TRILOGY OF TERROR

THREE  TALES OF MULISH HORROR FOR HALLOWEEN

FEAST OF FLESH: MULE v. WALKING DEAD

Even in a zombie apocalypse, there is no way I am going to break my lifting routine.  Plus it is especially crucial during a zombie apocalypse to keep in tip top shape, it may be the difference between life and death.  So after going on a run to a GNC to score some Whey protein for our depleted stocks, the crew and I headed for a nearby gym we had recently cleared of walkers.  We travel during the day, because

1.      You can see shit

                   2.      Zombies are night creatures

Forget what you have seen in movies and television, zombies are creatures of the night, photophobic like cockroaches.  Light won’t kill ‘em-- they ain’t vampires-- but during the day they retreat inside and into the shadows, they are also weaker and more sluggish.  Also forget about the slow lumbering zombies, at night, provided the zombies are the recently departed, zombies can be damn fast, damn fast.  Although those who haven’t fed tend to be lethargic as well.  They also do not seem particularly focused on brains, but seem mainly interested in eating muscle and viscera.

We are now in the fourth month of the apochy.  It started slowly, with isolated incidents around the nation and the globe, and then grew exponentially.  By the second week, utilities began to fail, and organized resistance broke down by the beginning of the fourth week.  That was when the Presidential addresses from Mount Weather Emergency Operation Center ceased, although by that time we were hoarding batteries, and lying radio broadcasts were of low priority.

Mount Weather Emergency Operation Center

The nights then belonged to the zombs, while the days belonged to human survivors, and packs of wild dogs.  Apparently the zombie infection only seemed to effect humans.  The zombs would feed on animals, so the dogs, cats, birds and other wild and feral animals, as did humans, so they learned to be wary.   Once you figured out the zombie menace, they were less dangerous than other desperate gangs of human survivors, battling for scarce resources.   Zombs are stupid, but the humans that have survived the initial months of the apochy…that was a different story.

Our crew currently consisted of myself, my current primary apocalypse babe Carla, Jamal, Tyrone and his main squeeze Denise, Blake, Aaron the army ranger and his army buddy Murdoch, Big Brody and several cardio babe randoms for entertainment.  We don’t coddle no weak ass AFCs in this crew, you either got to be a lifter, or a bunny with some speed from a lifetime of cardio.  Plus if we are ever going to repopulate the world someday, we want primo genetics for the humanity reboot, although to be honest, right now we are focused on sheer survival.  At night we retreat to a Walmart we have fortified and stocked with supplies, during the day we forage and lift.

When we got to the gym there were some largely eaten guido carcasses in the parking lot that hadn’t been there last time we rolled through, not a good sign, this area had been largely quiet of zomb activity lately…which is why we use it as our current home base.  These interloping guidos must have drawn some in.  Fuckin’ guidos, man!  Murdoch gave the ‘Eyes alert’ sign, and we got into our battle stances.  I think fuckin’ Murdoch sometimes fancied himself leader of this crew, whenever everybody knows this is MULE’S CREW.  I am going to have to teach Murdoch a lesson in hierarchy when things settle down (relatively) again.   Still he was a good man in a fight be it with zombs or other human crews.

The dismembered guidos became active when we got close, reaching out and moaning, but Big Brody dispatched them with a shovel.  We entered the gym, warily, we had to make sure the joint was clear before we settled down for our workouts.  It was leg day, but because it’s the apochy we don’t work them quite as hard as we did in the old days, you have to be able to RUN at all times, these days.

First thing we noticed inside, was there were some undead cardio bunnies hanging around the inert treadmills, ellipticals and stairclimbers.  I guess old instincts die hard.  I wonder if the electricity still had been running whether they would have been trying to use them.  They still had smoking hot bodies, but their faces were all zombified and gross so all around give ‘em a 3/10 on the scale.

Aaron, Murdoch and Blake moved to take out the cardio bunny zombs, while Tyrone, Jamal, Big Brody and I did some scouting around the rest of the place.  The women set to whipping us up some pre-workout protein shakes with: water, powdered milk, whey, peanut butter and tuna.  One shitty thing about the apochy-no friggin’ blenders.  That is why we had the women working the shakes, you had to use metal whisks, and lifters have no patience for that kind of shit.

