The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant Read Online Free PDF

Tables and chairs were overturned, streamers and bits of costume littered the floor, and unclaimed nametags were scattered like confetti that yearned to be identified. In the center of the room now stood a small platform, and atop it a metal framing with straps for holding appendages. The roof had been opened, and moonlight was spilling down onto the new platform, illuminating a series of blades and blunt instruments attached to it.
    My fellow classmates were all bound to the bleachers, arms tied together so they had no hope of getting free. They were blindfolded as well. It made a bit of somber sense—give someone a feeling of fear, and they get passive. Let them know inescapable death is at hand, and they’ll fight with every measure of strength they have.
    The hands holding me in the air did indeed belong to Brent, though they were much bigger than normal. He stood below me, half in wolf form, and half in human. He was at least seven-feet tall, covered in shaggy black hair, and his face was contorted into a hideous partial muzzle. The other two werewolves from the parking lot were still in full-fuzzball mode, though the grey wolf had shifted into a form similar to Brent’s. I didn’t recognize who the grey wolf was, but I’d had a voice and a personality to help me figure out Brent’s identity through this morphed and furry visage. He smiled, I think, and his voice rumbled.
    “Well, well, well . . . Faggy Freddy came back for the reunion, huh? I can’t think of a better person to start with.” With that he tossed me over his shoulder and began sauntering slowly toward what I had already come to think of as the Death Rack. He took his time, moving in a rhythmic precision that I can only assume was part of the ceremony. Panic was welling up in me, and it was looking more and more like my only chance was going to be showing my nature and making a dash. As I looked at my old classmates, though, my constant plan of flight faltered. These people weren’t ones I particularly cared about; however, it still sickened me that they were lined up like cattle waiting to be slaughtered. In fact, that’s exactly what they were. As I stared at them, I began wondering what kind of lives they had, what families would miss them when they were gone. Sure, I’d coped with my death easily, but my life hadn’t been that great either. I hadn’t had anyone who would miss me. All of this was bouncing around my skull during Brent’s slow march toward the Death Rack, my eyes trained on all these helpless people. And then, staring at them made me realize something entirely different.
    They were all blindfolded. That meant they couldn’t see me. For the next ten seconds or so, I was free of the rack and there were no human witnesses. My eyes began darting around, desperately searching for something I could use to turn this situation in my favor. We were halfway to the rack when I saw what I was looking for. It would be close, but I had a shot. Brent continued moving forward in that strange, faltering manner. When we were only a few steps away, I sprang to life (so to speak). I snapped the cords tying my arms, pushed off Brent’s shoulder, and knocked him off balance. I had a feeling he wouldn’t let go. Thankfully, I was able to stagger him enough to make a diving lean for my target.
    As I look back, it seems like there were a number of options available to me. I could have grabbed a plank off the bleacher wall and cracked it into my adversary’s spine, I could have sunk my fangs into his arms and ripped myself free, or I even could have used my strength to punch him in the head. I didn’t do any of those things. The problem with all of those solutions is that I was never a violent person, and a few death and near-death situations weren’t going to change that. I was still me. So, I took advantage of the fact that the Kent party planning committee had anticipated all foreseeable (or so they thought) emergencies.
    I pulled myself to