I’ll tell you a secret, Jackalope
Matthew Vandrew
Published: 2010
Tag(s): "Mythical Creatures" Romance fantasy gay curse humour glbt jackalope bunyip changelings
For Kris
Because she is awesome.
And for all the readers
For the same reason
Author’s note
This short story was created as a result of a poll at http://krisngoodbooks.blogspot.com. Readers, eager to make my life a living hell, had voted for 5 prompts that I had to make a story about.
Since I’m a male and always ready for a pissing contest, I decided to put all suggestions in and add one more, suggested after the voting has ended. So, instead of regular 5 things I had 21 of them to create a story around. (Yes, this is the place where you applaud.)
The prompts were (winners are in bold letters):
The setting: a wilderness trek; a deserted townsite; a museum after hours; a truck that breaks down in the middle of nowhere
Some background to one of the main protags: he is a beast - literally - a man who transforms into a Bunyip; a Yeti; a Sasquatch; a Jackalope
Another character/s: a couple of nerds who think they are Sam and Dean from Supernatural; a ghost who keeps appearing at the worst time; a guy who acts like Hunter Van Pelt; an obnoxious socialite with pink, sparkly hiking boots
A conflict: a trap; one of the heroes is secretly a reporter; one of the heroes is allergic to fur; a beast who is not sure he wants to be uncursed
An object/phrase to be mentioned in the story somewhere: stripy toe socks; a magician's hat which looks like a sombrero; a cattle prod that comes with a warning that it shouldn't be used for sexual practices; a talking bird who keeps saying 'Bring me Solo'
Winners and losers are both there, although winners are prominent and losers often only got mentioned or even changed slightly.
All this talking and explaining is just because I want to say – I would have never come up with such a bizarre story by myself. It was Kris.
Because she’s awesome. As I already mentioned.
And so are readers who voted and made this possible. Thank you!
MVD
“I’m not going there and you can’t make me.”
“I know that, Will,” the woman kneeling beside a stuffed bison said reassuringly. “But all those people are waiting for you.”
“All those people? You mean the curator who’s supposed to be here but he’s nowhere to be found? Or those people who ran away when they saw the ghost? Or that couple of nerds who want to see the ghost? And that bitch in her ridiculous boots who complains she didn’t see the ghost?”
“Will, it’s not about the ghost…”
“Of course not! I told her well in advance to leave that parody of a dog home.”
“She did!”
“Then why am I sneezing? I’m allergic to fur!”
“I’m not sure hiding under the bison will make it any better.”
There was a brief silence and then a young man crawled from under the bison. “I took my meds anyway,” he murmured.
“See? Then your allergy is not a problem. If there were some fibres left on her clothes, we can do nothing about it. She did her best.”
“She did her best to drive me crazy. I mean – pink, sparkly hiking boots? How could you ever allow that, Jenny?”
She helped him to stand up. “Well, at first she wanted to be like Lara Croft and it took a very angry call from her father to convince her she looked like a cheap slut. Even a cheaper slut than she actually is. So we made her this Indiana Jones-like chick.”
“She’s wearing a brand new cowboy hat from some fancy designer shop. Indiana Jones would rather die than get close to such a hideous thing. And I’m not mentioning those boots again.”
“It’s her family’s money and if they approve we have to salute, say ’Yes, sir,’ and do our job as good as we can.”
“We can’t. We don’t have a fucking crowbar. And a curator.”
“I sent S and D to get a crowbar. As for the curator, I didn’t find him yet, mostly because I was trying to lure you out from under the bison.”
Will just sighed. “I’m sorry. I know I’m acting childishly but… This is a real nightmare. It feels like I’m stranded with those people on the bus that broke down in the middle of nowhere. All these crazy people around me, we’re going nowhere and no help is coming.”
“Tell me about it,” she patted him on his cheek. “Now, pull yourself together and get back to the set. I’m going to find the curator.”
“Thanks, Jenny.”
“I hope the ghost didn’t drive him away. I mean, if it’s a resident ghost, the curator should be comfortable enough with him, shouldn’t he?”
He watched her marching away and sighed again. This was supposed to be an easy job. Hell, what could go wrong with a short TV commercial when you have a budget big enough to make a two-hour long movie?
It all began when Cindy Millstone, a rich heiress, once again made it to the news and once again with home made porn. This time it was in broad daylight and with two very, very well endowed guys. Obviously, they made a fortune and the Millstone family got another headache. In order to clean up their name of a highly respected and conservative business family owning half of the southern hemisphere, they quickly decided to fund about a dozen of museums. And they decided to re-invent Cindy as a good role model.
Their idea was to produce a TV ad in which Cindy was an adventurer and a bounty hunter. She would run away from flames, wrestle a bear, outrun a cougar, duck away from ancient traps to finally discover a crate with a treasure. She would open it with a crowbar to find a museum guide leaflet inside. The camera would then pull out to reveal she is inside of the museum. She would look into camera and say: “Knowledge is the real treasure.” Fade out.
Somehow, Jenny, Will’s friend and former classmate from art school, got the job of the producer. She then asked him to take the director’s post. It looked good – nice money, not too much work.
