Vampire Crush

I was the luckiest guy in school. Paula Jenson, the prettiest girl in school, asked me out. Me, Brendan Jasper, the overweight nerd with a shirt pocket full of pens, out on a date. Well, it wasn't a date. It was just to hangout at her place, but her parents weren't home. Sounded like a date to me. Little did I know what was all planned for the evening. 

When I got there, I was super nervous. I was sweaty and my face was as red as a lobster. It must have been a turn on, because when she opened the door to greet me, she was practically salivating. No woman had ever looked at me like I was a tasty meal. Usually they looked at me with disgust or contempt. Paula was different. She genuinely wanted me. I could tell by how her blue eyes sparkled, staring deep through my very soul. Her blonde hair was done up, held together by a black hair scrunchie. She was even wearing a nice sundress, which was much different than her normal, albeit more sexy, skinny jeans and Hollister top. It meant I was important enough to dress up for, or at least that's how I took it. My confidence grew by the second and she pulled me inside. Wow, she was eager. 

First, Paula gave me a tour of her folks place, which was quite something. Victorian era everything from the furniture to the wallpaper. It even had a study full of books that made our school library look pathetic by comparison. I could've stayed in the dreamland of books forever, but alas, my lady wanted me elsewhere. Her bedroom.

"Sit down and make yourself comfortable. I'm going to make us some tea," Paula said after ushering me in her room and taking off again down the stairs.

I sat there awkwardly in her plain looking room wondering what to do. She brought me to her room, but I had no idea how to proceed. Did she want to talk in private or was she insinuating something else? I didn't want to misstep anywhere and screw it up. After all, a guy like me would be lucky to even be in the same hemisphere as her. In no time, she came back with two cups of piping hot tea. 

When I took the cup from her, I felt her hands were still cold. When she was pulling me around the manor, I thought for sure she just had poor circulation. My hands were almost on fire from holding the cup of tea, but she walked it up here without a yelp or a yip. 

I had to put it down on her dresser so my hands didn't melt off. "Wow this is hot. How can you handle it?"

"I guess I just don't feel it," she took a sip, not breaking eye contact from me. 

"You have a wonderful home. How long have you lived here?"

"All my life that I can remember. My family has owned it for generations. I saw you really liked my dad's study."

"It is remarkable! Has he read all of those books?"

"We all have."

Beauty and brains. "Wow! What is your favorite one?"

"I can't really pick one. Classic stories like Dracula and Frankenstein come to mind. Their renditions are a bit inaccurate, but still entertaining." She put her cup down next to mine and sat next to me on the couch. Her hand slowly snaked closer to my thigh. "Lately though, I have found a lot of pleasure in anatomy."

I gulped. Not like a silent gulp, but like a loud one she definitely heard. A smile grew on her face, undeterred by my now stiff neck. I thought I would be excited having her come on to me, but in the moment I was terrified. Her cold hand rubbed my jeans while her foot pulled my sock off. It was moving too fast and I had to say something.

"Um…Paula. Are you sure we should–" I said before her finger touched my mouth. 

"Shhh. You haven't even heard what my favorite body part is."

"Um…I think I can take a guess."

She leaned and whispered into my ear. "Veins."

"Wait…what?" I asked, but my answer was given far too quickly. 

In an instant, she sunk her fangs into my neck. I had given blood before, but this was on another level. It felt like extra large needles rammed into my neck. My blood left my body like water from a water hose or at least it felt like that. I tried to roll on top of her, but she dug in deeper. The pain was way worse when I moved and I became lightheaded. It wasn't long until I was in and out of consciousness.

What I remember right after that was blurry. She kept taking breaks and playing with my hair. Whenever I would start to move, she would dig in again. After the fourth time, she looked more panicked than excited. Next thing I know, I was wrapped up in a tarp and dragged around her house. Once we got to the stairs, she knocked me out on one of the steps. When I woke up, it was dark and I could feel something cold and heavy on top of me.

The tarp had me constrained fairly well, but my pens came in handy. I was able to wiggle one to my hand and cut open the tarp. It took some effort, but I shimmied my way out of tarp and pushed the dirt off me. She tried to bury me alive in a shallow grave. Crazy did not begin to describe it all. My crush was a vampire who tried to bury me like a dog bone.

There was no reason to stick around and my car was in front of the house still. I made a dash for it, when I saw headlights pulling in the driveway. Her parents were home and if she was a vampire, I bet the parents were too. Before the lights shined on me, I dove into the bushes next to the house window. The clunk of the doors closing made me jump, thinking they knew I was there. I had to listen carefully to know the best time to make a break for it. The door creaked open and closed and it wasn't a second when I heard her dad speak…or rather yell.

"What the hell is this!" Paula's dad said.

I heard footsteps rushing down the stairs and wanted to make a break for it, but I wanted them farther away from the door I would inevitably need to pass.

"Mother. Father…what are you doing home so soon?" Paula's voice was timid and almost scared.

"Do you mind telling me why our floor has blood smears on it?" Paula's dad took a few more steps and lost it. "Good God Paula! Even the stairs are a mess!"

"I'm sorry. I was going to clean it up–" Paula began before getting a slap to the face. 

She tumbled to the ground and her head bounced against the banister. How did I know this? Once I heard the smack of his hand I shot straight up staring into the window. Her dad was standing over her in a black suit, seething with rage while Paula covered her cheek and cried. Even though she tried to kill me, I felt sorry for her. She didn't deserve that. No one deserved to be abused, no matter what they did. I was going to intervene, but then I remembered, they are vampires and I am probably one pint away from death. All I could do was watch. 

"Get up." 

Paula did as she was told, but was unable to look her dad in the eye. It worked out in my favor, since if she looked up, I would be done for. 

"I'm sorry, Father. I–"

"I don't want to hear your excuses. You defiled our home. Even humans know better to only eat at the dining table. You will clean this up before you go to bed. Is that understood?"

She nodded. 

"Good." Her dad marched off and Paula's mom came over to comfort her. And I would be remiss if I didn't comment on her gorgeous evening gown. Ruby red dress leaving her supple back exposed. Easy to see where Paula got her good looks from.

"It's okay, dear. Nothing that can't be fixed." Paula's mom reassured her. "Did you at least get rid of the body?"

"Yes, mother."

Her mom took a sniff. "Hmmm. Smells like a boy. Was he cute?"

"Kinda," she said, but her blush gave her away. I had no idea vampires could blush. I also had no idea vampires existed until then. I had a lot of questions.

"You're blushing. How long ago did you eat?"

"There was so much, you wouldn't believe it. I am still full, I couldn't even finish."

Her mom smirked and glanced up the stairs. "Oh, I would believe it. Why don't we go upstairs and get something to clean this up?"

They both went up the stairs and I took that as my cue to get the hell out of there. The trick was turning on my car without being heard or seen. I quietly ran to my car and not a creak came from my door. Thank God! I made sure to manually switch off the lights and sat in my car for a second, wondering how I was going to pull this off. Cars aren't silent and sometimes mine had a tendency to not start on the first attempt. 

"Please baby, work for me. I beg of you," I whispered to my steering wheel and turned the key. It whined for a second and turned over with a full roar. "Yes!"

I backed up slowly out of the driveway. My heart was pounding in my chest. I was about to escape undiscovered when her dad opened the door. Out of reflex, I turned on my lights to blind him and turned off onto the main road behind me. At this point there was no hiding my escape, so I peeled out of there as fast as I could. I thought for sure I would get into a chase or something, but all he did was shake his head as if I was some random kid pulling shitties in the parking lot. It was a small relief, but a new terror entered my mind. How was school going to turn out tomorrow?

***

The next morning did not come soon enough. I had nightmares whenever I started to actually fall asleep. My blankets felt more like wet wipes, but it beat being buried alive with a tarp for a forever blanket. The whole time I kept thinking, what am I going to do about Paula? She tried to kill me. Shouldn't I tell the police? It was a serious consideration when I got home yesterday, but I thought about it. No one would believe me and if they did, any evidence would be cleaned up.

What else could I do? I still had to go to school. I had a final in chemistry that I could not miss, even though Paula sits across from me in class. There was no avoiding her. I needed advice, so after I got dressed with something that would hide the bite marks, I went to see my dad. He was always a good listener and occasionally gave good advice.

My dad was in the garage, as he was every morning, working on picking a new lock. It was his morning ritual before heading off to his real job, which if I am being honest, I didn't know what he did. He jumped around jobs so much, it was hard to keep track. When I knocked on the door, he spun in his chair, beaming like my little sister Jeanie after beating us all in mini golf.

"Brendan, come in. I'm almost done with this one," he said and returned his focus on his lock.

"Um…dad can we talk?"

He didn't take his eyes off the lock. "Of course, what's on your mind son?"

"I was wondering if you could help me out with a hypothetical."

"I certainly can. What is it?"

"So…what would you do if someone tried to kill you and thought they succeeded, but they didn't, and you have to see them the next day?"

"That is tricky." My dad contorted his face, clearly focusing more on the lock. "Do you absolutely have to see this person tomorrow?"

More like today. "No way around it."

"Where you are meeting this person, are you safe?"

"It's a semi public place."

"Interesting."

"Really?"

A click came from the lock. My dad lifted up his arms in victory. "Yes! I got it!"

"Were you even listening to me?"

"I certainly am. What I would do in that situation is give them a hug."

My dad had clearly lost it. "A hug?"

"Yeah. You aren't in danger if you meet in public and clearly they are in need of some love. Give them a hug. If it's a girl, you give her a big smooch on the cheek. They like that."

"I think we have some consent issues with the kiss."

"Pfff. I think you are way past worrying about consent if a woman is trying to kill you. And besides, who doesn't love a good smooch? How do you think I won over your mom?"

I had to leave after he winked at me. He was not taking this seriously. Then again how could he? My scenario is completely ridiculous. I knew I would come up with something. After I grabbed a poptart from the pantry, I hopped in my car and mindlessly drove to the most awkward school day of my life.

My school wasn't much to look at. A generic brick building that was probably made back in the fifties. The inside was even older looking, except for our chemistry lab. It had a timeless look to it and was kept up well by Mr. Flanders. The sinks at every table were new along with some bunsen burners. It was an open secret that the principal and him were seeing each other, thus why his lab was the newest thing here. There was another rumor that the reason it was so clean was to hide what goes on after hours. I always suspected it wasn't true. I've seen our principal a few times. She was always grumpy.

The school day went by in a blur. All I remember was talking to my pal, Rosco, at lunch and chemistry class at the end of the day. I thought it was a blessing for it to be at the end, but all it did was make me more nervous. The anticipation of it all made my stomach turn. All the possible scenarios swirled in my head. Once I opened the door to the class and saw the look on her face, my worries actually melted away.

Paula was always early and I always came in mere seconds before the bell because my locker was on the far side of the school. It's like the administration was trying to give me a hint or something. That bell, which declared my arrival, prompted her to lift her head up from her textbook she was studying. Her eyes grew two sizes and her jaw almost dropped to the floor. Surprise did not begin to describe her reaction and my relief. She was utterly petrified. I could only imagine what she was thinking. It gave me strength and confidence like no other.

"Hey there Paula. You ready for our chemistry final?"

Her mouth quivered and had difficulty finding words. "Uh…um…um–"

"You okay, Paula? You don't look so good."

"I'm…uh, fine…" Paula said and closed her textbook. She distracted herself by putting her book in her backpack below the table between us. Her head was hidden under the table, giving me a great line. I must have been channeling my inner dad.

"Don't go biting me down there."

She lurched her head up, banging the counter. Mr. Flanders arrived in time to see it and handed our table the exam.

"Are you okay, Paula?" Mr. Flanders asked, sliding an exam to her.

She rubbed her head and tried to smile. "Yes, I'm fine. Just bonked my head a little."

"You gotta protect that head of yours. You're gonna need it for this exam."

"Yes, Mr. Flanders."

He moved on to the next table and Paula didn't dare look up at me. She grabbed her pencil and started her exam. There was no point in talking anymore. I had won this round and oddly enough sounded like my dad. My newfound confidence paid off on my exam as well. I was the first one done with thirty minutes to spare. All I did was flip my exam over and watched Paula take her test.

She held her pencil so tight it almost broke in her grip. Every answer she circled was wobbly, uncertain of the answer. There was no way this exam was breaking her. It was me who was sitting across from her. Not everyday you kill someone and they show up the next morning. I was no vampire, but I imagine it was pretty distracting to her.

My mind started to wander from why she was so nervous to how beautiful she was. Sure, she tried to kill me, but I would be lying if she wasn't the most attractive woman I ever met. Her hair was combed nicely and mostly hid her face from me. I guess my gawking caught the attention of Mr. Flanders or maybe he noticed Paula was uncomfortable because he asked me to leave early so I didn't distract anyone.

He didn't have to tell me twice. Once I got up to leave, Paula's head shot up. I couldn't read her face, but she handed Mr. Flanders her exam and reached for her backpack. There was no way she finished her exam. She had one more page to do. Clearly she wanted to confront me and there was no better time. I opened the door and walked as fast as I could to my locker. There were more classrooms there, which meant more witnesses if she decided to finish the job. The problem was my lack of fitness prevented me from getting too far before her quick feet caught up to me.

"Brendan! Wait! Can you hold up a second?"

I don't know what came over me, but I actually stopped. I guess the middle of the hallway would have to do. At least there would be nowhere for her to run or stuff my body. She rushed over to me while still being careful to keep her distance.

"Can we talk?"

"About what?" I asked, trying to pretend nothing was wrong.

She looked down at the floor and swung her foot gently along it. "About…you know…"

I took a step forward. My heart pounded in my head the closer I got to her. She didn't look up as I approached as if expecting more punishment. It reminded me of when she was face to face with her dad. Paula almost shuddered from how close I was standing. It was painful to watch, but I knew what I could do to fix that.

I kissed her on the cheek. Soft and gentle like a parent would do for their child. She looked up at me, but didn't recoil away in disgust. Her eyes begged me for a reason for my bold move.

"That is the only smack your face ever deserves."

Water welled up in her eyes before she broke down and cried in my chest. I held her, feeling her whole body shake. This was a new experience for me, but naturally I knew what to do. She needed comfort and I was going to give it to her. After what felt like a few minutes, she pulled away and wiped the tears from her eyes.

"Why…why aren't you mad?"

I smirked. "Might be the blood loss. My brain hasn't been working too good ever since."

She laughed. I knew she needed some levity from it all and to be honest I really didn't know why I wasn't mad. I should've been, but I wasn't. Must be genetic. My dad could forgive anyone pretty effortlessly. Maybe I can too.

"So, where do we go from here?"

"You let me take you out on a proper date. All I ask is that you come already full," I said, pulling on my collar.

"After all that I did to you and you know what I am, you still want to go out with me?"

"It depends. Did you mean what you told your mom about me?"

She smiled. "Which part?"

"Wait, there was more? Now you got to tell me."

Paula went up on her tip toes and kissed me. Her fangs pricked my lower lip ever so slightly, but it was a far cry from the pain last night. "I'll tell you tonight. Pick me up at seven?"

"Seven it is," I said. She turned around and I pinched her butt, getting her to jump. Paula turned around, looking a little annoyed, but I wasn't going to let her get away with stealing my blood so easily. "You get to sneak another taste of blood and I get nothing?"

She smirked, realizing there was some equivalency to it. "If I let you pinch me again, can I get another sip?"

"Save it for our date."

"I can't wait," she said, licking her lips.

I was playing with fire, but I didn't care. She was so much more interesting than anyone I had ever met and now we have so much to talk about. There is a whole new world I have never known about, other than what I knew from movies and books, which clearly some of it wasn't true.

And that is the story of how I met my girlfriend. Clearly our first date went well since I am telling this story, but I have much to learn. Vampire/human relations are tricky, but right now it is quite rewarding. Paula is even more amazing than I thought and I'm glad she didn't drain me for all I was worth. Now we just have to convince her parents I'm more than just a tasty sack of blood. Wish us luck tonight!

***

Demon and Angel Co-Parent

There was never a boy who lived in a situation like Jeremiah. Every kid since the dawn of time had been taken care of by another human at some point in their lives. Most were blessed enough to have at least one loving person in their life. Jeremiah was fortunate enough to have two guardians who loved him very much. What made his situation unique was they weren't humans at all. 

Natural enemies, angels and demons fight over the souls of the humans on earth, but none so much over one particular soul. Jeremiah. What was so special about him, few could say. To Anavon and Destern, he was their world. 

Their first mission was to protect him. What each other's master's had in store for the little boy was a mystery, but both were tasked with his survival regardless. Anavon took the mission seriously, but no one told her to protect his parents too. When the boy was a year old, a drunk driver struck the car. Destern had known about this event and was specifically told to take possession of the drunk man so Jeremiah's parents could live a long life and slowly corrupt the boy.

The problem was Destern got distracted by a housewife across the street who was flirting with the neighbor's pool boy. He gave that woman the extra push she needed to ruin her marriage, but forgot the more important task. Satan did not take too kindly to his failure, despite gaining two souls and a strong foothold in two more. To make amends, Destern was tasked with raising the boy. No better bad influence than the one who raises you for eighteen years. 

