from the table a large man aproached and
placed a copy of Fluke on the table. The gracious Author,
Seymore, picked it up and inspected it. He found a red spot
on the binding. He looked up at the man.

"There's blood on the binding you know that right?"

The large man gurgled up a gracious amount of gas through his
throat. He'd been drinking heavily. "Yeah, I'm sorry. It must
of gotten there from this." The large man pulled out a severed
hand from his inside coat pocket.

Seymore's eyes bulged. "Oh he he. Where'd that come from?"

"Long story."

"Well," Seymore looked behind the large man. No one. It didn't
bother him though. It was his normal reportiore for a book signing.
"I appear to have plenty of time."

The large man took in a deep breath. He spoke rapidly which
was amazing for how much he had to drink. "Well you see
there's this agent of mine had a great destiny that he gave
to me but see I didn't know what it was. He's dead in my freezer.
And well I cut off his hand so I could take it to a palm reader.
But all I get is many riches will come to him and I don't know how.
Do you think you could help?" Then he let out a string of nervous
laughs.

Seymore looked at the palm of the hand and said, "Well I could tell
you one thing for sure. This man needed one of two things. A
girlfriend or lotion."

~~~~~

Sol followed the vampire to a small hotel near the cafe. He chuckled
anxiously while munching down Flinstone chewable vitamins. "You're
mine Vampire." The man still had his arm around the vampire's back.
He didn't understand it. He thought vampire's only fell in love
with humans on TV. Like that show "Buffy." God he hated that show.

Oo wait here comes someone else. He was a large man. Tossing something
in front of him. It was cold. That's what Sol's goggles showed anyway.
It was shaped like a, well. It was shaped like a hand? "Food!" Sol
thought. "That man is bringing the vamp food."

Sol took his chance. By killing the food line he would weaken the
vamp. Preparing for battle. He ran up to the man and tackled him
like a midget linebacker. The large man fell on his stomach and
released the alcohol he just consumed. "Get off my back! You Monkey!"

"Never, vampire lover!"

"What?"

"I will never let you feed that beast of evil!"

"Look kid you got the wrong, *urp* guy."

"Oh yeah, then what's that?" Sol pointed to the hand laying inches
away from the pile of puke.

The large man sighed. "My destiny."

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 4 (Dave S.)

"Pogo times two."

Sol had no time for the drunkards drivel. He wrapped his palms around
the
severed hand and began to pull with all the might he could muster,
despite
the sickly stench of alcohol drenched vomit.

Rupert would not let go of his destiny! He may be seeing three blurry
versions of the tiny vampire hunter with the wacky shades swaying side
to
side, but he's not letting go of his destiny! Never!

The kid needs that hand! He's going to use it as bait to lure the unholy
beast away from her protector and plunge the sharpened salt shaker right
into her cold, dark heart. If she's hungry (and she IS hungry) the hand
will
get her attention.

Rupert, his back to the pavement, looking up at the pain-in-the-ass
kid/vampire hunter with confusion and a newfound hatred, is digging his
filthy nails into the thawing flesh of his ex-agent's severed appendage.

Sol expertly places the sole of his Chuck Taylor Hi-Top on the large
man's
chest, using his leverage to push off from him and claim the prize!
Vampire
bait!

Rupert's sweaty palms can grip no longer, his fingernails scrape for
traction, his jaw's agape, his eyes go wide, realizing he's lost his
destiny
as the macabre body part slips from his fingers!

Sol flies backwards in slow motion, he's becoming parallel with the
night
sky, his feet are lifting from the ground, his assbone's connected to
the
sidewalk! A shockwave of pain shoots from his ass to his feet and his
ass to
his head instantaneously and simultaneously. Sol gives a quick shake of
the
head, lets his focus come back, turns, pivots on his elbow, swings his
feet
around, crouches and uses his knee and free hand to push himself up and
into
a dash for the hotel door.

Rupert blinks twice, looks at his empty hand and the empty space where
the
annoying munchkin momentarily dwelled. He lifts his head to the sky,
closes
his eyes, tears streaking his dirty cheeks and cries "Mmmmyyyyyyyy
destinnnnyyyyyyyyyy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!"

~~~~

Inside the lobby, the famous pole-vaulting Padachowski twins from
Poland are
hopping on pogo-sticks, waiting for the bellboy to come down with their
bags. Hopping, waiting, waiting, hopping. Hopping to "Cheeseburger in
Paradise" coming through the hotel intercom. Hopping, waiting, waiting,
hopping. What's taking that bellboy so long?