Another shitty thing about the apochy, no working showers or toilets, I sure miss indoor plumbing!  Fuckin’ apochy!  Guys got to stay clean, so our women were assigned the tasks to give us sweaty alpha studs sponge baths from our rain barrel water.  Not to be confused with our supplies of purified drinking water that Aaron and Murdoch had driven in along with MREs, weapons and ammo from the army depot at Fort Carson, because even in an apochy, a lifter has to hydrate!

When Tyrone, Jamal, Big Brody, and I returned from our scouting, we found that the main gym area was overrun military types in biohazard suits.  Where did they come from?  If I had to hazard a guess, they were out of Cheyenne Mountain.

 The rest of our crew were tied up, gagged, sedated and wearing color coded neck collars. There was nine of them to our four.  Still we were armed and they were clearly still unaware of our presence. They were also clearly wedded to the old, lost world-hunkered down in their base most of the time, they would not of adapted yet to the new grim realities.  In the face of a blitzkrieg, they would likely withdraw in haste.

With the drop on them, we opened fire with our weapons, doing chest kill shots, taking out four of them, and causing the rest to scatter back to find cover.  We sent Big Brody and Tyrone to untie our crew and drag them to safety, while Jamal and I provided cover fire.   I don’t know what the government folks were up to, but given it was the zomb apochy, pretty sure it was some fiendish experiments that we didn’t want to be no part of.  

While we were pinning down the government folks hiding out by the ellipticals, the one’s we had taken out earlier, came back all zombie creating chaos and havoc, going after some of our crew who were still “tagged and bagged” by the government crew.  When the government crew finally retreated, I looked over to see what was left of our group.  Murdoch, the cardo bunnies, and the reanimated military were all wasted.  Aaron, Denise, Jamal, Tyrone, Big Brody and I were all left of my crew.  Well at least we were done with Murdoch.  Then I noticed that Carla was ripping out Blake’s entrails with her teeth.  Fuckin’ apochy, she was a really good lay, too. I blew her away, two blasts to the head and she was an inanimate carcass.  Fuckin’ zomb apochy!!!

HOWL: MULE v. THE WEREWOLF

I first noticed Blake’s strange behavior the day following the full moon.  He was sporting a hickey, and there was something especially sexy about him, this raw sexual carnality that had me so turned on, I popped a huge painful boner.  Still Blake was a hot guy, so I could dismiss all that as me just being horned up…but the first warning sign that something was indeed off kilter, was when after a workout, Blake asked me if I wanted to go catch some dinner, his treat.  I was ready to demure, when he mentioned Ted’s Montana Grill to grab some BISON BURGERS!  

Blake

Now, Blake had been a confirmed Vegan since childhood, so this was odd.  A week later we were watching football with the guys, and he ordered Meatlover’s pizza.  We all decided it must be some protein deficiency thing, since he had been working out like mad lately, piling on plates like they were going out of style. We also wondered what the heck was up with the yellow in his eye, not the white part, but the pupils, creepy, Jamal thought it might be jaundice of some freaky shit like that.

 When the others had left, Blake was helping me clean up.  Next thing I know he was eyeing me with an even greater hunger.  

He sucker punched me so hard that my eyes were rolling around in my head, I saw spinning constellations, and heard bells were ringing in my ears!

Next he tackled me to the floor with a strength I had never seen before, and while he held me with one arm, pulled my pants down with the other, all the while slobbering all over me with his tongue like a Saint Bernard.  Blake had been a convenient EBC (Emergency Booty Call) for me for several weeks, and always compliantly bottomed, but here he was not only attempting to top, but in a violent, brutish manner, so uncharacteristic of the normally tranquil, gentle Herbalist.  

My nickname for Blake was even “Mr. Harmony”.  He had caught me by surprise by the maneuver, and I began resisting, but his strength was inhuman, and I found myself bound by his sheer overwhelming power.  I put up a fight, but remained pinned, adding a number of scratches and “love bites” from Blake for my troubles.  When he finally released me, battered and bruised, stars were circling my anus, and hearts were circling my head.  I felt sheepishly submissive. 

“Who is the manliest, now?”  He taunted.  I sat there with a friction burned butthole, the sphincter muscles stretched like the vagina of a woman who gave birth to a 14 lb. baby; my cock spewing, my heart pounding and could only manage a “Whatever, Dude” in feeble reply. Something was definitely odd about Blake, that was for sure, but at that moment, I didn’t seem to mind.