God was unsurprised by this and thus why he told Anavon to only protect the boy. Her task was to raise the boy alongside Destern. Continue to protect the boy and teach him right from wrong. It was a job she took with glee, growing fond of her little "child."

In the beginning, it was easy for Anavon to care for the boy. Destern rarely stopped by for more than an hour a day, far too busy cultivating a neighborhood he wanted to live in. He never saw the point in trying to influence a child who can't even speak, nor did he want to get attached to him. Over time though, that changed. Destern started to enjoy seeing the smiling little boy, even if that meant spending time in an angel's presence. It made him squirm at first, feeling all kinds of love and kindness radiating from her. After a while though, he became accustomed to it.

As the years went on and the boy could start speaking, Anavon's trials began. Destern would try to teach him naughty words and act in unbecoming ways. Anavon had to be sneaky and convince the demon that if Jeremiah acted like him from an early age, he could never live up to his potential. Jeremiah was the key to many souls, not just his own. Destern knew that and conceded, taking a more measured approach to deviance.

Soon enough, the boy had started going to school. Most parents would be relieved to not have to deal with their kid for a few hours, but work didn't stop for these two. Although not in physical form, they still hung around his school everyday. The problem became Jeremiah could see them, regardless of form they were in. It became a distraction that they both agreed had to stop. Instead, they did normal parent things, like shop for clothes, get food, take care of the house, and talk with the neighbors. For the most part, they stayed out of Jeremiah's life at school.

Both the angel and demon were satisfied with their jobs so far, each believing they were on the right track until something happened that angered both of them. Jeremiah came home one day crying with bruises all over his arms. He admitted to them he was being bullied at school by a bunch of older kids. Anavon held him on the couch, wrapping her wings around him for an extra layer of comfort. Destern, on the other hand, was pacing on the carpet, mumbling a furry of curses.

"It's okay, Jeremiah. I'm here for you," Anavon said in a soothing voice.

"My arms hurt."

Destern's rage flared at Jeremiah's omission of pain. He marched over to the two, determined to know more about his "son's" predicament. "Let me see your arms."

Jeremiah sheepishly revealed his arms out from Anavon's winged protection. His forearm bruises might as well have been sleeve tattoos, deep in color and all consuming. Destern roared and turned away, unable to look at him. 

"Tell me who did this," Destern said.

"Destern, No," Anavon said. She glared at him, but he was far too preoccupied with getting his coat in the closet. 

"Did you not see what they did to our boy? I will have their souls!"

Anavon turned Jeremiah to face her. "You don't have to tell us. All that matters is you are home. You go run upstairs and soak those arms in the tub. I'll be up soon."

Jeremiah nodded and jumped out of her embrace and scurried off to the bathroom upstairs. Destern was going to follow him, but Anavon outstretched her wing to block his path. 

"Get those feathers out of my face." Destern swatted at her.

"We need to talk."

"The only talking I need to do is with my son. There will be vengeance."

"Not by you. Not like this."

Destern crossed his arms. "How then?"

Anavon retracted her wing and motioned him to join her on the couch. He sat down reluctantly, but he knew he would get an answer if he complied. She was always good at awarding any concession he gave. 

"Why are you so mad about this? You're the one who wants to see our boy burn in hell."

"How are you not angry? Did you not see his arms? He could've been killed!"

"I never said I wasn't angry…" Anavon sighed, trying to stave off the urge to raise her voice. "...but I don't want our boy to see that the only response to violence is more violence,"

"Oh, so we are just supposed to turn the other cheek on this one? That's not how that works where I come from!"

"I know it isn't. But Jeremiah can do more good if he isn't in a jail cell by eighteen."

Destern hated hearing the word "good," but she was right. Jeremiah was far too valuable to be locked away in a jail cell. The boy brought far more joy in his life than he cared to admit. Dare he even say love. It was dangerous for him to feel and think in such ways, less his master found out. Destern had to squash this feeling and stood up from the couch.

"Fine, you win this one. I'm going to take all this pent up energy out on Steven instead."

"Why Steven? What did he do to you?"

Destern shrugged. "Nothing. That's why I hate that guy so much. He does absolutely nothing but sleep all day."

"He's in a coma," Anavon said, rolling her eyes.

"Not tonight he isn't. Tonight, he is Chad Bundy, Master of Pussy! I'm going to see how many venereal diseases I can get him in a night."

"You are so gross, you know that." Anavon got up from the couch and walked toward the stairs to check on Jeremiah.

"What? I could have been talking about cats. They have diseases too."

Anavon dismissively waved to him without turning around. Destern bit his lip, watching her naturally seductive hips and carefree wave. Something about her being unattainable made it wrong in the most right way for him. He shook his mind from the thought, knowing his lust would be satisfied tonight and maybe his vengeance too. Women of the night work in a dangerous profession, especially when a demon is on the prowl with no one to take out his rage on.

Destern went back into the closet and pulled out a raincoat. "Steven might be needing this."

His deeds would for sure be on the morning news the next day, but a small victory for hell was a far cry from victory in the ongoing war. Jeremiah was still alive, being cared for by his guardian angel. He was destined to guide more souls to salvation than would ever be lost by Destern's vile ways. All Anavon had to do was stay loyal to her master. The war would end one day and when it did, she wanted her family to be on the winning side. On the side of righteousness and good.

***

Subscription sloth

It's been a month since I canceled that stupid subscription my sister ordered for me. If I had known my life would turn out like this, I would've happily let the pile of beauty magazines live in my bathroom. The problem was my bros were giving me weird looks and the subscription cost fifty bucks a month. My male pride can take a little beating, but my wallet can't. If anyone else is reading this, you might be asking yourself, what the hell is he talking about? I'm talking about getting cursed! 

So, it all started with my sister, Maggie. She is such a twerp. Why would I say such a terrible thing about my little sister? Because she bought me a "birthday gift" using my credit card for something she wanted. Locked me in for three months. When she gets old enough to have her own credit card, I'm ordering Monster Truck Weekly for her. That'll show her. 

Sorry, I am getting off topic. After enduring the pain of watching my hard earned money being grinded into a flimsy bound packet of moisturizing tips and questionable dating advice, I finally was able to cancel it. I had to call their hotline where I talked to a strange lady with a California beach blonde accent. Trust me, you know the type. Our conversation went something like this:

"Beauty Stars Quarterly, my name is Candice. How can I make your day sparkle?"

I assume she broke out the jazz hands when she said it. Felt like the kinda thing she would do.

"Hi, I was hoping you could help me cancel my subscription?"

"Why on earth would you want to do that, silly?"

"My sister bought it for me by accident and it is on my card."

"Sounds like your sister has good taste. You are lucky to have her." Her smile almost reached through the phone, judging from the peppy tone.

"Sure, sure. Can you help me out though?"

The line went silent for a few seconds and something was definitely scribbled down on a piece of paper.

"What is your name?"

"Jerry Devinson."

Her tone then changed in an instant. The peppy Candice was gone. In her place was sassy Candice. And not the fun kind of sassy. "Well, Jerry Devinson. I think you don't know what you're asking."

"Excuse me?"

"You're given a once in a lifetime opportunity and you want to throw it away, for what?"

"Money. It costs too much."

"You just sound too lazy to work a little harder."

That is when I lost it. "Who do you think you are, lady? I just want my subscription canceled. Is that too much to ask?

She scoffed and I heard keys clicking on the other side. Little did I know the next thing she said would change my life forever. 

"There. I canceled it, but it comes at a price."

"You aren't charging me a cancellation fee?"

"No. I curse you! You deserve to be with your own kind. Sloths will follow you around until the end of time!"

"Whatever lady," I said and hung up. It was one of the stranger conversations I've had, but I went to bed that night without a worry. My wallet was going to be fifty bucks healthier next month. 

I woke up the next morning, ready to tackle the day. Brushed my teeth, showered, got dressed, and when I went to make breakfast, there was a sloth lounging in my sink. Safe to say I was surprised. My next thought was how it even got inside, but when I saw my window open, I figured it was just an unlikely coincidence. It took me a few minutes to convince the little guy to leave, giving me a few minutes of peace to eat breakfast and head out to work. Never even considered the curse to be real.

Next, my commute. It was only a few minutes by bike, but not too scenic. During that ride, the most animals I ever saw were the occasional squirrel and bird. That day though, I saw sloths. One was crossing a road, one was up in a tree, another on the sidewalk. It was bizarre. There was even a news briefing about it on the nightly news. I thought it was just a strange day, but it was only the beginning.

Everyday sloths grew in numbers and seemed to always be going where I was going to be. The grocery store, the bike shop, the electronics store, even my workplace. I had to explain to my boss, "No, I don't own an army of pet sloths, nor do I feed them." At some point, my boss found it cheaper to just have me work from home. I thought it was a blessing. Nope. The sloths had more time to congregate at my one location. At any given time, my yard was swarmed with sloths. It was like a pilgrimage for them, all hoping to get a glimpse of me.

There have been some upsides. I made it on the local news and even had an agent reach out to negotiate my book deal. I don't know for what exactly, but I thought at least I can make some money off this major inconvenience. When I was able to get out of my house, people called me: The Sloth Whisperer. Kinda cool, but eventually the baggage of having all these sloths around me took a toll. I needed to get away.

What I did was drastic. I quit my job and with some help from a private pilot, flew out to a small private island, far away from any landmass. In order to prevent any sloths from following me, I brought everything I needed to be self-sustaining on the island. Water purifier, gardening supplies, you name it, I had it. Maxed out my credit cards and emptied my savings. I was finally going to be free…

As I am writing now, I realize there is a flaw in my plan. This curse was of the supernatural. How else would sloths know to converge on me, wherever I went? In the sky above me, I see sloths being airdropped with little parachutes. Must be some cult follower or animal hugger who thinks I need those creatures in my life. I need to accept my fate. These sloths will be with me always. Whoever finds this journal one day, let there be one thing to learn from my pain. Do not cancel your subscription, you will regret it.

***

The Hair Snakes

Nothing in life is perfect, even my girlfriend. Don't get me wrong, she is amazing, not to mention: beautiful, intelligent, witty, caring, and eagerly accepts any opportunity to be with me. By all metrics, I have one great gal. There is one problem, her hair hates me. Now you might be asking yourself, her hair? How? Let me explain. 

First, full disclosure, my girlfriend is not your normal, run of the mill woman. She is the definition of exotic. When I first met her, I thought she had cornrows. It was a reasonable assumption, given she said her dad was from Jamaica and she never corrected me when I mentioned it. By our third date though, there was no ignoring the fact her hair certainly moved on its own accord and definitely hissed at me. At that point, she dropped the bomb on me. Her mother was Medusa. 

I always thought Medusa was a myth, but I guess I was wrong. Not only is Medusa real, but she makes a mean moussaka. Sorry, I am getting off subject. You are here to hear about my girlfriend's hair, not her mom's cooking skills. Anyways, back to her hair. 

So, Brianna and I have been dating for a few months, but it seems any time we are not in public, her hair decides to be combative with me. Sometimes they hiss when I approach her, spread out in a menacing way when we are playing pickleball, or simply bite me when we lock lips for a little too long. I guess they are snakes, but come on! Brianna constantly apologizes for her hair's behavior and says they have a mind of their own. It is not fair to either of us, but I think I have an idea on how to fix the problem. I will let you know how it goes.

-Timothy

***

Okay, so I did it. I enacted my plan and I have to say, I think it worked. I think we finally turned a corner. Let me tell you what happened. 

It was late last night and she was cuddled up on the couch listening to an audiobook. Her audiobooks don't bother me and I secretly like listening to them too, but yesterday I told her I needed to focus on some "work" and needed complete silence. She is sweet and was about to turn it off, when I handed her some headphones. Noise cancelling was ideal, because me and her hair were going to have some words. 

Once she donned them, the snakes were ready to let me have it, hissing immediately. I had enough of that and let them know. 

"What is your deal? What did I do to you?"

The snakes all stuck out their tongues and gave me a menacing glare. They swayed back and forth as if searching for the best place to strike me. 

"I know you can talk. Why don't you just tell me what I did?"

"Yousss knows what yous didsss," her hair responded in one voice. 

"I genuinely don't."

"Liesss."

"I'm not lying. If you want an apology, I apologize, but please tell me what I did," I said.

"Whyss should wess?"

I stepped toward them. "Because I'm not going anywhere. I care about Brianna too much. I want to bury the hatchet, so tell me what I have to do and I'll do it. Please."

They pondered how to respond to my statement, each of their heads all looking at each other, silently communicating with their tongues before turning back to me. It took them so long to answer, I knew they were conflicted about something.

"Youss called us cornrowsss."

"Excuse me?" I said, confused by their statement. 

"Wess don't likess yousss because yousss called us cornrowsss. Wess have a namess!"

And that was the moment it hit me, those snakes weren't just something attached to her, they were another being altogether. It took me too long to figure that out, but I made my apology count. 

"Oh…I'm truly sorry. When Brianna said you had a mind of your own, I didn't realize you were literally another being, but I really should have. Can you forgive me?"

"Maybe…"

"Then at least tell me your name."

"Cassie."

I slowly extended my hand to them, palm up and fingers spread out. "It's nice to meet you, Cassie. I'm Timothy, the brain dead ape who should have treated you with respect from the beginning."

I was half expecting to get bit, but I played my hand. It was all up to them to either accept my apology or not. Instead of getting death by a thousand snake bites, they slithered between my fingers and around my hand. It was actually quite pleasant.

Naturally though, Brianna was going to notice I was standing so close to her when I said I needed to do "work." She took off her headphones and smiled up at me.

"Hey, are you finally getting along with my hair?" Brianna asked.

"Excuse me, they have a name. Cassie," I said and smiled at the snakes who continued to slither all over my hand. 

"Are you done with work then?"

"I think for tonight. Do you mind if I listen in?"

She threw the headphones aside and made room for me on the couch. The rest of the night we held each other and I rested my hand on Cassie. Cassie never bit me or hissed and fell asleep in no time. It was the best night I had with Brianna and I have a feeling there will be many more to come. Wish me luck!

-Timothy aka The Snake Charmer

Truth Serum

"Honey, I'm home!" Alfred announced from the doorway.

There was no response. The white walls in the hall stared back at him in judgmental silence. Alfred closed the door and kicked off his shoes. Loosening his red tie, he walked forward to the kitchen where his wife usually was cooking up something irresistible. He could hear the water bubbling and a smile spread across his face. Hugging the wall, he crept up to the corner and jumped out into the kitchen. He stayed upright for a moment, before the slippery floor took him down. He crashed to the floor with a loud thud, landing mostly on his back.

"Ouch," Alfred strained to say.

He looked around and realized his wife wasn't there. Alfred picked himself up and pondered where she would be. She wouldn't have started food and not been here. The table was set for two and a covered saucepan was on the other burner. Maybe she was upstairs changing? Either way, he took this opportunity to sneak a peak at what she had in-store for him.

"Please be spaghetti!" Alfred said, lifting the saucepan cover to reveal a thicker white sauce. "Hot damn! Alfredo. What did I do to deserve a woman like you, Heather?"

Suddenly a muffled moaning came from downstairs. And not the good kind he was used to hearing. Without hesitation, Alfred sprung into action. He opened the pantry and plunged his hand into a box of Life Crunch cereal. When he removed his hand, he was holding a midnight black handgun, lightly dusted with crushed up flakes. It was Heather's idea to store a gun there in case of a burglary. Alfred had reservations about it at first, but mostly because she wanted to put it in his favorite cereal. Star Bangle Crunch cereal was a national treasure. A cereal that deserved the honor of being eaten, not used to store America's other favorite pastime.

Alfred rushed out of the kitchen and belted down the stairs. The basement was all cement walls and poured concrete floor. A single light dangled above the open space where an elderly man in a bright blue suit was tied to a rickety wood chair. Standing over the man, facing away from Alfred, was a woman with dark hair, wearing a faded white shirt and tight jeans. He didn't recognize the woman at all, until his eyes wandered down her body. He could recognize his wife's ass anywhere.

"Heather?" Alfred asked, hoping to confirm this strange woman wasn't his wife's butt double.

"Just one moment Alfred…" Heather said without turning around. "Alfred!"

Heather turned her back on the tied up man, trying to hide him from Alfred's view. Her hands were behind her back and she gave Alfred an innocent smile.

"Sweetie, I didn't realize you would be back so soon," Heather said.

"I...didn't realize you tied up old people in our basement."

"It's not what it looks like."

"It looks like you are interrogating a...politician?" Alfred said, leaning to get another look at the elderly man. The elderly man had a little American flag pin on his suit collar.

Heather shrugged. "Okay, it is what it looks like."

"Why are you–wait–what did you think it looked like to me?"

"Nothing," her voice got all high and seemed to cringe in pain for a brief moment.

"Heather."

"I didn't want you to think I was cheating on you."