What's that? Who are the famous pole-vaulting Padachowski twins from
Poland,
you ask? Please forgive my assumptions, I thought everyone knew. Back in
1996 at the summer Olympics in Atlanta. The world of pole-vaulting was
turned upside down when, for the first time in Olympic history, a set of
twins competed together in the same event. Pip "Pipster" Padachowski
grabbed
the bronze for Poland, while his brother Leonard "Fat Lenny" Padachowski
came in a measly seventh place. The Padachowski twins were not
outstanding
athletes by any means, but they were known for their crazy antics and
wacky
hijinks. They were very entertaining to watch. For example, Fat Lenny
Padachowski was famous for pissing in the eternal flame nightly and for
picking fights with French Canadians while Pipster, bare as a brand new
baby, ran through the women's basketball competition, letting it all
hang
out on two separate occasions.

What's that? You don't believe me? Go ahead, look it up.

Anyway, so the famous pole-vaulting Padachowski twins from Poland are
pogoing in the lobby when Sol, the young vampire hunter bursts through
the
front entrance, severed limb in hand. As you can imagine, this is quite
a
sight. Pipster and Fat Lenny Padachowski notice there is something
strange
about this kid, even by American standards. Fat Lenny stops jumping on
his
pogo stick and is squinting at the boy, trying to figure out what's in
his
hand. Pipster realizes what it is and fills his fat brother in.

"It's a hand."

"A what?" asks Fat Lenny

"A hand, a severed hand."

"Not a REAL hand!"

"Not sure, let's go check it out."

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Chapter 5 (disco)

"Son of a Son of a Slayer"

Timmy unlocked the door to the hotel room and Jolie stepped past him
into
the room.

"I'm just going to grab my bikini, you wait here." She stepped into the
room
and immediately her vampire senses were on full alert. "Tim, I think you
need to come in here."

"Why? Did the maid leave garlic on the pillow again?"

"No, but someone else has been in the room."

"Oooh, did you super-human senses pick up a disturbance in the force?"

"Not exactly. There's a trail of vomit coming from our bathroom and
Gary's
not in the freezer."

Timmy ran into the room and slammed the door. "Not in the freezer? Not
in
the freezer? You mean someone broke in here, threw up all over, and then
stole a dead body? Or would they have stolen the dead body and then
thrown
up?"

"No one stole Gary, he's just not in the freezer, and I think he might
be
missing a hand. You didn't take one of his hands out for a walk or
anything,
did you?"

"Eww, no. We better get out of here. I don't really need to explain to
the
police why we have a dead body and a chest freezer."

"Relax, he's only an agent, it's not like he was a real human being or
anything."

"Ha, ha. Dead body still equals big hassle for the mortal. Can we just
go
before the Lone Vomitor comes back with the cops and I get to spend the
rest
of my life being the bitch of cell block six?"

"Yeah, I... Hold on, do you smell garlic?"

Timmy and Jolie turned to face the door, which was slowly swinging
inward,
followed by the shaggy head of the great vampire hunter and the great
bald
heads of the famous Padachowski brothers.

"Is this what you're looking for?" Sol was holding the severed hand,
pointing it at Jolie, it's middle finger extended. "Are you hungry,
undead
bitch?"

"Watch your mouth little boy, and I don't know what you're talking
about."

"Put a sock in it lady, I got thermal goggles, and you don't register.
So
either you're bathing in ice cubes or you're not among the living."

Timmy stepped into the space between Sol and Jolie. Sol hadn't pulled
out
the Super-Soaker yet, but Timmy had spotted it and figured that it meant
trouble for Jolie.

Pip and Lenny, who had been content to watch from the hall, whispered
furtively for a moment and then stepped into the room, Pip picking up
Sol
and Fat Lenny grabbing the squirt gun from his back, holding it
carefully
away from his body. He threw the gun into the hallway and closed the
door,
taking care to be sure that it was locked.

"Excuse us, but are we understanding this conversation? This kid
brought you
a severed hand because he thinks you're a vampire?"

"Yeah," said Pip, "which one of you is the vampire?"

Timmy puffed up unconsciously, his fight-or-flight instict realizing
that
even if flight were possible, Jolie would make him pay for it later. His
hands clenched and unclenched, ready to punch someone. He figured that
he
could take the little kid, if it came down to it, and Jolie should be
able
to handle the pole vaulters.

