So here it is.
My labor of (mostly) labor for the last month or so. I'll let the results speak for themselves - even if they aren't always pretty.
Tyler David Coltraine's cameo is contained below as is the winner of our "What Will...
So here it is.
My labor of (mostly) labor for the last month or so. I'll let the results speak for themselves - even if they aren't always pretty.
Tyler David Coltraine's cameo is contained below as is the winner of our "What Will Campbell Wear" contest - greggchamberlain of
werewolf.com/vb. I also want to give mention to the honorable mentions - jmcleod, Tenzil Kem, galliard and BDStevens. Thank you all - and thanks to everyone who entered the contest.
So without further ado:
Season's Feedings
By Richard Pulfer
"Well, that didn't work." the werewolf Campbell grunted as they raced through the
parking lot. They were greeted only by the sound of squealing tires in the
mid-December snow. His vampire friend Montague didn't say anything at all, his deep
red eyes focused entirely on the chase in front of him.
It seemed like the perfect hideout for the monsters of the
Night - a gardening supplies store named Gensler Gardens.
In their over-confidence, they had fallen right on the grid of monster hunting
monsters, of which there are only two - the vampire Montague and the werewolf
Campbell.
The balding werewolf wore the loudest possible Hawaiian
shirt and Bermuda shorts with a pair of beach sandals, extra dark wraparound
sunglasses and an "Ambassador Duke" style cigarette holder held in place of
Scotch tape. A few Havana
cigars protruded from the pocket of the bright Hawaiian shirt. And to top it
all off, Campbell's
thinning blond hair was covered by a bright Santa hat.
The pudgy vampire didn't look nearly as jolly or bright in
his dark gray slacks and matching blazer, but he did wear a similarly bright
fizzy Santa hat along with a big white beard over his smooth pale face.
Montague was not necessarily portly, but far from Robert Pattinson. Flakes of
snow lumped through his short dark hair, and a snowball Campbell had thrown earlier had left a wet
mark on the pot belly shape of his shirt
Campbell's eyes went small
and yellow as he scanned Gensler
Gardens for possible
weapons of a projectile nature. The screeching of tires rang in his ears, now
sharpened into long, triangular shapes sprinkled with large strips of hair
running down the werewolf's face.
"What else burns you in there?" Campbell asked with impeding urgency.
Montague shuddered and pointed. The vampire was having a
horrid Christmas so far, as he discovered many seemingly innocuous Christmas
decorations were holy in nature, creating physical burns along the vampire's
skin. It was especially tough for Montague - Christian and a vampire to boot. A
month ago, Campbell
had found his roommate fallen asleep reading the Bible. Montague had the names
of the three magi branded onto his cheek for the rest of the week.
The werewolf lunged forward and picked up the object
Montague had pointed to.
"I'm not even watching this." Montague snapped.
Campbell
was holding a gleaming ceramic shape Montague quickly identified as the Baby
Jesus, or at least, a reasonable if not overly blue-eyed facsimile.
Then, with a lupine twist, Campbell brought his right arm down a clawed,
hairy arc. Within seconds, the small nativity figure was airborne, cruising
through the air with the wind at His smooth baby's bottom and a surprisingly
aerodynamic favor.
The car was still at the intersection, but the fleeing
monster within pressed the accelerator down towards the undercarriage when the
smashing glass behind him announced a small ceramic figurine of the newborn
King through his back window and onto his lap. Partially out of confusion and
partially out of the stinging burning sensation running through his thighs, the
vampire minion hit the accelerator mid-turn, landing his small car into the
ditch with a deafening thud twist of metal and glass.
"I," Montague said as he witnessed the smoking car in the
distance. "Am going to hell."
"Oh, c'mon," Campbell
replied. "Seriously, it's not that bad. That's the display case Baby Jesus. The
store's prepared for this kind of thing."
"Gensler
Garden has enough
foresight to know someone might use their nativity set as a football and
projectile bludgeon?" Montague asked incredulously.
"No," Campbell
said lightly. "But those ceramic things are tough. They put ceramics on tanks
nowadays, remember? We'll just retrieve the figure. I'll bet it's not even
chipped."
It was at this time that the lone remaining monster four
hundred yards away regained consciousness three seconds too late. Stumbling out
of his car, the minion failed to realize he was not smoking, but rather
bursting into flames altogether. As he opened the car door, the flames reached
the gas tank.