"That never entered my mind. Look at him," Alfred said, gesturing to the elderly man.

Heather turned her head to look at the elderly man. Liquid was dripping from the leg of his soiled black pants. He was shaking in the chair, trying to talk through the cloth that covered his mouth. His mumbled words needed some major translating.

"Do you mind if I wrap this up? He is getting chatty again," Heather asked.

"You need to let him go."

"Just need five minutes. Then I will finish dinner and we can talk about this."

"No, I need some answers.”

"Give me two minutes."

Alfred put his hands on his hips. "This isn't a negotiation."

"One minute and we have sex after."

Alfred raised his eyebrows. His eyes stared into her, unwilling to relent to her tantalizing promises.

"Fine. You're right." Heather sighed. "You deserve to know why I tied this man up in our basement and was going to inject him with a truth serum."

"A truth serum?"

"Fuck. Why did I say that?" Heather said to herself.

"So is that what's behind your back?"

"Yes," Heather said, shaking her head in frustration. "Damn it!"

"Show me.”

Heather revealed the syringe that was stuck in her arm and half gone. She stared at it in horror, while Alfred laughed.

"Did you just stick yourself with your own truth serum?"

"Yes–I mean–yes. Argghh!" Heather said, unable to lie.

Alfred tucked the gun in his pants and rubbed his hands together. The smile on his face was even bigger than when he found out alfredo was on the menu.

"Okay, why are you interrogating him?"

"So I can take down the US government," Heather said before she could cover her mouth with her hands.

"Why on Earth would you do that?" Alfred asked.

Heather mumbled her answer, trying her best to not let go of her mouth. Alfred pried her hands away, releasing her truth to the world.

"So I can take over the planet and rule as the Goddess of Earth."

"Why would you want to do that? Sounds like a big hassle."

"I...actually...don't know why," Heather said, surprised by her own admission.

Alfred stepped up to her and took her hand. He removed the syringe from her arm and tossed it across the room. Brushing her hair aside, he gazed into her hazel eyes. His focus was singular and unfazed by her extreme plans.

"Heather. You don't need to be the ruler of the entire free world. To me, you are perfect the way you are now. The best wife a man could ever ask for. Ruler over my heart."

A tear ran from Heather's eye. "You really mean that?"

"I do. I wouldn't have married you if I thought any less of you."

"Even after this?" Heather sniffed.

Alfred looked over to the elderly man who was rocking his chair, trying to escape. He returned his gaze to her and winked. "I always knew you were a little weird."

"I am not," Heather said with a smile and a gentle push.

"Fine. Kidnapping a politician to gain world dominance is not weird–" Alfred said before his gurgling stomach interrupted him. "I'm starving. How about we eat?”

"That sounds like a wonderful idea. It will help this serum wear off."

"What are we going to do with him?" Alfred asked, motioning to the elderly man.

The elderly man crashed to the floor and smacked his head against the concrete below. He didn't move after that and Heather shrugged, "I'll make him a serum to forget the last 24 hours."

"You can make that?"

Heather nodded her head and sprinted for the stairs, hoping to outrun his next question.

"Did you ever use it on me?" Alfred called to her.

"Yes."

"Heather! When did–"

"If you finish that question, I'm throwing out the alfredo."

Alfred went up the stairs, but never finished the question. Her alfredo was way too good to pass up.

Government Conspiracy TV

"Alright, which one of you motherfuckers did it?" Carver said, barging through the doors of the conference room. Around the elongated oval table were several men and a woman. They all wore the same generic black business suits, but had different colored ties. Their heads turned away from the TV at the back concrete wall and gave Carver the attention he demanded.

"Did what?" Yamir asked. 

Carver ignored Yamir and inspected the others for any signs of guilt, pride, or anything in-between. His anger made him sharper, unlike most people, but as the seconds went by, it was clear they all were confused by his outburst.

"None of you know? Are you shitting me right now?"

"Carver, have you eaten anything today? You know how you get when you're hungry," Malory said in a motherly tone, almost unable to keep a straight face by the end. The guys all got a laugh out of it, since it wasn't the first time Carver had acted like a child. 

Carver gritted his teeth and marched up to the table. He took the remote and changed the channel. On the screen, it showed a man with short black hair wearing a business suit in the middle of a dark woods. He held a handgun to a dodo bird's head and said: "You're extinct now, motherclucker."

"He looks like you Carver, except much better looking," Dan said and elbowed another coworker. 

"That's because it is me. I was on that job last week. Eliminate the last remaining dodo bird. Do you not read the assignment board?"

"This is just a show." Yamir shrugged. "What's the big deal?"

"What is the big deal? Oh, I'll tell you. That is exactly how it went down. The location, the bird–"

"The stupid punchline?" Dan added, getting a few laughs. 

"Yes. Everything. Whoever is making this show is airing our operations. Does no one see a problem with that?" Carver pointed at the screen with the remote. "It even says reenactment on the bottom!"

"Calm down, Carver. Clearly the writers have a vivid imagination and happened to get some details right. It's nothing to worry about," Malory said.

The screen changed to the host of the show, who reminded them of the guy from Unsolved Mysteries. "These shadow agencies operate in the dark of night so the people do not see their deeds. Maybe they do it to protect us? Or maybe to cover up their crimes? For this next one, we follow a shadow operative who tries to take out her next target, a vampire."

Malory swiped the remote from Carver. "I don't think we need to see this…"

Malory struggled with changing the channel on the remote and Carver took it back from her. 

"You need to see this. It will prove I am not exaggerating," Carver said and turned up the volume. 

The next clip showed a woman with flawless brown hair and an equally flowing purple dress. She walked up a Victorian set of stairs at a party. Couples and other groups were drinking champagne and conversing with one another. The woman walked past a elderly couple who were discussing global politics to find her target. Count Bogdan. 

Count Bogdan had the classic features of the region. Thick black hair, tall and slender. His pale skin proved sunlight was not his friend. The woman approached him at the top of the balcony and leaned against the wooden banister. 

"Hey is that you Malory?" Dan jested. "You sure cleanup nice."

"That's not me. I–I don't wear dresses..." Malory said, letting her nerves leak through her tone. 

Back on the TV, the actors captured their attention once again. 

"Malory, so we meet again," Count Bogdan said and raised his glass. 

"I just wanted to come by and congratulate you on the fundraiser. And your speech was amazing."

"Why thank you, my dear. You are so kind." He took a sip of his drink. "If I had half your beauty though, I am sure we could have set some kind of fundraising record."

Malory tilted her head and closed the gap between them. She batted her eyes up at him, feeling lighter with every second. "You really think I'm beautiful?"

"Most definitely. You remind me of a full moon. Unmistakable and bold. Generously warming us with your glowing light."

She put her hand on his chest and leaned in to whisper in his ear. "How would you like to bask in something else?"

The men in the conference room jeered and hollered, forcing Malory to defend her reputation. 

"This is just a show. She doesn't even look anything like me," Malory said, clenching her jaw.

"But you were on the operation to kill that vampire, right?" Yamir asked.

"Yeah, I remember that case got sealed. How did it end?" Dan asked.

"I guess we'll have to find out." Carver crossed his arms, still watching the TV. 

Malory was starting to sweat now. The dialogue was verbatim, but she didn't want to admit it. Her reputation as one of the guys was fading fast. If she turned it off now, they would certainly be teasing her with kissy faces all month. If she didn't… well she was hoping the show didn't get the rest right.

"I would," Count Bogdan said, taking in her wonderful rosemary scent. "Shall we adjourn to my study?"

"Lead the way."

Count Bogdan led her to a room down a short hall. Inside, a lamp hung above, illuminating a wooden desk and a modest bookshelf. Two glasses and a bottle of scotch sat on the table along with a few loose papers. 

"Would you like some scotch?"

"Sure," Malory said and waited for him to turn his back. With him distracted, she reached down to her leg and removed a silver knife that was strapped to her. She lurked behind him, searching for the perfect spot to stab him. The point of the blade wavered inches from his torso.

"Would you like one or–" Count Bogdan said and turned around, only to have his words cut short from the blade being plunged into his gut. 

"You almost had me. I could feel your powers of seduction working, but you aren't as good as you think." Malory pulled the blade out, revealing blood. 

"I'm not a vampire." 

Those were Count Bogdan's last shocked words before he toppled on the floor and blood drained from the sleek hole in his body. 

The conference room was quiet and everyone turned to Malory who was frozen with shame. She wanted to run away. Hide where no one could see her failure, but it was not an option. Then, without warning, everyone except Carver broke into laughter.

"She can't tell the difference between magical powers and her own feelings? Ha, classic Malory," Dan said, shaking the guy next to him.

Malory was seconds from tears when Carver broke through the noise.

"Damn it!" Carver said and turned off the TV. "I guess I was wrong."

"What are you talking about?"

"That's not how that mission went. I was there, right Malory?" Carver asked. 

Malroy knew he was lying. He wasn't assigned to her mission and it was dead on. Not a detail was out of place, but he was giving her an out. She was going to take it. 

"I told you. I don't wear dresses. And as for this Count, not even close to resembling the vampire I took out. The only thing they got right was a silver blade. Amateurs," Malory said.

"Boo! Way to waste our time, Carver," Dan said and walked to the doors. "I'm going to get some lunch, who wants sushi?" 

"Are you buying?" Yamir asked.

"The government is buying," he said holding up his government issued credit card. 

The rest of the guys all talked over each other and followed him out, leaving Carver and Malory to talk. 

"Thanks for covering for me," Malory said, offering a weak smile while she adjusted her pink tie.

"Anytime." Carver smiled and pulled out his suppressed Glock from his shoulder holster. "Now how about we go down to that studio and fix this PR problem?"

"Lead the way."

An Oath of Death

The wind howled outside, twirling the wind chimes hanging by the window. A frail woman laid on the worn couch, pale as milk. Her blue eyes were transfixed on the metal chimes that were barely hanging on to life, much like her own situation. The only difference was she wasn't alone and the wind was her own doing. 

"Please drink it," Kevin begged, holding a blood bag in his hand. He kneeled next to her, parting her greying hair. 

"I won't."

"Please. Dalilah, you need to drink something."

"I made a promise. And I won't break my promise."

Kevin sighed. "Why do you have to be so difficult?"

"You knew I was difficult when you married me."

"But this is so excessive. It's not like you're going around town draining everybody. I'm giving you my blood."

She sat up. "And I told you I won't drink it."

"Why did you make that vow? You at least owe me that."

"No, I don't."

Kevin shot to his feet and stomped on the ground. "Dammit woman! I won't let you starve yourself to death!"

Dalilah did not react outwardly to his sudden outburst. His face had tears running down and his eyes were piercing. She knew time was running out for her and he could sense it as well. Her heart ached, torn between her husband and her bond. She couldn't satisfy both, but he wasn't going to back down without an answer.

"Fine," Dalilah said. Kevin tossed her the blood bag and she let it land on her stomach. "I'll tell you why I won't drink your blood."

His scowl appeared in an instant, but he said nothing, letting her have the floor. 

"Do you remember that night you passed out–"

"You aren't serious? I didn't pass out because of that. I was dehydrated. You can't blame yourself for that," Kevin said, ready to argue her point.

"No. The problem was I loved your blood. More than I thought I could. It was like drinking your very essence. Your loving soul and your tender heart."

"Yesh, next your gonna say it was better than sex." Dalilah didn't say anything, causing his jaw to drop. "What?"

She laughed. Dalilah found it amazing how her man could go from crying to petrified in seconds. There was a temptation to let his mouth stay there a little longer, but he needed some reassurance. "I know. It's that good. And that was the problem. I don't think the next time I will be able to say no to more. So I deny myself. Because I love you."

"You can have more. I just don't want you to die."

"I would rather die than kill you because I couldn't control myself."

"And I can't watch you kill yourself because you won't drink a little blood bag. It's not like you're getting it straight from the tap."

Dalilah couldn't help but chuckle. The image of him as a human beer keg was amusing to her. He put his face up to hers, making it all she could see.

"You understand, though. Don't you?" she asked.

"I do." He pressed his lips to hers, letting his passion take hold. 

She kissed him back and he took his shot, pushing his lip against her fangs, cutting him. She tried to pull away, but he did not let her get away, allowing his blood to drip into her. The thunder from outside shook the house and her eyes rolled back into her head, savoring the warm, metallic taste. 

He felt his face drain of blood and her fangs digging deeper into his lip. Life was coming back to her and with it her enthusiasm for more blood. His body was no longer his as she rolled off the couch and pinned him to the floor. He moaned in pain, trying to tell her to stop, but she needed a more forceful approach. Kevin dropped his arms to his side and rolled her over, plunging his thumbs into her wrists. Delilah released him, blood dripping from his mouth. 

"You feeling better?" Kevin said, licking his lips. 

"Why did you do that!"

"You weren't seeing reason."

"I could have killed you. I felt myself losing control."

"If you didn't drink something, you were going to die. I refuse to let you die."

"It was my choice," she struggled under his grip, but he held her down.

"And I don't get a say? Did you even think how your death would affect me?"

She stopped fighting. He was right. She hadn't. Kevin did what he did for her and it wasn't lost on her. He loved her. His chest heaved up and down, tired from their wrestling match. Delilah hated what she did, enjoying what she promised would never happen again, but at least she was alive. And for now, that had to be enough. 

"You're right… I didn't… I'm sorry," Delilah said.

Kevin let her go. "Apology accepted. Now drink up the rest of that blood bag. You need to regain your strength."

"Only if you promise never to do that again."

"Deal. Now get to it. And if you're good, we'll play a game of parcheesi."

Delilah laughed. "Really? Your gonna treat me like a child."

"If the shoe fits–"

She punched him in the shoulder. "Go get me a straw then. If your gonna treat me like a child, I'm going to act like one."

"Whatever you say, dear." 

Monster Under the Bed

“But Mom! There’s a monster under my bed!” Timmy begged, hearing something scurry underneath.

“Yes, I know. You may play with him in the morning dear, but now it’s bedtime.”

Timmy shook under his blue covers. How was he supposed to sleep if there was a monster under his bed? Didn't she understand the whole concept of a monster? His mother got up from the side of his bed and walked to the door that was covered in light up stars. 

"Don't leave me, Mom!" Timmy said, curling up under his sheets so his feet were farther away from the edge of his bed. 

"Timmy, you will be fine. He doesn't bite humans," his mom said and clicked off the lights. "Have a good night."

"No! Mom!" Timmy said, but she closed the door without another word.

The only light left in the room was the glow of the stars on his door and on the ceiling. Normally they would calm him before he slept, but that was before he knew there was a monster under his bed. He had the urge to make a run for his light switch, but his legs wouldn't cooperate. All he could imagine was getting eaten the second he stepped foot off the bed. Looking around his dark room didn't ease any of his worries, since he could not see if something was lurking about. 

Suddenly, he heard a faint creak. It could have simply been the springs on his bed, but Timmy wasn't taking any chances. He plunged his head under the sheets and shut his eyes tight. His whimpers and cries were muffled by his sheets, but awoke the monster below all the same. 

The monster's footsteps were soft from the padded carpet, but were just loud enough for Timmy to hear. Something brushed against the bottom of his bed, going back and forth like a paint brush on a canvas. Timmy conjured the image of its tail grabbing him by the leg and ripping him out of the bed before devouring him. He began to shake, praying the monster would go away. All it did was jump up on the bed. With the grace of a cat, it landed all four paws on the bed, putting tension on his sheets. 

Timmy held his breath. He didn't want to smell whatever foul odor the monster had. The monster took cautious steps, climbing up on top of him. He felt the light touch of each paw as it stepped on him. Timmy's whole body froze. He was paralyzed by fear, while the monster kept crawling until it stopped at his head. Timmy waited for the moment when it would open its mouth and devour him, but it never came. Instead it… purred.

Timmy opened his eyes and continued to listen, thinking somehow his ears were deceiving him. They were not. The monster purred and walked down next to his head, pawing at his protective sheet. Timmy couldn't help but think somehow it was a mistake. After all, monsters don't purr. He unwrapped the sheet from his head and lifted it up enough to get a glance at what it was. The monster moved so fast, it was a blur, bounding inside to curl up with him. Its brown and white fur felt softer than the sheets that covered him. It crawled onto his chest and looked at him. 

Timmy gulped, realizing it wasn't actually a cat. At least not one he had ever seen. Its emerald eyes glowed bright enough for him to see it in the dark. The ears were more pointed, with hair that formed a Y coming off the tips. And the tail was thick at the end, completely black. The hairs at the tip of the tail moved independent of the rest, trying to feel its new environment while the tail waved. Otherwise, the face looked typical of a thin tabby cat, minus the whiskers.

The monster continued to purr and licked his bare chest. It was not a grippy tongue, but smooth like the back of a hand, leaving no saliva behind. The more Timmy watched it, the more relaxed his muscles became. Timmy uncurled his body and hesitantly reached his hand out to pet it. His hand hovered over the monster for a second, contemplating what could happen. The monster responded by gently wrapping its tail around his wrist and guiding his hand along its back. The hairs at the end of its tail rubbed against his smooth skin.

