MisStaked

by J. Morgan

  "Stud doesn't stink. He's very hygienic."

  "If hygienic means smells like a French hoor then that's him to a tee.” R. J. drawled. “And tell him to stop looking at me when I'm on the pot. My shit time isn't a spectator sport."

  "Sure thing, Dad.” Breathred groaned, knowing he was losing the battle before it even started.

  "Hold on a minute,” his father said, and strode around the counter and threw open the door. A woman tried vainly to pump gas into a new-model Lexus. She was frantically waving at the surveillance camera sitting atop the pumps.

  "Lift the handle you dumb sum-bitch!” R. J. screamed from the door. He turned about sharply, nearly knocking Breathred to the ground. “You'd think anybody with enough money to buy one of those high-priced ass-warmers would have the money to buy brains enough to know how to pump frigging gas."

  "Uh, Dad, I got a job.” Breathred said out of the blue.

  "Wait a minute.” R. J came to a screeching halt at the end of the counter. “Did you just say you got a job?"

  "Yes, sir.” Breathred beamed.

  R. J cocked his brow dubiously. “This isn't like the time you opened a lemonade stand in the front yard, cuz ain't nothing worse than watching a thirty-year-old man trying to sell gourmet Kool-Aid."

  "No, I'm going to be working for the university. And the Kool-Aid idea would have worked if Stud hadn't spiked the stuff with Ny-Tol."

  "Well, it looks like those five-hundred years of college I paid for are finally paying off. So, what're ya gonna be teaching?” his father asked, mentally counting the days until he'd finally get his basement back.

  "I won't be teaching. I'm vampire slaying for them,” Breathred answered with a wince.

  "Shit fire, and save the matches. Just when I think you got a lick o’ sense you go and screw it up. I shoulda slapped your momma when I had the chance,” R. J said, rubbing his temples.

  "But it pays money, which brings me to—"

  R.J. scowled. “How much do you need, Buffy?"

  "A couple hundred. It's just till we get paid. Then I can pay you back,” Breathred promised.

  "You know what? If you didn't waste your money on that super-hero toilet paper, you'd have some fucking cash. Instead you mooch off me and your poor stepmother, and her with a little sister on the way. Do you ever think about us when you go off half-cocked?” his father asked, his neck turning a bright shade of red.

  Breathred waited for him to turn around to preach to the beer cooler about dumb-ass children before slipping out the door, barely avoiding a collision with the woman from the Lexus. It had gone better than he thought. He had expected the full treatment. He was walking past the gas pumps when the woman came running from the store. Breathred looked back to see his father jumping up and down on the cola display, and hurried his steps.

  The sound of his father's tirade carried to end of the block. Far from disillusioned, Breathred fled before his father could get around to mentioning his son's overflowing collection of beanie babies. This left only two options. After careful consideration he dismissed the first one out of hand. At the most Stud wouldn't bring in more than $62.50, if he decided to throw in the Mini Me costume. Option one painfully shelved, Breathred turned to the most dreaded of money-making ventures.

  Two hours later and his comic collection twenty some odd issues lighter, Breathred left Clint's with a little over two hundred and fifty dollars to his name. In spite of his sacrifice, Breathred wasn't even sure it was enough to outfit both him and Stud. Luna would make it work, though. Of that he was more than confident.

  With a couple of hours until he had to meet Luna at the Great Northwestern, Breathred, not feeling like going home, decided to walk around for a while. Things were moving so fast he didn't know what to think anymore. After the cat incident, he had thought seriously about forgetting the whole vampire-slaying gig. Then Luna stepped in and changed things. She always seemed to put a spin on his perspective.

  Now, he was going to Canada on the greatest vampire hunt of all. Even old snooty Van Helsing couldn't say he'd found the true origin of vampires. Not to say, he didn't have worries. Dr. Grayson was the biggest.

  The fact she decided to check up on him set his teeth to rattling. The chance she might discover his true secret was more than an enough to make him want to run to Mexico. Breathred hadn't been joking when he had told her the reason was personal. It was his shame, not hers. Why couldn't she leave it alone?