"There's no such thing as vampires, this kids gotta be on drugs or
something. Now if you don't mind, my girlfriend and I were on our way
out."

"No vampires, huh? Well, if you're not vampire, why do you have a dead
body
in the middle of your room?"

Sol took notice of the body for the first time. "Uncle Gary! No! You
bitch,
I'll kill you! I'll drive my salt shaker through your undead heart!"

Pip had to tighten his grip to hold the struggling vampire hunter. Jolie
stepped from behind Timmy.

"Uncle Gary? Then you must be Solomon. Gary told us about you. He said
that
you'd be able to help us."

"Help you? Not on your life, bloodsucker! You killed my Uncle!"

"Hold on there, kid." Fat Lenny was kneeling down beside the body.
"This guy
wasn't killed by a vampire, it looks like he was beaten upside the
head, and
judging by the Gucci stamped backwards into his forhead, it was with a
handbag."

"Look, Sol, we're really sorry about Gary. But you have to believe us,
we
didn't kill him. He was my agent, and was actually a pretty decent guy,
considering. His girlfriend killed him and split town with some ugly
dude
she called 'Catch.' We found him before he died, and he begged us to
take
him back to his family in Florida. He said that you were a smart kid."

"I don't believe you, you're evil, why would you be helping my Uncle?"

Pip flipped Sol over, so that he was hanging upside down, looking into
his
eyes. "I don't think you have a choice kid. There's at least three
vampires
in this room, and you either change your tune or I let Fat Lenny eat
you."

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 6 (JDJinTX)

The Padachowski Run

Pip's Air Jordans were smeared with a thin layer of half-digested
blow-pop
residue. Despite his best efforts to clean them, they still made sucking
noises each time he lifted a foot from the still-hot pavement. He
passed the
Coconut Telegraph Condominium Resort & Spa, and turned into an alley
where
Fat Lenny, Jolie, and Tim were waiting for him. "Where?s the kid?"

Timmy tried not to look at the purple glop matted into the hair on Pip's
legs. "He ran down that way," Tim pointed. "Said he'd be right back.
You're
sure the guy he took the hand from is Rupert Bufet?"

"You remember the kid's description, the shirt the guy was wearing?
'Come
out and play with Rupert Buffet.' Not even the tourists will wear those
around here. It had to be him."

"And you're sure he went to the Stateline Bar?"

Fat Lenny let out an exasperated sigh. "I told you three times, no place
else will let him inside when he"s not performing. And anyway-"

Lenny was interrupted by the roar of a powerful engine at the other end
of
the alley, and Sol pulled in in a Jaguar, a red convertible '65. The
three
vampires and Timmy all looked at each other, and then back at Gary
Belamy's tiny car. "We are not all climbing into this heap," Timmy
complained to Jolie. "It's just not going to happen."

"I'm driving!" Fat Lenny plucked Sol from the stack of phonebooks on the
driver's seat and plopped him on the back of the car. Sol's short legs
barely fit in the small space behind the driver's seat.

"Shotgun!" yelled Pip has he hopped over the other door into the
passenger
seat.

Jolie looked over at Tim, shrugged her shoulders, and walked around to
the
back of the car. "I'm used to cramped places," she explained as she
popped
the trunk and squeezed herself inside. Timmy reluctantly slammed the
trunk, climbed over the back of the car and squeezed his own legs down
behind Pip's seat.



Twenty minutes later, Timmy was forcibly straightening his tingling
right
leg with both of his hands. "Are you sure he can go in there?" He
glanced
at Sol, who was pushing past him to the dilapidated old door of the
Stateline Bar.

"He's got to," answered Fat Lenny. "He's got the hand."

This was true. Even after decorating Pip's lower body with purple bile,
Sol had refused to tell his story unless he was able to keep the hand.
Now, with it tucked solidly in his belt and the sharpened saltshaker
gripped tightly in his hand, Sol was ready to confront his uncle's most
famous client.

The five of them piled through the door, and seated at the bar was a
drunk
and shaking Rupert Buffet. "That's the one!" shouted Sol as he ran
through
the smoke towards Rupert. "I'm Sol Bellamy! What did you do to my
uncle!"

Buffet struggled to focus on the nine-year-old slayer. "Shlawl
Blemalow?"
he slurred, a confused look on his face. "Carpe Diem. I thought you died
years ago."

Suddenly, however, the wheels in Rupert's rum-clouded mind began to turn
and he struggled to his feet. "Wait a minute! You're the little freak
that
jumped me tonight! Where's the hand? I have to have it!"