"Hey, that tickles." Timmy laughed. 

The monster continued to purr and rubbed its head against him. Timmy smiled, realizing his fears of this monster were overblown. 

"What are you?" 

The monster's ears perked up and vibrated. It turned its head away from him, listening for something out of sight. 

"What is–" Timmy began before being silenced by the monster's tail. 

Timmy lifted the covers and pulled the monster's tail out of his mouth. His mouth tasted tangy with a hint of metallic aftertaste. The monster's eyes flickered, flashing bright green at his black window curtain. Timmy tried to get up, but the monster slapped its tail on his chest without looking back at him. It didn't hurt, but he felt it actively resisted him. 

"There's nothing over there. It's a window."

The curtain moved. At first, he thought his little monster could move the curtain with its eyes, but then it blinked and the curtain moved in a different direction. Timmy tensed up, worrying what was over there, since he had his window closed. The monster snarled with the fierceness of a much larger cat, ready to defend its friend. Soon the creature that lurked behind the curtain revealed itself. 

It was all brown, wore an armored shell on its back and was the same size as his little monster. There were no eyes and two pincers where its head must have been. It had little feelers underneath as it transferred from the curtain to the wall. It was in all regards a giant bug. Timmy hugged his blanket and moved to the end of his bed. The giant bug creature made ticking sounds as it kept walking along the wall. It did not heed the monster's warnings and paid for it. 

The monster sprung off the bed and onto the wall above the giant bug. It stuck to the wall like a frog on a window and brought its tail down upon the giant bug. In one stroke, there was a crack and the giant bug bounced off the corner of the bed onto the floor. Without hesitation, the monster dove on top of the injured bug, digging into the underside of the creature. All Timmy heard was the monster tearing into the hostile bug and a few munching sounds. He was too afraid to look at what was happening and waited for the mauling to end. 

The monster jumped back up on the bed and licked its paws, proving to the boy the enemy had been vanquished… and tasty. Timmy dared take a look below at the floor and saw no evidence left of the giant bug, except for the indent in the carpet. He looked back at the monster that paused for a moment to burp.

"You saved me," Timmy said, still in shock of what happened. The monster stepped closer to him and petted his arm with its tail. Timmy smiled. He had never had a pet before and certainly none that ate scary oversized bugs. "What should I call you?"

The monster said nothing and crawled into his lap, purring the whole time. Timmy felt the heat radiating from the monster. He gave it a hug and rubbed his nose against its fur that smelt of cabbage.

"I'm going to name you, Cabbage. What do you think?"

The monster purred and licked his face in approval. He laughed and cradled Cabbage in his arms, bringing the blanket over both of them. Timmy intended on staying up to talk with his new friend, but his eyes got heavy as soon as his head hit the pillow. He yawned and Cabbage followed suit, petting Timmy's head with its tail. 

"Goodnight, Cabbage."

Cabbage poked Timmy's cheek with its tongue and with that they both drifted off to sleep. No longer was Timmy scared of what lurked under his bed. He had a new protector. Its name was Cabbage.

Afterlife Tour Guide

A man in a black sweater stood alone in a white room that seemed to go on forever in any direction. His boots crunched under him from the chunks of dirt still stuck in his soles. He only took a few steps and looked around, unsure how he got here. 

"Where am I?" he said to the white void, not really expecting an answer. 

He kept looking around until he saw a black figure in the distance. The figure made no noise, but kept coming closer. The man stood his ground, hoping whoever was approaching him would explain something to him. He cracked his back and shook out his arms, expecting a fight. 

"No need to limber up, my friend. No one can hurt you here," the figure said to the man. "What is your name?"

"I ain't telling you shit!" the man yelled.

The figure floated over to him with the speed of a bullet stopping inches from him. The man swung at the figure, who was dressed in an olive suit, but his fist phased through the figure's black skin. 

"Don't worry, my friend. You are safe here," the figure said, adjusting his grey tie. 

The man backed up and started to breathe fast and shallow. He could see the figure standing in front of him was just another man.

"What the hell are you?" the man asked.

"I'm your tour guide, Darrel. Would you like to begin?"

"Tour guide? What is this place?"

"This is the afterlife. You're dead," Darrel said with a friendly smile.

"I'm… dead?" the man said, looking around.

"I can see you did not attend the orientation."

"Orientation?"

"Well, I'll just get to it. Congratulations, you're dead. Before you are sorted into your assigned afterlife housing, I am here to guide you through your past experiences. You know, a trip down memory lane."

"Is this like some Ghost of Christmas past bullshit?"

"Yes, except at the end you don't get to go back. Do you want to begin?"

"How does the housing work?" he asked, trying to see how long Darrel could hold up his story.

"You get put into one of three houses based on what we go through today. I like to call them Upperton, Lowerton, and Middleton. When we step through this door–" Darrel said and snapped his fingers. A wood door with an engraving of the sun peeking through the clouds appeared next to them. "... we will be transported to your most impactful adult experiences. I will show you around and after we spend some time at each one, The Appraisers will determine your housing."

"So, those religious nuts were wrong about this whole afterlife stuff?"

"Not entirely. Upperton is super nice and Lowerton is… not. You don't want to be in Lowerton."

"Why don't I want to be in Lowerton? Is it Hell?"

"Let's begin the tour, shall we?" Darrel said and pushed the man inside the door. The man put his hands up as he fell toward the door and everything went black.

The man opened his eyes and felt the hard asphalt below him. People in long shorts and t-shirts ran past him, chasing after a woman who was dribbling a basketball ball up to the hoop. She was faster and taller than everyone else and leapt in the air. The ball went rocketing down through the hoop as she hung on to the rim.

"Had enough yet?" she said with a big grin on her face. 

The other men caught up to her and stopped to catch their breath, unable to make a fun comeback. Standing amongst them was Darrel, holding a clipboard. 

"Augustus. Funny, I figured you for a Billy," Darrel mused to himself as he walked closer to the man. 

"How do you know my name?" he asked. 

Darrel held up the clipboard and pointed to it. "Clipboard."

"What are we doing here?"

"From what I am reading here, this was the first time you met, Aieshea. Isn't she a bit tall for you?" Darrel said, looking back at the giant woman. 

"I thought you were going to mention my skin. Everyone else did," Augustus said, walking toward her, mostly ignoring Darrel. 

"You do look a little ashy. You should've probably used more moisturizer when you were alive."

Augustus didn't hear him, focusing solely on how Aieshea's long dreadlocks flowed over her shoulders. Her face glistened from sweat, distracting him from her vibrant yellow tank top and blue shorts. He walked toward her and a smile crept across his face. 

"Aieshea, it's me," he said, giving her a wave. 

She looked through him as if he wasn't there before one of the other guys got her attention. 

"Hey Aieshea, we are going to call it for today. Want to join us for some food?" one of the men asked. 

"No, I have to check on my mother. Next time." Aieshea responded, jogging to her duffle bag near the fence.

Augustus didn't move, watching her run off with a delightful spring in her step. On the other side of the fence was himself, pushing a cart full of empty cans. He looked worse for wear, covered in dirty rags, but she didn't see him that way. Darrel stood next to the black clad Augustus and hugged his clipboard against his chest.

"You were homeless?" Darrel asked.

"Not for long. Today was the day I finally got a job. It was the second best day of my life," Augustus said, watching the conversation that was going on between his past self and Aieshea. They were both laughing.

"I apologize for my lack of knowledge about your life. Whoever prepared my documents didn't give me much. Usually I am supposed to read back what you two are saying here."

Augustus kept his head forward and smirked. "We were talking about shoes. I told her I got mine at Men's Warehouse."

"You'll like the way you look–"

"I guarantee it," Augustus finished. He watched Aieshea lean against the fence, noticing she was smitten with him. Seeing that moment again brought back joy he had lost a long time ago. A few more seconds went by before their surroundings faded away like it was swept up in a whirlwind of color. "What's happening?”

"The next stop. Think of it like a bus tour. We don't stop for long," Darrel said, paging through his clipboard papers. "Next stop… the hospital?"

White walls came flying toward them, encasing them inside. The bed came up from the ground and a privacy curtain blocked their view. Metal could be heard rumbling around, followed by the beeps of a heart monitor. Augustus swiped at the curtain and in front of him was Aieshea, attached to several machines. He saw himself at her side, crying into the bed. His own sobs were muffled by the wet sheets. 

Augustus was frozen in place, watching as an outsider. He didn't cry like his previous self, instead seeing her death as a new opportunity. 

"You said I'm dead, right?" Augustus asked. 

Darrel shook his head. "No coming back I'm afraid."

"Can I see her?"

"Aieshea?" Darrel asked.

Augustus gave Darrel a glare that didn't need words. Darrel looked through his pages, checking to see how long it would be. 

"We have a few more stops to make. Are you sure you don't want to savor the memory?" Darrel asked.

"Not this one. Is there any way we can skip a few of these?

Darrel looked him up and down. "I'm not supposed to…"

"But you can?"

Darrel scrunched his face. It was his first tour, but it hadn't been going well to begin with. He had no idea what the next few even were. Whoever prepared his forms was in a big hurry to put something down that they didn't bother to check to see if it was legible.

"If you let me listen to this one I will skip a few for you?" Darrel offered. 

Augustus nodded and Darrel walked closer to the couple. The Augustus near the bed lifted his head from the sheet and whispered in her ear.

"I swear to you, Aieshea. I'm going to make those guys pay for what they did to you."

Darrel raised his eyebrow with intrigue and turned to face his tourist. "What happened?"

"She was shot when we were coming back from a comedy show. On the same night I asked her to marry me."

Darrel's eyes started to dart back and forth, thinking about what was coming next. Augustus wasn't much older than he was in this memory and with a few more stops to go, it wasn't looking good for him. 

"Did you make good on your promise?"

"You said we could skip a few," Augustus said, ignoring his question.

Darrel watched Augustus's face turn stern and cold. He knew Augustus did something bad and maybe that was why his form preparers did such a bad job. To Darrel's knowledge, every experience they review would go to judgment, which left him with a choice. Break his promise and follow the agenda as laid out or skip to the end and hope one of his final acts was not bad enough to be sent to Lowerton. He had a feeling Aieshea was going to Upperton or at least Middleton. He was starting to think Augustus would not be so lucky.

"We have to make one stop before the end," Darrel said, paging through his unreadable pages. He stopped at a page that was much more legible than the rest. It was mostly abbreviations he wasn't familiar with, but he figured the non legible stuff was bad. At least this might be okay. He snapped his fingers and their environment was wiped away in an instant.

They were left in a black void for a moment before blood streaked across the darkness like a painting. Screams of pain and terror echoed around them before they saw Augustus holding a bloody kitchen knife. He was smiling with blood stained teeth and his chest rose up and down from whatever horror he unleashed upon his victims. Bodies came into view, all young men with lacerations and puncture wounds. One in particular spit up blood on the stained couch, looking up at his killer. 

"Where is he?" Augustus yelled as the apartment surroundings came into view, all covered in blood or grime.

"I don't know. I swear," the young man said, holding up his bloody hand. 

"If you don't know, why keep you alive?" he said and went in to kill the young man.

"Please, no!"

"Give me a reason."

The young man pointed past Augustus. "He might be at the old shop."

"Old shop. Where is that?"

"On 4th and Grand. It is an abandoned gas station."

"I know it. Why would he be there?" 

"I hear he does deals there. I've never seen it, but De'Andre had."

"Which one is De'Andre? I want to confirm with him," Augustus said, looking around the room of dying people. 

"You killed him," the young man said, pointing to one on the floor with his neck slit. 

"If I find out you're lying to me, I'll be back," Augustus said and left the room. 

Darrel and the not bloody Augustus stood still. Darrel's mouth was agape while Augustus kept a neutral expression. Darrel looked back at his clipboard frantically, hoping he made some kind of mistake. It was no mistake. The MM initials must have meant Mass Murder and the double digits number next to it, the body count.

"Why would you do this?"

Augustus turned to Darrel. "I said those responsible would pay. I'm not one to not follow up on my promises."

Darrel looked back at the bodies, still horrified by what he had witnessed. 

"Are we going to keep going or do you get a real kick out of this?" Augustus asked.

Darrel gulped and turned away from the massacre. He was glad he didn't have to go through the other memories, since many would have likely been just as terrible. He closed his eyes and snapped his fingers. This was going to be the last stop. Augustus's end.

Appearing on a grass soccer field that hugged a forest tree line, lights shined down upon them. They were facing the outlet of a trail and they could hear movement in the brush. It was too dark to see, but they both knew it was Augustus. He slinked in the dark, waiting for a crowd of people that were walking to the field. The people were laughing and drinking, unconcerned about who was waiting for them. One of the men in the group was wearing bright red shoes and a tan suit. He was the man of the hour. The one Augustus was hell-bent on killing. 

Darrel looked at Augustus, who had a balled up fist. He clenched his teeth while waiting to see what he himself was about to do to the unsuspecting victim. Darrel returned his attention to the scene in front of them, waiting for the tragic end. 

Augustus burst out from the bushes launching himself at the man. Before he could do any real damage, the man's friend punched him in the head. That was all it took. One punch and Augustus was out for good. 

"What! That's it?" Augustus said, outraged by what had transpired. 

"Was there supposed to be more?"

"I killed him! I know it did!" Augustus objected. 

"I'm seeing the same thing you are."

Augustus ran over to the men, who were now laughing at his corpse. He went in for a tackle, but phased right through him. His shoulder slammed into the ground that felt more like concrete than soft grass. He shook with rage, watching the man behind his fiance's death laughing with glee. Before he could get up again, everything went back to white.

"Where did he go? Bring him back!" Augustus ordered. 

Darrel put up his hands. "That is the end. I can't go back."

"No!" he said, getting up. "He can't still be alive!"

"He is. And you're not."

"That's not how this was supposed to go. It's not fair," Augustus said, pacing back and forth. 

"Neither was taking those young men's lives, yet it still happened."

"They deserved it!"

"And you didn't deserve what happened to you?"

"They killed her, you bastard! What else was I supposed to do?"

"You could have let it go."

"Let it go." Augustus scoffed with utter disgust. "Let it go?"

"Yes. You could've lived your life in peace. Kept her in your heart. Instead you tried to avenge her and sacrificed your chance at being with her for all eternity."

"What is that supposed to mean? You said I could see her."

"I never said that. I said I could fast forward through the other memories, which I'm sure were just as terrible. I have no say if you can see her."

Augustus stepped to him. "Then who does?"

"The Appraisers. Remember how I said these memories would determine how you are housed."

Augustus thought back to those words and the memories he revisited. He never thought about how his actions would affect him later, nor did he believe he had a chance to see her again when he was alive. The mere thought of now knowing she was still around, but he would never see her again cut him to the core. His stomach twisted and he wanted to vomit. 

"Please, can you do anything?" Augustus said softly, trying not to empty his stomach. 

Darrel sighed. "I did all I could. In the end, our actions have consequences."

Three doors came rushing across the ground toward them. One was rustic and had dents in it, another was sky blue with no blemishes at all, and the final one was pure black with red hot chains strapped across it. He could hear the screams of thousands and steam leak from the bottom of the black door. On the top it was labeled what he thought, Lowerton.

Augustus decided to make his own destiny and ran to the blue door. He knew Aieshea was there and he didn't want to live another moment without her. Not again. His shoulder hit the door, but it did not budge. The door swung open, knocking him back on the floor. Augustus hit his head against the ground, but still caught a glimpse of what would have awaited him in the blue door. Aieshea was on the other side, her back toward him. He knew it was her from the dreadlocks and how she stuck her hip out to one side. That image was soon gone, with the black door moving in front and towering over him. It lowered itself onto him as he screamed, pleading for another fate. The white room became quiet once the door had consumed its latest tenet and disappeared below the floor.

Darrel tucked his clipboard under his arm. "I'm gonna have a word with whoever gave me this guy. This is hazing at best."

Elf Princess

“Oh, crap! I fold you I am a princess, right?” my girlfriend, Mitzy, asked and squeezed my arm.

I grabbed her pale little wrist. "You know normal couples save role play for the bedroom or Halloween, but I guess I'm down for it."

"I'm serious, Jason."

"That's Prince Jason to you!" I said, raising my hand. I didn't get to look at her expression since I was driving, but I'm sure she was smiling.

"Jason."

"Mitzy...oh I mean Princess Mitzy. Eh. Did I do good?" I asked in my best sophisticated accent.

Mitzy sighed and sat back in her seat. I thought I was being charming, but I guess she didn't see it that way. I wasn't given much time to think about her reaction as we had arrived at her parents place. The dirt road with forest all around us broke into a giant courtyard. The grass was cut like a putting green and the shrubbery was designed to look like giant green woodland creatures. I'm still a little miffed they snubbed squirrels from the line up, but nonetheless it was impressive to say the least.