  He absently kicked a can blocking his path. The can skipped across the sidewalk until it clanged into a trashcan sitting close to where he was standing. It was too late to go back on his word, anyway. After signing the papers, the only thing left to do was suck it up and dive in. If Luna and Stud found out, they found out. There was nothing he could do to change it if they did, except for a killing spree.

  A look at his watch, told him he had better get going, or there wouldn't be time to grab Stud before getting to the mall. Luna would kill him if they were late. Stud would kill him if he didn't bring him along. The way Breathred saw it—either way it went, he was dead. So he might as well go into it with both barrels cocked and loaded. What was the worst that could happen?

  * * * *

  Lewis awoke with the coming dusk. The steady rhythm of Leopold's sleeping came from the casket next to him. The old poof sure liked his beauty rest, Lewis thought as he climbed from the satin-lined tomb. That was for the best, as far as he was concerned. It meant he would be able to slip from the house without Leopold noticing.

  It was nearly party time. All he had to do was go pick up the guest of honor. Lewis had been able to follow them long enough to find out they were meeting at the Great Northwestern Shopping Mall, sometime around eight o'clock. The girl had class until seven. That gave him about an hour to round up his muscle.

  Lewis had made it a point to talk to them just before dawn. The wannabee toughs were all for it. From the looks of them they had never been in anything close to a rumble, unless you counted Mortal Combat for the Xbox 360. The newbies were nothing more than cannon fodder, anyway. Hell, the damn monkey could probably take them out. Lewis just needed them to distract the girl long enough for him to grab the virgin.

  Leopold started mumbling in his sleep. Time to scoot. He wanted no part of having to help his master pick out his ensemble for the night. The last time he stuck around, Leopold gave him an all night dissertation on the finer points of Italian tailoring. That, my friends, was just too much information for a Naw-'leans boy to have to assimilate on an empty stomach.

  [Back to Table of Contents]

  Nine

  If you have only ordered the first half of this course, you can kiss your ass good-bye.

  To call the Great Northwestern a mall should be enough to earn whoever called it such, a nice libel suit for even daring to utter such a blasphemy against the shopping industry in general. It wasn't that the place hadn't had at one time earned the right to be called a mall, but those days were long past. Now, it existed as the sole providence of speed walking grandmothers and Goth kids, who saw the G. W. as a rebellion against the establishment of the larger and newer malls represented.

  The place was still a great place to shop far from the hassle of large unruly crowds. It had all the prerequisite stores that made the act of shopping worthwhile. The mall had a Sears & Roebuck, a J. C. Penney and a Starbucks. It even had a newly-opened Gap now catering to the neighborhoods surrounding the shopping complex. Despite its seeming prosperity, the Northwestern was dying a slow death. It was just that the place had little to sway shoppers away from the flashier places across town.

  To Breathred though, it was heaven—pure and simple. The mall was less than two blocks from his house, which only reinforced this notion in his mind. Despite his undying love, mall security saw him in a different light or rather they saw Stud in an unsavory light. This was due in part to Stud's first visit there.

  Before the incident that forever changed the young simian, Breathred had decided to show
off his new acquisition. What better place to do this than his home away from home? He really just wanted a corndog, and was afraid to leave the monkey on his own with the poo-throwing and all. So, he bundled up his new friend and headed off.

  Looking back, Breathred wished he could change almost everything about the long ago day, beginning with going to the joke store. It had just opened, which instantly drew Breathred's attention. The window promised everything from gag gifts to magics fresh from the Orient. How could he resist?

  Stud was a perfect gentleman until he saw the animatronics ape. Then, it was on. Stud broke free from his grasp and went berserk. Breathred tried frantically to grab the little ape, as he jumped from display to display, taunting the inanimate gorilla. The gorilla's refusal to respond to Stud's badgering only seemed to inflame the chimpanzee. Before Breathred knew what was happening, Stud had jumped on top of the gorilla's back.

  Crazed and foaming at the mouth, Stud tore into the polyester fur. From amid the rows of fake dog vomit and floating handkerchiefs, Breathred and the store manager advanced on the rampaging primate. Stud saw them coming and was ready for them. For his trouble the manager received a face full of something better left unmentioned. Breathred, a little quicker than the other man, ducked, avoiding the steaming missile meant for him. After the first salvo Breathred hugged the carpet and inched forward on his elbows.

