Announcement

Collapse
No announcement yet.

Another Tall Tale

Collapse
X
 
  • Filter
  • Time
  • Show
Clear All
new posts

    Another Tall Tale

    He could not sleep these nights and had been reading into the small hours in the vain hope of eventually drifting off and finding some peace. He had a troubled mind for some time now. Everything seemed to be fine in his life; he remained healthy and enjoyed his work. His family was fine and he was still able to afford the odd holiday abroad despite the current economic meltdown. He glanced at his watch apprehensively. It was 3am and there wasn't a sound to be heard. Maybe this night would be different, he thought, as he laid his head back onto the pillow, closing his eyes.

    It happened just as he was about to drift off; an unearthly coldness enveloped the room, the bedroom window started to ice over. He opened his eyes and looked around but there was nothing to be seen. The curtains in the window stirred gently as if a soft breeze had disturbed them. Almost as suddenly as it had come the coldness disappeared and the room was warm yet again. He climbed out of bed and went to the window which had also returned to normal. He looked out onto the garden. It was deserted. A pale November moon gazed balefully down from a cloudless sky outlining the stark ancient belfry nearby. It was then that he saw it and his heart was gripped with fear. To the casual observer, it might have seemed to be a mist gliding over the tombstones but he knew it for what it was: a vampiric demon had escaped once again from its hellish prison. Though not a religious man he found himself searching through the drawers until he found it- the old crucifix. He clutched it to his chest. He stayed awake until sunrise, too terrified to sleep.


    He worked as best as he could that day, exhausted but glad of the daylight hours. Later that evening, he had found some sleep at his desk. The surgery was quiet and his secretary was dealing with any enquiries interrupting him only when absolutely necessary. She left to go home at 5.30 and the sun was already starting to set. He tidied up his desk getting ready to leave his office. The room became icy cold and the hands of the clock on the wall stopped moving, frozen in time. The door burst open and the vampire suddenly appeared in front of him. He backed off in terror. It was Lucy.


    She bade him sit down and not to have any fear as his blood was too old and feeble. She hadn't aged a year since as a young man he had driven a stake through her heart, in the old protestant graveyard thirty years ago. She had put on a bit of weight alright and her bodice was straining at the seams a bit but she was almost as beautiful as ever.


    “How are you still alive? “He asked perplexed.


    She replied that the stake he had used was generic and that if he had used one of the branded varieties she would still be dead or undead as the case may be.


    “You were always a cheapskate DS, even your blood tasted awful. Is Hooker still alive? Now there was a full blooded man, if ever there was one.”

    She closed her eyes and opened her lips seductively to reveal her fangs dripping with fresh blood. Jesus, no wonder half the town was knackered this morning and to think that I never examined their necks, he mused.

    “What can I do for you Lucy, he enquired tentatively?”


    “First of all, that crucifix you have doesn't work DS as it's also generic and was never blessed. You really are a starved bastard.”


    DS had picked it many years ago from a traveler during the Ballabuidhe festival, for a song andwho told him it would ward off evil spirits and that it was a genuine Calvin Klein.


    “My problem is I have gained a little weight recently and it's since you stuck that damned stake in my gizzard- you missed my heart you know, you blundering fool. I have been having digestive problems since then and also have this bloating problem, which is real pain in the arse as I am an outcast in my circle due to the intense flatulence it causes. Here let me demonstrate.”


    With that she emitted a loud resonating fart which smelt so bad that DS nearly passed out so offensive was the odour. Hooker's emissions, once thought by DS to be akin to chemical warfare, were only puffs of Febreze by comparison. DS wedged some cotton wool up his nostrils and asked Lucy if he could examine her. Though not completely au fait with a vampire’s anatomy or physiology he assumed it had to be similar to his. She lay on the couch as DS put on a pair of gloves.


    “Where are you going with those gloves,” she enquired suspiciously?


    DS assured her that he was only examining her abdomen. With expert hands he checked her liver, spleen and gallbladder. After some minutes, he had come to a decision and had a diagnosis.


    “I am certain you have lactose intolerance, he informed her but I cannot understand this as you don't drink anything but blood so why would you be allergic to milk?”


    Lucy blushed, her secret out.


    “To be honest, DS I hate blood and only drink it when I go out for a night with the other vampires. I love ice cream and lattes and mochas and creme fraiche.”

    She burst into tears and asked DS if he thought she was a freak. DS decided to stretch his interpretation of freakish a little and assured her it was quite normal among demons and that fortunately there was a cure for it. He knew of another vampire who resided on a well known rugby forum who had been cured of this ailment.

    “If you log onto Munsterfans and pm him, I’m sure he will be only too glad to be of assistance.”


    Lucy was overcome with emotion and hugged DS tightly, too tightly.


    “Mind my neck he shrieked,” but it was already too late....


    Lucy logged on to Munsterfans later that night.


