brightness of the morning air assaulted Rob's bloodshot eyes. Each
floating mote, a perfectly angled glittering mirror that shot beams
of pain directly into his eyes, down through the optic nerve and
into the depths of his misfiring brain. Everything had a double
image and the difficulty of refining them sent needles of agony
into the subterranean maze of his consciousness. Rob's face creased
with the effort to see, and even under his sunglasses, his eyes
knew scientists could be hard drinkers, but they had taken it to
a new level last night. To make it even worse, they had shifted
the celebration over to the Frat house - those boys were walking
talking definitions of Wild Abandonment.
foot missed the bottom step of the Kappa Sigma House, his knee coming
down hard on the concrete lip. Pain seared his leg almost breaking
through the hundred foot wall of his hangover. He sat down hard,
a hand exploring the wound. He clenched his teeth tightly, biting
back a girlish scream. A rip in his tweed pants revealed a flap
of skin hanging and blood flowing in a thick warm rivulet down his
leg. He tugged out his handkerchief and dabbed gently, soaking up
the blood. It was soon evident that the blood wasn't going to stop
by itself. It was an ugly wound. Carefully, he peeled the tape from
the day-old cotton bandage at his wrist. It came away, still sticky,
revealing a long thin scab where they had taken his blood for last
night's experiment. He transferred the bandage to his knee and sat
for a moment, gathering himself.
was still drunk.
was no way his body could have rid itself of all the alcohol he
had so foolishly consumed.
his old professor always liked to say, Snockered to all hell.
had started out innocently enough with a few bottles of champagne
passed around - a tradition for the completion of any successful
experiment. Each of them suddenly beknighted and shouting snippets
of Nobel Prize speeches, proud to be the first and knowing that
the world would never be the same.
Then Baxter had pulled a fifth of whiskey out of the bottom drawer
of his desk. Rob had always suspected Baxter was an alky. Like Rob,
however, Baxter was tenured and short of a disaster, both of their
jobs were secure. He didnt know how they finished the whiskey
as fast as they did, but before they knew it, one of the student
assistants, Steven, led them in a drunken parade to his Frat House
. . . and that was the point where everything went a little fuzzy.
major problem was his wallet. He had already checked the office,
but nothing was there except empty bottles of Brut and mounds of
white paper cups. Confetti, Anna's insane idea, littered every surface
of the laboratory including the raised marble pentagram in the middle of the room.
remembered at the Frat House passing out a few of his cards to some
nice young ladies who had inquired about possible positions under
him. After that, he remembered absolutely nothing. In fact, he had
no idea how he had gotten home. All he knew was he awoke naked and
wearing someone's bra on his head like Mickey Mouse ear warmers.
limped up the stairs, using the rail as his friend. Achieving the
landing, he leaned on the doorbell. He heard it echo inside the
house. After a minute, he tried the door.
large oak door opened revealing a scene of incredible devastation.
But from what Rob had heard, not an unusual one. At least a dozen
chairs, two sofas and three tables were in different stages of destruction.
He could see where they had been repaired many times before, and
with a little tape, glue and some bubble gum they would be just
as good as they were.
the bodies . . .
were everywhere laying like refuse along the beer soaked carpet
and against the walls. They looked dead, but were probably just
Rob stepped between askew legs and splayed arms, he began to feel
nauseous. The stench of body odor and gallons of spilled stale beer
tickled his stomach, trying to cajole its contents forth.
He yelled not willing to dare the stairs to the second floor. The
name echoed throughout the house.
began searching for himself between the bodies and on the grimy
surfaces looking for the telltale sign of his brown wallet impossibly
thick with forgotten business cards.
room was illuminated by the shafts of light that filtered between
the venetian blinds on the front windows. Even so, he had to squint
into several shadowy corners, greeted only with more unconscious
revelers. A table, miraculously standing, was totally covered with
red plastic cups, each in different stages of emptiness. It merely added to the stench of alcohol abuse that permeated
the very pores of the house. He finally turned around, his arms
spread wide, realizing the impossibility of his search. He stabbed
an angry look at the heavens and stopped cold.
eyes met eyes.
