The vampire emerged from the shadows, eyes glowing crimson, lips curled in a sinister grin. Her appearance—uncannily like Hilda Ogden—was both terrifying and oddly nostalgic. “Submit to me, unworthy one,” she hissed. “Resistance is futile. My fangs and hair curler shall claim your mind and heart.”
Just then, my loyal sidekick Barry—a slightly overweight, perpetually confused bat—fluttered in and crashed into a nearby lamp. “I’m here! I brought garlic… wait, no, that’s a banana,” he announced proudly.
The vampire sneered. “Surrender to your fate… as I drain you dry!” Her chilling laughter echoed through the room.
But I had a secret weapon. The night before, I’d consumed a heroic amount of curry, ale, and beans. As she advanced, I lifted my leg and unleashed a thunderous fart.
Barry gagged mid-air. “Oh no, not the gas again!”
The vampire recoiled. “You flatulent brute!” she hissed, staggering backward. I continued my assault, each blast driving her closer to her coffin. Barry tried to help by flapping his wings to spread the fumes.
With one final, triumphant release, I sealed her retreat. She vanished into her coffin, defeated not by stakes or sunlight—but by sheer digestive vengeance.
Barry landed beside me, coughing. “Next time, maybe just garlic?”
No comments:
Post a Comment