As he was leaving he ordered—ORDERED—me to come round his place tomorrow, so he could pound my ass some more. Now that snapped me out of my subordinate reverie!  As I was sitting in a tub of medicated ice water soaking my aching shithole, I fumed and fomented.   “What the heck was up with muthafuckin’ chewing me up with his teeth….and what the fuck was with those nails, muthafuckah should trim those damn things.  How did Blake beat me?   Was I coming down with something?” 

I felt so weak in comparison with him, like the before picture in an old Charles Atlas advertisement

and I was in full fighting trim, and he wasn’t even pulling any of his shaolin Kung-Fu shit either. WTF? Tomorrow I would teach that mutha a lesson!  That is for sure!

“Get your ass over here NOW, cupcake!”

The next day was whipping up a protein shake, and I got a text from Blake.  “Get your ass over here NOW, cupcake!”  I was fuming!

I ran into Madame Drina on my way out to the Jeep. The crazy old coot from down the development, she always smelled of incense and cough medicine, she came waddling up fast on me, shaking her cane:  

“Mule, you are in danger. You have the mark of the vârcolac –how you say—man with the soul of the wolf. But there is hope, that which has bit you is still se schimba treptat, undergoing the change, but come the next full moon, you will begin to change yourself! You must slay the lineage of this vârcolac before your soul is itself lost to that of the wolf.”

“No worries old woman- this guy has the soul of a Mule, and I can kick the shit out of any doggie!”

“Beware the false confidence of youth, Mule. In the Romany tongue Mu-le is the spirit or soul of a dead person, and so your soul will become when you are possessed by the spirit of the pricolici- do not scoff for the danger to you is very real!”  She spoke in a heavy accent of her native Transylvania, she was from an isolated village which time had almost forgot, nestled in the mountains, seeped in ancient superstitions.

Madame Drina was a sweet ol’ thing most of the time, but was definitely crazy as a loon, ranting on about strange supernatural shit, and trying to foist on these strange smelling charms on me…like she did now.  “Agrimony, Wolfsbane, Asafetida, Mullein, and Oil of Abremelin, all in a pouch of blessed silk, set in the hollow of a crucifix of Rowan wood.  It will help protect you!”

The crucifix was some huge thing like rappers wear, and this charm really stank to high heaven, it was the most malodorous shit she had tried to give me so far.   I thanked her, and when she was out of sight, ditched it.  Then I hopped into my jeep, and sped off for Blake’s digs to teach granola boy a lesson he would NEVER forget.

Blake answered the door in only his boxers.  He seemed much more hirsute than normal, and had a coating of both chest and back fur.  All that in a day?  The fucker must shave like crazy.   “Oh good, my butt boy is here for his daily plowing!  Clearly you are enjoying your new role in life!”

I stepped inside and as soon as the door closed, sucker punched Blake

 and then laid in on him with my classic five punch combo. 

For those not familiar with the devastating juggernaut of my five punch combo, it consists of a right hook to the jaw, a left jab to the jaw, a right thrust of my sledgehammer fist to the abs, a left smash to the ribs with the force of a freight train, followed by the coup de grace of a right uppercut. It was nearly guaranteed to have the opponent either laid out like a carpet unconscious, or curled up on the ground in a fetal position whimpering for his mother….Nearly guaranteed.  Blake absorbed every blow and came back from each hit grinning like the Cheshire Cat.

Having shrugged off my five punch combo,  Blake returned with three devastating jabs to the head.

As my head was reeling from the punches, Blake locked me in a crushing bear hug.  

I wrapped my arms around him and tried to give back squeeze for squeeze, veins and muscles popping along every contoured ridge of my heavily muscled body, but while I was wincing from the pain, Blake was snarling fiendishly in an almost animal guttural laugh, mocking my every effort.  I was soon on the losing end of this war of attrition.  He pressed on the juncture of my lumbar and sacral vertebrae his own ample sinew bulging with the effort. I felt like I had been run over by a steamroller. He squeezed harder and harder, and it was like the crush of an industrial vise.  A huge gush of air rushed from my mouth along with a spray of blood and saliva as I lost a lungful of air like Blake had untied a balloon and let it loose, only the balloon was me. 

As he dug deeper into my spine, I felt excruciating pain shooting up and down my sciatic nerve like an electric circuit shorting out as my legs went numb and rubbery. My mind flashed back to the drubbing I had taken from Grappler Dan, and I realized Blake was even exceeding the punishment inflicted on me by that Master of the Bear Hug.  I slumped in his nightmarish embrace, and he eased his hold allowing me to drop to my knees.   I saw his left fist wind back and missile right for my face before there was an explosion of white stars, and then all faded to black.

