"I've exploded at least twelve times this year. It sucks growing back limbs," Jamie explained.
We all sat in somewhat awkward silence as Jamie shed a few tears over the snafu and the lost appendages. The Cows patted it on the back then grunted and swayed.
I accidently picked up my glass and took a sip in my panic to think of something to say. It tasted like warm butt, not that I knew what butt tasted like… but it sure as hell smelled like it. Swallowing my bile as not to upset the Cows was more difficult than beheading a Dragon, but I did it.
With tears in my eyes and my stomach roiling I decided to talk—it was either that or I'd puke. "So dude, um… ettes or not, I was wondering if you're related in any way."
"Yep," Francis said with a wrinkled brow, trying to figure out the first part of my sentence. "We're all Dungs."
Dwayne's gasp and girlie shriek was alarmingly audible. He stood up with fluttering hands and next thing I knew he was plastered to the ceiling.
"Shit fire," Granny muttered as she grabbed his leg, pulled him down and sat on him.
The Cows clapped wildly and begged him to do it again. Hank put his head in his hands and sighed heavily.
"So, um… about this Vampyre Dwayne…" Dwayne said from beneath Granny as he removed his scarf from his nose and tied it into a do rag on his head. "Why is it you want to see him?"
"The poop patty told us to wait here for him," Lee said.
"It told us he would come and save us," Pat added.
"From what?" Hank asked.
"The poop didn't tell us that part," Francis said sadly. "We stay here because we know he'll come."
Granny wisely placed her hand over Dwayne's mouth before he could say anything that would turn our strange social visit into a bloodbath. "Your poop lies," she said.
"Don't you be talking smack on the poop, old lady," Harley grunted as the others paced in agitation.
"The poop clearly lies," Granny persisted. "You are not the only Were species in the world."
The grumbling was turning ugly. Hank quickly stood and put himself between us and the Cows.
I shot Granny a shut the hell up look and tried to diplomatically take over. "Wait," I shouted over the unhappy grunts, violent fist clenching and chest thumping. I was not going to die in a trailer in Indiana after accidently ingesting butt juice. "Is it possible you might have misread the poop? Could it have meant that you are the only Cow species left in the world?"
That stopped everyone.
"Hell and damnation," Jamie gasped out. "That bag of bones might be on to something."
The Cows all sprinted to the wall shelves and began taking down the empty milk jugs—that weren't empty. In the glass bottom of each bottle was a poop patty. Thankfully they were sealed shut. The Cows examined them with excitement and purpose. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming this whole insane evening up. Nope, I was wide awake. This was a living nightmare.
"I found it," Terry yelled triumphantly. "That girl could be right!"
"The girl has a name," I muttered.
"There you go," Francis said, giving Granny a dirty look. "The poop don't lie."
"Okay, clearly the… poop is onto something," Hank said as he bit down on his lip to keep from laughing and inciting the Cows. "There has to be more in the poop about this Dwayne fellow."
"Not in the poop," Pat said with narrowed eyes and a flushed face. "In our history there are many stories of the Vampyre known as Dwayne."
"Oh shit," I whispered. This was going to be good… or really bad. If we were going to die I wanted to know something. "Do you people ever use pronouns to describe yourselves?"
Everyone stared at me blankly. It was worth a try.
"Never mind," I said in defeat. "Tell us the Dwayne story."
"Our mamma and daddy were married by the holy priest, Gay Vampyre Dwayne," Pat began.
All the Cows plopped down on the floor like children expecting a bedtime story. With clasped hands and wide eyes they waited for Pat to regale us. It was kind of cute in a nightmare- inducing sort of way. The mention of Dwayne's sexuality was interesting and weird.
"It was a beautiful ceremony with over a thousand in attendance," she went on. "Mamma wore a gown made by hogs and Daddy was nekkid. That's our tradition. Vampyre Dwayne… "
"Gay Vampyre Dwayne," Francis corrected Pat.
"Yes, Gay Vampyre Dwayne preached and stood on his head for three days. He wore a pink robe with no underpants."
"Was it the robe or the lack of undergarments that gave away he was gay?" Dwayne inquired, somewhat insulted.
Granny slapped his head and took another swig off of her milk. "Hush boy, I wanna hear about Gay Vampyre Dwayne."
Hank was looking a bit shell-shocked and said nothing, but kept his body between us and the sadly misinformed Cows.
"Now, normally Mamma would have eaten Daddy on their honeymoon, but Gay Vampyre Dwayne inspired our parents to let go of their normal sexual eating patterns."
"How did he do that?" I asked, worried about what I would hear but too curious not to know.
"Not quite sure," Pat said with a shrug. "But if I had to guess I'd say it was the three hour performance of “Hey Diddle Diddle” done to a tribal drum beat."
I glanced over at Dwayne who was preening. I pulled his do rag down over his face. With no real clue where the tale was going, we didn't need Dracula to reveal his true identity yet.