Rupert lunged at Sol, but Pip and Fat Lenny quickly intercepted him and
roughly slammed him back on his barstool. The drunken performer
struggled
briefly, then quieted down and began to weep. "You don't understand.
They
have my soul!" The group gathered around him as he began his story.

"I was here Sunday, trying to drown the mother of all hangovers in
Bloody
Marys. I was ready to give up, and I mentioned something to the
bartender
about trading my soul for a hangover cure. I had barely gotten the words
out of my mouth when this ugly guy down the bar slid past me in a flash.
He dragged his fingers across the bar in front of me, smiled real ugly,
and was out the door before I could blink." Rupert turned and thudded
his
head down on the scarred cypress bar top.

"Grapefruit Juicy-fruit," read Jolie.

"No, the other side." Rupert thumped his head again.

There in the bar, scratched in deep slashes beside Rupert's right ear,
were three words. "Wolfsbane, Witch-hazel, Fresca," read Sol. "What a
crock!
Everyone knows you can't get Fresca anymore!"

"It all happened so fast I couldn't think," continued Rupert. "I was
left
with the most empty feeling I've had in my whole life. Everything I ever
hated suddenly appealed to me. I saw my new future- music videos,
stadium
concerts packed with Yuppies, donut franchises..." His words trailed
off. "The
real music left with my soul. I can't live this way."

"That's a great freakin' story you drunk geezer, but what's that got to
do
with my Uncle!" Sol reared his foot back to kick Rupert's leg, but
froze as
the bar door was slammed off its hinges and landed loudly on the floor
in a
cloud of dust. A monstrous figure dressed in full biker regalia ducked
his
head under the doorframe and reached the group in three long strides.

The twins simultaneously jumped at him, but the leather-clad mutant
deftly
caught a Polish vampire throat in each of his powerful hands. The
Padachowskis described an arc over the pool table as they were easily
tossed
aside, and the floor caved in where they crashed down. The broken
floorboards opened straight through to Hell.

"You have something I want," growled Catch.

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter Seven (davidk)

"Your Destiny Is In The Palm In Your Van"

"Uh, Sol, I think he's after the hand," Timmy said as he stared at
Catch and
the glowing red hole in the floor next to the pool table.

"NO! Don't give it to him! He's got my soul, don't let him have my
destiny
too!" Rupert lifted his head off the bar and tried to grab at the hand
in
Sol's belt again. Sol sidestepped and Rupert fell in a heap on the
floor,
whimpering.

"Enough" The menace in Catch's rough voice was unmistakable. No one
moved a
muscle as Catch walked up to Sol. Catch bent over, and stared into the
boy's
eyes. Still staring, he plucked the hand from Sol's belt and
straightened
up. "Feisty, but smart. I like that. Stay away from me, kid, and you
might
not end up like your Uncle."

He turned toward the door, but suddenly stopped and looked down. Rupert
had
reached out and grabbed his ankle.

"Give me back my soul and my destiny." If the bar hadn't been so awfully
silent, Rupert's whisper would have never been heard. Catch grimaced and
raised his fist until it brushed the ceiling. Everyone cringed in
anticipation of the blow. Then Catch grinned and lowered his hand.
Somehow,
the grin was worse than the grimace.

"Sure, I'll give you your soul back. Just kill a vampire for me, and
it's
yours again. Like her, for instance" he said, glancing in Jolie's
direction
and chuckling.

Catch ducked his head as he went through the bar's door, then turned and
glared back into the interior. "I'd advise you to cover that up, before
all
Hell breaks loose," he said, waving at the glowing hole in the floor. He
turned and disappeared into the night.

No one moved for a moment. Then the silence was broken by a faint voice.

"A little help here, maybe?" Timmy and Jolie moved toward the glowing
hole.
The heat and smell were very unpleasant, to say the least. There,
dangling
from the broken edge of the floorboards, were the Padachowski brothers.
Timmy reached down and grabbed Fat Lenny's wrist and tried to pull him
up.
All he got for his effort was a torn shoulder muscle. Jolie stepped past
him, grabbed each of the brothers by their wrists, and yanked them out
of
the hole as if they were made of air.

"Hey Sol, do you still have that squirt gun with the holy water?" Jolie
called to Sol, who was still staring out the door that Catch had exited
through.

"Yeah. Hey, how'd you know it was holy water in there?"