Blake basically blitzkrieged my ass. He buggered me balls deep until brains were leaking out from both ears.  I had never received such a pounding in my life, not even by the Trucker (link).  While I lay there with little Blakes and hearts circling my besotted head, Mr. Harmony went to his fridge, pulled out a family pack of ground beef, ripped it open and began chowing it down raw.  I was shocked out of my infatuation by the sheer grossness of what he was doing. “God, man.  Cook that shit!”

“…and ruin the flavor?” he returned.  Things had gone so bizarro world that I began to reflect on what that crazy old Madame Drina had been talking about.

 I managed to avoid Blake for a couple weeks, as I tried to figure out what to do.  I noticed I was craving meat like crazy and was wolfing down and purchasing meat at levels that were out of control even for a carnivore like me. I had to keep restocking every few days. I also noticed I was growing increasingly hairy, maybe it was from thinking myself as a silverback gorilla, that I was growing increasingly to resemble one.  I kept shaving that shit, not going around looking like that.

 So feeling safe, with a wreath made of wolfsbane made by Madame Drina hanging on my door, I began to relax a bit.  I heard the doorbell ring, looked out the spy hole and saw guy in a cap holding some pizza boxes in front of his face, and said: “Cool, that was fast!”..  I opened the door, and as a fist hit my face, I saw a glimpse of the pizza delivery guy lying unconscious on my front stoop before I saw constellations and then everything faded to black.

I woke up to find myself with a throbbing jaw, trussed up in rope and duct tape.  “You have been a very bad boy, Mule!”  That fucker Blake was wolfing down all of the meat I had in my condo!  Raw of course!  You are part of my pack now, and don’t forget it!  I looked about and saw Tyrone, Jamal, and some guys from the gym: Greg, Peter and “Rambo” all looking rather lupine, with blood smeared around their faces and scattered remnants of neighborhood pets in their hands.  Looks like Blake had been busy when I was avoiding him.

In some gang initiation, the rest of the wolf crew all gang banged my ass, Blake taking his crack at my crack first, then Tyrone, Jamal, Greg, Rambo and Peter until my poor little ass was bleeding.  When they left and I could crawl, got some ice in a bucket, tossed it in a tub full of cold water and iced my ass again.

I then knew what I had to do.  I melted down some silver dollars my Ganny had left me, made some silver pellets for my shotgun and waited a few days for the night of the Full Moon.   The gang was set to gather at my place, but Blake was going to arrive first, which was perfect for my plans.

Instead of Ginger stud Blake, a hot scantily clad ginger babe showed up at my door.

She emanated such carnal energy, that I immediately had solid wood.  Her eyes glowed with a supernal fire, and my brain could think of nothing but having sex with her.

“May I come in?”--she purred in an exotic Euro-trash accent. 

I let her slide by me and closed the door, rivulets of drool pouring out from my slackened jaw as I burned with desire for her.

“My name is Amanda…and we have a mutual acquaintance….Blake…. He told me about you, and I felt I just had to meet you.”  Her voice was sultry and her accent was Eastern European.

“H-h-how do you know B-B-Blake…you his sister or somethin’?”- I stammered getting ready to pounce on this object of sensuality burning me up with desire.

“Definitely, more of the ‘or something’ to be sure.  I am the pricolici who created him, and directed him to build his pack... but it could be YOUR pack…if you prove worthy.”

I had googled, pricolici when I had encountered the word previously in a conversation with Madame Drina.  Pricolici were demon spirits of the wolf, possessed a wild chaotic spirit nature, a personification of the hunt, sensuality and change.  The knowledge didn’t alter my overwhelming feeling of lust, and she must have had similar feelings of rapacious carnality, as she pulled me into the bedroom and over to the bed transforming to an ever lupine but still desirably feminine form.

We had the most energetic and athletic sex of my vast sexual career. She clawed my back like a fiend. During our fuckfest, she made bestial sounds like these:

After we were done, she whispered, in her Carpathian dulcet tones, dark secrets and promises into my ear, and I understood why Blake had kept the secret of Amanda to himself: she was not something you wanted to share with your bros, this was the one case where the ho’ was way more important than the bros.

She left, and I laid in wait for Blake.  I had my shotgun and my silver shot loaded and at the ready.  I noticed I had to wear gloves to touch the silver now, as it its touch now burned me. 

