The Most Rediculous Horror Story Ever
(© Biswapriya Purkayastha)
I came out of the building – the town hall,
they called it – and into the light of the full moon. The village lay all
around me, silent. There was not a sound. Surely not everyone could be
sleeping? It was only midnight. Then where were the people? Where were the
neighbours visiting each other, the lovers sighing in the moonlight, the
drinking buddies wending their way home from their poker games? Where was
I knew the answer, of course; they were all cowering in fear, fear of the
Creature on the prowl. That was why they had hired me, to rid them of the menace.
I, Puffy the Vampire Slayer, known throughout the land as the killer of the
creatures of the night.
Yes, I, Puffy the Vampire Slayer, who has rid the world of a score of vampires
and has thirty-seven fangs studding her belt – one of the vampires had been
fangless, having been to the dentist just before I got to him (I wasn’t to
know, was I?) and another suffered, let’s say, significant oro-facial damage in
the process of being killed. Puffy the Vampire Slayer, who has a website
offering her services (at the very top rates, of course) and a wall (only for
private viewing) in her top-floor penthouse decorated with zombie scalps. You
may have seen the adverts on TV or in your favourite magazine.
Are you troubled by the successors of Count Dracula? Are zombies trying to eat
you alive? When the going gets tough, Puffy gets going! Log on to
Puffyvampirekiller.com or call 1800-BLOODMASSACRE! Satisfaction Guaranteed!
Yes, Puffy, that’s me.
I stepped out firmly into the middle of the village square, waiting for the
Creature to come to me. My costume was in the very best movie tradition: black
leather top, moulded so tight across the chest that it held my breasts up and
my nipples erect; black leather pants, again so tight that they cut into my
various clefts; and thigh-high boots. I held my streaked hair back with a clasp
in the shape of a crucifix, all the better to deter vampires with, as was my
garlic necklace (an odoriferous and unfortunate necessity). It’s a pity, I’ve
always thought, that my employers demanded I dress the part. Left to myself I’d
have done the job perfectly adequately in an old sweater, slacks and sneakers,
and been more comfortable about it too.
Over my shoulder hung my trusty crossbow, which fired stakes set to home in on
vampire hearts. At my belt were solar grenades, made to emit light as brilliant
as the sun. If this were an antizombie mission, I’d have been carrying heavy
ordnance, including a submachine gun, a bazooka and a flame-thrower at the
least, and I’d certainly not have been on foot. But this Creature wasn’t a
zombie, so all I carried by way of firearms was a 9mm revolver at my hip...and
that loaded with some rather special ammunition. I did not anticipate
having to use it.
"Hey, you," I called. "You’ve been biting the throats out of the local populace
long enough. Come out and fight like a...whatever."
Nothing happened, except that the moon seemed to somehow grow larger and more
portentous. This was strange, because usually the moon seems to shrink as it
rises into the sky. The shadows shrunk but grew darker and full of hidden
menace. I shivered suddenly, fighting off an attack of incipient nerves.
Maybe I needed a holiday, I thought. Certainly, I could afford one. Yes, with
the bonus from tonight’s work I’d go off to Rio, I decided. A couple of weeks
soaking up the sun on Copacabana beach, and a few good rolls in the hay with
some tourist hunk, and I’d be as good as new.
I stood in the middle of the square and scanned the rooftops and the shadows.
I’d been right up there just now, scanning the streets. In the afternoon I’d
come up and put cameras and recorders at various points, so that nothing could
enter or leave the village without my being aware of it, unless it came and
went by the drains, and the Creature I sought was, I was sure, too large and
fastidious even to think of using the drains.
What my cameras and recorders had just told me, up in my rooftop vantage point,
was that something was in the streets. Something that stayed in the shadows,
out of reach of the direct focus of the lenses, and slipped silently from lane
to lane, and was on the prowl for prey. It was there all right, somewhere not
far from me. I could feel it watching me, gauging when it would be safe to
attack. It would have a big surprise.
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