Campbell
looked imploringly at Montague, whose features began to soften at the precise
moment the gas tank, the fleeing monster and the Nativity figure were
completely eclipsed in a yellowy flash of flame. Montague sighed and walked
back into the storefront. Undaunted, Campbell
continued to bounce on his feet like Mohammed Ali after a fight.
"On the plus side," he cheered. "Us four, monsters zip!"
"We're monsters too." Montague said sullenly without turning
around.
"Oh," Campbell
abruptly agreed. "Yeah."
He silently followed Montague back into the store.
Gensler
Gardens was, for lack of
a better term, a mess. Monsters aren't usually good house-guests. When undead,
they were often dangerous downright house-guests. Thanks to Montague and
Campbell, most of the monsters within were just plain regular dead. Gensler Gardens had been ransacked and
weaponized. Merchandise lay scattered throughout the isle, leaving the two
monster hunting monsters to clean up as best they could.
"And you're sure they didn't eat anyone?" Montague said as
he stepped lightly over a fallen Christmas tree.
"No. They were closed," Campbell said hopping over the tree. "And the Writers' Guild doesn't show up till
Sunday afternoons."
Fifteen yards into the store, they came across their first
monster - or what was left of him. He had fallen before a window, and the
prevailing winds had scattered most of him throughout the store. Only a
fragmented skeleton remained - with two red and white candies keeping his jaw
in place.
The vampire Tyler David Coltraine had died a peculiar
un-death. He had been reduced to dry leaves, smoldering ash and charred bones
after forcibly consuming two hook-shaped candy canes wrapped within peppermint
shades of white and red.
"Candy canes. Seriously?" Campbell stated dryly. "You killed a vampire.
With candy canes."
"Yeah," Montague replied. "It was like stuffing Roman
Candles down his throat."
Campbell
leaned down and examined the vampire, now unrecognizably reduced to ash and
charred bone. The candy canes remained permanently affixed to his mouth.
"Why?" he asked abruptly. "Why do peppermints kill vampires?"
"They're in the shape of shepherd's staffs," Montague
explained. "Think about it. They're pretty much a de facto part of the nativity
scene."
"And utterly delicious as well." Campbell chimed in.
The werewolf had lifted of the candy canes from the dusty
vampire remains and brought his canine jaws down upon the red-swirled mint with
a powerful bite. Within seconds, the small candy cane was no more than a werewolf
chew toy as Campbell
crunched upon the crisp candy shards with ardent determination.
"What? He's not going to want it anymore." Campbell retorted. There was a pause, and
then Montague spoke up.
"How's it taste?" he asked curiously.
"Like a really minty ash tray." Campbell replied as he swallowed the last
remnants of the dust-encrusted cane.
"How do you feel about Santa Claus?" Campbell asked next.
Montague just shrugged.
"Santa's a big jolly fat man who gives toys to children and
everyone generally likes," he answered. "How do you think I feel about him?"
"I mean are you - you know - burned by him?" Campbell asked with a shake and gesture of
his shoulders.
"Nah," Montague said. "Santa is Clement C. Moore and Thomas
Nast with no room for St. Nicolas in-between. All that remains is a big bearded
guy on Coke bottles and Black Friday ads. A couple of the older, more
traditional-looking Santas tingle a bit, but that's about it."
Campbell
nodded and paused. "What about snowmen?"
A cascade of white figurines emblazoned through the darkness
ofthe store as the werewolf and vampire headed down the isle.
"Why would I be afraid of snowmen?" Montague asked as he
passed shelves upon shelves of Frosties large and small. "There's nothing
remotely sacred about snowmen."
"No, but there's something unholy about them - with their
beady little eyes and carrot nose and creepy little coal smile," Campbell said. "Ready to
come alive at any time - always watching, waiting.
Frosty? More like Frankenstein if you
ask me."
More than slightly perturbed, Montague kept walking. Campbell
turned and growled at a small snowman hopefully trapped within a small globe. They
ended the evening of Christmas scouring with a werewolf wrapped in silver
bells. And he was still alive and still ferocious - at least on some level.
As far as werewolves went, Campbell was practically tiny even at six
foot three. Even on full moons, he resembled a man in desperate need of a visit
to a barber - terrifying up close, but about as scary in a crowd as a flip
through the Woodstock
photo album.
The creature before them wrapped in silver bells would have
been horrific under any pretenses. Even as it thrashed again