"You're a vampire hunter, right? What else would you have" Now, come
over
here and squirt it all over the felt on top of this pool table." Once
Sol
had done that, Jolie flipped the pool table upside down over the glowing
hole, and everyone suddenly began to feel much better.

"Okay, we need to regroup," Jolie said. "Obviously there's a lot going
on
here that we need to figure out. I'd bet he was the one who killed
Gary, and
now he's got whatever treasure Gary's hand carries. I'm also betting
this
lush knows more than he realizes." Rupert stared up at Jolie.

"Vampire... soul... stake..." he gurgled at her.

"Stop that. We need to get him sober. I wonder if this hangover cure
might
do the trick. Anyone know where we can get wolfsbane, witch hazel and
Fresca?"

"There was some Fresca in our hotel room mini-bar, believe it or not,"
Timmy said. "And I'll bet we can get the other two at the nearest mall,
if
they've got one of those vitamin supplement health food stores. You
wouldn't believe the shit people will eat if they think it'll make their
hair grow or their sex life better."

Pip slung Rupert over his shoulder and they all exited through the
shattered bar door. On the way out, Fat Lenny leaned over the bar to the
still stunned bartender and said, "I hope you know a good Roman Catholic
priest. Even with the holy water, I'll bet that pool table isn't going
to
last too long. Not in this place."

On the sidewalk, everyone looked at the red sports car. There was not a
chance in Hell (appropriately enough, given the recent events) that
everyone would fit.

"Hey, drunk, you got a car?" Fat Lenny lifted up Rupert's head by the
hair.

"Ouch. Van, over there," Rupert's said, waving in the general direction
of
the alley next to the bar. "Always have a designated driver. That's the
way to go..." and fell asleep. The keys in his pocket fit the lock of a
cargo van that had seen better days. The major component of the van's
exterior seemed to be Bondo, and the floor was ankle-deep in fast-food
restaurant debris. Timmy drove, Jolie sat in the passenger seat, and
everyone else sprawled in the back in the mess on the floor.

Sure enough, the mall had a vitamin store, and the store had more
strange
powders and capsules than any of them had ever seen in one place. Witch
hazel and wolfsbane were easily located, although an argument broke out
over which wolfsbane to get - the bottle with gelatin capsules,
vegetarian
capsules, or kosher capsules. The argument ended with the purchase of
the
kosher capsules ("in case he's Jewish"). Under his breath, Sol cursed
Howie at H&H Apothecary for not telling him about this easy source for
wolfsbane, and vowed vengeance on the lazy druggist.

Everyone stayed in the van at the hotel while Timmy ran up to the room
and
got the bottle of Fresca from the mini-bar. No one had disturbed the
room,
or Gary, and he quickly brought the bottle back to the van. After
dropping
in two of the witch hazel and wolfsbane tablets, followed by a quick
stir
with a pencil, Timmy poured some of the foul-smelling potion into an
empty
coffee cup.

"Here Sol, hold the bottle and the pencil in case we need more. Pip,
hold
him up. Okay, that's good, now tilt his head back and open his mouth."
Pip
obliged, and Timmy poured it down the hatch.

"Ack! Ack! Ack! My GOD! What in the hell was that! Jeez, it tastes like
skunk piss!" Rupert kept shaking his head and sticking his tongue out,
trying to scrape the taste off on his teeth. "What is going on here? Who
are all of you, and why are we in my van? Last thing I remember was
Gary's
dead hand... this huge guy... vampires... my soul..." Rupert's voice
trailed
off. He slowly looked around at everyone, and then began to stare at
Jolie.
"You! You're the vampire!"

"If you don't mind, I prefer 'solarly challenged'," she said.

"I want my soul back!" Faster than anyone expected, Rupert lunged
forward
and snatched the pencil from Sol, and then tried to impale Jolie with
it.
However, before he reached her, he screamed in pain and began hopping
up and
down on one foot.

The scene was just too ridiculous, and everyone went from stunned
amazement
to absolute hilarity in a moment. The only one not laughing was Rupert,
still hopping on one foot.

"It's not funny! Stop it! My damn flip-flop broke, and I think I sliced
open
the bottom of my foot on something. Man that hurts!" He held up his
foot and
looked at the blood leaking from a small cut on the sole. Almost
immediately, half the laughter in the van cut off. Rupert noticed and
looked
up. Jolie, Pip and Fat Lenny were staring at the trickle of blood.

