Friday, October 7, 2011

Frightening Friday: The Shirtless Werewolf and Vampire Epidemic

Hey, werewolf. Why so sad?











 Oh, hey, everybody. I'm just hanging out here all casual. Nothing's going on. I'm absolutely not going to...VAMPIRE!

Did I scare you?

Good. You should be scared. Because vampires are TOTALLY SCARY. They drink blood. They sleep in coffins. They sit by your bed and watch you sleep all night. They make sweet, sweet love to you within the bonds of matrimony. Terrifying!

You know what else is scary? WEREWOLVES! They turn into animals with an uncontrollable appetite during the full moon, or whenever. They flex their muscles. They wear jorts.

I know that right now you're getting really, really scared and want me to just stop writing this and do something more wholesome for Halloween, like bake sugar cookies shaped like bats. But I won't. Why? Because it's Frightening Friday. So, put on one of those Poise pads to prevent "terror leakage," and let's do this thing.


The Shirtless Werewolf and Vampire Epidemic

The people of Los Spatulas, New Mexico, had a terrible problem. The town was overrun with werewolves. And worse, the werewolves were handsome. Very, very handsome. And they walked around without shirts on, and they were sweaty. So sweaty.

Even worse than that, the town was also overpopulated by vampires. Sexy vampires, who wanted nothing more than to drive around the town recklessly without shirts on and violate that rule about only coming out at night.

As you can imagine, everyone in the town of Los Spatulas was distracted by all that sweaty, shirtless sexiness, and it caused a lot of problems. The mayor spent afternoons locked in his office with binoculars and an economy-sized tub of Vaseline, not signing a single bill into law. The town religious leaders had slumber parties every night at which the rabbi frequently dared the Lutheran minister to totally make out with a picture of one of the town's more attractive werewolves, rather than concentrating on sermon writing and helping the poor. The principal at the high school gave lots and lots of spankings to naughty teenage vampires and werewolves as often as he could. In fact, that's what he was doing when a disgruntled former shop teacher broke into the cafeteria and mowed everyone down with a nail gun.

"What was that noise?" said the vampire the principal was spanking at the time. "And why does the school suddenly smell so delicious?"

"Shut up and grab those ankles, you sparkly bloodsucking hunk of man!" said the principal.

Needless to say, Los Spatulas was in a bad situation. And it wasn't helped by the overpopulation of fairies, who were also very sexy.

Did I forget to mention the fairies? Sorry about that. Oh, and the werepanthers. Hot, shirtless, sexual fairies and werepanthers. It was all so sexy and hot that I need to take a five minute break from writing this to take an ice bath.

...

Ahhh, that's better. Now, where was I? Yes, fairies and werepanthers.

"Hey, you forgot about the Maenads," you remind me. And, yes, thank you, there were also Maenads. And shifters. And Hobbits. And ghouls...

I think that covers all of the sexy supernatural creatures in the  town...

Oh, wait, no. And wood elves. And ents. And orcs. And centaurs. And not a shirt among any of them to hide their delicious, supernatural pec muscles.

"Good lord," you're saying, "How many super attractive supernatural creatures could possibly live in this town?" And let me tell you, lots. And they thrived on the wildlife in the woods surrounding Los Spatulas because all of them were far too respectful of human life to ever try to consume a human. Of course, this meant that eventually all of the bears, cougars, uni-kittens, ferrets, deer, bats, penguins, wolves, otters, badgers, beavers, and skunks who lived in the woods were all extinct.

But that's not important, unless you are some kind of environmentalist type who doesn't care at all about the well-being of hot, sexy supernatural creatures who need to eat.

"Bethany, are you ever going to get to the point?" you interrupt.

"Of course," I reply. "Don't be ridiculous. The point is in the next sentence."

The only person in Los Spatulas who was even concerned at all about the sudden overpopulation of supernatural creatures and sudden underpopulation of woodland animals was the protagonist of the story, who really should have been introduced in the first paragraph, but I was too busy describing hot, sweaty supernatural bodies to notice that tiny oversight. And because it's now so late in the story, I will simply call her "Protagonist." Just know that she's just moved to town, she's totally emo, and her blood is delicious.

"Oh, I don't even get a name now?" asks Protagonist.

"Shut up, or I'll kill you off in the next paragraph," I reply.

"Well, here's what I--" Protagonist started to say, but then she died.

I guess we're just going to have to end the story here, as we no longer have a protagonist. Just know that the ending was going to be awesome, complete with a fundraiser for the Los Spatulas Wildlife Conservancy. And several-paragraph-long graphic descriptions of vampire sex.

THE END.

2 comments:

Anonymous said...

Vampires are such Hitlers.

Nein Hitler said...

Anonymous people are bigger Hitlers.