  A group of wandering geeks let out a startled scream as they entered the store. Stud's head popped up at their cries. He bared his teeth in their direction, warning them away from his prey. It was the opening Breathred was looking for.

  He jumped toward his hysterical monkey. Getting one hand on its neck, Breathred ripped Stud free from the mechanical gorilla. He fell to the floor with the writhing chimpanzee in tow. Stud moved in a thousand different directions at once. It took everything Breathred had to keep him captive.

  Once Stud had worn himself out, Breathred took in the carnage. Gondolas were overturned. The floor was littered with merchandise. In the background Breathred heard a babble of Aramaic coming from the manager. Breathred couldn't understand what he was saying, but it couldn't be good.

  Then, he turned his eyes to the source of Stud's rampage. It was much too late for the great ape. Aside from the obvious de-furring, it had also suffered a most emasculating violation by the maddened chimpanzee somewhere in the middle of the one-monkey melee.

  Needless to say, Stud was banished from the mall immediately, along with Breathred. There was also some talk of ritual castration by the storeowner, but after Breathred reimbursed the man for the cost of the gorilla, all was forgiven. Forgiven but not forgotten was the motto of mall security, whenever the pair walked through the mall's glass doors.

  It was still the case, as they entered the mall just as dusk was falling. Two guards started dogging their steps almost within seconds of them entering the food court. Breathred chose to ignore them while Stud made imaginary grabs for his butt whenever they got too close. Breathred knew better than to try to stop him.

  Breathred scanned the empty food court for Luna. He spotted her near the Corn Dog Cavalcade. She waved a foot long corn-wrapped weenie, when she caught sight of him. Breathred grabbed Stud by the hand and made for her.

  "Hey, guys.” Luna chirped through a mouth full of the corndog. “I thought you weren't gonna make it."

  "I had to run some errands and got a late start,” Breathred explained, the thought of his missing comics bringing a tremble to his voice.

  "That's okay. I needed a bite before we headed out, anyway,” she mumbled between bites of corn meal and pig by-products. “There's a couple more coming up for you two. I figured you'd be ravenous."

  "You guessed right, Toots.” Stud gave Breathred a dirty look. “Lame brain wouldn't let me eat before we left. Gave me some bull crap about it violating my parole."

  "I did not. He wouldn't get out of the bathroom.” Breathred hastened to explain.

  "Come on guys, cool it. We're here to have some fun and do some shopping. If you can't behave, you can just go home,” Luna warned them with a shake of her corn dog.

  "Yes, ma'am,” they answered in unison.

  "Now, we should get you both some hard-wearing outfits. You want something that won't tear easily, and some good boots. They're a must."

  Breathred tuned her out. Not to say her voice wasn't especially pleasant this evening, but he had no interest in clothes. To him clothes were a t-shirt and a pair of jeans and nothing more. He would follow her lead. He could walk behind her without having to listen to the running discourse. He was a man, after all.

  Over the span of the next three hours they hit every clothing store the feeble mall contained. He couldn't be sure, but he thought some of them were more for her benefit than his. No matter how nice they looked, Breathred could see no possible way Luna could think she was going to be able to wear a wedding dress in the forests of Canada.

  * * * *

  Lewis was growing bored. He had been following the trio all night. They were making him sick with their honey-coated relationship. The boy was whipped. The way he let a slip of a girl lead him around like a sick puppy, made Lewis glad he was a vampire and beyond all that bullshit. He was beginning to think he was going to go crazy before his lunkheaded associates got their asses in gear.

  Oh my God, not another shoe store. Pick out a pair already. Lewis plopped down on a bench. This was not worth the aggravation. He should have let Leo handle this. Where were those idiots? On cue they saddled up behind them.

  "What took you so long?” Lewis demanded, sensing them behind him.

  "We got lost.” The top dog smarted off.

  "Make sure that condition doesn't become permanent,” Lewis hissed. “Now get to work, before I get to work on you."