"I'm a mite hungry, Pip," Fat Lenny said, and licked his lips as he
took a
step towards Rupert. Rupert held the pencil in front of him like a
dagger.

"Hey everyone, let's play nice," Timmy said. Sol reached behind him,
groping
for his water gun and salt-shaker stake. Jolie obviously couldn't make
up
her mind what to do.

"Ah, a pencil. Think you can hurt me with that? Only works if you get me
in the heart, and that thing's too stubby to even come close!" Fat Lenny
took another step, and Rupert lashed out. The pencil embedded itself in
Lenny's palm. Lenny held up his hand, looked at it, and began to laugh.
"Look. I got a splinter!"

Then, to his shock, his hand began to fall apart into dust. The effect
rippled up his arm, and before anyone could move, Fat Lenny blew apart
in
a cloud of dust. As easily as that, Rupert officially became a Vampire
Slayer.

"Lenny!" Pip screamed his brother's name in shock. Then he turned and
growled at Rupert. That was when Sol flung the Fresca potion in his
face.
Pip blew apart in a fraction of the time it had taken Lenny to
disintegrate.

"I knew that wolfsbane and witch hazel were good against vampires!" Sol
looked very satisfied with himself. Sol and Rupert were now tied as the
best living vampire hunters in the world, with one confirmed dusting
each.

"My soul - it's back! I don't want to buy an SUV! I don't want to watch
Entertainment Tonight! Michael Bolton isn't my ideal role model any
more!
I'm me again!"

"ENOUGH! Everyone calm down! And don't threaten me with that water gun,
young man. You're out of the quick-acting Fresca stuff. I can survive
any
holy water you might still have left in there long enough to snap your
neck if I have to. You're a nephew of Gary, but that won't stop me if
you
push the issue." Jolie glared at him until Sol lowered the gun. "Smart
boy. Now, we've got a lot to figure out if we want to find out who
killed
your uncle, how that big ugly mutant could steal a soul, and what
everyone
wants with Gary's dead hand. I think you have the answers we need."
Jolie
pointed at Rupert, who stopped hopping and slumped into the passenger
seat. "Now, tell us what you know about Gary's death."

"Okay, okay. Gary was my agent and a really good friend. He visited me a
few days before he died, about two years ago."

"Gary's only been dead about two weeks. Are you sure you're really
sober?"

"Two weeks! Damn, I've gotta give up those margaritas. It feels like two
years. Anyway, he was in town, I gave him the draft of my latest book,
and
we went out to celebrate a bit. The more we drank, the happier he seemed
to get, like he had a secret that was busting to come out. Eventually he
told me he'd come in from the West Coast to see another client, a
demonologist up at Georgetown, and then flew down to see me. He said
he'd
gotten some great information, but wouldn't tell me what it was. After
drinking all night, I drove him to the airport. Late that same day, I
got
a call from him. He sounded really strange; his voice was slurred and he
kept repeating himself. Something about information and my destiny. Or
maybe his destiny. It was hard to tell. But he definitely said that the
fortune was in the palm of his hand. He seemed to want me to do
something.
I got the feeling there were other people with him. Then, there was a
loud
crash, a scream, and the line went dead. The next day the police told me
he was missing, and my phone was the last he had called. They questioned
me for hours. I guess after they let me go, I never stopped drinking.
Then
I lost my soul."

Everyone was quiet for a minute. Then Timmy said, "We went to see him
that night. Jolie's writing a tell-all book about being a vampire. Gary
thought it was a fiction novel. Anyway, we got there in time to see his
girlfriend, a cute Mexican, take off in her car with that big guy from
the
bar - 'Catch', we heard her call him. When we got inside we found Gary
just about dead on the floor. He came around and babbled about tattoos,
destiny, demons, a treasure, and his palm. Then he kept demanding that
we
come down here to Margaritaville. We knew he had family down here. Then
he
died."

Jolie interrupted. "I decided that I'd handle that girlfriend of his and
her boyfriend myself, rather than waiting on the cops to screw
everything
up. We brought the body back to our place. But in two weeks of
searching,
I couldn't find them, and it's saying something when a vampire can't
find
someone they want to find. We decided to bring him back here to his
family. If only we knew what the treasure was, or how his palm could
help
find it, we'd have a better chance of finding that pair. I'm sure of
it!"