I drove up to the giant mansion that was made of white marble. It towered over the grounds, much like a castle. I knew she said her family lived out in the country, but I didn't expect her parents to be so wealthy. I thought it was more of a live on the land or farm type situation, instead of being so filthy rich they live far away to keep the poors out. To greet us was a tall elf wearing a tailored suit. He even opened the door for Mitzy and everything.

"Princess Mitzy," the well dressed elf said, helping her out of the car.

"Reggie, how are you?" Mitzy said, giving him a hug.

"Better than ever. When we heard you were coming home, we were all ecstatic. Although the king is a little nervous about the man you are bringing home.”

"King?" I asked, hoping I misheard.

"Yes. King Wurlin..." Reggie said and turned to Mitzy. "Princess Mitzy. Did you not tell him you are royalty?"

"I told him on the way here," Mitzy said with a shy grin. I would have been annoyed, but that smile got me every time. That and her pointy ears perked up ever so slightly outside her luscious black hair. It's downright adorable.

Reggie smiled and shook his head. "What are we going to do with you?"

At the top of the stairs in front of the giant wood door stood another elf, wearing a long blue cape and a crown on top of his head. I may have been a simple human, but I knew a King when I saw one.

"Regeval, come bring them up," King Wurlin called to us.

We followed Reggie to the door where her father was waiting with a giant smile on his face. I was sweating the whole time and every step made my heart beat louder. My mind was overheating with questions. How do I address royalty? Was I supposed to wear something different than jeans and a shirt? Am I supposed to be royalty? That last one stuck with me. She was a princess and I was...a regular guy. Didn't royalty expect to marry other royalty? If they were anything like humans, I would assume so. I had been so deep in thought I didn't even realize we were already standing in front of the king.

"...and may I present Jason–"

"Prince," I said, interrupting Reggie.

Reggie gave me a quizzical look and Mitzy was straight up shocked. King Wurlin's face went from tempered to pure joy. His eyes lit up and he stepped forward.

"Prince Jason. Who would have thought my daughter would have found herself a member of another royal family. What line do you come from?"

I should have said nothing, but it was too late. He needed an answer, so I gave him one alright.

"Burger."

"I have never heard of them. You will have to tell me all about your family over dinner."

A different elf ran out from the door behind the King and whispered in his ear. King Wurlin nodded.

"If you would excuse me, I need to handle something. Mitzy, I'm sure you can show this fine man around our home," King Wurlin said and left inside without another word.

Reggie followed him and I was going to follow too, but Mitzy held me up.

"I didn't know you are royalty?" Mitzy asked, watching my face for any signs of deception. Sure I lied to her father, but there was no use lying to her.

"I panicked."

She put her hands on her hips. "Jason."

"What was I supposed to do?"

"Not tell him you are royalty."

"I can't backpedal from this now. You saw the look on his face," I said, doing my best impression of a little puppy dog pout. She wasn't the only one who can play that game.

Mitzy sighed, relenting to my adorableness. "I guess we are just going to have to pretend for now. What was your last name again?”

"Benton. Have I not told you my last name?"

She bonked me on the forehead with her palm. "The one you gave my father. The one I won't know."

"Oh. Heh heh. Burger."

"So your father would be King Allen Burger...wait...you didn't...you didn't name yourself after that restaurant?"

I shrugged. "I said I panicked."

"You're lucky we don't have a Burger King out here or you would be busted, Mister."

"So you're going to help me?"

She stared at me for a little bit. Most people would be holding their breath, waiting for a response that could go either way. Her stare brought that out in most people. I knew her well though. She was going to help me and was just thinking of a plausible way to do it.

"We have till dinner to get your details straight," Mitzy said, walking up the stairs.

"Does that mean I still get the tour?" I said, following her.

"Shorter tour. If you're going to convince my father your royalty, we have a lot of work to do.”

I went up alongside her and danced my fingers across her shoulders. Her eyes rolled back into her head and relaxed her muscles.

"Do I get a tour of anything else while I'm here?" I asked.

"Nope. I need all your blood in your head and not your other head."

"I'm confused, which one needs all the blood?"

She lowered her hand and flicked me right on the tip of my penis. I toppled to the floor, holding my groin in hopes that would somehow stop my suffering. Her fingers may have been dainty, but it felt like I got stung by a bee. So much for thinking my jeans would protect me.

"You still confused?"

"Nope." I barely squeaked out.

"Good. Now come on then. There is a lot to cover here."

***

Mitzy showed me around her family's entire mansion and it was quite the place. There was a room for everything and they were all pretty big. Fancy chandeliers hung in the larger rooms with vaulted roofs and the lower roof areas settled with candle light on walls. Everything seemed like something from the Victorian area, but I think anything that looks both fancy and old is Victorian. Once we had seen everything, she got to work on coaching me through being a member of royalty.

"How do you address the king?" Mitzy asked.

"Hello?”

"It's Your Majesty.”

"I keep forgetting that. Why is everything so formal and fancy?"

"Probably to keep commoners like you out," Mitzy teased.

"You know, that hurts. First the dick flick, now the personal attacks. I'm starting to think you don't like me," I said, giving her a flash of my winning smile.

"You're a tough prince. I think you can take it," she said, winking at me. "So how do you address my father?"

"Hello, sir."

"Your Majesty."

I face palmed myself. "Argh. I'll get it."

"You better, because dinner will be starting soon," Mitzy said, gesturing to the doorway. Reggie's steps echoed down the hall and into my ears before I saw him. He stopped at the doorway and readjusted his tie.

"The king requests your presence at the dinner table."

"We will be right there," Mitzy said and Reggie nodded before leaving us. She turned to me and grabbed my shoulders. "You will do fine. Besides the few things I taught you, just be yourself. He'll love you.”

"You think so?"

"Fifty fifty," she said and walked away.

"Hey! Hold up. Only fifty fifty? How can I boost that up?" Mitzy!" I followed her and she kept ignoring me. I knew she had a devious little grin on her face. She sure wanted me to sweat this one.

We got to the grand dining hall and it was lit up brighter than when I saw it during the tour. Three chandeliers hung from above and candles along the walls kept darkness at bay. A classic large oak table sat in the middle of the room with a fine red tablecloth across the middle. At the head of the table was King Wurlin and at his side was his queen. Mitzy had told me her name on more than one occasion, but it left my brain once we approached them.

"Please sit," King Wurlin said, gesturing to the two seats to his left.

I was going to sit on the far chair, but Mitzy guided me toward her father. Dang her and her graceful elvish feet. Once my butt hit the seat, her mother took it as a cue to say something.

"Mitzy, are you going to introduce me to your friend?" the queen asked.

"Mother, this is my boyfriend Jason–”

"Prince Jason," her father quickly corrected.

Mitzy gave her father the side eye before continuing. "...and Jason, this is my mother, Queen Marsawne."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," Queen Marsawne said.

"The pleasure is all mine. And thank you again for inviting me,” I said.

"We are glad you could be here. Usually Mitzy never brings anyone with her to family dinners, so you must be special," King Wurlin said.

"Father!" Mitzy said. She blushed ever so slightly, but her embarrassment was my relief. At least for a moment.

"Oh, come on. It's not like you brought a commoner to dinner. This man is of great status."

I gulped so loud I thought it echoed in the room. Instead it was masked by the trays of food coming in from his servants. They presented each of us with a prepared plate of fish, along with strawberries and blackberries. My mouth savored just looking at it. If the fork was in my hand, I totally would have started digging in, if for nothing else to keep my mouth full so her father couldn't grill me with questions. They put the plates in front of us, but not the forks. One of the elves cut a piece of the fish and ate it off my plate. I wanted to punch him so bad, but then I remembered food testers were a thing.

"How does it taste?" King Wurlin asked.

"It tastes fine my…" the elf started before choking. His mouth was foaming and the other servants rushed him away. The servants that didn't help the choking elf swiftly took the plates away and ran off. I watched this all unfold and yet the only one distraught was Mitzy and I.

"Um...did he just…" I asked.

"He was poisoned. I had a feeling our former cook would poison the food, but I had to make sure,” King Wurlin said.

"What's going on? Are you in danger?" Mitzy asked in a high pitched voice.

"Not anymore. That cook disagreed with how your father has been running the kingdom and one of our servants told us she was planning on killing us. We didn't want to get too hasty, so we set a trap and she clearly took the bait," Queen Marsawne said.

"Is your servant going to be alright?" I asked.

"Yes. That is why I had to leave you two so suddenly after you arrived. Our plan needed to go in motion and I swapped the poison she was going to use. He will be sick for a few days, but will live," King Wurlin explained.

King Wurlin's words gave me some comfort that I wasn't almost poisoned by some nefarious elf. That didn't subside my gurgling belly though.

"I'm so sorry. We are terrible hosts. We don't have any food prepared," Queen Marsawne said.

That was when I had a great idea that would not only save my stomach from hunger, but also sell my royalty story.

"How about we have some of my father's fine cuisine?" I offered. Mitzy gave me a disapproving look, but she didn't know what I was planning.

"That is a wonderful idea! I would be honored to see what your family's servants make," King Wurlin said.

"If you would excuse me for a moment," I said. I got up and walked away from the table to get some privacy. I pulled out my phone and dialed the first number I saw.

"Burger King, how may I take your order? a voice said over the phone.

"Kennedy, it's me, Jason."

"Hey Jason. Aren't you supposed to be on your date right now?"

"I am. I'm at her parents' place, but we are in need of some food."

"Well you called the right place. What do you need?"

"I'll take the chicken fries. Mitzy will have the garden salad and the parents will have the veggie burger."

"Do you want any fries with that?"

"Yeah. And whatever you have for soda."

"Are you eating in or picking up?"

"That's the thing...I need you to drive it to me."

"This isn't a Dominos."

"I know."

"Then you know my answer."

I looked over my shoulder to make sure Mitzy's family wasn't listening in to my conversation. "You owe me, Kennedy. Come on."

All I could hear on the other end was beeps and meat being seared on the grill. He was thinking it over, but I knew it was still a big ask.

"Okay I'll do it."

"Yes!" I said, doing a little fist pump.

"But you will owe me one."

"Deal. It is at 500 Oakdale Drive, County Road 40."

"Woah, that's out of town. Not sure I will find it."

"Trust me, you can't miss it."

***

Thankfully, King Wurlin had to deal with another pressing matter, so all I had to do was be a good boyfriend and listen to Mitzy and her mother catch up. They asked me no questions and I liked it that way. By the time King Wurlin came back I was saved by my phone.

"I'm here. Dude, since when was your girlfriend rich?" Kennedy said.

"Hey that is another thing...you need to pretend to be my servant."

"Not cool man."

"It's not even hard. You work for my dad, King Burger."

I could hear his laughter as he made his way inside the mansion. "You can't be serious? I don't know if you're a genius or an insane person."

"Maybe both. I can hear you."

"And I can see you,” Kennedy said and ended the call. He walked to me holding four brown bags, wearing his black uniform. I took the bags from him and gave them to Mitzy.

"What's the damage?" I asked.

"Fifty bucks should be enough," Kennedy said with a maniacal grin.

I took out my wallet and paid him, but I wasn't able to avoid King Wurlin's questions.

"Why are you paying your servant?" King Wurlin asked.

"He is almost out of gas and he left my father's card at the castle. Got to make sure he gets back alright," I said and gave Kennedy the last of my cash.

"Thanks man. I'll see you later," Kennedy said, counting his extortion money.

He left and we all finally got to the poison-free meal we were all supposed to have. I pulled out a fry from my bag and ate it. The salty goodness tasted better than that fish would have anyways. King Wurlin and Queen Marsawne both pulled out their burgers and looked upon it with suspicion.

"Don't worry. I got you two the vegetarian option. No meat in it at all.”

Queen Marsawne sniffed it, shrugged, and then dug in. Her smile was all I needed to see to know my man hooked us up with the good stuff and not the bottom of the bag lettuce.

"This is quite good. Your cooks are quite talented."

"Why does it say Burger King, instead of King Burger?" King Wurlin asked, examining the bag.

"What you're eating now is called a burger. Named after my father. He liked the idea of being king of all burgers, so he just changed the order on all the packaging," I said, munching on another chicken fry.

"Are all your meals served like this?"

"Not all of them. Just when we eat out, like today."

"Your father must be quite successful. How have I never heard of him?"

"He runs in different circles. There are a lot of kings you don't know about," Mitzy said, coming in for the save.

"Well, I would sure like to thank him for the food.”

And as if he commanded it, my phone rang. I must have turned on my ringtone, which blared 'Your dad is calling on your cellular device.' I wanted to smash it, but King Wurlin looked at me with glee.

"Look at that. What splendid timing! Could you put him on speaker please?" King Wurlin asked.

Who was I to say no to my girlfriend's father, let alone the King of the Elves. I answered it and my dad started talking right away.

"Hey Buckroo, just calling to check in and...wait...you answered?" my dad said.

"Yep. Dad, you're on speakerphone. I'm with Mitzy's family right now."

"Excellent! Hello Mr. And Mrs. Carthrone."

"Hey Dad, I forgot to tell you. They are actually royalty. Like King and Queen."

"Wow! Well slap me sideways. I should've known. Your daughter is so well mannered, it makes sense."

"Thank you, King Burger, for your kind words, not to mention your delicious food," King Wurlin said.

"Food?"

"Oh yes, your burgers are delicious," Queen Marsawne said and took another bite.

"I never made any burgers. Jason, did you raid the kitchen?"

"Nope. I–”

"Hey Honey! Did you give Jason some burgers?" my dad shouted to my mom, who must have been in a different room than him.

"No I didn't. Are you interrupting his date?" my mom responded, albeit it was hard to hear on the phone.

"He answered the phone. Her parents are on speakerphone."

"I want to talk with them! I'll be right down."

I could hear her feet storm down the stairs at my parents place before she ran into the table their phone must have been on. It let out a scratching sound that was not too pleasing.

"Hello Mr. and Mrs. Carthrone! How are you doing this evening?" my mom asked.

"We are doing well,” Queen Marsawne responded.

"How is my boy behaving? Not getting too handsy with your daughter I hope."

I wanted to die at that moment. Mitzy's parents both looked at me and all I could do was smile. What else was I going to do? Tell them what else we do?

"No..." Queen Marsawne said, but was definitely thinking what else we could have gotten up to within their mansion. We did have plenty of time, but had to waste it getting prepared for tonight.

"That's good. Oh Jason honey, can you stop by the house today and take out the trash? Your dad pulled his back again."

"Don't you have your servant to do it?" King Wurlin asked.

"Servants? That's what my son is for. Although if you're offering I wouldn't say no."

"Okay Mom, food is getting cold. Love you. Bye," I said and hung up. My hope was they wouldn't connect the dots.

"So you aren't a prince?" King Wurlin asked, but he knew the answer. Way to go, Mom.

I sighed. "No. I'm not."

"What is this Mitzy? Bringing some commoner home and passing him off as your boyfriend. Are you trying to embarrass us?"

"He is my boyfriend!" Mitzy said, pushing her mostly finished plate away.

"But why a commoner? I could have seen if he was an elf, but...”

"What? He isn't good enough for me if he is just a simple man?"

"Yes. You deserve the best–"

"And he is the best. I have dated a lot of men and none of them come close to him. He is kind, thoughtful, and cares about me. All royal men ever care about is continuing their lineage."

"That–"

"I'm not done! Jason cared so much about making a good impression today he lied about being a royal so he could get your approval. He even paid for your meal today. If you ask me, if he is not the best, no one is.”

Her father's mouth was stuck ajar. Heck, so was mine. I knew Mitzy was a keeper, but how she went to bat for me with her parents made me want to marry her right then and there. She sat back down and faced me, taking my hand.

"Jason, I love you with all my heart. My parents may not accept you, but I do. There is no one I would rather spend the rest of my life with," she said and a single tear ran from her eye.

I wiped the tear from her eye and our eyes locked. She said more than she had to, but it gave me the courage to say what I should have a long time ago. I kicked my chair away and went on one knee.

"Mitzy Carthrone, you make me the happiest man on this planet. Your smile never fails to brighten my day. Your touch never fails to warm my heart. And your acts of kindness never fail to show me yours. Ever since I met you in that grocery story on aisle five, I knew you were special. Little did I know at that time, you were the woman I was always looking for,” I professed and pulled out a gold band from my back pocket. "Will you marry me?”

"Of course I will marry you," she said and kneeled down next to me. She ignored the ring and laid such a passionate kiss on me I thought my heart was going to explode out of my chest. Her lips tasted like tomatoes, but that didn't bother me. She said yes and that was all that mattered. Mitzy broke away, trying to catch her breath.

"Ahem," King Wurlin said.

We both looked at him and he had a neutral expression on his face. I wasn't sure if he was upset or not, but it's not like I cared anymore. If he couldn't handle this, it was going to be on him.

"I would like to apologize...to both of you. I didn't realize your relationship was this far along…"

"I accept your apology...Pops,” I said.

"Don't call me that," he said, squinting at me.

"You like it though."

"I don't."

"Oh, he does. Deep down,” Queen Marsawne said with a smile.

"Mitzy gives that same look," I said and Queen Marsawne nodded in agreement.