Wrong.
Shots with Cindy’s stunt double had been a piece of cake. When it came to Cindy herself, now that was something else. She was spoiled rotten, selfish and an incredibly stupid brat. Even her Chihuahua hated her passionately. Pink hiking boots had been just the beginning.
This was supposed to be the final shooting day. One of the museums funded by the Millstone family agreed (or, more like, didn’t dare to refuse) to provide its interior as a set. However, they insisted the curator would supervise the shooting – just in case dear Cindy would try to turn it into porn once again.
But the curator was nowhere in sight and Jenny didn’t allow them to shoot without him. Then they found out the crowbar is missing too and then the ghost appeared. It must have been some apparition as most of the crew ran away. Unfortunately, Cindy herself was spared from haunting but it wouldn’t be any help even if she wasn’t. If the ghost appeared right in front of her, she probably would try and succeed in fucking him.
Will approached the set with the remains of his crew wandering around aimlessly. Cindy sat on the chair next to the set and when she saw Will she screeched: “Will, nobody told me there will be living animals on the set!”
“What?” He stared at her. “What are you talking about?”
“The bird,” she explained in the tone usually reserved for someone painfully stupid. “The talking bird.”
“There is no bird in this scene, Cindy, talking or not,” he said calmly.
“Oh, really? So why did those two nerds go looking for a crowbar?”
“I’m not following you.”
“The crow would sit on the b
ar, wouldn’t it?”
Will felt a strong urge to run back and crawl under the bison.
“Cindy. A crowbar is not a bar used by crows. A crowbar is a tool used to force open things like crates, windows and so on.”
“You mean the… that thing?” She was genuinely surprised. “Such a stupid name! But I’ve seen the crow so I thought…”
“This place is full of stuffed animals,” Will interrupted her.
“That explains why it was talking,” she nodded. “There must have been some gadget inside. Man, I have to buy one of those things. They are probably controlled by remote. That’s so cool! Can you imagine me having a talking Chihuahua? Or flying, like the bird was? Oh, my God! Chihuahua with wings! I really need to get it!”
Will’s brain was on verge of overload and the two nerds coming back with a crowbar didn’t help much.
“We got it!” one of them, probably S said.
“What took you so long?” Cindy barked.
“Sorry, D needed to get some really creepy stuff,” S grinned.
“Shut up,” D instructed, happily chewing on a cheeseburger.
“My dear brother really wants to join our ghost, ASAP,” S explained. “I can hear his arteries clogging.”
“Jerk,” D muttered.
“Bitch,” S replied and handed the crowbar to Cindy. “There,” he said seriously. “Don’t forget the warning.”
“What warning?”
“It comes with a warning that it shouldn't be used for sexual practices,” D replied and S snorted.
“Really? Why do they put such warnings on a… crowbar?”
“Any object in your hands could easily become a tool for sexual practices,” S whispered so she couldn’t hear him and then they both were doubled over with laughter.
Cindy eyed the crowbar as if she was really contemplating on how it could be used for sexual practices.
Jenny came back, a frustrated look on her face. “I can’t find him. And we can’t shoot without him.”
“Did you look in the bathrooms?” D wanted to know.
“Why would he hide in the bathroom?”
“C’mon. His sanctuary is raided by filmmakers with Cindy Millstone leading the troupe. Who wouldn’t hide?” S shook his head.
“Bring me Solo!” someone said.
People looked at each other, confused. It sounded like something Cindy would say but the voice was definitely not hers. Not anyone’s on the set, for that matter.
“There it is!” Cindy pointed at the place above their heads. “I told you it’s here! Come here, kitty kitty… I mean, birdie birdie…”
A large black bird swooshed a centimeter above Will’s head and sat down on the camera.
“Shit,” D murmured.
“A common raven,” S whispered.
“Corvus corax,” D specified.
“A dead one,” S added.
People stared at the raven which stared at them back from his post. Suddenly the bird flickered as if it was nothing else than something from a movie.
“This is rich,” D said. “A ghostly raven!”
“A ravenous ghost,” S chuckled.
“More like – thirsty.”
“Bring me Solo!” the raven agreed.
“OK,” Jenny clapped her hands in a secretive and unsuccessful attempt to shoo away the raven. “Obviously, this bird is not here. Let’s just ignore it and focus on the shooting, shall we?”
“No. We don’t have a curator,” Will said and to his own ears it sounded like he was on the verge of nervous breakdown. “I think I’ll take a look at the bathroom.”
And with that, he just spun around and marched away.
*
Will actually didn’t want to find the curator. He just thought a bathroom would be a better hiding place than under the bison. So when he stomped into the bathroom and opened the door to the nearest cubicle, he was very surprised. And not only because he found the curator.
“R-Roger?” he sputtered.
There he was, a man in Will’s age, with dark ruffled hair, lean, serious and visibly anxious. He was attractive in a very special, nerdy way. He looked like a boy forgotten here by a group of students. Boyish, nerdy – get him in the mood and you’ll get a sexual beast… as Will knew very well.
