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American Werewolves in London: Where’s a Slayer When You Need One?
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“Sooo…” Bette thought she should make small talk, though there was nothing awkward about the silence she shared with Helena.
“So…”
Bette and Helena sat across from one another, goofy grins pasted to their face, while Jenny lay miserable on the couch.
“So…” What Bette was trying to say, which Helena understood perfectly well, was that she had had a fantastic time the night before, and that she wished they could do it all again. Unfortunately, it was daylight, and Tina was sleeping in Helena’s room. Blackout blinds, heavy curtains, and extra comforters kept any light from touching her.
“Would you two just GET A ROOM!” Jenny coughed and sputtered, caring little that she might wake Tina up.
“Can’t.” Bette said casually. “Bedroom’s full.”
“We could…” Helena raised her eyebrow, looking to the large reclining chair that Bette sat upon. “You could leave?” She asked Jenny politely.
But the miserable look she received in return stopped their plans.
“Sorry Jenny…” Bette looked over at the rapidly crumbling woman. Tina had actually tried to revive Jenny, by giving me a bit of her own blood. Jenny nearly spat it out, but she took some in the end, allowing some of her tissue to reform. However she shook her head vehemently when Tina offered more—much more.
“I don’t want to be immortal.” Jenny had said. “It’s a curse…you’re as cursed as I am. It isn’t right.”
“Right, wrong, you Americans and your silly moral codes.” Helena had argued. Tina nodded in agreement.
But in the end, Jenny declined the invitation. She wanted to rest in peace, to be buried in the soil, and she wanted it to happen when she was not self aware.
“I’ll go for a little bit.” Jenny said finally, sighing heavily. “You two can do as you like, but don’t take too long. It’s boring roaming the city on my own. I can usually only talk to dead people, and they’re just no fun.” With a popping sound, Jenny departed from the room.
“Poor thing.” Helena said with a genuine note of sadness. She walked over to Bette, sinking into the chair and onto her lap. Cupping Bette’s face in her hands she leaned in for a long, luxurious kiss.
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You’ve got me howling again, HB. And don’t listen to that Jenny. Even if she lives for all eternity she couldn’t be nearly as entertaining as you. She’s just jealous. What else is new?
Who found you; the bloodhounds or St Bernards?
Hel you are on a roll here and I love it,,,,this is so crazy funny sexy and so mysterious.
Sentences like “the events that would change their lives forever began to unfold” make me nervous. I hope Bette sprouting unsightly body hair isn’t one of those events. I loved Jenny opining about bad writing; she should know. And if Jenny is half-Canadian, what’s her other half? Martian?
“Bette mumbled something about asking her roommate to leave on pre-arranged nights, until she, of course began to sleep with the actual roommate herself.”–Swear that’s like the story of my life. Anywho, was Jenny’s little banter about poorly written stories a jab at urself…if not, it was still funny, as this story is amazing, unlike anything I write *sigh*..pps
ha zombies with a hate on…..oh and Buffy was in Sunnydale, her best friend was Willow.
For now, I can’t remember how vampire Tina entered the picture… I’ll have to re-read it from the beginning… anyway, that one was fun, and don’t listen to zombie Jenny : when she’ll be able to write something good, she’ll be authorized to criticize (and loosing parts of her anatomy as she does, I really doubt she’ll be able to write ANYTHING now ;-)) — I wonder who are the undead who are after Bette… keep going, please… I missed your werewolves and Ashtuck vampires… but don’t finish your story as quickly as she did… please ;-)