Happy Belated Birthday, Sam!
Look, I’m sorry I missed your birthday, but I have a really good reason! If you give me a few minutes to allow me to explain myself, you’ll see how the situation was out of my control and how none of this is really my fault. So here it goes:
It was Monday, June 3rd, at 11:55 PM, and I realized that your birthday was in 5 minutes. Shit, I thought to myself, I need to come up with something perfect thing to post to Sam’s wall for his birthday, and I need to do it now. I do not need a repeat of the “Cousin Ryan Debacle” from November.
Unfortunately, I was at work, and My boss doesn’t approve of me thinking of things unrelated to work while I’m there.
“But damnit!” I said aloud to myself, “This is important- probably one of the most important things I will ever do in my life!”
So, I sat on the ground, threats of punishment be damned, and I thought what I was going to write to you. Within only a few minutes of intense thought, I crafted a well wish that would bring tears of joy to your kind eyes, Sam. Would this sentence usher in a new era of thought and change the world for the better? Probably.
I pulled out my phone to write down my brilliant message for you, when a high pitched alarm shrieked in my ears. I flinched. It was the alarm for when a pantless homeless person tunnels his way into the store and starts throwing old cabbages at everyone . It happens a lot. Grumbling to myself, I stood up, and headed to the closest exit as per emergency instructions: the back door. The problem with that was that, also per emergency instructions, I had to meet with my boss in front of the store after safely exiting the building. That meant that I would have to walk around the entire strip mall to reach the rendezvous point.
The alley behind the building was dark and lined by woods. A creek trickled just out of sight. Broken carts and bales of cardboard lay askew along the back wall, you could catch the faint smell on the dumpsters even from where I was. And with it being so late and the isolation of the back alley, the only sounds I heard were my own footfalls and the slight rustling of the wind through the trees. Which made it all more surprising when an arm wrapped around my neck.
“Fiddlesticks!” I managed to grunt out embarrassingly as my attacker and I fell to the ground.
As we struggled on the ground, a windowless van pulled up and the side door slid open. My attacker overpowered me and dragged me into the van. With my free hand, I pulled out my box cutter and stabbed him in the leg as he threw me onto the floor. He howled in pain, and I flipped over and looked into the face of my attacker. He was a mime.
Now this goes without saying, but finding yourself being kidnapped by a mime is the most terrifying thing you can experience in your life, but in this one instance, I let a sigh of relief. It was only my friend/ international mercenary turned hero/ full-time mime Draxyl McGruntmuffin.
Half amused, clutching onto his bleeding leg, Draxyl said in his gruff voice, “Minigan, you slick son of a-“
“What, in the name of sweaty donkey tits is your problem, Draxyl?!” I shouted, “you don’t just kidnap a person like that.”
“Sorry about that, Minigan,” said another familiar voice from the driver’s seat, “But we didn’t have time to call in advance.”
Vinny Tyrese Archibald Patrick Saiid Makoto Borowitz-Gutierrez, or #TheMouth for short, was Draxyl’s tech guy and the person that plans every mission. He’s the official overseer of this operation.
“You didn’t have time to warn me on your way here to pick me up?” I asked.
#TheMouth paused for a second and replied, “Oh yeah, that would have been a perfect time to do that!”
“Whatever,” I said, “just take me around front so that I can let my boss know I’m leaving.”
#TheMouth obliged, and as we drove in front of the store, I spotted her.
I put my head out the window and called, “Hey Amber! I have to leave with these guys! It’s an emergency! Don’t call the police!”
Amber was a tall woman; she easily towers over me, gave chase. She screamed after us in her girlish voice that didn’t match her body before pulling out her GIant Eagle Standard Issue handgun and firing several bullets into the back of the van.
Within minutes, we were on the highway, speeding towards the airport. I took my seat in the back and asked, “So what’s this mission about, and why do you need me?”
“I had discovered a plot on the dark web by an ancient cult to commit a series of terror attacks and use the ensuing chaos to install puppet governments in all the major countries, making them the de facto rulers of the world.”
“How am I supposed to stop the Church of Scientology?” I asked.
“Actually, for once Scientology isn’t part of a clandestine- oh! You’re joking! Good one!” #TheMouth replied. He then continued in a serious tone, “The cult is called The Quiggles.”
I snickered, which apparently was a mistake, because #TheMouth slammed on the breaks.”
“Do Not laugh at their name,” he warned, “This is an already devastatingly powerful cult, one that has assassin spies lurking everywhere and have installed their members in several key positions in the government, and they don’t like having their name mocked.”
“Ok,” I replied, suppressing my smirk at their terrible name, “So, why do you need me?”
Draxyl and #TheMouth shared an awkward glance.
“Well,” #TheMouth answered, “Someone helping us wanted you on the team for this. He’ll explain it when we get to the airport.”
I shrugged at the non answer, pulled out my phone and said, “Whatever. Let me know when we’re there. I have something to post on my cousin’s Facebook wall for his birthday.”
“What? NO!” #TheMouth yelled.
Draxyl jumped from his seat in the front and was on top of me again, wrestling the phone from my hands.
“What the fuck?!” I cried as Draxyl climbed off of me and back into his seat.
“Sorry,” #TheMouth said, “You cannot use your phone. We suspect that they could be watching your movements. Your phone will have to stay off and with me until this is all over.”
“But,” I pleaded, “My cousin’s birthday! I have the perfect thing to say to him! It will only take a moment!”
“It’s too risky, I’m afraid,” he replied.
With my face scrunched up in anger, I said, “Fine, then let’s get this stupid bullshit over with as soon as possible.”
We were at the airport within minutes, and as I climbed out of the van, I was greeted by 5 people with identical beach blond bowl cuts and electric blue eyes.
“Welcome, Minigan,” the 5 said in an eerie unison.
“Hi, Sagittarius, uh, Pentuplets? When did that happen?”
“We mind melded our latest addition last week,” they all answered.
When I first met them, the Sagittarius Pentuplets were the Sagittarius Twins, Scorpio and Taurus Sagittarius. They were Draxyl’s experts in the mystic arts, and when they were kids, they melded their minds together, forming one consciousness that exists in two bodies. Then, on that fateful November day, while we were trying to prevent a plot to force all the world’s volcanoes to erupt at once, Taurus died when he fell out of the helicopter as we struggled to elude our enemies. Just before he died, he transferred his consciousness to two nearby people and took over their bodies. This is some real Borg shit, but we’re all too afraid to mention it to them.
After several awkward seconds of them waiting for me to ask, the one I suspect was Scorpio announced, “Minigan, you have not been introduced to my siblings. These are: Libra, Aries, Aquarius, and Virgo.”
I turned back to #TheMouth and Draxyl, “If the Pentuplets were the ones that wanted me, why were you being so evasive about it?”
“Because I was the one who asked for you, not them,” a British man’s voice said from behind me.
Out of the darkness and through a cloud of strawberries and cream flavored vape smoke strode a British man with an eyepatch.
I roared, pulled out my box cutter, and dove at the man. Draxyl and #TheMouth grabbed onto me and pulled me back.
Struggling to hold on to me, Draxyl grunted, “Minigan, you slick son of a-“
“Shut up and let me go, Draxyl,” I shouted, not taking my eyes off the British Man, “This fuck stick tried to murder us last time, remember?”
“He’s on our side this time! We swear!” Breathed #TheMouth, “He asked for our help.”
I stopped struggling, but I continued to glare at the man, “How did you survive the fall into the mouth of Vesuvius?”
“It takes a bit more than that to kill me, I’m afraid,” the man laughed.
“More than throwing you into a volcano?!”
Draxyl and #TheMouth let me go. Before anyone could react, I pulled out my GE standard issue handgun and aimed it at the one eyed bastard before me.
That motherfucker smiled. “You may certainly try to kill me, but you will find your bullets wasted. Besides, we need each other for this mission. It is in all of our interests that The Quiggles do not rule the world. If they succeed the new world order will be horrid. Any dissent against them will be punishable by death.
“Their name is ‘The Quiggles,’” I retorted, what’s the worst they could do?”
Draxyl’s crew fell into an uneasy silence. The smile fell away from the British Man’s face and he took another long hit from his vape. “They only want to weaponize the world’s alligator population and use them to force everyone in the world to take a dumber name than theirs.”
A 20,000 pound weight fell into my stomach. “They can’t,” I whispered, hoping it wasn’t true, “That cannot be possible.”
“It won’t be, but only if we work together,” The British Man replied. He then looked into the shadows. “All of us.”
Out from the shadows stepped the long legs and swaying hips of a woman in a tight leather catsuit. From those hips grew a narrow waist and large bosom that strained against its leather constraints. And finally, a radiant face framed by black glasses and sleek black hair emerged from the darkness.
“You?!?”
It was Svetlana Lustnaughtlov.
“Yes, Minigan, me. Did you miss me?” Svetlana cooed in her thick Russian accent as she sauntered over to me, “I hope you missed me, because I missed you.”
“Hell no I didn’t miss you!” I shouted as I pushed her out of my personal space, “And what the hell, I thought you died when you fell into Vesuvius too!”
“Yeah, it turns out that Vesuvius isn’t all that great at killing people,” #TheMouth explained.
“It’s a fucking volcano,” I snapped, “It destroyed Pompeii, it should have been able to kill off these two!”
Everyone shrugged, nonplussed.
“I guess the entire city of Pompeii was filled with wimps.”
“Probably,” The British Man said quickly, “ Now we really need to get going. There is little time to waste.”
“Where are we going?”
“New Orleans,” The British Man said.
“Paris’s degenerate brother!” #TheMouth exclaimed.
“Wait!” I called as they all filed into the private jet, “I have one more question! Why do you need me? What purpose do I serve on this team?”
“In time, you will know.”
What the fuckdribble was up with all the nonanswers that night?
Resigning myself to the inevitable nonsense that was sure to come up when facing an organization called “The Quiggles,” and especially when lured onward with vague promises of future explanations, I clambered onto the private jet waiting for us. I found a seat in the back and plopped into it with my arms crossed as the rest of this ensemble sang the wrong lyrics to The Sound Of Music soundtrack.
While they sang, I contemplated how I was going to get my birthday message to you, my dear cousin, and how you were likely to cry enlightened tears after reading my wise word-nuggets. I needed to get my phone back, The Quiggles and #TheMouth be damned.
After a couple of hours, I got my chance to take back my phone and my destiny. As I peeked into the aisle, I spotted the corner of my phone poking out of #TheMouth’s pocket. He was distracted with the song. It was my chance.
“I saw a man with a horrid fish-wife/ ugly-lady-ugly-lady-ugly-lady-who!”
With my years of pickpocket training as a loveable scamp on the streets of Pittsburgh finally being put to good use, I slid my phone out of the oblivious #TheMouth’s pocket. I returned to my seat in the back with my spoils.
My victory was short lived, however, because as soon as I unlocked my phone, several loud bangs came from either side of the plane.
The British Man looked out his window. “Bloody Hell, The Quiggles have found us!”
Everyone else looked out our windows to see what was attacking us. Circling the plane and flapping their bat-like wings were no less than a dozen large and vicious looking alligators. They were dive bombing the plane, using their heads as battering rams and jostling the entire aircraft.
“Sagittarius pentuplets,” #TheMouth cries, “Do something!”
The pentuplets clasped their hands together and closed their eyes. Bands of golden light erupted from between their interlaced fingers and spread out towards the windows like glowing fissures in reality. I watched as the beams passed through the windows and whip around to pierce the hearts of the flying alligators. The creatures, with a nimbleness that you would not expect from alligators, they dodged the beams of light. Then, and I swear this was on purpose, one of the alligators flew straight into the engine of the plane, making it erupt into a ball of fire and splintering metal. There was another explosion. They took out the other engine. Fuck.
We plummeted to the earth, the entire cabin shook as the the flying gators continued to ram the cabin.
“We’re going to crash into the French Quarter!” The British Man yelled from his seat, “Draxyl, eject the wings!”
From my seat I watched Draxyl pull down on a red lever, and then looked out my window and watched as the wing broke away from the fuselage and whipped back and out of view, taking three of the alligators with it. I rose up out of my seat and felt my hair float around me as we entered free fall. My screams were trapped in my lungs. We plummeted from the sky, being tossed about as much as our seatbelts would allow. I caught a glimpse of St. Louis Cathedral from my window.
There was a shattering of glass, the screeching of metal scraping metal, and the crunch of crumbling concrete as we crash landed into the French Quarter.
The muffled sounds of panicked and drunken screams found their way through the jagged holes in the plane’s cabin, followed closely by the hot, sticky scent of alcohol and concrete dust.
Everyone clambered out of their seats, and on wobbly legs, stumbled for the door. When we got the door open and fell through, we fell out onto Bourbon St., yards away from a bar called Oz.
“How did zey find us,” Svetlana coughed as she scrambled out of the plane and attempted to collapse into my arms (I backed away at the last second, letting her fall into the rubble at my feet).
It was nearly 2 AM, and the party on Bourbon had been going strong until we rudely (and literally) crashed into the middle of it.
“I have no idea,” #TheMouth said as he began to feel his pockets. Noting the absence of my phone, he spun to face me just as I was attempting to pocket it. “You.”
“Me?”
“I told you it was too dangerous to use our phones,” he said, his voice venomous, “I warned you that they would track our location.”
“But I just turned my phone back on!”
Draxyl shook his head. “Minivan, you slick son of a-“
“It does not matter what you did with your phone,” The British Man yelled, “You could have been using the note app to write a bullocks story to that bloody cousin of yours. The Quiggles will still have found us with it!”
“Well, why the fuck does the fate of the world always revolve on how I use my phone?!” I yelled back.
“There is no use fighting now,” one of the pentuplets said in a monotone, “the alligators are once again upon us.”
The sounds of growling and snapping jaws swirled around us, just beyond the reach of the bars’ neon lights. Suddenly, one of the alligators dropped out of the darkness above us, landing on its feet and standing upright like a human. Behind it, it’s black leathery wings folded in towards its back and vanished from sight.
“That is no alligator,” Libra Sagittarius (I know it was her because she was the only black woman who had been assimilated into the pentuplets) said, “That is a rougarou. They live in the swamps and suck the blood of humans foolish enough to wander across their path.”
“They are a sort of werewolf/ vampire like monster that can shape shift into different animals,” #TheMouth whispered. “They typically look like wolves, but they have been known to talk on the appearance of alligators.” “No one look it directly in the eyes,” he warned, “It can turn you into one of them if it makes eye contact.”
The British Man smiled. “Well then, this is where I have an advantage.”
Gently, he switched his eyepatch from his right eye to his left, revealing his foggy, scarred, and grotesque eye.
Within seconds, seven more rougarous landed, and another six burst up out of the sewers.
“Battling us is futile, Draxyl McGruntmuffin,” one of the rougarous said in a wet, gravelly sort of voice, “Just hand us the boy and we will spare the rest of you a long, painful death.”
“The boy?” I asked, turning to the rest of the group. They avoided my eyes like I was the rougarou. “Wait… me? How am I ‘the boy?’ I’m 31!”
“That is still young to rougarous,” #TheMouth noted.
“Go to hell, ‘Pound The Mouth’”.
While I was distracted, one of the rougarous lunged at me. Svetlana screamed and launched herself at it, colliding with the monster before it could reach me.
I dove to the ground, rolled, and picked up a fist sized chunk of concrete. With all my might, I chucked that sucker right at the head of another rougarou heading my way. I got it right in its reptilian face, and stumbled backward before falling into one of the many giant holes in the street the plane made.
Gunfire erupted overhead as The British Man, Draxyl, and #TheMouth fired at the oncoming swamp monsters. The pentuplets were using their telekinetic abilities to pummel the monsters with any debris in the vicinity.
I reached to my holster for my GE issued handgun only to find it gone. I must have fallen out during the plane crash. “Someone give me a goddamn gun!” I yelled at the rest of my group, all of whom apparently forgot that I should have some means to protect myself.
“The guns are useless against these bloody beasts!” The British Man yelled. “And how is this weaponizing alligators, #TheMouth?”
The rougarous paused at this question and looked at one another. “We almost forgot,” one of them growled.
With their scaly, humanoid claws, they touched the sides of their heads. Let me tell you, Sam, it was awfully difficult to avoid looking these things In the eyes, especially when shiny metal guns, almost the length of the monsters themselves, grew from where their wings used to be. The guns folded down so that the barrels were just inches from the tops of their heads and now aimed directly at us. With a high pitched whirring sound, the barrels of the gun began to spin, and in a blast of red light, began firing lasers at us.
We all screamed an ran for cover, as did some of the remaining partiers who weren’t scared away by the crashing plane or the flying alligators. I dove just around the corner just before one of the gator’s lasers swiped at me. Where I stood was now a charred, smoking line in the debris.
Just as the rougarou was turning the corner to do me in, it swung hard to the left. Behind it stood Draxyl, gritting his teeth and with his arms out in front of him like he was clutching onto an invisible rope. He yanked down, and the rougarou stumbled around. It’s back was to me. I had my chance. Grabbing the straws the plastic souvenir Hurricane cups from two cowering drunkards, I leapt onto the back of the rougarou and plunged the straws into its eyes.
The rougarou let a mind-splitting screech as it thrashed back and forth, tossing me from off its back.
I landed on my back. I looked up just in time to watch as one of the Sagittarius Pentuplets impaled the monster with some rebar. The rougarou clawed and snapped at the rebar before collapsing in a heap, dead.
The British Man and Svetlana dragged me inside the building and behind the bar where the bartenders and tourists were cowering.
“Minigan, you need to get away from here,” The British Man said. “Get to the Old Ursuline Convent. Go up to the third floor and awaken the women sleeping up there. They will help you.”
“But why will they help? And why am I even here if you need to keep me away from these monster cult with a stupid name?”
The rougarou’s roared in a rage and several lasers cut burning lines in the wall above us.
“Because they need you to enact their plans,” The British Man said, “You and your phone.”
“But WHY?”
“Because you are a bloody vampire!” The British Man blurted out before he could stop himself.
The words hung in the air over the three of us and all the terrified patrons for a moment before it crashed down on all of us in the form of the patrons and I crying, “What?!?”
Svetlana nodded. “It’s true. We’ve all known for months.”
“We’ve all been amazed at how you have ignored the signs, honestly,” The British Man added.
“Wow,” I replied, “That’s almost as stupid as a group called The Quiggles weaponizing alligators.”
The British Man continued to insist. “Think about it, Minigan, how often have you seen the sunlight in the last few months?”
“I work nights! When else am I supposed to sleep other than during the day?!”
“And what about your ‘garlic allergy?’” He asked, “I don’t remember that about you from our last meeting.”
“Allergies can develop at any time, asshole. And if I remember correctly, you were tying to kill me last time we met, so I wouldn’t be all that forthcoming about my weaknesses with you, now would I?”
“And what about your fangs?”
I ran my tongue over the tips of my teeth. Fuck, I had fangs.
“I’m sure there is a logical explanation-“
“THE LOGICAL EXPLANATION IS THAT YOU ARE A VAMPIRE! Now go to the bloody convent and get the other bloody vampires to join our bloody cause. They are the only ones who can stop The Quiggles, and they only listen to other vampires.”
“Fine,” I said, “I’ll go. But I just want you to know that this is all bullshit and I hate you both.”
Without waiting for them to respond, I dove out from behind the bar, dodged the laser blasts, and sprinted out of the building and down St. Anne Street.
I sprinted away from the mayhem on Bourbon, not looking back, but listening for any shapeshifting alligator that might be pursuing me. I heard nothing, but I continued to sprint, just in case.
I made it to the Old Ursuline Convent within minutes, climbed over the fence, and kicked open the doors. Inside was quiet and peaceful. The nuns must be asleep. I found the stairs and ran up them to the third floor, which was sealed with a heavy, dark oak door. I pressed on the door, and with great effort, the old door creaked open to the long, dark hallway beyond. I entered.
The air grew heavy with each step I took, as my feet kicked up more and more dust. It’s sour smell stung my nostrils and the corners of my eyes, and I had to cover my nose and mouth with my shirt to keep myself from coughing. Through the dark and the dust, I found a door marked “KEEP OUT.” I did not.
Inside the room were two rows of six coffins, each with a silver cross on the lids. I reached to the lids to pry them off, but an invisible barrier prevented me from opening it.
Right, I thought, I’m a vampire, and one of vampires many weaknesses is silver.
Thinking quickly, I grabbed a chair from the corner of the room and threw it at the first casket. It bounced off the top, taking the cross with it. I picked up the chair and proceeded to knock the crosses off the remaining eleven coffins.
There was a sudden crash and roar from outside the windows. The rougarous found me.
I pried the lids off of each coffin as quickly as I could, revealing twelve young sleeping women inside. Each woman wore elegant French gowns made of colorful lace, as well as veils over their pale faces.
“Hey!” I screamed at all of them, making the women wake with a start, “Sorry to bother you ladies, but I need your help.”
The women sat up in their coffins and looked around the room. Another roar and smattering of muffled gunfire came from outside.
“Why should we help you?” One woman with auburn hair and a jade green gown asked in her French accent, “Why shouldn’t we just feast on your blood and reek havoc on the nuns who imprisoned us?”
“Because I am a vampire too, apparently, and there are some rougarous outside that want to kill me and take over the world.”
“Prove that you are a vampire, and then we’ll help,” a blonde one said.
I flashed my fangs at them. They all squealed in delight.
“Ohh! You are a new vampire! Your fangs are so small! That’s adorable!” One said.
“You’re practically a toddler!” Another cooed.
“Enough!” I screamed as a rougarou pounded on the wooden shutters, “Are you going to help or not?”
The dark skinned vampire shrugged and said, “Why not,”
Just then, the shutter failed as the rougarou burst through it like the Koolaid Man. In one swift motion, it picked up a silver crucifix at his feet and threw it at me. It hit me hard in the side of the head. I fell to the floor, and everything went black.
***
When I awoke, I was laying in a soft, but rather dusty old bed with several faces staring down at me. Among them were the French vampire women and Draxyl’s team, including The British Man. I struggled for a moment, but then sat up.
“Minigan,” Draxyl said with a sigh of relief, “You slick son of a-“
“We thought you died!” #TheMouth cried out, “Too bad you were knocked out so early. You missed an epic battle.”
“Yes,” The British Man said, “It was one for the ages.”
“We will be talking about it for centuries,” one of the vampires added.
“Well, are you going to tell me what happened?” I said to the group.
The British man waved a dismissive hand. “None of that is important at the moment. The important thing is that The Quiggles have been defeated, and your vampirism has been cured.”
“I’m no longer a vampire?! But I never got to do any vampire things!”
“Yes,” said the dark skinned vampire, “But men make terrible vampires. They lack the strength of will that make women excellent vampires. You probably would have slain many innocent people out of hunger before getting killed by a vampire slayer yourself. This was for the best of everyone.”
With a mixture of disappointment and relief, I replied, “Well, at least I can finally send my wonderful cousin, Sam, his birthday wish. I must have a few hours left before his birthday is over.”
Draxyl’s team looked at one another uncomfortably.
“You, uh, actually have been unconscious for about a week,” #TheMouth replied.
“I WHAT?!?!”
And this, Sam, is why I didn’t manage to wish you a happy birthday on your birthday this year. I hope you see that none of this was my fault, and that I tried desperately to actually write something profound for you. Speaking of which, with all the crazy shit I had to deal with and then being knocked out for a week, I can no longer remember the life changing well-wish I was going to send your was was. Sorry about that.
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