Invitations

Part Two

Mr Badger and a bit from Handel W. Care

Any other time I'd have taken an invitation to the sweetest social event of the year as a compliment. Any other time being accompanied by two men to the sweetest social event of the year would be a dream come true. Any other time the two men in question wouldn't act like they're five but going on a million. Sort of like going to your grandmother's house for the summer, it just smells old. These guys smelled old in a way that didn't bother to include your nose. I'd spent a few wasted evenings in the company of the re-enactment crowd and they seemed to get their jollies using phrases and words from years ago, but from the way these two talked you just knew these words were 'new fangled' for them the first time around. You've heard of the kind of date called grave robbing - I bet but this date is going to be just so like Jurassic Park. I should write this one up for the diary. Saturday: Going on a date with two walking corpses. Feeling excited.

Like a moron I agreed. Sure, I'll go to the party. No skin off my nose, right. Get to mingle with the in crowd and sample the buffet. It is only THE event of the year, for crying out loud. Invitation only with nothing as common as door sales. I'd heard they even arrange to have the streets closed around the block just so the guests aren't disturbed by an actual sighting of a pleb during their arrival. Anyone who is anyone will be there: the movers, the shakers and the lookers; nothing but the cream. I'd usually have as much chance of falling on my arse and landing on the moon as getting into this party, yet soon I'd be walking through the doors like I owned the place. Hell, from the amount they cut off student allowances to built the place perhaps I do own it.

How these two ever got an actual invitation was a mystery. Like an idiot times two I had to ask. They told me just for the look on my face I bet. For a girl who makes a hobby of eradicating the undead you'd think I'd have stronger nerves, but, you know, there's a mighty big difference between staking a blood sucker and smacking someone over the head just to make like the Blair Witch with their wallet. A girl's got to have standards. Just wish they'd wiped the blood off the paper before handing it to me; also wish they'd have given me more from the wallet than just the invitation. This princess also has to eat and she's not afraid to take hand outs. The CD collection is starting to look desert island like as well. Not that present company would ever notice. Kind of scary when you think about it. I haven't been game enough to ask about music really. Not sure if the answer I want about the Beatles is 'who?' Some things you just don't want to hear.

So that's the story. I got to go to this party through the front door and let the terror twins in the back. Good puppy, wonder if they'll give her a treat after doing their tricks? If it wasn't for the revenge part I'd tell them to find another animal to play fetch with. You see, that's the clincher of the deal. Sure I'd consider helping just for the free meal and the drinks - I am still a student, and a rose by any other name - but the real incentive in the plan was pure revenge. The rat bastard who signed his name in my arm was going to be the main event at this barn dance and I for one wanted to be there when he got his. Hell, I wanted to be the one that gave it to him, but mum never raised herself a stupid girl. He'd played twister with my brain the first time and I'm the sort to bet he could do it again if given the chance. I'd let my dates tango with the big nasty. Me, I was just there to laugh at the ending and spot my name in the credits.

The guy's name was Brooks it seemed: a sort of high up mucky muck on one side or the other. I couldn't care less about whether the guy flossed after chewing necks, but it seems the walking dead care a whole lot more than's healthy. Handel didn't explain much and Badger said even less. I had to make a quick check to make sure his throat wasn't cut. Some what tight about the details when it suits them. Something about being in my better interests not to know too much. From what happens to those with loose lips I'm all for this veil of secrecy, because that sort of thing is exactly what has everyone's negligee in a bundle. Seems Brooks was planning on letting a few secrets loose during this party - revealing his true nature as a blood sucker and making slaves of all those there for starters. Shouldn't be too hard I'd imagine. From what I'd seen of the social butterflies they'd got all the mental staying power of a wet bit of paper in a hurricane. Probably not a good idea having all the social queens in thrall to a blood sucker though. Thinking about it, maybe that's how flares got back in. A lot to answer for these people.

So, my benefactors had been assigned to make sure such an embarrassing event didn't sink too many ships; assigned by their lords and masters on both sides of the fence it would seem. Not sure if that's a good sign or not, seemed to have plenty of people worried and if someone who could laugh off a gut shot from a howitzer was worried, things weren't looking good or the rest of Kansas. Forget about the storm shelter aunty and start making motions towards the missile silo next door. Forget the dog, we'll get another one later.

I had my own worries, like what to wear. This was somewhat important you know. From the looks on their faces when I mentioned it you'd have thought I'd said something stupid. Just because I don't dress like an Old Spice advertisement they think I'm the shallow one. They get to walk and talk yet the fashion sense stayed in the grave. I didn't say anything to them - but trench coats? Oh please, that's just so like lamer geek squad. Don't get me started, but if you could have seen what else they were wearing you'd wonder no more as to what had happened to Jon Pertwee's cast off wardrobe. Sometimes I believe the old wives tale of how Vampires can't see their own reflection in a mirror. Certainly would explain the way they all dress. Something about being dead must do strange things to the eyesight. Brown and grey like that? Not in my world buddy. They might think they're tough but it's plain as day they'd never been fathers. A few mournful looks, a couple of tear jerking sighs, a rasp in the voice and they're falling over themselves to go take you shopping. Hey, just because I'm tough doesn't mean I can't take advantage of the situation. I had to get something to wear for this event. Even if I was only there to open a window and watch an arse kicking for free. I was thinking something in satin; something blue or maybe rouge.