Blake arrived, and I yelled for him to come in, that the door was open.  He came in, and I told him to make himself comfortable and that there was some steaks in the fridge. 

I caught sight from the bedroom window of the full moon bursting through the clouds…as I peeked through the bedroom door, I saw Blake undergoing a transformation from man to beast, before my eyes, just as Amanda had said he would.

I gave the werewolf form of Blake, double barrels, just as Amanda had explained to me.   The silver might burn him while in human form, but it only would kill him when he was in his full wolf form.  The wolf creature fell back from the impact and writhed in agony. Blake transformed back into a man, the beautiful ginger snap I had known, he certainly did make a good looking corpse, despite the fact his chest was torn up by the shot.

Then I felt a terrible wrenching of my stomach, and I felt a painful transformation overcoming me, just like it had overcome Blake moments earlier.  As the last vestiges of the human Mule drifted into pure wolf consciousness, I felt myself unleashing the most spectacular wolf howl, like something out of a horror movie, and I heard the distant echoes of my new won pack as they came to greet their new alpha.

KISS OF DEATH: MULE v. THE VAMPIRE BISH

My crazy old neighbor down the block, Madame Drina was out walking her rat dog, when she saw me and waved, I looked around for some place to hide.  But she was spry for an octogenarian and was on me like a flash.  “Mule!  Mule!  I have done your tarot!  You must beware, the cards speak of danger, and unclean spirits surround you and beware especially of the gaze of the shilmulo!”

“I will be careful”, I promised.  I had no idea what a shilmulo was, I would have to google it later.  I sure hope it wasn’t some nasty STD.  I was planning for the night on the town, and didn’t need to be worrying about Madame Drina’s crazy shit.

I don’t do clubs as much as I used to, and even when I did it regularly, wasn’t into the Goth chicks, but this one was an exotic 10/10 and my attention was transfixed on her fine angles and curves.  I was absolutely intoxicated, I wanted to possess her, like I had possessed no other woman…but a part of me was mystified.  Was she even really a 10/10…or just seemed to be…there was something freaky about this woman that my rational self could not quite place, but emotions of lust and desire swamped my brain and loins with desire.  I could not take my eyes off of her, I was mesmerized, as if under a spell.

I began flashing the dimples and pearly whites and flexing my chest, delts, traps, biceps and triceps all to good effect so that I was bulging out of wifebeater.  I pulled out no stops, I engaged in all the poses that typically sent women frothing at the mouth and running up to me with hearts spiraling round their heads.  This brazen, jaded hussy merely licked her lips and curled her finger for me to come to her.  An alpha male doesn’t roll that way, but as if under some glamor, I felt myself drawn to her, and strutted over to her table. My heart was beating fast and hard, pounding like a tympani in my ears, it felt like something out of Edgar Allen Poe, especially since it almost seemed as this Emo chick could hear it too…

I sat down next to the Goth chick, and she told me her name was Zafrina, which seemed to fit. Her voice had a sultry almost musical lilt and her accent was Eastern European: Russian? Romanian?  Who knows that kind of shit.  I introduced myself as Mule. I growled at some AFCs that were honing in and they scattered.  I asked if I could buy her a drink, and she demurred. 

 "I have drunk my fill, but perhaps I will have some red of a good vintage…later."   I ordered a beer.  

She inquired if the iron in my blood was at good levels, “I have known many bodybuilders who suffer from an iron deficiency.”  

I assured you I had no issues with that, kept my iron levels up “…as it was essential for maximum athletic performance.”  

This seemed to please her, although I found the whole conversation strange….but what do you expect from a Goth chick, if not weirdness. 

I just started my beer when she up and said: “Why don’t we go to my place and fuck!”  Direct, to the point and in line with what I was thinking, so I just said.  “Sure!”

She took me to this rambling old Edwardian mansion filled with expensive art and furniture.

“Nice digs” I commented understatedly. Still housekeeping was not this bish’s strong suit as the place had dust and cobwebs all around.

“Just some things I have acquired over the years…”-- she said in a world-weary blasé fashion. We began ripping each other’s clothes off right there in the foyer, in front of the grand staircase.

“I have crossed oceans of time in a quest for you-the perfect specimen of man.  Intelligent, handsome and genetically endowed both in the capacity for a truly Herculean physique and…”--she squeezed through my jeans hard on my fully engorged donger-- “…in other ways as well.  I have longed for you, ached for you, dreamed of you, my perfect Adonis, sought through the centuries for you and ONLY YOU, all for you to become my one and only consort, and spend an eternity with me…”

I replied casually: “I get that A LOT!”