  Lewis sat back without giving them a second glance. The young vamps blended into the crowd, such as it was. Lewis watched with satisfaction. If the young vamps lived through this, they might be of use to him later.

  Once they were nearly to the shoe store, Lewis got up. He had his own part to play in this little charade. The vampire slid past a gaggle of grannies with relative ease, making it a point to tip his hat, as he passed. No sense in antagonizing the old biddies. He didn't want them following him around later.

  He took up point, just beyond Shoes-N-More. His newbies advanced to the right of the store. Lewis shuffled behind a floating jewelry booth. From his new position he could see his prey while still keeping an eye on his men.

  * * * *

  Luna looked up from an incredible pair of pumps to see some youths stagger into the shoe store. Instantly, something about them didn't feel right. Darkness surrounded them. She sensed it close enough to touch. The presence of it hit her like a fist to the gut. Breathred was rubbing his temples, but didn't seem to know why. He was feeling it too, she was glad to see. There was hope for him yet.

  They looked a few years younger than her, but Luna knew looks could be deceiving. They were the undead. She could smell the grave all over them. Even the rip-off Polo they had bathed themselves in couldn't hide the scent.

  The losers tried to look nonchalant, but from the way they kept peeping at her and Breathred, they weren't here looking for a pair of open-toed sandals. They were after Breathred, just like the vamp from the night before last. But why? Surely, he wasn't a real threat to them yet. Maybe they were trying to eliminate him before he became a threat. Luna blanched at the possibility of her Breathy-poo at the hands of killer vamps.

  Either way, she had to get them out of here before things got nasty. Luna gave the store a quick once-over. Three customers were grouped around the cross-trainers. Behind the sale's counter the cashier was popping her bubble gum, trying not to fall asleep. So, all Luna had to do was get the customers and the girl out of the way. The girl was easy.

  Luna held a purple sneaker aloft. “Hey, miss. Do you have these in a size eight?"

  "I'll have to check in the back.” The cashier yawned before slipping through
the curtain that separated the showroom floor from the back.

  One down, three to go.

  "You know Barclay's is having a fifty percent off sale. Maybe we should try there next,” she said loud enough for the other customers to hear.

  The customers looked around to make sure they heard right. Slapping down their choices, they headed for the door. Luna smiled. Now, it was just them and the vamps.

  Sizing them up, Luna had them pegged from the start. They were good—not quite pros, but a few more years should give them the edge they needed. If she let them leave here alive, that was. She was in a good mood, so a few broken bones should be enough to get her point across.

  The thought hadn't left her brain when the vamps made their move. The taller of the two sailed over the discount table, his leather jacket flapping like bat wings. Why did they always go for the Fonzi on acid look? In one smooth kick, Luna upended the table directly into the vamp's path. The vampire made a dull thud, as he slammed into the particleboard tabletop. His impact sent a shower of cut-rate Nikes into the air.

  Luna didn't have time to think. Things were going full tilt. The second vamp skirted the table, going straight for Breathred and Stud. Before she could move to intercept him, Breathred whirled around.

  * * * *

  Breathred turned just as the vamp slammed into his body. The impact tossed him into the wall with a bone rattling bang. Sliding down the wall, the air rushed out of him like a tidal wave. His vision turned to black as he hit the floor, but Breathred held onto consciousness, barely. Through the sprinkling of stars that populated his vision, he saw Luna battling with another attacker. What was going on?

  His head was killing him. Some freak was trying to take him out in a run-down Foot Locker and if he wasn't mistaken a pair of Nikes had just violated him. This was not the shopping trip he'd planned on. All he wanted was to buy a pair of shoes and get the heck home before the ten o'clock news came on. Was that too much to ask?

  The vamp made another lunge for him. Breathred deftly moved to his left, dodging the attack. Anticipating the vamp's next move, he fell to the ground and swept his foot under his attacker's leading leg. The vampire pitched forward, its arms flailing in an attempt to keep itself upright. Breathred pressed his advantage. Before the vamp could regain his balance, he kicked up, nailing it in the solar plexus. The undead fiend went back into the air, doing an unintentional back-flip in the process. It landed amid the wreckage of the shoe-strewn floor.