"I do not," Mitzy protested, holding her hand to her chest.

"Oh that's right, I confuse it with that other look."

"What other look?"

I leaned in closer to her ear and whispered, "How about I show you after dinner?"

A sinister smile stretched across her face. "Well I'm done with dinner. We are going to go upstairs and chat."

She took me by the hand and I wasn't one to argue.

"Have a goodnight, Your Majesties," I said and waved.

"Remember you are still a guest here. No funny business in my house," King Wurlin said and was swiftly answered with a whack in the back of the head from the Queen.

She dragged me away from the dining hall and we made our way to the stairs.

"I haven't shown you my room, have I?" Mitzy asked.

"You have not."

"I have one request though when we get up there."

"Anything."

"Can you do that thing you like to do with my ear?"

"I thought you didn't like that."

"No, not that thing, the other one."

"I knew you liked it when I nibbled on your ear!" I said, not realizing how loud I got.

"Shhh. Not so loud," she said, covering my mouth and looking around.

I brushed her hair away, revealing her pointy ear. "Sorry about that. Let me make it up to you."

I bit ever so gently on the top portion of her pointy ear. She shuttered and let out a gasp before guiding my head away.

"Not here.”

"You're right. Too many prying eyes. Lead the way, My Queen."

I took her hand and she led me to her room, where we proceeded to have a magical night together. Then nine months later, you popped out. And that is the story of how you were conceived. Now how do I shut off this recorder? click Damn, not that one. How about this?

***

Vampire Wedding Night

Maddie brushed her teeth, making sure her pearly whites sparkled in the mirror. This was the night she had been waiting for. The first night with her husband, Nick. Her black hair was as pristine as her toned body in her nightgown that had little black wings on it. She wanted to make it special. After all, you only get to turn your husband into a vampire once. 

She took one last look at her fangs that practically gave her a thumbs up. This was her time to show him how much she loved him. That she wanted to spend all eternity with no one else. Maddie swung open the door and spread her arms so wide she felt like she was flying. She even had to do a double take to make sure her arms didn't turn into wings. Nick was sitting on the bed, smiling ear to ear, wearing only his briefs and socks. 

"Woah! You really wanted to stay on theme tonight," Nick said, moving over on the bed for her to join him. 

"You like?"

"Do I? You're my sexy bat," Nick said, doing his best impression of a bat. 

She laughed, knowing that his form would need to improve if he was ever going to fly. Maddie sat down on the bed, but Nick was far too greedy for that, pulling her into his arms. She let out of yip of excitement, laying down next to him. 

"Are you ready for me to turn you?" Maddie said, feeling the blood coarse through the veins in his neck.

"You can turn me however you like. I'm all yours," Nick said, laying a passionate kiss on her lips. She was taken to another world upon contact, enjoying the ecstasy of his minty kiss. Maddie had to practically pull herself away, trying to stay on task. Too bad Nick didn't see it that way. "What's the matter? Did I do something?"

"No. Nothing like that."

"Was it the mint? Was it too much?" Nick said, starting to become self conscious. 

"No. Your breath is amazing. I just…" Maddie trailed off when she spotted two black bats hanging upside down on the curtain rod of the open window. It was her parents. She sprung off the bed and another bat, her brother, hung next to them. Before Nick could see them, she slapped her family out the open window and closed the curtains. "...had to make sure the curtains were closed. Don't want any nosey people watching us."

"Good idea. Don't want anyone to see how you turn me," Nick said.

Maddie smiled and returned to the bed. She didn't waste any time, going right for the throat. Her fangs tickled his neck, searching for a good vein, when he pulled away from her.

"That actually tickles,” Nick said with that genuine smile she loved so much. 

"It will tickle less once I break the skin," she said, swooping in again. He held her back, not yet done talking.

"I'm pretty sure, I'm the one who is supposed to be doing the penetrating around here."

"Are you the vampire?" Maddie said, putting her hands on her hips.

"No, ma'am."

"Then I suggest you lay back and let me do all the work."

"Yes, ma'am," he said, laying back on the bed.

She laid next to him with her fangs inches from his neck. Her hand was on the other side of his neck to hold him still and feel where the blood flowed the best. It was intoxicating to her, feeling the blood on the other side of his flesh. Her eyes rolled back in her head and she planted her fangs on his skin before he jerked away. 

"What is that?" Nick said, sitting up and pointing at the end of the bed. 

Maddie looked over and saw a glimpse of a furry brown wing duck out of sight.

"Terry," Maddie said, under her breath. She bounced off the bed and prepared to crush her little cousin. If they wanted to blame someone for his death, they could blame her brother. He probably put Terry up to it anyway. She reached around the end of the bed, but grabbed nothing but air. The bat was nowhere to be found. Maddie looked under the bed and there was nothing. Unless you count the skeleton who gave her a thumbs up when she looked at it. She shook her head in frustration and came back up to see Nick frozen still on the bed. 

"Honey, get the flyswatter," Nick said, watching the bat sit on his shoulder. 

Maddie bared her fangs and leaped back on the bed. She slammed into Nick and tried to grab at the bat, but the bat was too quick, flying under the curtains. Maddie got off of Nick and punched the empty curtain a few times before parting it and closing the window for good.

"There. We shouldn't have any more unwanted visitors," Maddie said, wiping her hands. She looked back at Nick, who was holding his ribs. "Nick? Are you okay?

"Remind me not to get on your bad side," Nick said, wincing in pain.

Maddie went to his side, unsure what to do. Her hands hoovered over his chest, begging to be told where to go. 

"I hurt you."

Nick smiled. "You saved me from that bat. Who knows what kind of rabies I would have gotten if he bit me."

"Don't worry, it's not genetic," Maddie said and Nick laughed, hurting himself. 

"You are so funny, Maddie. Even when you smash my rib cage, I still can't be mad at you."

"I'm sorry."

"Don't be." Nick pulled her next to him. "I get to be with the best woman in the whole world for all eternity.”

"Not yet you don't. Not until I turn you."

"Oh, we're gonna have to wait on that. As much as my little seed shooter probably wants to, you really messed up my ribs."

It wasn't until that moment that it dawned on her. He thought he was just getting sex. She laid next to him and put her arm under his back, thinking about how to break it to him. Maddie even wondered if he actually knew she was a real vampire. She said it enough times all the while they were dating.

"Hey Maddie?" Nick asked.

"Yes?" Maddie said.

"I'm sorry we didn't get to do it, but can you stop poking me in the ass?"

Maddie moved her hand under his back and felt a boney finger sticking through the bed. She snapped it off, keeping it as a warning to the skeleton below.

"Sorry about that. I actually have a question for you," Maddie said.

"Go for it."

"What if I told you I am an actual vampire?"

"You do have the fangs for it,” Nick said, touching her fang.

"Seriously though, what would you think?"

Nick turned toward her with some discomfort. "You would still be the woman I want to spend my life with."

"You mean that?"

"Of course. Now get under these covers. I can't have my wife freezing on her wedding night."

She did as she was told, but she didn't need his bodily warmth. Maddie was already filled with his love. That was more than enough for her. He wrapped his arms around her and kissed her on the cheek.

"Goodnight, my sexy vampire. Don't suck my blood while I sleep.”

"Wouldn't dream of it," Maddie said, with her eyes darting around. She was totally going to do it when he went to bed. Guess she'll have to wait until morning.

The Cat Did It

A bushy haired man named Branson was sitting up on his faded couch that proudly wore the scars of a glorified scratching post. Sitting on the other side of his smoke glass end table were two detectives donning drab grey suits. Their badges were the only colorful part of their attire, perched on their belts next to the spare magazine. One of the detectives, who identified herself as Detective Fraser, was rifling through her bag to grab some photos. The other detective, Detective Peck, sat back in his seat and snuck a peek at his coworker's ass. Branson could see the interest, but he never thought a detective would be so unprofessional in his presence. Detective Peck looked back at Branson and winked at him, before sitting forward.

"Mr. Stairfield, we are here to ask you a few questions about your cat," Detective Fraser said, with a stack of photos and drawings in her hand. 

Branson cocked his head. "My cat?"

"Yes, sir. Recently we had a string of vandalisms and robberies where we have caught all the suspects."

"Okay…" Branson said, unsure where they were going with this.

"All of them had the same story. They told us a cat told them to do it."

"They sound crazy."

"We would agree, but they all gave us the same description of the cat," Detective Peck said.

Detective Fraser laid out a few of the photos and drawings, all depicting a black cat with red eyes and fur that stood on end. Branson took a brief glance at them before looking back at Detective Fraser. 

"Your neighbor said you have a black cat," Detective Fraser said. 

"Well, my neighbor is a liar! It shouldn't take a detective to know that. Who told you?"

"Alice Fletcher. Lives a few doors down," Detective Peck said. Both detectives sat at the end of their seats, surprised by Branson's hostility. 

"Alice Fletcher is a loon. And a little…" Branson trailed off, noticing the detectives were starting to take more interest in him. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I just get worked up when her name comes up. She is always trying to get me in trouble."

"We aren't accusing you of any crimes, Mr. Stairfield. We are simply looking for some cooperation in our case."

"I thought you said you arrested everyone?" 

"We did. The problem is we recently had a murder and the suspect in that case explicitly mentioned a black cat told him to do it," Detective Fraser said, pointing to a picture of the cat. 

Branson looked between the two faces of the detectives. He knew what they were implying and he wasn't having any of it. 

"Do you think I did it? Is that why you're here?" Branson said, standing to his feet.

"We are not saying that sir…"

"You think I dress up as a cat and go brainwash people into committing crimes? You want to see my closet? Come on. I'll show you. No cat suits in there!" Branson almost yelled at them. 

"Please calm down, Mr. Stairfield," Detective Peck said. 

Branson waved his hands around. "Calm down? Why?"

"We just want to see your cat," Detective Fraser said.

"I told you, I don't have one!"

"Then why is your couch all ripped up?" Detective Peck questioned.

"I bought it second hand! Even comes with a permanent cat piss smell. Want a sniff?" Branson said, lifting up the cushion.

"And the litterbox?" Detective Peck asked, pointing to the grey box with kitty litter next to his grungy door.

"Came with the couch. Haven't had time to throw it."

Detective Fraser collected her photos and put them back in her bag. She shoved it into Detective Peck before he could lose his temper. She pulled a card out from her suit pocket. 

"I can see we came at a bad time. If you do see a black cat, please give me a call," she said, placing the card on the table.

Branson watched them both with steely eyes as they left his apartment. The door closed shut and Branson picked up the card on the table. It had her name, badge number and contact information as well as the case number on the back. He walked over to the kitchen and turned on the stovetop, leaving the card on top. 

From behind, a black cat scurried out of an adjacent room and jumped up on the couch. The cat meowed and Branson turned to face the cat. 

"You really fucked up this time," Branson said. The cat responded with a meow. Branson moved over to the window and opened it, letting in the fresh outside air. He looked down at the sidewalk that was three floors below him. The undercover looking police crustier was parked near the curb.

"They are getting too close. You need to fix your mess," Branson said, turning to face the cat. The cat jumped off the couch, ran toward Branson and jumped up on the window sill. It looked back at Branson and meowed one last time to him before jumping to the next window sill.

"And none of that loose end bullshit again," Branson called out to the cat that had already sprung to the last set of window sills. The cat landed on a railing which surrounded some green shrubs along the exterior wall.

The two detectives walked out of the building side by side and the cat balanced on the railing near them. It meowed, getting the attention of Detective Peck. He looked right at the cat before he grabbed Detective Fraser's ass. She turned to him and slapped him across the face. The cat meowed again. There was a brief pause where the detectives were either going to tear each other apart or kiss. Unfortunately, it was the former. They both drew their service weapons, but Detective Fraser was not hindered by the bag. Three shots rang out as she shot her partner twice in the chest and once in the head.

People across the street screamed and a car that was driving by screeched its tires, leaving smoke in its wake. The woman looked over to the cat and it meowed one last time. Another shot rang out and Detective Fraser collapsed to the floor over her partner. The cat looked up at Branson, who watched the whole ordeal unfold from the comfort of his window. He looked over to the card that went ablaze. The stovetop coils were red hot and the card shriveled up into nothing more than ash. Branson gave the cat a nod.

"Look what you made me do, Alice. Look what you made me do."

Evil Rivals

"Death!" Satan yelled at the top of his lungs, storming up the spiral cobblestone staircase. Soot coated the hot steps and grey ash filled the crevices.

He got to the top of the keep that overlooked the fiery hellscape of...well...Hell. Death stood in his normal business attire, a midnight black cloak, gazing over the tortured souls in the lake of fire. Their screams moved like a breeze, whispering their pain to anyone that would hear it.

"What up, Lucy?" Death said, still entranced by the horrific scene below.

"Don't you give me that Lucy shit! I know what you did."

Death turned to Satan. "Whatever do you mean?"

"You took that soul before his time. I have been planning his soul's demise for years!"

"How was I supposed to know your plans? You sure took your sweet time with Hal?"

"I thought I had more time with him."

"Life is a funny thing. You never know how much time you got,” Death said, tapping his scythe on the floor.

"Fuck you, Death. You aren't supposed to take sides."

Death cocked his head. "I'm not." 

Satan took a step back and his eyes got big. "You're still mad my demon killed that family of yoga instructors last year."

"Those were mine and you knew it!"

"Ah ha! So this is payback," Satan said, pointing at him.

"All I did was do my job. Your man went out of his way to take my job.”

"What are you complaining about? Not being able to kill?"

"I don't kill. I harvest souls."

"What's the difference?" Satan said with a shrug.

"God sees the difference. Runs his show much better than you do.”

Satan's eyes burned red with rage. "Don't you dare bring him up down here!"

"Or what? You're going to kill me?" Death said,

"I know about Linda. You have been keeping her alive on purpose after all these years. Maybe my demon loses his way on Earth…stumbles into her."

"You want to play with fire? I'm game. I will walk up there right now and take out that entire congregation in Alabama. God knows they are ripe for your picking in a few weeks. Can't shake a stick without hitting a relative."

"You wouldn't," Satan said, trying to glare through him. 

"Oh, I would. God and I have been on pretty good terms. Maybe I can help him out some more…" Death said, looking Satan up and down. "Not like he needs it."

"Alright, that's it!" Satan said before leaping on top of him. Death blocked Satan's hands with his scythe and fell on his back. 

Satan tried to tear the scythe from Death's hands, but boy was he strong. Satan tried whipping Death with his forked tail, but Death was quicker, batting it away with the blade. That motion caused Death to roll on top of Satan, pinning the tail underneath their collective weight.

"Get off me!" Satan said. 

"Not until you promise to stop killing my souls!"

"I promise. Okay!" Satan said, straining from the pain of his own tail stabbing him in the back.

Death got up and gave Satan some space. Satan brushed the soot off himself and pulled his tail out of his back. They both were silent, letting the whispers of torture and pain float into the room. Satan glared at Death, getting more frustrated by the second that he couldn't see his eyes under that blasted cloak of his.

"So...we have an understanding?" Death asked.

"We do."

"How do I know you will keep your word? Lying is kind of your specialty."

Satan took a deep breath. "We want the same things. Would be bad business to screw my partner, seeing as I'm stuck with you for eternity."

"We aren't partners."

"Fine. Associates."

"Barely."

"In any case, I promise to not kill people if you promise to stick to your timelines."

"What if I need to change them?"

"You have to give me notice."

"I won't be able to just give you notice," Death said.

"Give me notice first. And no more of that surprise bullshit."

"I should be able to do that…assuming Linda is not touched.”

"We have a deal." Satan held out his hand.

Death bursted into a cloud of grey smoke and was gone. Satan wafted the smoke away and a devious smile grew on his face.

"Oh Death, you stupid schmuck. She is almost 200 years old. Her brain at this point isn't what it used to be. Be a shame if she thought back to her times as a free diver and tried to take the plunge one last time. Who knows, the bag of brittle bones might live?”

He let out a villainous laugh that roared across the sea of fire, blocking out the wails below. This was going to be his best payback yet. Cheating Death without breaking his promise. After all, he was just encouraging her to relive her youth. What's so bad about that?

When Pigs Fly

The turbine chugged and coughed black smoke as Pete wrenched on the propeller. Another failed attempt. Pete wiped the sweat from his brow and walked around the silver plane.

"David, how many times do I have to do this?" Pete asked, looking up at the masked pilot.

"Until she starts to buzz. At that point, you may not want to be in the way,” David said.

"I need to take a break."

"You can take a break when I'm in the air. You're on my time now, buster."

Pete nodded and turned around to hear the high pitch squeal of pork that had yet to be slaughtered. Holding the worming little pink dinner was none other than Father Harvey, dressed in his more casual attire.

"Father Harvey, I was worried you weren't going to make it," Pete said.

"I wouldn't miss this for the world, Pete," Father Harvey said, struggling with the feisty pig.

"Good. Hand him up to David while I get this bird of his in the air."