. . an unblinking set of blue orbs that followed him like a predator.
Damn," he said, breaking the deadness of the house. "What
the hell is she doing here?" He spun toward the stairs, "Steven!"
dude. Stop that yelling." A scrawny young man, long blond hair,
greasy in a pony tail, descended the stairs. He scratched at his
naked belly, a pink and yellow Hawaiian Mu Mu, covering his legs.
said Rob, his voice breaking with fury and incredulity. "What
is she doing here?"
young man scratched his adolescent whiskers and looked at the woman
taped to the ceiling. "Well, I remembered what you said about
the sunlight. So, I taped her up there. You know, that stuff really
works. I mean look at her, she's freakin' solid up there."
followed Steven's gesture and indeed recognized the qualities of
the duct tape. She was firmly affixed to the shadowy confines of
the ceiling. She appeared comfortable between two heavy oak beams.
Two perfect firm breasts peered out from between bands of the green tape. A hint of her pubic
hair, as blonde as the hair on her head, tantalized the eyes before
disappearing into another band of tape. All in all, it appeared
six bands were enough to subdue and attach her to the ceiling.
turned toward his assistant, eye's wide, mouth trying to form words
that should never be said. "What I asked . . . ," it came
out as a squeak. He took two deep breaths, his eyes a warning to
Steven not to move, then tried again. "What I asked, my dear assistant, was what is our experiment doing here inside
a Frat House on a Sunday morning taped to the ceiling."
smiled, "Oh. That's easy, dude. See, the boys, they couldn't
believe that we had a woman with a tail. I mean, they didn't understand
succubus from city bus. So I made a bet with them. Shit, dude, I
got seventy-eight bucks."
look indicated Steven should continue if he valued his life.
you want, I can split it with you. Seeing as how it was you that
brought her and all."
frown fell several inches.
anyway, when they saw her, so naked and fine - that little cute
tail of hers - they insisted on bringing her to the party. Show
her off and all. I tried to explain to them about the whole demon
thing, dude. You know, fire, brimstone, burning pits of hell? But they were thinking with their other heads."
surveyed the room again, this time paying more attention to the
these people . . . all of them are . . ."
". . . dead as dog shit. Yep. You should
have seen her. She was a fucking whirlwind once she broke out of
her shackles. And that's another thing, we need to get our money
back from that company. She broke them like they was paper. They're
pretty useless if you ask me."
toed a boy big enough to look like he played football with his pointed
brown leather shoe. It was like pushing clay. A feeling began to
expand in his chest. He identified it as panic mixed with nausea.
were right about the blood, though. She wouldn't touch me. Called
me master and all that. Pretty cool, dude." Steven laughed
to himself, the joke lost on Rob.
looked up again, the succubus was staring at him, a thin smile now
on her face. Needle-sharp teeth poked from her upper jaw, resting
gently on her blood red lower lip. He heard several groans from
behind him that made him spin around. The formerly dead partygoers began to stir as if they were doing nothing
more than awaking from a rough night of revelry.
that's another thing. She told me that they would get un-dead sometime
this morning. Said they were gonna repopulate the world or something
. . . I wasn't paying much attention at that point. I was really
watched the kids begin to stand, certain that undead didn't mean
the same thing as alive. The whites of their eyes were blackened
with the effects of dried congealed blood. Their faces sagged oddly
with lumpy torpid skin. Their movements were stiff and stumbling
as if every movement was a fight against gravity and fate. Each
one shuffled up to him and sniffed. Apparently satisfied, they moved
off, eventually finding the door. They trailed out and down the
stairs as if they already knew their destination.
heard a ripping noise from above him and a heavy thud on the floor.
Behind him, in the darkness of a corner, was the succubus, crouched
like a great cat, tail whipping back and forth with pleasure.
has begun," came the multi-octave voice.
was the kind of thing that could mess up tenure, he couldn't help
Weston at WESTON
is Copyright 1998 by Weston Ochse and is published in feoamante.com
/ Feo Amante's Story Time with his permission.