by Tonto Fielding © 2010. All rights reserved.
Mealy Peasnap strode into the Bilderback Family Farm barn with the carriage of enfranchisement. If you were to judge him by appearance (Liberty overalls and the piece of straw hanging from his lip) you would have certainly guessed that Mealy was the owner of this barn. He moved about with authority and purpose.
Mealy talked to the animals with familiarity, addressing many by the pet names he had bequeathed upon them.
“How’s Bessie--been missing me old girl?” he said while patting the heifer on her hind rump in passing. “Sorry, but not tonight sweetheart—I’m in the mood for a little lamb, this evening.”
The cow turned and gave him a look.
Mealy was actually an intruder. This was a clandestine visit, yet he felt as if this stable was his own domain.
Approaching Buttercup, his favorite lamb, Mealy exposed his anticipatory fangs. But when he was about to extract some of Buttercup’s oh-so-sweet blood, he noticed two holes in her neck. They were not evidence of his previous visits. The holes were too far apart to have been his.
“What in damnation is going on here?” Mealy blurted out. He was completely caught of guard.
“There’s another vampire about. There has to be!” he announced to all the critters. “I can’t believe it. Someone is poaching on my turf. NO! NO!” he screamed, and then stopped himself abruptly, fearing he might awaken the Bilderback’s.
Mealy Peasnap was, as he believed, Athens County’s only vampire. He roamed the hills and hollers during the bewitching hours of the night with impunity for so long that the thought of competition for animal exsanguinations had not crossed his mind in quite some time.
Mealy had long ago given up on searching out human blood. He was, what some might consider, the personification of the hillbilly--a caricature. He did not posses any of the social skills that would help him get close enough to potential victims. Even the rural folk would tell him to go back to West Virginia before he could strike up a conversation.
It is so hard to bewitch someone with the vampire-come-hither-whammy stare when you are repulsed from the get-go. The attack from out-of-the-blue never worked for him either. Mealy was thin as a bean pole and could pretty much be swiped away like a mosquito. Hence the unhindered freedom of sucking to his hearts content from any and all the livestock in the county for sustenance suited him to a tee.
This can’t be!--centered his delirium. Oh, Buttercup, who has been drinking from my little angel? Probably one of those crazy city slicker vampires--you know the type--all eye liner and oil in their hair. You’re lucky he didn’t drain you. Nobody knows how much blood you can give up without dying, but me.
What would one of those wicked city vampires be doing here in the Appalachian hills of Ohio? There are no groupings in this area. The closest one is based in Columbus and even they don’t know about me. I think they call themselves the COUNCIL. I’ve hidden myself too well. No! No, they couldn’t have found me here.
The only answer—is that there is a usurper (a word he had learned and now had the chance to use. He had many more like this, if only he had the chance). Oh my goodness! Another vampire in Athens County!
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