Pete went back in front of the plane and raised the propeller far above his head. He pulled it down with all his might, contracting muscles he didn't realize he had. His back ached, but he knew it would all be worth it. The turbine made a different clunk sound before the propeller started spinning on its own.

"There we go!" Pete said, running off to the side.

Father Harvey was lifting the pig up to David, who kept it at arms reach.

"Where do I put him?" David asked.

"I don't know. You're the pilot," Father Harvey said.

The wheels started to roll in the dry dirt and the pig wiggled free from David's grasp, leaping into the cockpit. David panicked and the plane started to speed off down the runway. Father Harvey stood next to Pete and watched the plane zig zag before lifting in the air.

"See Father, I told you he could handle it," Pete said.

"I didn't get to bless the plane before he took off."

"That's okay. You blessed the pig, right?"

Father Harvey gave him the same look his mother did when he forgot to bring dessert for the family get-together. "Pete, I think David needs more protection than that pig."

"He went to confession last week. He'll be fine,” Pete said, admiring the aerial display.

The plane banked and twisted in the air, flying without a care in the world below the angelic clouds. From below, David was in his element. A master of his domain. The king of the sky. That perception did not match reality.

"Oh God! Oh God! Oh God!" David yelled, trying to get his plane under control. The pig stomped on his toes and tried to jump up, hitting his steering column. "Are you trying to get us killed?”

The pig squealed and planted its hooves into David's crouch. David's eyes closed and for a moment he thought he lost consciousness. The plane started to dive and with it Pete's chances at getting the love of his life.

While this battle in the sky took place, a woman wearing a dress seemingly dyed with sunflowers marched over to Pete and Father Harvey. "What are you two doing over here? We are waiting to say grace."

Pete turned to her. "Emily, you remember how you said you would marry me when pigs fly?"

"Yeah," she huffed.

"Well. What do you see up there?"

Emily looked up to see the plane diving toward the ground with a pig blocking David's face. She shook her head and walked away, letting out a deep sigh.

"Is that a no?" Pete called to her.

Father Harvey put his hand on Pete's shoulder. "Sorry my son. You gave it your best shot."

"I suppose you're right. Better let David know he can stop…"

Pete's words were interpreted by the crash of a metal bird plunging into a solid oak tree. They turned around, witnessing the carnage. The plane engine was pushed in up to the cockpit and what was left of the propeller was dug into the dirt next to the crash. Smeared across the tree was blood and pieces of flesh.

"David!" Pete yelled.

David poked his head up from the cockpit and waved his brown cap above his head. "I'm okay."

Pete turned to Father Harvey. "See, you should've blessed the pig."

Necromancer Lawyer

“Dead men tell no tales? Wrong, Your Honor. As a necromancer, I summon the soul of my first witness, the victim.”

In an instant, the silent courtroom was abuzz with chatter from the people in the back. The mother of the victim wailed at the mere thought of her son coming back from the dead.

"Order!" the judge demanded, smashing his gavel into splinters that showered both attorneys. 

The people went silent at once and the wailing woman sniffled as her husband guided her down to her seat. The prosecuting attorney brushed the splinters off his jet black suit and scarlet red tie. He did not say another word, waiting for the judge's face to return to a paler color. 

"Mr. Hardford, I was not aware you were a necromancer," the judge said.

"That I am, Your Honor. I am licensed in a different state, but I was hoping seeking fair justice would supersede silly licensing requirements.”

"That it is, Mr. Hardford. You may present your witness."

"Objection, Your Honor!" the defense attorney said.

"Overruled. Please continue Mr. Hardford."

Mr. Hardford approached the bench and sat down in the chair. He closed his eyes and raised his hands in the air. He muttered complete nonsense and shook violently until he fell limp in the seat. The jury to his left were in complete shock and some were downright worried he died.

"Bailiff, please check on Mr. Hardford.”

The bailiff did not take two steps before Mr. Hardford shot up from his seat. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked around the room like a squirrel trying to find the next nut. Once he laid eyes on the mother of the victim, his erratic head movement stopped.

"Mom?" Mr. Hardford said. 

"Frankie!" The mother yelled with tears beginning to well in her eyes.

"Where am I Mom? Where did all the angels go?"

The people all began to whisper amongst each other again, bringing with it the judge's ire.

"Order in the court!" the judge yelled, tossing what was left of his gavel across the room. "No more talking or you will all be held in contempt."

All idle chatter ceased again and Mr. Hardford turned to look up at the judge. His dark cloak and round face made for an imposing figure up close.

"I'm sorry, mister. It won't happen again," Mr. Hardford said.

"Not you Frankie. You can speak. You are the witness," the judge said, calming his tone.

"To what?"

"Your murder."

Mr. Hardford looked over to the defense's bench and scrambled out of his chair upon seeing the defendant. Wearing a pantsuit the color of a baby seal and no makeup, the defendant would have been void of all intrigue, if not for her butter blonde hair that swirled like ice cream on her head. She did not respond to Mr. Hardford's reaction, but instead watching him with disinterest. 

"Please, don't let her hurt me again!"

"You recognize that woman?" the judge asked.

Mr. Hardford nodded, still trying to conceal himself behind the chair.

"What is she to you?"

"She is the mean lady who hit me in the head with a golf club. I begged her to stop, but she wouldn't," Mr. Hardford said, shivering as he spoke.

The defense attorney stood up. "Objection, Your Honor. How do we know this is actually Frankie and not just some show for the jury?”

"Mom, I want to go home. I want Mr. Cuddlebottoms," Mr. Hardford said. 

"We'll get him sweetie!" the mother said, trying to stand up before her husband kept her seated.

"Overruled,” the judge said and faced the mother of Frankie. "Mrs. Kennedy, I know this is quite an irregular ask, but would Mr. Hardford have known about this...Cuddlebottoms?"

"No, Your Honor. Mr. Hardford was never at our house nor would he have cared about our son's stuffed alligator."

"That's enough for me. Thank you, Mrs. Kennedy.”

"Are you shitting me right now?" the defense attorney said.

Before the judge could respond to the attorney's lack of decorum, Mr. Hardford collapsed to the floor. The bailiff rushed over to him and some jury members stood up, trying to get a better look at what happened. The audience again broke out into whispers, albeit quieter than the previous times to avoid the judge's wrath. Mr. Hardford awoke from the touch of the bailiff's cold fingers on his neck. 

"Are you alright, Sir?" the bailiff asked. 

"I'm fine,” Mr. Hardford said, standing up under his own power.

"Mr. Hardford, are you able to continue?" the judge asked. 

"I could use a recess, Your Honor."

"No need. I have come to my decision, which I don't believe the jury would disagree with. I find the defendant, Marleen Walker guilty of the murder of Frankie Kennedy.”

"What?" Marleen yelled. "I slept with you! You said I wouldn't spend a second in jail!"

"That was before Frankie's actual soul told us you were the killer! I can't believe I actually slept with a murderer," the judge said in disgust. "Bailiff, take her away."

"I didn't do it! I would never harm a child! He's lying!" Marleen yelled in desperation, while the bailiff cuffed her. 

"Court adjourned," the judge said.

Everyone stood up and began a flurry of conversations. Mr. Hardford looked over to Marleen and smiled something villainous. 

"That's what you get for cheating on me," Mr. Hardford said under his breath before the family rushed to him. Mrs. Kennedy wrapped her arms around Mr. Hardford and cried into his shoulder. 

"Did he say anything else to you?" Mrs. Kennedy asked.

"He said you did great. Really sold it."

"Excuse me?"

Mr. Hardford coughed. "I mean...he loves you and he can't wait to see you again in heaven."

Mrs. Kennedy smiled and let him go. "Can you leave him a message?"

"Sure, why not?"

"Tell him I love him and I'm proud of him."

"Will do. Now if you would excuse me, I have another client to attend to.”

"Of course," she said and moved aside. 

He walked through the crowd and out the solid wood doors. Taking a deep breath, he removed a single cigar from his jacket pocket. He put it in his mouth and patted himself down for his lighter. It was nowhere to be found.

"Great. I can blow smoke up everyone else's ass except mine."

In Seven Minutes

“In seven minutes you’ll either die or meet the love of your life. Good luck!” the voice over the intercom said.

Mike's stomach gurgled louder than the intercom and no one paid him any mind either. Kenneth was still yammering about Q3 sales being at an all time high and Kelly was so close to her phone screen, her nose did half of the typing. The rest of the people were focused on Kenneth's presentation, but Mike couldn't shake what he heard.

"Excuse me, did anyone hear what the intercom said?" Mike asked, raising his hand with caution.

All eyes shifted to him, except Kelly who was still determined to continue texting. His skin crawled and he sank down into his seat, hoping the soulless eyes of the company's investors would stop looking at him.

"I didn't hear anything except the sweet sound of us making lots of money," Kenneth said, sending the boardroom into an roar of laughter.

Mike gave a weak chuckle and his tension disappeared as everyone turned back to Kenneth. Mike knew what he heard and the fact that no one else did made him nervous. Did he question his sanity? No, not for a second. He questioned his ability to find the love of his life in seven minutes. If the last few years were any indication, he was doomed. Not to mention this presentation still had another thirty minutes left.

He contemplated leaving the meeting, but money was tight with his father's surgery. Mike needed this job. If he did die, at least the company would pay out the life insurance. Sure it went to his dog, Charles, but his good boy would gladly surrender the money. Charles probably liked his father more anyways. Before Mike's thoughts got too far away from him, the door slammed open.

"Everybody on the ground now!" a woman wearing worn brown tactical gear yelled. She shot a volley of bullets from her AK-47 across the room into the glass wall behind him.

Everyone complied, except Kelly who was still somehow entrenched in her phone. Mike put his hands up and the scary woman pointed her gun at him.

"Not you. Stand up," she said, gesturing to Mike.

Mike stood up slowly, not wanting to get shot by a trigger happy woman. "Please don't kill me. Take whatever you want."

"I'm not here for your money," the woman said, vaulting over the boardroom table. "I'm here to send a message."

"What–is–that?" Mike sputtered.

"That we will rise from our oppressor's!"

"Who is that? You can't possibly mean us."

Her brown eyes stared into Mike's, going nose to nose with him. She did not look away, poking the hot barrel into his stomach. Mike jumped back and swatted the rifle away from himself out of reflex.

"What's the matter? Can't handle a little heat? You should try actually working for your company. Gets hotter than that," she said with a venomous smile.

"Please don't hurt me." Mike begged.

"I won't hurt you...more than you hurt my people."

She raised her rifle and Mike closed his eyes, not wanting to see it happen. Instead of the bark of the rifle, he heard the sound glass shattering. Mike opened his eyes to see a person in all black tactical gear wrestling with the armed woman. The rifle went off a few times before the person in the black tactical gear ripped the rifle away from her and threw it out the shattered pane of glass. In seconds the insane woman was in handcuffs and knocked out with a swift punch to the head.

Mike looked at his hero in awe. It was just like the movies. The rest of the tactical team flooded into the room and took the insane woman away without much hassle. Only Mike's hero stayed, walking up to him.

"Are you okay?" Mike's hero asked.

Mike nodded his head, unable to speak. Not because of his new trauma, but because of who was staring back at him. A gorgeous woman. Removing her helmet to let her flawless brown hair lap over her shoulders, she smiled back with the warmth of a thousand suns. He had seen plenty of women like her in the movies, but never in person, let alone in a SWAT uniform.

"Are you sure you are alright?" Officer Kimbell asked.

"Yes. Why do you ask?"

"Because there is a hole in your shirt."

Mike looked down upon his seared shirt and laughed. "That's what I get for shopping at the dollar store."

Officer Kimbell laughed and moved on to check on the rest of the people behind him. Mike was unable to look away from her as she passed him. He thought to himself, 'If she is the love of my life, I will die a happy man.' Mike went to lean on the pane of glass with one hand without looking away from her, when he realized too late it was not there anymore.

He fell out of the building and down twelve stories. The whole way down Mike kept thinking if it had been seven or eight minutes since that mysterious intercom message. Either way he was at the mercy of gravity and she was a cruel mistress. So kids, what do you think? Was he destined to die or just dumb as a brick?

Obsession

"I can't believe it." Billy scrolled through the never ending pictures of himself on his crush's phone. "She's...obsessed with me.”

"BS,” Devin said, trying to grab the phone away from him. 

Billy moved down a seat at the cafeteria table. "I'm serious."

"If you were so serious, why are you hiding the proof from me?”

"I don't want you wreaking her phone," Billy said, tapping on a picture of himself getting dressed in his room. He turned it toward Devin, careful to keep the phone out of his friend's reach. "See?”

"You never said you two hung out?"

"We never have."

Devin grabbed the apple off of Billy's lunch tray. "So how did she get a picture of you inside your own house?"

"Not sure, but does it matter? Clearly she is into me."

"Maybe a little too much into you, don't you think?" Devin said, crunching into his apple.

"Nonsense. She's just–"

"A stalker," Devin interrupted.

"She is not."

"I call it how I see it.”

"Well not for long. I'm asking her out," Billy said, placing the phone on the table.

"That's a really bad idea, but then again, so was stealing her phone. Maybe I'm wrong though and you two are meant to be with each other." Devin threw the half eaten apple at Billy. 

"You're just jealous Sandra doesn't give you the time of day," Billy said, putting the phone in his pocket and picking up the apple. 

"Sandra at least respects my privacy."

"She sure does. Gives you plenty of space."

"Rather have a woman not interested in me than...whatever that is," Devin said, gesturing to Billy's pocket.

Billy ignored him, taking his tray and walking to the other side of the cafeteria. The dull grey tiles squeaked under his shoe, yet drew no attention from the rest of the students eating and joking at the other tables. He was on a mission. To ask out Jeanie. Confidence was not in short supply as he marched up to her table. The two girls Jeanie was sitting with got up to dump their trays, leaving Billy the perfect opportunity to enact his plan.

"Hey there Jeanie."

"Hey Billy. How's it going?" Jeanie said, playing with her ponytail. 

"It's going well. Say, I think I found your phone,” Billy said, taking out the phone from his pocket.

"Oh my gosh! I have been looking everywhere for it. Thank you so much, Billy. You are such a great guy."

Billy handed her the phone. "Well I think you are a great gal."

Jeanie blushed and held her phone close to her chest, partially hiding the ACDC logo on her shirt. Billy leaned in closer, causing her to gaze into his hazel eyes. 

"I like your shirt. Maybe I could take you to see them sometime? Say this Saturday?" Billy asked in a soothing voice that he himself didn't know he possessed.

"I...I would like that Billy," Jeanie said, not breaking eye contact with him. 

"Great. I'll pick you up at eight," Billy said and walked away. 

Jeanie watched him walk away with the stride of a runway model. She bit her lip trying not to squeal out of excitement. Once he was out of sight, she quickly unlocked her phone and was greeted with an enlarged picture of Billy getting dressed. A maniacal grin stretched across her face. 

"Billy Kennedy McGuire. I got you right where I want you.”

Love Potion

"May I ask why you think my love potion will save your marriage?" the witch asked, walking behind the counter to face a wall of shelves with different color jars.

"Because I see no other way to get past what happened," Timothy said, looking down at the counter.

The witch bent down and dragged a stool across the floor. The screech of the wood lasted only a few moments, stopping it under the tallest section of the shelves. "And what happened my dear boy?"

"She...cheated on me."

The witch was unfazed by his admission and climbed up onto the stool with the grace of a cat. She scanned the shelves, touching each jar with her boney finger. Half of the jars had labels, while the unlabeled ones had different colored fluorescent liquids. Nonetheless, her finger pointed to each one down the row.

"I cannot undo what has already been done," the witch said, focusing on the jars.

"I'm not asking you to. I just need a fresh start. A new set of eyes. That way everything can go back to the way it was."

The witch grabbed a jar containing a pink liquid off the shelf and turned to him. "You think this will really do that for you? That you drink this and your wife will magically love you again?”

"At least I will love her again."

The witch climbed down the stool and placed the jar on the counter. She stared into his sullen face. The pain and desperation oozed from his entire being. The weary traveler was no foreign sight to her, but his eyes were. A dull blue, faded not from nature, but from his dying soul. 

"A love potion can't make a person love someone who they still love.”

"You don't understand. I don't love her."

"You wouldn't be here if you didn't love her anymore. Your problem isn't your lack of love, it is your broken heart."

Timothy turned away, unable to make eye contact with her. 

"I don't make potions for a broken heart. Nothing of magical nature can cure that," the witch admitted.

"So there is no fix?"

"I never said that."

Timothy turned to face her. "Then what, if not a potion or a spell?"

"Forgiveness.”

"I'm supposed to forgive her? For what she did to me!" he said, stressing the last word.

"Yes. Forgive her betrayal. Only then will you find peace."

"I'm not looking for peace, I'm looking to restart my marriage. To show her I love her!”

"What better love than to forgive? Like I said earlier, you can't undo what has already been done. It is time to move on. Whether that is with her or without her is your choice, but forgiveness is always the right choice."

"How do I forgive her? I have been unable to even look at her without disgust."