For a minute, it was quiet in the back of Rupert's van. Then Sol spoke
up.
"Tattoo was the nickname of Uncle Gary's girlfriend, because she had
gotten a tattoo down in Mexico City, where she grew up. I don't know
anything about his palm or a treasure..." The van was quiet again. Then
a
curious gleam came into Sol's eyes. "Rupert, you took Uncle Gary to the
airport in this rustbucket, right?"

"Yeah. We almost wrecked on the way. Gary fell out of his seat. I was
still too drunk to really be driving."

Sol gave a cry of glee, sprang up, and began madly kicking the fast food
bags, coffee cups, and other assorted debris on the floor.

"AHA! Here it is!" Sol snatched something off the floor and held it up
triumphantly.

"Uncle Gary's destiny was in the Palm in your VAN!"

------------------------------------------------------------------------
Chapter 8 (lara)

"What is that?"

"It's a keychain shaped like a palm tree." Sol said, grinning from ear
to
ear, a smudge of vampire dust on his cherubic cheek.

"I can see what it is," Jolie snapped. "I meant what does the key
dangling
from it open?"

"A locker at the airport. Uncle Gary rented one a long time ago. During
the
divorce, he kept his family jewels there to hide them from my aunt."

Rupert snickered. "Before the divorce, he kept them in her purse."

Sol shook his head. "No, she had a little box on her dresser for them."

Jolie shot Rupert a warning look that would have killed someone with a
weaker constitution.

"Anyhow," Sol continued. "This is the sort of place he would keep
something
valuable, something others might try to take from him."

"And," Jolie jumped on to his train of thought, "if he thought the
information he had received from the demonologist was important to
Catch and
his girlfriend, he wouldn't want to bring it along, just in case they
tried
to take it."

"Maybe this information is still in that locker," said Timmie.

"Duh." Sol rolled his eyes.

"That damn key must be what I cut my foot on," muttered Rupert, lifting
the
offended limb and peering bleakly at the wound.

"Let's roll, guys," said Sol, his grin widening. "I'll drive"

*

They arrived at the airport twenty minutes later. Sol was still pouting.

"I've driven plenty," he muttered as Jolie pulled the van into the white
zone.

"A Big Wheel does not count," she pointed out for the bazillionth time.

"Um, Jolie? This zone is for 'loading and unloading only'."

"I realize that, Timmie." She opened the door and stepped out. "Someone
start unloading Rupert. Come on, kid. Let's go find us some treasure."


*

Timmie was trying to explain to the airport MP that he wasn't behaving
in a
"suspicious" manner. "I'm just unloading my friend here. He's got a
plane to
catch."

"Your friend doesn't seem to want to go."

"I'm afraid to fly," Rupert wailed, clinging to a bench seat while
Timmie
pulled on his legs.

"It's part of his phobia therapy," Timmie explained.

"He's drunk. He can't get onto a plane in that condition."

"Maybe if you help me get him on to one of those luggage carts..."

"You have to leave now."

Rupert let go of the seat. "But how will I overcome my fear of flying?"

"Sir, we can't let you into the airport if you're under the influence."

"But I need to find my lost shaker of salt..."

"Where is it?"

"Dallas."

"I'm calling for back-up." The guard pulled out a walkie-talkie and
thumbed
a red button.

Jolie's voice cut through the din of the arriving passengers. "Daddy!
Timmie! We're here!" She bustled over, dragging Sol with one hand and
carrying something the size of a bread box under her other arm. "I
thought
we'd never make it in time. There was a mix-up at the adoption agency
and I
almost left with the Ambassador's Pomeranian but we finally got the
right
forms filled out and..." she pushed Sol forward into Tommie's surprised
embrace. "Timmie, meet your new Siberian orphan brother Sven."

"Son!" Rupert cried out.

"Sven?" Timmie questioned.

The MP looked at Sol. "Do you know these two men?"

"He doesn't speak English," Jolie interjected.

"Gleezle-dribble," Sol muttered sullenly.

"We've just flown in from Japan," said Jolie, "and we're jet-lagged.
It's
yesterday or tomorrow for us, so we just want to get home and get some
sleep."

"I thought you said he was from Siberia."

"It wasn't a direct flight. Daddy?" She kicked Rupert's shin. "Daddy?
Are
you all right?"

"Ouch!"

"You look sick. We'd better get you home before you pass out again." She
made a drinking motion with her hand for the benefit of the MP. . She
winked
and touched his cheek in a special vampiric way.

With a silly grin, the MP helped her step up into the van and then
turned to
face his arriving back-up. "Those weren't the droids we're looking
for?" he
informed them as the van squealed away from the curb.