“Uh… Hi, Will,” Roger croaked in an almost perfect imitation of the ghostly raven.
Will was speechless. A series of images flashed before his eyes – two students at the same university. Will, the wannabe director, and Roger, the shy student of history. The attraction between them had been instant and sparks had been flying with intensity that would put a New Year’s Eve fireworks in Sydney Harbour to shame.
First look, first date, first kiss, first sex, first lovemaking, first “I love you”, first quarrel, first wilderness trek, first drawer for the other and then their first place to live in together…
Their last place.
Will wanted to hug him, kiss him, punch him, kick his ass, then kiss him some more and then rip off his head and flush it down the toilet. With so many conflicting urges he just stood there with his eyes bulging.
“Uh… What are you doing here?” Roger chirped when the silence stretched too far.
“I’m… I’m shooting the commercial… As you know very well because that’s why you’re hiding here.”
“I’m not,” Roger protested faintly.
“No? Then you should be because once I pull myself together, I’ll do something very unpleasant to you.”
“Maybe I should get going,” Roger glanced around nervously if there was an escape route.
“You seem to be very good at that,” Will snapped, the shock slowly wearing off. The pain and the feeling of betrayal from three years ago were suddenly back with a vengeance. “Maybe you can just send me an e-mail and disappear. You did it once, sure it can work again!” Will spat.
Roger was pale. “Please… Will… This is not the right time or place…”
“It actually is, because washing your blood from the tiles will be much easier than from the carpet.”
“I’m sorry, babe, I…”
“Don’t you ever call me ’babe’ again!” Will barked, his hands clenched into fists. “I’m not your babe and I doubt I ever was.”
“Of course you were,” Roger said.
“And the best way to show it was to disappear with less than a good-bye.”
“I told you it’s complicated…”
“Yeah? What was the complication? Bigger cock? More money?”
Roger looked shocked. “No! I would never leave you because of someone else!”
“But you did leave me.”
“It was because of… me.”
Will almost howled. “Don’t even try that bullshit on me! I’ve heard that more times than I cared to. ’Because of me! I need to find myself! I’m not sure what I want! We should take a break! I can’t deal with a serious relationship right now!’ Which one would it be?”
Before Roger could choose the answer, Jenny popped in.
“What’s the noise? Oh, here you are! You found him, Will! Nice to finally meet you, Mr… Fuck! Roger?” Jenny stopped dead in her tracks.
“Hi, Jenny,” Roger quipped, even more miserably.
“What on Earth are you doing here? Oh, you’re the curator, aren’t you? And… you’re dead meat even if Will would let you live because sure as hell I’m not going to! Do you know how many nights I spent listening to him? Do you know how long it took for him to stop crying whenever he saw Roger Rabbit on TV? Do you know how he looked, how he felt?”
“Stop it, Jenny,” Will nudged her.
“Why? I swore to rip his limbs off and shove them all together up his ass and that’s exactly what I’m gonna do!”
Roger’s grim fate was postponed momentarily when the two nerds appeared.
“Have you seen it?” D asked breathlessly.
“What?” Jenny eyed them suspiciously.
“The raven. It flew this way be
fore we could put it to rest,” S explained.
“We have never dealt with an animal but it’s worth the shot,” D added excitedly.
“Too bad it’s not a demon, we could deal with it easily,” S grinned.
“Leave the bird alone!” Roger exclaimed with horror.
“And who are you to keep it here?” S frowned.
“No, really, who are you?” D looked around. “And why are we all in bathroom?”
“This is a soon-to-be ghost. He’s about to perish very slowly and very painfully,” Jenny explained.
The bathroom became absolutely cramped when Cindy stomped in. “Where are you, guys? Having all the fun without me?”
“Bring me Solo!” the unseen raven asked from somewhere.
“That’s enough!” Roger yelled suddenly, pale and trembling. “Get out of here! All of you!”
“Shut up, Roger, you’re not in position… Roger?” Jenny blurted out.
Something was happening to Roger. He moaned, braced his chest and he was struggling for breath. Before someone could even think about asthma attack, he began to change.
His spine curved dramatically, his arms stretched and touched the floor. Roger crouched down while his legs turned into something… something strange. His painful moans became inhuman, something like a goat’s cry. His nose and mouth stretched forward, his ears shoot up and something like horns spurted out of his skull.
They all watched in silent horror, the only sounds were Roger’s painful bleating and terrifying cracking of his clothes tearing apart.
And there stood a fantastic creature. It looked like a giant rabbit with antlers on its head.
“What is it?” Cindy asked in awe.
“Fuck me, it’s a jackalope!” S wheezed.
“A what?” Jenny’s voice was trembling uncharacteristically.
“Jackalope. Mythical creature.”
“A cross between a rabbit and an antelope,” D added.
“Typical for North America.”
“He sure is far away from home.”
“Not to mention there haven’t been any reports about were-jackalopes.”
“Actually, the legend is fairly new and it always has been a bit of a tongue-in-cheek legend.”
I’ll tell you a secret, Jackalope Page 1