We proceeded to fuck like rabbits, I pulled her up into a standing 69 which she really liked as it made her feel like a bat she said, and then after that she rode my dick like a pony up the staircase and into her bedchamber.  The room lit up with candles, when we entered, some more freaky shit I couldn’t wrap my mind around, but lustful thoughts pushed everything else temporarily to the side.  I crossed the room with her still wrapped around me, and I slammed her down on the bed. 

 We rolled around humping in every sexual position I had ever done, including a few that this knowledgeable minx showed me. I was doing bish raises, lifting her up into the air, and then down on my dick, sex pushups, doing clap pushups in between thrusts, and all sorts of demonstrations of both my sexual prowess, physical stamina and superior strength.  

The Bish liked that a whole lot.  She caressed, licked and kissed my massive muscles.  Whatever chicks might say about not liking big muscles, when push came to shove, have not a bish yet who didn’t go ape-shit over my muscles.  

She was great in the sack, save for one thing.  I always felt some teeth when she was slobbing on my knob.  Had to be those oversized canines of hers…I thought with her money she could afford a dentist to take care of it.  At one point in the bedroom, her teeth pressed so hard on my donger I had to give her a hard cuff with my fist, leaving a bruise on her cheek.  Chicks got to learn!.  After that I got up and took a pee.  The bathroom was all marble and gold, but the really weird thing was there was no bathroom mirror.  What kind of chick doesn’t have a mirror in her bathroom.   I asked her about that when I got back, and she just smiled.  “Mirrors are the reflection of vanity, I don’t have any in the house.”  

“How do you do your hair and make-up?”  I inquired, bewildered.

“I have servants for that…obedient, trusted servants…”  

Then she bit me on the neck, but this wasn’t no hickey, she had fangs and I felt myself being sucked dry, like a fly in the jaws of a spider.

My life force was draining away, but her fangs had injected some sort of narcotic that took me into this state of wild euphoria, such that I did not fight or resist, although I could have flung that bish Zafrina off of me, breaking her fangs.  But something in me wanted her to take me, possess me, claim me for her own. 

When I was feeling drained and light headed, she dragged a nail across her naked breasts causing blood to flow, and pushed my head down onto the breast and I suckled on the wound, drinking greedily of the blood.

Next thing I knew, I was convulsing like an epileptic.  The pain was excruciating, it was like a combination of the worst beatdown I had received, plus worst day in Football, plus Leg Day! Hurt like a muther. 

 “Do not fight it, the old Mule is dying, and a new, glorious immortal Mule is about to be born.  I am your sire, your mother, your lover, your Mistress, your partner in eternity.  We will have amazing times together, you and I.”

I went uncoscious, and when I awoke she said.  "It is near to dawn, we must rest."  I looked over at the bed...and she shook her hood and took me by the hand.  She led me down the main staircase, and into the library.  

She pulled down a sconce near some book cases, and one of them spun 90 degrees, revealing a dark staircase leading down  into dressed stone catacombs.  Although the cellar complex was only illuminated by a small candle that Zafrina was holding, I found I had new found senses, including the echolocation abilities of a bat.  I was thus able to navigate the a subterranean labyrinth, deep beneath the house without bumping into anything.  I would of been lost in the maze, without the guidance of Zafrina.  We weaved through a maze of tunnels, and then down some stairs into a crypt.

Dusty, cobwebbed crypt, full of skeletons, coffers full of coins, jewels and various treasures, and two bejeweled catafalques which on each rested an ornate high end coffin. Not ancient like most of the furnishings, but modern.  One cobwebbed skeleton in rotting Sherlock Holmes looking gear held an item that caught my attention, and while Vampire Bish was looking away, I wrestled it greedily from the corpse’s skeletal hand, and stuck it in my back pocket.

"One last kiss before we sleep for the day."  she whispered alluringly. As they embraced, Mule reached into his pocket, pulled out the item, a sharpened wooden stake, and drove it through her back into her heart.  He let go of her and she stumbled back in surprise and her flesh burst into flame before she collapsed into a pile of charred ash and bone.

“Human or vampire, I AM THE ALPHA, bish, and I don’t serve no chick, be her human or vampire.  Now time to nap and tonight I am going to  sire me some vampire bishes to serve as my vampire harem!”

ROLL EXIT THEME: