Baby Daddy

Andrew watched the shadow move across the room. He was too drunk to be alarmed about it and followed its motion through half-closed blurry eyes.

One of the side effects of being a zymurgy was being able to enjoy the fruits of your labor and Andrew very much enjoyed them. This most recent batch of beer was quite heady and strong. It had only taken a few mugfuls of the amber brew to get to his current stupor.

The shadow inched closer to him then suddenly an incubus appeared in front of him. Andrew's beer goggles showed him a beautiful temptress with long flowing black hair, ivory skin and angelic face.

“Invite me to mate with you,” she demanded, her voice lyrical and light.

“You want to have sex with me?” Andrew asked. No woman ever gave him any notice, not even the really desperate bar skanks, so he was a bit suspicious. “What's the catch?”

“You give me your seed and the rest of your beer,” she replied then undressed, exposing her sleek body with perky breasts and perfect nether region.

“I don't want you coming back with no damned kid for me to take care of,” Andrew slurred. He was drunk but not that drunk.

“I assure you, that will not happen,” the incubus replied with a hint of disdain as she ran her fingers up her body to cup her breasts then leaned forward. “Invite me to mate with you.”

Andrew was febrile with desire. It had been far too long since he'd been with a woman. How could he say no to this beautiful woman standing naked before him?

“Please, temptress, I invite you to mate with me,” he begged.

The incubus threw herself at him, tearing his clothes off his body to reveal his semi-hard erection and two heavy nut sacks filled with enough sperm to spawn hundreds of demon children. She kissed him, filling his body with her Viagra-like serum. He gasped as he became more erect than it had ever been.

She mounted him and rode him like a workhorse, draining more and more of his sperm from his body with each orgasm she elicited from Andrew until his balls were empty and he could give her no more seed. He slumped back in his chair, completely exhausted.

“Thank you,” she whispered into his ear as she transformed back into her demon form. Andrew gasped in horror when she pulled away. Her stomach area was bulged with all his sperm and she was no longer the beautiful temptress but an evil monster.

“Oh god,” he said as he started to vomit. The incubus laughed at his reaction to her true form. “You have what you want, no go!”

“Not yet,” she replied. “I forgot one little bit.”

“Wha … what?” 
“This,” she answered as she picked him up with one hand and defenestrated him. He easily broke through the glass and his body, filled with shards of glass, landed on the pavement below. She laughed as she looked down at his crumpled body then grabbed the half-filled keg and disappeared back to the pits of hell.

All in a Day's Work

“Look at the puppies!” Jenna said as they walked towards Radio Shack. The young hound dogs were running around the storefront window. “Can we have one?”

Jenna’s father looked at the dogs, with their glowing red eyes and sleek black fur. Then he looked up at the store name Hels Pets. “I think we should keep looking,” he answered.

One of the puppies caught Jenna’s eye and he led her away from the others, jumping and rolling around without losing eye contact. “We have to go, the store will be closed in a few minutes,” her father said, trying to quickly pull her away.

“No,” Jenna replied, her voice suddenly deep and forceful. “You will buy me this puppy.”

“I don’t have time for this.”

Jenna’s father tried to pull her away again. The dog growled and bared his teeth then jumped through the window and attacked her father. He screamed. “Run, Jenna!”

She watched her father fight with the hellhound puppy. There was much blood and no clear sign of who was winning. The security guards pushed through the crowd with their anti-hellspawn swords drawn.

“Don’t hurt him!” Jenna cried out as they tried to tear the dog off her father. Tears were running down her face as a woman tried to hold her back.

The security guards finally got them separated. Jenna broke free and jumped over her father to get to the dog.

“Did they hurt you?” she asked as she hugged it close to her. The dog’s eyes glowed bright as she loved on him. Behind her, the paramedics worked on her father.

“We have to go,” the paramedic said and reached towards Jenna. The puppy growled at him.

“No.”

“Come on girl, your dad needs to get to the ER. Stat.”

“Not without Deville,” Jenna said.

“Je ... nna,” her father called weakly. “I ... I need to go.”

“Not. Without. The. Dog,” she replied.

“It’s on the house,” Hels, the owner, said. Jenna’s father nodded his head.

“Yippee!” Jenna said and stood up, Deville in her arms. She followed the paramedics out to the ambulance, holding on tight to the puppy. 

Hels watched the family leave the mall. Her tactics were questionable but successful. Soon all her hellhounds would be in the world and she could mount her plan for world domination. All in a day’s work.

Curious Karl and the Golem

Karl stretched before getting back into his truck. He was on a longer haul than usual and was headed into Long Island to collect a crate to be delivered to southern New Jersey. The early start was starting to catch up to him and he’d stopped at a truck stop in northern New Jersey to get a large Dunkin Donuts coffee to help keep him awake for the rest of the trip from Philly.

He sighed with relief when he pulled off the highway and weaved his way through the city streets to the warehouse. When he pulled up, two orthodox Jewish men rushed out to greet him.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” the taller of the two said.

They both were wearing black suits with white shirts, prayer shawls, shiny black dress shoes, and a black hat on top of curly hair with long sideburns. The two men were a stark contrast to Karl who was wearing a baseball cap over his short hair, a plaid shirt, jeans that had seen better days, and work boots.

“Sure thing. Where’s the crate?”

“This way,” the shorter one said and hurried to open the warehouse door. Behind it was the largest crate he’d seen. His truck wasn’t tall enough to fit it in standing but it should fit on its back.

“You know I am going to have to lay it down on its back, right?”

“That is fine as long as it will not bounce too much. We cannot have it breaking.”

“What’s inside?”

“A golem,” the taller one answered.

“Like on The Simpsons?” Karl asked. They stared at him with blank looks. “It’s a cartoon. On one episode the kid finds a clay monster that cannot speak but does whatever it is told to do when you put a scroll of paper in its mouth.”

“Yes, yes.”

“Does it really work that way?”

“You do not need to put a scroll with the orders on it. You simply need to tell it to do whatever you wish following the method the creator decreed.”

“So you could tell it to get into the truck?”

“If we knew how. We are just the middleman. Only the creator knows how to make it work.”

“Right. Let’s get this guy into the truck,” Karl said as he grabbed his work gloves from the back of the truck and pulled them on. The two Jewish men moved out of the way to allow Karl to do his work. An hour and much cursing later, Karl had the crate loaded into the truck and secured for the three hour journey to Cherry Hill, New Jersey.

“Who’s doing the paying?”

“We will pay you half now and the rest will be paid on delivery.”

“Fair enough,” Karl said then waited for them to return with his money. Karl counted it out then got back into the truck.

As he drove along all he could think about was the golem from “The Simpsons” and what it was able to do. He wondered if it really was able to do things like kill people or rob banks. Or destroy a vehicle so that a person could disappear and never be heard of again. His curiosity overwhelmed him and Karl pulled into an empty factory parking lot. He climbed into the back of the truck then carefully opened up the crate.

The golem was very tall and ugly. It looked like it was stupid, or at least as stupid as you could make a clay monster. Karl dug around in the hay to find any papers that might tell him how to make the golem work. His persistence paid off and he found the information he was looking for.

It was all in Jewish. Karl pulled out his smartphone and opened up Google translator. He entered the text. It said, “Rise up and do as I bid thee, Golem. Go forth and ...” Karl assumed the next bit would be the orders that would be given to the monster.

He typed in the orders he wanted to give and was happy the makers of the translator figured people would need to know how to say the stuff so they gave the pronunciation as well. “Hʻkʻrwng ʼarwyp ʼwn tʼán wwy ʼyk bʼapʻln dyr, gʼálʻm. Gyyt ʼarwys ʼwn ẕʻştʻrn myyn trʼáq,” he said.

The clay figure began to move, like a current of electricity suddenly flowed through its body. Karl stared up at it, unable to believe it was really working. The golem broke through the roof of the trailer then stood up. It stepped out of the truck then it smashed the trailer and the cab, destroying them thoroughly as ordered. When the golem finished, it stood upright and motionless, silently awaiting its next order.

A passing police officer noticed the truck and golem statue. He called for backup then started to search through the remains of the truck to see if there were any human casualties. When they found Karl’s body, it was mangled beyond recognition.

No one ever claimed the golem and it still stands as a silent sentinel in the factory parking lot. And Karl got his wish — he disappeared and was never heard from again.

Moral: Curiosity killed the cat, and Karl, too.

Addictions

Belinda, a tooth fairy, sat in the waiting area of the Fairy National Bank. She was really nervous and was glad she’d decided to skip breakfast as her stomach churned nervously.

“Belinda, come this way,” the young banker announced. She followed him into his office and perched on the chair so as not to crinkle her wings. “My name is Howard Wingzer. How can I help you?”

“I ... I need a bit of a ... a loan,” she stammered.

“Is business not going well?” Howard asked.

“I just got another sec ... section added to my load and I’m running low ... low on quarters. I just need enough until I ... I ... I get paid again in a few weeks,” Belinda explained as she clasped and unclasped her hands.

“This is the third time in as many years that you’ve come to us to ask for a loan,” Howard replied as he looked through her folder.

“I ... in the spring ... I ...” She faltered and stared at the ground hoping it would swallow her whole.

“Yes? In the spring ...” he prompted.

“I ... I eat ... ban ... err ... jelly beans”

“And this costs you that much money?”

“I eat a lot.”

“I see. Have you talked to a fairy therapist about this ... addiction?” Howard demanded judgmentally.

“Please, I need to get this loan to be able to keep my job,” Belinda pleaded, ignoring his question and trying not to lick her lips.

“While you have paid off your loans on time, we cannot just keep loaning you money to cover your addiction. You will have to agree to get counseling in order for us to grant the loan,” he answered.

“I can stop ... please, just give me the loan.”

“I’m sorry but my boss said no loan without counseling.”

Belinda scowled. “That is ridiculous.”

“Sign it or chance losing your job. Your choice.”

“Fine.” Belinda snatched the pen from the bug-eyed banker and signed the agreement to get counseling for her addiction then the promissory note for the loan.

“Thank you,” Howard said as he collected the papers and pen from Belinda. “Are you really addicted to eating jelly beans?”

“Well, it isn’t exactly jelly beans I’m addicted to,” she replied, nervously wringing her hands.

“Oh? What is it?” Howard leaned forward, eager to hear her answer. 

“Bankers,” she replied as she bit his head off. “They’re magically delicious.”

Networking

            “Come on, you’re killing my bottom line,” Harvey exclaimed.

“If you need to have that many in time for Christmas Eve, that’s the best I can do,” Tim Cook, the CEO for Apple, replied.

“Forget the bottom line, Santa’s gonna kill  me,” the elf said. “$250 million is my best offer.”

“I can’t let it go for less than three hundred.”

“Think of the kids and their happy smiling faces when they open their presents from Santa ...”

“Parents will buy them full price the day after Christmas when Johnny and Susie don’t get their iPad or iPhone from Santa,” Tim said.

“Two seventy-five,” Harvey offered.

“Three hundred. Take it or leave it,” Tim replied.

“You know, it is people like you that drive me to drinking,” Harvey said dejectedly. “You’ve got a deal.”

“I’ll have the latest models delivered by December 15,” Tim replied.

“Have a good year,” Harvey said and hung up the phone.

Harvey looked at the clock, it was just after 9:30 a.m. “Never too early to start drinking,” he said as he poured himself a glass of eggnog then added two shots of whiskey. Harvey quickly downed it then poured a second one.

He sent Santa an email with the details of the deal he’d made with Apple then headed home for lunch and a nap to sleep off the drunkeness.

When Harvey returned to work he found out that Santa was holding a press conference that afternoon, the first one ever held in the history of Santa living at the North Pole. He’d been mostly sober when he came back, the press conference announcement finished the job.

At 4 p.m. North Pole time, Harvey turned on the TV. Santa was standing in front of a podium with a microphone. The camera was set up to transmit the broadcast to the world news outlets. The audience was filled with the highest level elves and Mrs. Claus.

“It is with a great deal of sorrow and regret that I announce that I will no longer be delivering gifts on Christmas Eve. The costs associated with buying the presents the children want rather than making them in our factories makes it virtually impossible for me to continue on. I will miss the job and seeing all the happy faces Christmas morning. The elves who have worked with me for centuries will be relieved of their duties following the selling of equipment and animals. It has been a great run. Thank you for your time.” 

Harvey stared at the screen, stunned by Santa’s words. He picked up the phone.
“Tim, my main man! I just found out I’m going to be free to find new employment. Do you have room for a hard-working, forward thinking elf on your sales staff?”

Wispa

Wispa, a diminutive teal dragon, peered out of the entrance to the cave to see if the metal-covered humans were still waiting for her. All was quiet. She sighed with relief as she stepped out of her cave into the stillness of the late afternoon. The humans had her trapped for three days. She was tired of eating leftover bear and berries, and needed to stretch her legs.

As Wispa made her way to the lake for a refreshing swim, she heard the sound of a young human crying. Wispa cautiously made her way closer towards the sound.

In a clearing, a young girl with long blonde hair and a fancy white dress was sitting on the grass with tears running down her pretty little face. All around her were flowers she'd picked as she wandered deeper into the forest.

Wispa wasn't sure what to do. If she left her there, a bear or bobcat would eat her. While humans had never been nice to her she couldn't let this child face that fate. Or she could approach the child and bring her home. That is if the child didn't panic and run away.

She watched the child while she tried to decide what to do. Her stomach rumbled, startling the child.

“What’s there?” the child demanded. “I’m a princess. My father will kill you if you hurt me!”

Wispa nearly laughed at that. As if they would ever find enough of her to know what killed her if a wild animal got her. She knew it was now or never and stepped into the clearing.

The girl screamed. “Help! Help!”

The dragon waved her hands at the girl, to try to get her to calm down and stop screaming but instead it made her scream even more and back away from her. Suddenly the child jumped up and attacked Wispa.

“Go away! Leave me alone!” the child yelled at her and kicked her over and over.

Wispa cried out as the child stomped on her foot and fire spewed from her mouth, setting the child on fire. The child fell back as her dress quickly went up in flames and the child died.

“Well, I guess that decides that,” Wispa thought to herself then reached down and broke off the child’s arm. She sat on a nearby stump and ate the perfected flame broiled meat from the bones. When she finished eating, she burped loudly then started back to the lake for her swim.

Patience is a Virtue

“Cut you!” Sandy, the neighbor’s three year old son, yelled, giddy with excitement, when Cthulhu, a sea monster, appeared on the screen.

Jenna knew The Call of Cthulhu was not exactly a movie for little kids but he seemed to enjoy it and she certainly enjoyed watching my favorite movie monster wreak havoc. She wasn’t sure where Sandy got the words “cut you” from as no one was using a weapon but figured he was interjecting what he would do if he were battling Cthulhu.

Every time the monster came on, Sandy would chant, “Cut you!”

Jenna laughed but didn’t think much of it.

A few weeks later, Margo, Sandy’s mother, called and invited Jenna to go on a movie magic tour at a nearby monster movie studio. Margo knew she loved seeing the behind-the-scenes stuff with Sandy, who was fascinated with it, too.

While they were walking around the studio, Sandy stopped suddenly and yelled, “Cut you! Cut you!”

Jenna laughed and pulled out her cell phone to take a movie of it as he was floundering around and yelling. When Sandy’s eyes grew big and a look of horror crossed his face, she turned to see what he was looking at. “CUT YOU!” he screamed as he turned and ran to find his mother.

She screamed as cthulhu stepped out of the scene and wrapped his tentacles around her. While the monster tightened his grip on her and forced the life from her body, she suddenly realized what Sandy had been trying to say - cthulhu - and laughed. Jenna took her last breath and the monster dropped her then stepped back into the scene.

Sandy dragged Margo over to Jenna’s now lifeless body. “Call security! Someone help!” Margo screamed. “Sandy did you see who did this?”

“Cut you, cut you!” he yelled as he pointed to the monster.

“That’s just a prop,” Margo chided.

“It was the monster,” Sandy insisted as the studio security and staff surrounded them. In all of the confusion only Sandy saw the sea monster slip away.

The security camera had malfunctioned during the attack so there was no footage of what happened, just Sandy’s eyewitness account of his babysitter being attacked by the cthulhu prop. No one believed him, especially when the prop couldn’t be found.

Three days later, another woman was found dead. Within a week there were two more dead women. Each time the women had been alone and the cameras malfunctioned again so there was no evidence of what happened.

The police set up a sting operation in hopes of catching the killer but there were no more attacks. The damage had been done and the studio was forced to sell the business to their main competitor, Cthulhu Studios, and the rights to all their movies because of the lawsuits resulting from the deaths of the women. The police weren’t able to solve the mystery and the killer remained at large.

Sandy, however, never gave up. He knew he’d seen the cthulhu prop attacking his babysitter and it was just too convenient that the studio had been bought out by Cthulhu Studios. While he was visiting the studio 12 years later, he stumbled across the prop room and the cthulhu costume. He called the police and reported it. The old-timers laughed at Sandy’s claim and assigned Robbie Dutone, a rookie detective, to the case.

Robbie met Sandy at the studios with a search warrant two days later. The costume was still there. “This is the costume the killer was wearing,” Sandy insisted. Robbie had his doubts but the kid was so insistent.

Upon closer examination, Robbie discovered several human hairs clinging to the tentacles. He collected them as evidence then had them analyzed and compared to the DNA collected from the victims at the time of their deaths. Only one hair matched one of the victims but it was enough to reopen the case.

Hair collected from inside the costume matched the DNA of Tim Howard, who was currently housed in Los Angeles County Jail. He’d been arrested a few years ago on a hit and run vehicular homicide and was serving a ten year term. It didn’t take much to get a confession from him about the murders and how he’d been hired by the owner of Cthulhu Studios to rub out the competition however he wanted. 

Following the trial, reporters asked Sandy how he felt now that his babysitter’s killers were behind bars. “Patience is a virtue.”

And Life Goes On

Quack! Quack! Quack!

The ducks on the pond were making a terrible racket and sounded like they were terrified of something. I dropped my laundry basket and ran down to see what the fuss was all about. My prized fowl were attacking something that was swimming around on the other side of the pond.

I couldn’t quite make out what it was as it climbed out the the water. The hairy beast had many wounds from the duck attacks and was bleeding profusely. I pulled out my duck whistle and called to my flock. They ignored me as they continued to attack the beast.

I ran towards the creature, which was standing on two legs and walking like a human but slightly ape-like at the same time, but the some of the ducks broke away and prevented me from getting closer. On the shore I could see several broken eggs and one of the female ducks lying on the ground, not moving.

The beast fell to its knees, trying to swat at the ducks as they continued to attack. Suddenly, a rabbit hopped out of the forest and morphed into a beautiful woman -- a banshee. The ducks quieted and formed an arc around the two. The banshee bent over the animal and rested her hand on its body until it fell in a lifeless lump on the shore.

I watched as the banshee collected the beast’s soul then disappeared into the forest.

When she was gone, I rushed over to collect the dead female duck. The other ducks followed me as I carried it to the animal graveyard and dug a hole.

“Dust to dust and all that other stuff,” I said. “Rest in peace ole girl.”

The ducks sat around the grave for the rest of the night and into the next morning.

I wandered towards the water and saw no evidence of the beast that had killed my momma duck and her babies. The scavengers had done their job and disposed of the fresh kill. The ducks had returned to the water and began rebuilding their nests. 

As I sat in my chair under the giant oak tree and life carried on.