Sort of strange seeing them out in public. To be blunt it's the not seeing them that makes the mind go off kilter. It's like I always knew that I wasn't walking alone; that we were a table for three and not a sad old one, an abstract in solitude without a fortress in sight, but unless I kept muttering under my breath their names and what we were doing I was all alone. Just me walking across the road. Something they do plays tricks on your brain. It's not that they're invisible, no way at all from the way people parted to let us all through, it's more that as far as your brain is concerned they're not there. Even when they chatted to me it wasn't that I was hearing them. It was more I was remembering what had been said before - like a waking dream with me front row centre. If it wasn't such a piss off I'd be flattered. Handel apologised at the time, something about being habit and not an insult. They can be so charming at times, when they're not looking at you like a Happy Meal on legs.

After spending time with these two my decision to leave the old ones alone made even more sense. Young suckers are easy, they're game and they're emotional to a fault. The old ones know enough to play the game on their own grounds. When to leave best alone. Like Brooks. Boy is he in for a surprise.

Jeez, they're the one's who are going to live forever, but did they bitch about my shopping! So I had to try on a few things before making a short list, sue me. Just for the complaining I added a few new pairs of shoes onto the price tag. Well, not just for the bitching but a girl just needs these things sometimes. You can never have enough shoes, especially when you spend half your evenings wading through ashes like I do. Now if only you could stake a blood sucker and they'd turn into chocolate. That would be a perfect world. I feel a moment coming on.

So I picked a few things for the party and a couple to see me through the summer. The two old farts slapped a handful of plastic into my happy fingers and sulked off to a bar across the road. None of the plastic had their names on them and the sales wench didn't even blink when she rung up the first total so I saw no reason to stop with just a little when a lot sounded better. I'd seen some of these guys lift cars without blinking, so a few more shopping bags wouldn't hurt.

I've got an eye for detail and I'm proud of it. Not many can judge sizes and styles just from a glance. I'd shopped not only for myself but for the other two as well. There was no way I was going to sneak them into a party looking like that! I was quite impressed, even by my standards, at how well the things I'd selected fitted. Perhaps a little tight about the shoulders for Badger, but you get that. If he'd stopped slouching for a minute before I'd have gotten the size a little better. Not a worry though, at least now he wouldn't be shot as a lost cause by the fashion police. Antonio they weren't, but now I'd not be considering suicide if seen with them in public.

"So you know what we require of you?" Asked Handel. Seems it wasn't enough to have a trained attack puppy on the payroll but now he wanted a parrot.

"Sure I do," I replied with more spunk than conviction, "dazzle them all with style and beauty, make small talk across the dance floor, maybe a waltz or three with the host then off to the ladies to let you two in."

Handel looked at me as if I'd made a mess on the carpet. He then looked at Badger with an expression as if his gout was playing up with the spring weather. "Ten minutes in a room with you and everyone's a smart-arse."

"Just a giving kind of guy I suppose, too damn charitable for my own good." Good reply but a little too practiced to my ear. They'd done this before. Cats lick themselves, dogs run around in circles and these two niggled at each other like they were married. Kind of comforting in a way; if you managed to forget the lack of living status, the fact they're both older than sin, that with any others of their breed I'd be genetically bound to kill them, that they could arm wrestle a Yeti without breaking a sweat and that I'm not supposed to have guests in my hostel room at this time of night. I can just see it now: Sorry mate, I tried to get them to visit during the day but they've got this distressing habit of bursting into flame when confronted by sunlight. Some sort of skin condition, happens when you're full of bullshit like that. Professional help? Why yes, I have thought about acquiring some. Thank you for your concern but I was just about to go back inside and cover myself with my own excrement while singing the national anthem. As if passing my classes wasn't hard enough already without this sort of thing.

It was getting kind of early in that way kind of late turns into if you're not careful. Unlike certain others I won't mention I can't spend all day in the coffin. They got the hint to go away once I pulled down my bed and started undressing in front of them. One thing I learnt today, blood suckers can still blush. I thought I had the better of them but boy was I mistaken. There was something I'd forgotten - tact that the last time we met they'd had to put me to bed after getting concussed.

"Hey, still got the Snoopy underwear. She's still our little girl."

They both had the nerve to chuckle. Bastards. They'd even asked for the plastic back. So much for the CD additonals. This party had better be worth it else someone is going to die and if I've got any say in the matter it won't be yours truly.

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Part Three