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Even in a residence that size, the actual staff was not very large. Cleaners came in on a daily basis. But none lived there. There was a resident physician, though he was pretty much brushed to the side when this vampire business started. The butler naturally had a room. So did the housekeeper. Two conservators oversaw the proper cleaning and maintenance of antiques and collectibles. And four armed guards patrolled the premises. I think there was a kid who ran errands too. Like if the old man needed toe-nail clippers, or tabloid newspapers, or little paper umbrellas for his drinks. Decrepit billionaires got strange tastes. What do you want from me? Don't you remember Howard Hughes? And the way it worked out, with the rats and all, the kid who ran errands was the only one still alive. Lucky the old guy wanted ass wipes. Not t.p.. The housekeeper took care of that. But he saw a commercial for them Cottonelle luxury, wet naps and figured he better try 'em while still partly mortal, 'cause he wasn't sure night-folk spent too much time sittin' on the can. Couldn't remember if Doctor Polidori ever used a toilet.
So he called out from the lead room (his lead room) and the kid went. Twenty seven heart beats later, the rats streamed in. See, people, that's why you gotta close them lids. Tiny, little sharp clawed hands and feet scampered over an assortment of fine tiled floors, ran down polished oak corridors (featuring thick, wool, patterned runners) and scurried under closed, interior doors. It's almost as if they have no bones. And they were so close to the floor the motion detectors failed to see them.
The butler got it first. He was dreaming.... college days up in Canada.... summers in The Thousand Islands.... weekends with rich friends. But the mosquitoes that sometimes plagued twilight, dockside buffets seemed especially strident this time around.... And he woke to find perhaps one hundred and fifteen rats sharing the mattress with him.... At first he froze. The clever animals pulled back just a bit.... He couldn't see them. The quilt took care of that, though he could sense it moving in the darkness. Six heartbeats later, he shuddered. Uh, oh... must be like a checkered flag... or a dinner bell. Before he could draw another breath, the beasts went straight to work. And then he screamed. And then he gagged.... The tongue (as you know) is considered quite choice. If you'd watched from above, you'd have seen dark, red blood stains blossom like tumors and fan out across the undulating bedding, til the eviscerated occupant, quite denuded of flesh and minus his eyes (nose and lips too), deflated down into the mattress (hotel quality and pillow topped before the unfortunate incident) and smiled. All skulls look that way, you know.
Then the rodents left, just as they came, carrying seven score pounds of flesh and offal with them. The butler was a very big man.
The others, some in bed, some on duty, some chewing leftover veal followed after. The guards never fired a shot.
By the time the errand boy got back with the Cottonelle wet wipes and punched in the entry code it was all over. The killers were gone. And the house, though reeking, was quiet.
Forty six heartbeats later, he stumbled back out onto the street and screamed for help.
The blood stench permeated everything... even the lead. I suppose there must have been microscopic cracks, not to mention the tiny openings where the needles came through. And Jonathon began to howl. Not like a werewolf. Please, this is real. He desperately needed food and 'Papa' ( just returned from his travels) crashed through the roof and plunged toward the center of the edifice. He 'hammered' through the leaden wall, ripped it apart and bore his 'son' to freedom.
Now the old man couldn't help but hear. And he saw it all on the security monitors. His own, leaden 'safe room' was very well equipped. And he started to shake and cry, as the thick, vault-like door smashed open....
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thank you. to see earlier parts, click on THIS ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are very welcome.
So he called out from the lead room (his lead room) and the kid went. Twenty seven heart beats later, the rats streamed in. See, people, that's why you gotta close them lids. Tiny, little sharp clawed hands and feet scampered over an assortment of fine tiled floors, ran down polished oak corridors (featuring thick, wool, patterned runners) and scurried under closed, interior doors. It's almost as if they have no bones. And they were so close to the floor the motion detectors failed to see them.
The butler got it first. He was dreaming.... college days up in Canada.... summers in The Thousand Islands.... weekends with rich friends. But the mosquitoes that sometimes plagued twilight, dockside buffets seemed especially strident this time around.... And he woke to find perhaps one hundred and fifteen rats sharing the mattress with him.... At first he froze. The clever animals pulled back just a bit.... He couldn't see them. The quilt took care of that, though he could sense it moving in the darkness. Six heartbeats later, he shuddered. Uh, oh... must be like a checkered flag... or a dinner bell. Before he could draw another breath, the beasts went straight to work. And then he screamed. And then he gagged.... The tongue (as you know) is considered quite choice. If you'd watched from above, you'd have seen dark, red blood stains blossom like tumors and fan out across the undulating bedding, til the eviscerated occupant, quite denuded of flesh and minus his eyes (nose and lips too), deflated down into the mattress (hotel quality and pillow topped before the unfortunate incident) and smiled. All skulls look that way, you know.
Then the rodents left, just as they came, carrying seven score pounds of flesh and offal with them. The butler was a very big man.
The others, some in bed, some on duty, some chewing leftover veal followed after. The guards never fired a shot.
By the time the errand boy got back with the Cottonelle wet wipes and punched in the entry code it was all over. The killers were gone. And the house, though reeking, was quiet.
Forty six heartbeats later, he stumbled back out onto the street and screamed for help.
The blood stench permeated everything... even the lead. I suppose there must have been microscopic cracks, not to mention the tiny openings where the needles came through. And Jonathon began to howl. Not like a werewolf. Please, this is real. He desperately needed food and 'Papa' ( just returned from his travels) crashed through the roof and plunged toward the center of the edifice. He 'hammered' through the leaden wall, ripped it apart and bore his 'son' to freedom.
Now the old man couldn't help but hear. And he saw it all on the security monitors. His own, leaden 'safe room' was very well equipped. And he started to shake and cry, as the thick, vault-like door smashed open....
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
thank you. to see earlier parts, click on THIS ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are very welcome.
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