*

"Well, open it! Open it!"

"Keep your eyes on the road, Timmie," Jolie said, turning the box over
and
over, looking for a latch to open it. The surface was pale, like
polished
bone, and there was no noticeable way to expose its innards to the
world.

"There's another little key on this chain," Sol pointed out helpfully,
dangling the palm tree in her peripheral vision.

"But I can't find a key hole," she replied in frustration. "Maybe if I
toss
it onto the road it will crack open."

"That's littering!" Timmie said, keeping his eyes on the freeway.

"Speed up, Grandma!" Jolie said, rolling down the passenger side window.

"Wait!" Sol cried out. "Let me try something first." He took the box
from
Jolie's ivory hands. The object was light as a feather and he could hear
nothing rattling around inside but it vibrated, as though electricity
pulsed
through the core. He took the tiny silver key, the one that did not
open the
airport locker, and pressed it against the surface. The blood from the
cut
on Rupert's foot, now just a rusty stain on the metal, began to glow
and the
smooth surface of the box softened and the key slid in like a hot knife
into
butter. One side of the box began to shimmer and then evaporated.

"Rupert's blood was the key," Sol whispered, his hands starting to
tremble.
"I think this thing might have something to do with demons."

"That must be where Catch kept my soul?" Rupert whispered, his face
ashen.

"Kind of humbling, isn't it," Jolie said, patting his shoulder. "Who
would
have thought something so big could fit into something so small."

"I can fit an eight ball in my mouth," Timmie pointed out helpfully.

"Look, there's something inside," Sol said, lifting out a web-like
decoration.

"It looks like a Dreamcatcher..."

"More like a Soulcatcher, Jolie. And this one's empty," Sol said.

"How can you tell?" Rupert asked, leaning forward to peer at the magical
device.

"Look, your lost shaker of salt is tangled up in the web. And there's no
more salt."

"Woo hoo!" Rupert grabbed the Soulcatcher and ripped the shaker from the
silvery strands.

"And there's more... oh man, I think there's one here for each of us..."

He pulled out one after another. Sol's Soulcatcher had a tiny stake and
an
empty bottle of holy water. Timmie's had an empty condom wrapper. There
was
even one for Gary.

"Look, Uncle Gary's has a little snake in it."

"Well, he is an agent."

"I wonder what would happen if I pulled it free." Sol grabbed the tiny
figurine and then yelped, and dropped it. "It came alive and tried to
bite
me!"

"Are there any more?"

"Just one," Sol pulled the last one free.

"Oh my God..."

"No way..."

"Holy..."

"Jolie, are you all right?" Timmie flipped up the turn signal and eased
over
to the shoulder of the freeway.

Jolie was trembling so hard her elongated teeth rattled like castanets.
"It's my SoulCatcher... and it's full."

*

6 months later:

Sol and his Uncle Gary fished off the end of a dock somewhere in
Florida.
Gary was still thawing out. Two weeks in a freezer without a soul had
its
side-effects. He was glad to be alive but the drawback was

"Uncle Sol, if you already had your soul in the box, why did you go
after
Catch?"

"I didn't know how to open it. I was hoping to get the information from
him
but it backfired."

"You should have called me first."

"Yeah, sure, kid. Here help me bait this hook. It's hard to do
one-handed."

*

The pretty blonde sitting next to Rupert in the bar grimaced and said,
"Why
on earth would I want to go back to your place"

He held up the shaker. "'Cuz I got soul, baby."

"Oh please," she made to walk off.

"And- and," he added desperately. "I wrote a book!"

Her smile lit up the room. "Why didn't you say so in the first place,
lover
boy?"

*

Timmie kissed Jolie. Her lips were warm against his.

"Do you regret getting your soul back, Jolie?"

She pressed one finger to his lips to silence him. The sun rose over the
city and lit up the Bay Bridge. She breathed the morning air deep into
her
lungs and listened to the morning birds start their morning song.

"Not even for a moment, Timmie."

THE END
_________________


My Twitter is twittering!

Post Sat May 22, 2004 4:10 am   View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail Visit poster's website AIM Address Yahoo Messenger MSN Messenger
  Display posts from previous:      
This forum is locked: you cannot post, reply to, or edit topics. This topic is locked: you cannot edit posts or make replies.

Jump to:  


Last Thread | Next Thread  >

Forum Rules:
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot vote in polls in this forum

 
Templates created by Vereor and Ken