"It starts in the heart and it takes time. A torn muscle isn't healed in a day and neither will this," the witch said, taking the potion off the countertop.

"That isn't an answer."

"What? You want a step by step guide? It doesn't work that way. It's up to you to heal yourself. I offered you the remedy. I can't make you take it.”

Timothy pondered her words. He wanted to forget his wife ever cheated on him. That they were both happily married and their children never witnessed their argument. It was the past, but it did not have to define the future. 

"Thank you, Ma'am for sharing your remedy. I will try it, but I have one last question?"

The witch sat down on the stool. "Alright?"

"If I am able to forgive her, will I forget what she did to me?"

"If you truly forgive her, the memory will be a constant reminder of your strength and love, not of your misery. I'm sure that will give you more comfort than a lost memory."

Timothy nodded and gave her a weak smile before he left the witch's store. The door squeaked and slapped shut against the frame, leaving the witch all alone.

The witch smiled to herself and spun the potion in her hand. "You did it again, Grechen. You lost another sale because you had to have a heart." The pink liquid inside the jar glowed bright and expanded to the top of the lid. "Worth it every time.”

Got To Get To Work

Donavan hung up the corded phone on the wall. "Do you mind if I make another call?"

The guard pushed off the wall he was leaning against. "No more calls. Back to your cell."

Donavan sighed. "I thought so."

Once the guard put his hands on Donavan, it was all over. In a flash, Donavan grabbed the phone and wrapped the cord around the guard's neck. He started clicking away at the buttons, while struggling with the guard. The phone rang, giving Donavan some time to restrain his new friend. He kicked out the guard's feet and pinned him against the wall. 

"Hello, who is this?" a voice asked from the phone.

Donavan pushed the phone to his ear. "Karen, please don't hang up!"

"You have some nerve calling me."

"I know. I know. But listen. I need a pickup."

"You have one. Use your own." 

"No. Like I need you to pick me up."

"Why should I do that?" Karen scoffed.

The guard beat his hands against the wall, making a slapping sound. Donavan could hear keys jingling outside the door.

"I will owe you one."

The line was quiet for a moment. Donavan was unsure if she was thinking or put him on hold. He was more focused on the men pounding on the door. 

"Well?" Donavan asked, unable to conceal his impatience.

"Fine. I need to get my coat and let Mr. Kellogg know where I'm going–"

"No time. Come quickly," Donavan said as the door opened with two guards funneling in. 

"Where are you this time?"

"Jail. The close one." Donavan said and hung up.

The guard wrapped in the phone cord was on the brink of unconsciousness. Two guards came at them with batons at the ready. Donavan dodged one of the swings while taking the other in the shoulder. Lightning shot through his whole arm, but he had no time to dwell on it. With his good hand, he slapped the phone off the hook and into the guard that hit him. That distraction gave Donavan enough time to kick the other guard still standing and make a break for the closing door. Hopping through the narrow opening, he left the guards in his wake. 

His next obstacle was the grey, unloving walls that flanked him as he ran down the hall. He kept his head on a swivel, trying to find a viable way out. At the end of the hall stood an older female officer with her taser drawn. Her uniform fit well, proving not all officers ate donuts all day. There was no running from this one.

"Donavan. Don't make this any harder on me," the officer shouted.

"I have to go to work. My boss will fire me if I'm not there."

The officer closed the distance. Her boots moved across the cement floor with a purpose, spewing authority for all to hear.

"Hands up! If you cooperate I might be able to smooth things over with the warden," the officer said, grabbing her handcuffs. 

"What about my boss?"

"Nothing I can do about that, kiddo."

Donavan looked above his head and saw an exposed ceiling with a wide pipe that lead somewhere. He had heard there was construction being done on the jail, but never figured he would get to see it. Looking back at the officer, he knew what he had to do.

"Don't you do it!" the officer ordered. 

Her order fell on deft ears. Donavan sprung off the walls and up onto the pipe. The officer aimed her taser, but Donavan was quick to hide his body behind the pipe. Not wasting time, Donavan crawled along the pipe into the darkness of the ceiling. He could not see, so he trusted the pipe to guide his way. The pipe led him up to the second floor, which at this point was the roof of the building. Scaffolding and various building supplies surrounded him on the top of the roof. He disembarked the pipe and ran to the edge of the roof. Below him was a faded red pickup truck pulling into the parking lot stall closest to him.

Donavan took a few steps back before running toward the edge. He leaped off the roof and bounced off the top of the hood. Donavan felt a crack in his back followed by a sudden shriek that dwarfed the sound of metal being pushed in by his weight. He crawled to his feet and entered the passenger's side of the vehicle, much to the shock of the woman in the truck.

"Donavan, what the hell was that!" Karen said.

"Drive please."

"You said you needed to be picked up. Not a getaway driver."

Donavan buckled his seatbelt. "Please, let's go."

The alarms outside sounded and Karen peeled out of there. They traveled down a few winding streets until they arrived at their destination, Hardford General. The four story building was an eyesore. Concrete walls painted to look like natural wood. After years of weathering, it looked more like smeared diarrhea.

Karen threw the vehicle into park, causing both of them to lurch forward. "Are you going to tell me why you got arrested?"

"Nope," he said, pulling on the handle.

Donavan pushed against the door, but it would not budge. He pulled the silver rod to unlock the door, but it went back down again with a clunk. Donavan looked over to see Karen holding down the lock button.

"I'm not letting you leave until you tell me," Karen said.

"I'm not good at following 'lawful' orders. Is that enough for you?" Donavan said, rolling down the window.

"No, it's not. You need to tell me what happened."

Donavan didn't wait to hear her reply, crawling out the window of her truck. He slapped the ground with his hands and feet before taking off like a sprinter into the building. Karen shook her head.

"This better be a good favor," Karen said.

Donavan kicked in the door to the third floor conference room where Mr. Kellogg was moments from smashing his laptop into the conference room table. The charging cable was still plugged in, running above his head, where he froze in place. 

"Donavan? Thank God you're here! Where have you been?" Mr. Kellogg asked, lowering his laptop.

"I was–”

"Doesn't matter. Maybe I can still salvage this. How do I login to this conference call?" Mr. Kellogg said, opening his laptop. 

Donavan walked around the table and instructed him how to login. It was as simple as clicking the link, entering his name, and clicking connect. Mr. Kellogg gave a toothy smile at his screen, hearing people on the other end.

"Do you have the presentation?" Mr. Kellogg asked, covering his webcam.

"It is in your email."

"Pull it up for me," Mr. Kellogg said, pushing the laptop toward him. 

Donavan clicked through Mr. Kellogg's email until he found it in the deleted folder. He pulled up the presentation and minimized it so Mr. Kellogg could still see the people on the screen. 

"You're good to go." Donavan slid the laptop back to him. 

"Good job, Donavan. We might just save this company yet."

"What did you say Mr. Kellogg?" a voice said from the laptop.

"Nothing, Mr. Terrance. I was just speaking to my best employee, Donavan Santelli. He worked so hard on this proposal. I think you will like it,” Mr. Kellogg said, giving Donavan a thumbs up. 

Donavan breathed an air of relief that his boss's anger was gone. It was also the first time his boss gave him a compliment. After all these years working for him, his luck was starting to turn around. That was until the door opened again. Standing in the doorway was Karen and the female officer. 

"One moment,” Mr. Kellogg said, putting his hand over the webcam again. "Can I help you, officer?"

"No. I'm here for Donavan Santelli. Put your hands behind your back. You are under arrest," the officer said. 

"Really? At my place of work?" Donavan said.

"You left me no choice. Hands behind your back," the officer said. 

Donavan obeyed her commands and she slapped the cuffs on him. He looked at his boss who was shaking his head at him. His future at the company went from one of promise to one of poverty.

"What is going on? Is someone being arrested?" the same voice asked from the laptop.

"Oh no. Just people playing a video outside the room." Mr. Kellogg responded. "Karen, can you close the door."

The officer led him out of the room, while Karen closed the door behind them.

"Don't worry, I will talk with Mr. Kellogg," Karen said.

"Thanks Karen. I appreciate it,” Donavan said.

"Keep moving," the officer ordered.

Donavan was led out of the building and to the officer's squad car. She opened the backdoor. "Watch your head."

"Screw you, Malory!" Donavan said. 

The officer slammed his head into the top of the doorframe and pushed his body inside. She leaned over him, close enough to smell the syrup on her breath. 

"You will not disrespect me again. You call me Officer Santelli when I'm on duty. You understand?"

Donavan winced in pain. "Yeah I got it. God Mom!"

"You're lucky I was the one who arrested you."

"Why? So you can have the privilege of putting us both in jail? Maybe we can share the same cell."

"You are not your father!"

"From where I'm sitting, I might as well be,” Donavan said.

"When we get back to the jail, you don't say anything. You have no idea what kind of favors I had to pull to let your last stunt go unnoticed."

"And the charge against me?"

"Defense attorney's love when an officer screws up her paperwork. You'll be fine assuming you don't do anything stupid."

The officer closed the door and walked around to the driver's side door. She held the handle and took a deep breath. "The things I do for my kids."

Twin Cities

"What is the count at now?" Benny asked, adjusting his top hat.

The other men and one woman said nothing, sitting around the circular oak table. They all stared at Hitchcock, the resident communication leader for the City of Aloran. Hitchcock took a deep breath before pressing the button on his radio.

"City of Bloran. This is City of Aloran. What is your current count?" Hitchcock said and held his breath. 

Beads of sweat on his forehead were illuminated by the sole candle in the middle of the table. Everyone was quiet, waiting to hear if what they had done was enough. The silence went on for a minute, but to Benny it might as well have been an eternity.

"City of Aloran to City of Bloran. We have...76,120 accounted for," the radio announced in a somber tone.

The people around the table put their heads down with a choir of sighs. Hitchcock gripped his radio tighter before he turned it off. Benny walked around to the woman and put his hand on her shoulder. The red dress felt smooth in his hand, but did not bring him any comfort.

"Elizabeth. You don't have to be here for this," Benny said.

She put her hand on his and looked up to him. "I need to see this through."

Benny nodded. "Alright everyone. You heard the count. Twenty more people need to go."

"Do we have to? I have seen enough death for one day," a bald man with huge biceps said.

"You know the rules, Kenneth. Without equal numbers, the curse will return on both our cities.”

Kenneth was the first to get up, hoisting his comically sized mallet over his bare shoulder. The mallet head was stained with blood from the others that had come before. Following him was a slender man in a tight yellow leotard. His blonde hair swayed with youthful energy, but his body was sluggish. 

"Guys, perk up now. You can't go out there like that,” Benny said.

Kenneth ignored him, while the younger man put on the biggest fake smile he could. The rest at the table got up and followed the other two out of the room. Roars from outside funneled into the room when the door opened. Hitchcock got up and turned to Benny.

"When you're done, let me know. I don't want to watch the show," Hitchcock said.

"I don't blame you. Have a good night."

Hitchcock nodded and left out the door. This time a voice could be heard for a brief moment over a loudspeaker before the door closed in the dark room. Elizabeth got up from her seat and adjusted Benny's flashy uniform that made him look like the nutcracker. She stared into his weary eyes, both knowing what came next.

"You are the bravest man I know, Benny."

"I wish there was another way."

"I do too," she said, laying a gentle kiss on his cheek. "The show must go on."

Benny sighed and rolled his head around causing his neck to crack. He walked up to the door with her, holding her hand. Taking a few deep breaths he looked back to Elizabeth, who had her eyes shut tight for a moment before opening them. They both gave each other an acknowledging glance and pushed open the door.

The roars of the crowd and bright lights blasted them as they skipped across the wood stage. People cheered and clapped, with more vigor as they made their way center stage to where their soon to be victims hung by their wrists from gallows.

"We are back!" Benny announced to the crowd, which followed with cheers. 

He could not see where the crowd ended, but their response suggested that no one had left during the intermission. It brought him great pain that people wanted to watch such cruelty, but he had no time to dwell on it. He had a show to do. 

"Sorry we kept you waiting. This one can get a little handsy," he said, pretending to pinch her butt. Without missing a beat she slapped him across the face, sending the crowd into laughter. 

"Hey, save some for our guests, Sweety," Benny said with a smirk.

She reached across his waist and drew the saber that was on his belt. Elizabeth put the blade under his chin, causing him to freeze. The crowd got silent, excited to watch the drama unfold.

"Who are you calling, Sweety?" Elizabeth asked.

"Come on, darling. You could hurt someone with that," Benny said, backing up toward the hanging men. Elizabeth kept the blade close to him, not willing to let him go.

"Isn't that the intention?"

"Sure, but not me I hope," he said with his hands in the air. 

"Depends, are you going to touch me again?"

"I was hoping to do more than that," he said with a wink.

Elizabeth took a wide swing at his head, giving him plenty of time to duck out of the way. The blade instead slashed open the man behind him spilling his guts all over the stage. His cries of pain were muffled by the roar from the crowd. Benny moved to his left, lining up another helpless victim to his back.

"Okay, I get it. It's that time of the month. You're sensitive," Benny said.

Elizabeth yelled and charged him. He sidestep her stab with ease, allowing the man behind him to get stabbed through the heart. She tried to pull it out, but it was stuck for some reason. Elizabeth put her foot up on him to push away, but the blade was not going nowhere.

"You need help with that?" Benny said, leaning against another helpless man down the row. 

The crowd laughed and Elizabeth still struggled to get the blade out of the man. Kenneth walked over while the young man in the yellow leotard walked across the top bar that suspended the helpless men.

"Excuse me, ma'am. I think I can help you with that,” Kenneth said, walking toward her and lifting his mallet.

Elizabeth stepped aside and Kenneth rocked his massive mallet back and forth by his legs. The crowd grew quiet in anticipation. After the seventh time, he lifted the mallet and swung it into the hilt of the sword. Benny pushed off the man he was leaning against and the blade flew like a hot knife through butter into the bodies down the line. The man Benny pushed narrowly dodged the blade, but the others were not so lucky. Going all the way to the end, the one blade killed seventeen men. The crowd cheered from the impressive feat of strength to which Kenneth hesitated a little bit before getting back into character. Kenneth flexed his muscles and tossed his mallet on the ground.

"I was not expecting that. I guess hitting the gym has its benefits," Benny said.

Elizabeth leaned against Kenneth, lifting one foot in the air. "Why thank you, Strong Man...my hero!"

"Your hero?" Benny said.

"Why yes. I didn't see you help.”

"You were trying to stab me," Benny flailing his hands. 

Elizabeth squeezed Kenneth's arm. "He has such strong muscles. I can't say the same about you."

The crowd jeered, awaiting Benny's retort.

"Oh, you want a strong man. I'll show you a strong man," Benny said, charging up to Kenneth. Kenneth broke away from Elizabeth and went to square off with Benny. Kenneth stood only a few inches taller, but the difference in muscle mass was obvious. "I challenge you to a duel.”

Kenneth gave him a bellowing belly laugh. "You are so small. It will hardly be fair."

"We'll see about that," Benny said, extending his hand out to the side. From above, the man in the yellow leotard dropped the saber into his hand. Kenneth went over to pick up his mallet. They both circled each other. To the crowd, it was two gladiators trying to find an opening for attack. To them, it was timing their choreography. Kenneth was the first to charge, swinging his mallet. 

Benny dodged his exaggerated swings and followed up with a few of his own, both flawless in their dangerous dance. Elizabeth stood next to the last man hanging, who was still rocking back and forth from being pushed out of the way.

"Sooo...how's it hanging?" Elizabeth asked, getting a few laughs from the crowd.

The hanging man cried next to her, still shook by his near death experience. The battle continued on center stage, while the man in the yellow leotard did an acrobatic routine that would impress even the harshest critic. People were cheering and enjoying themselves, but the show could not go on forever. Benny had Kenneth backpedaling toward the last hanging man. Kenneth gave Benny the cue and he went for a stab. Falling to the floor, Kenneth avoided the blade by mere inches.

The blade went through the last man and caused him to scream in pain. He glanced over to Elizabeth who was hiding her pain behind a well rehearsed smile. Benny pulled the blade out and the blood poured over Kenneth. Kenneth put his hands up, trying to block the stream of blood.

"I give up! I surrender!" Kenneth yelled in a high pitched voice.

Benny turned to face the audience and lifted his bloody saber. The crowd cheered and Elizabeth rushed to embrace him. They let the crowd calm down before they wrapped up their performance.

"Am I strong enough for you now?" Benny asked Elizabeth.

"Too early to tell. I think we will need to take this somewhere private." Elizabeth slapped him on the butt, causing him to jump.

Benny raised his eyebrows and gave the audience a big smile. "Well you heard the lady. Scram. All of you! I have a rendezvous with this fetching creature.”

The crowd clapped as the two made their way off stage. He wrapped his arm around her and held her close. Once they entered the safety of the room, she collapsed in his arms. Her tears and moans were muffled in his chest. He held her up, letting a single tear leave his eye in solidarity. It was another successful performance. Benny patted her on the back.

"Let it out. Let it out."