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A Tinfoil Hat of My Own
Anyway, I was just stumbling down the trail, minding my own business, when I heard it: a cross between a woman’s scream and a witch’s cackle. Or a blow horn and a leaky balloon. Either way it was bone-chilling. I clutched my bottle of brandy closer to my chest. Not that I’m the kind of girl that takes a fifth of brandy into the park often, mind you, but Cobweb and I had just broken up and I was really depressed. It turns out he wasn’t ready for a committed relationship, which probably explains why he had lots of baby mommas, but none of them had given birth yet. There’s three months of my life I’ll never get back again. I mean, if you can’t trust a Hell’s Angel, who can you trust?
Well, perhaps we hadn’t ended on the best of terms, what with me taking a sledge hammer to his bike and all and writing about his mother’s private life on his clubhouse and giving tips to the police that I really wish I remembered to specify as anonymous. Needless to say I was a little edgy.
I walked a little farther, kind of paranoid, but of course it wasn’t a Hell’s Angel. It was a werewolf. After all, I flattened all of the gang members’ tires and set their cute little garage on fire. I expected a little more resilience in a garage that costs a million five, but it responded to a few pounds of C4 just like any other place.
So anyway, I didn’t really realize it was a werewolf at first. I thought, you know, ghost, or of course, zombie, but shit just wasn’t adding up. For instance, the weight that hit me from behind was substantial and fast and everyone knows that ghosts and zombies are neither. It also had sharp teeth, but I thought zombie teeth would be sort of dull and to be honest, kind of wiggly what with the rotting flesh and all.
Then I thought, well, duh, vampire. So I took the ring of garlic I wear around my neck (I’m a naturalist by the way, but I suppose you guessed that when I said garlic, right? The strongman of the earth’s perfumes.) and shoved it into the thing’s mouth. It was hard to wedge the garlic between his teeth and my spine, my hand sticky with blood and saliva and I was like, ew, gross, but then it started spluttering and I was like yeah, suck on that!
But then I got a look back. Damn, werewolf. Of course. So I was going to bite it on the nose like a dog, because I wasn’t wearing silver. The year before I had got to thinking that silver’s not really my color and so I had switched to gold. Not yellow gold, ick, but white gold. So anyway, I didn’t have any silver on me and I started to think biting him on the nose wasn’t going to turn out too well for me, so I decided to run.
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