    DS felt very tired that evening and went to be early. He binned the crucifix and smeared some garlic puree over the two puncture holes in his neck.


    Last edited by dipstick; 1st-November-2011, 14:41.

    #2
    :)
    Excellence is hard to keep quite - Sherrie Coale

    Comment


      #3
      Words fail me
      "They think they know us, but they haven't a clue"

      Comment


        #4
        I've never before witnessed such an act of self-regulation.

        p.s. Did Larry threaten you? Do you want me to have a word with him?
        Gwan Joe!!

        Comment


          #5
          move along please
          Last edited by Old Dog; 1st-November-2011, 13:34. Reason: No longer relevant due to Dipstick's rewrite!
          New infraction avoidance policy: a post may be described as imbecilic, but its author should never be described as an imbecile.

          Comment


            #6
            What class of libel and salacious tittle-tattle did I miss at all.
            If your religion is worth killing for, please start with yourself.

            Comment


              #7
              I feel cheated and denied. In the absence of any evidence or even half-convincing arguments for her innocence, I'm blaming Boo-boo.
              Tis but a scratch.

              Comment


                #8
                I concur Mr Chips, however rather than taking it out on Boo-Boo I suggest that you look in the the direction of Mr. Larry Lièvremont when apportioning blame for this case of blatant censorship.
                If your religion is worth killing for, please start with yourself.

                Comment


                  #9
                  Originally posted by dipstick View Post
                  I agree Lactose- total crap and insensitive. I've deleted this post and apologies to all concerned.


                  wtf?
                  Excellence is hard to keep quite - Sherrie Coale

                  Comment


                    #10
                    I am all-powerful.....this is proof positive of my rise to the top!!

                    ALL of Munsterfans will submit to my will....if you're not with me-WATCH YOUR BACK
                    "They think they know us, but they haven't a clue"

                    Comment


                      #11
                      Originally posted by lactose intolerant View Post
                      I am all-powerful.....this is proof positive of my rise to the top!!

                      ALL of Munsterfans will submit to my will....if you're not with me-WATCH YOUR BACK
                      Now that you have risen to the top the only way is down.

                      I suggest you follow your own advice and watch you back.

                      Comment


                        #12
                        Nonsense!! Between myself & Michael D, we'll have the place flying in no time!!
                        "They think they know us, but they haven't a clue"

                        Comment


                          #13
                          Originally posted by lactose intolerant View Post
                          Nonsense!! Between myself & Michael D, we'll have the place flying in no time!!
                          How dare you mention President His Serene Holiness Saint Michael Dee Higgins and yourself in the same sentence. You are not worthy to wash his soiled undergarments following a particularly vigorous bout of poetry reading.

                          Respect your betters. (and yes, that includes me - and Glorob.)
                          New infraction avoidance policy: a post may be described as imbecilic, but its author should never be described as an imbecile.

                          Comment


                            #14
                            Originally posted by Old Dog View Post
                            How dare you mention President His Serene Holiness Saint Michael Dee Higgins and yourself in the same sentence. You are not worthy to wash his soiled undergarments following a particularly vigorous bout of poetry reading.

                            Respect your betters. (and yes, that includes me - and Glorob.)
                            you're treading a very thin line, minion!!
                            "They think they know us, but they haven't a clue"

                            Comment


                              #15
                              Originally posted by lactose intolerant View Post
                              you're treading a very thin line, minion!!
                              If I was treading on a very thin line, then none of it it would be visible - fact. So perhaps the line of which you speak is a metaphorical one, or even a metaphysical one - which of course leads us straight into the realms of Michael Dee's poetic imagination, from which I have extracted this recent gem:

                              Uachtarán na hEireann
                              Now isn't that very nice?
                              Seven years of living
                              High ar muin na muice
                              Ins an Aras mór
                              Not the first aras that I
                              have occupied, of course
                              But quite the largest.

                              Now Sabina has her own wing
                              (though most witches have two)
                              And I have a choice of
                              Dev's old Roller or
                              a high-spec Merc with garda outriders
                              or even
                              a fancy VIP jet
                              If I should yearn to rome
                              abroad, thar lear, trasna na farraige.

                              More than a million votaí
                              sin uimhir ana-mhór
                              thanks in part to
                              mo chara dilis Mairtín
                              who slayed the Dragon
                              in cold blood
                              in the great hall
                              of the licencepayer
                              as thousands watched
                              and a fuel smuggler smirked.

                              I yearn to meet my people,
                              my flock, my devotees,
                              and speak to them in golden,
                              honeyed rhyme, blending
                              words and images, cliché and cant
                              doggerel and drivel,
                              into a giddy mixture of
                              sublime rapture,
                              ag seasamh ar mo bhosca mór.
                              New infraction avoidance policy: a post may be described as imbecilic, but its author should never be described as an imbecile.

                              Comment

                              Working...
                              X