months. This morning they were in the oven, and later, when we have our cocktails—and of course, the book signing!—you’ll find what’s left of them on the hors d’oeuvre trays.”
Next to the lectern was a table covered with stacks of thick books bound in black leather. Rose picked up one of the books. “I’ll be reading to you from my latest work, Vulture Soup For The Soulless, published by Abomination Press. Plenty of copies here for everyone! But before I start reading, I think we’d all like to hear a few words from a surprise guest we have in the audience.”
She then pointed straight at Inga. Everyone turned to stare at the aerobics instructor.
“I’ve never met a vampire before,” Rose enthused, “but I’ve read all the ancient texts—research for the book!—and so I know one when I see one!”
Everyone oooohed and aaaaahed.
When Inga stood to say something—she had no idea what—some of the creatures began to clap. Again their clapping raised soft billows of dust, and a swirl of it drifted across Inga’s face.
And she sneezed.
And coughed.
“Oh, dear!” the golden woman said in a tone that was low to the point of ominous. “It would seem I was mistaken. Just listen to those lungs! Apparently we have a breather on our hands.”
“A breather! I should have guessed!” cried a lumpy horror behind Inga. “She doesn’t have any stink on her!”
The audience members began to snarl. A feral red glow sprang up in their eyes.
“We don’t like being deceived!” Rose thundered. “Or—spied upon!”
“Now wait a minute!” Inga cried. “I just came in to buy your book. You’re the one who led me in here.”
The creatures turned toward Rose.
“Well, that’s true...” the writer admitted.
“In a lot of ways, I’m in the same boat as you folks,” Inga said. “Look at me. Ninety-one pounds. Pale as a sheet. Hair as red as an apple. People have made fun of me my whole life. They’ve called me Stringbean, Scrawny, Goth-Chick, Skeleton Girl, and lots of worse things, too. But I can’t pick up weight. I just can’t. And I can’t tan. I don’t go out much because...” She sighed. “I don’t get that many offers. I’m scared of most guys anyway. They’re so much bigger than me. I don’t want to go out with somebody who might crush me if he sat on me by accident in a dark movie theatre.”
“Do you have brittle bones?” said the cadaver who had lost the fingers.
“No, my bones are okay. In fact, I’ve always been pretty athletic. But my boss fired me today because I look too scary to teach aerobics.”
“Nonsense!” bellowed a burly corpse across the room. “You’re not scary at all. Actually, you’re pretty cute!”
“Adorable!” another stiff squealed.
All of the audience members grunted or hooted in agreement.
“Oh! Thank you!” Inga said. “But I’m afraid my boss was right. Living people have a problem with me. My class isn’t even big enough to pay my salary. It’s a pity you folks don’t need an aerobics instructor.”
“Exercise doesn’t agree with us,” Rose said. “We try to avoid excessive movement. And sunlight.”
“And animals,” a one-legged green atrocity said. “A dog ran off with part of me last week.”
Soon all the audience members were talking about their various inconveniences—the trials of trying to exist in secret, in a world of unsympathetic living beings.
“Flies!” one mushy heap exclaimed. “Do you know how hard it is to keep the flies off? And don’t get me started about maggots!”
“I’ve got plenty of money,” the burly corpse said, “but how am I supposed to go shopping? I can’t go walking around the mall!”
“I can pass for living,” Rose said, “but how long is that going to last? Make-up and perfume can only go so far! And I simply can’t go out on hot days. It would be nice to have someone to help with the touch-up work ... and the maintenance ... but who can I trust?”
Then the noseless creature said,” Yeah, it’s not like there’s some living person we could pay to help us out on a regular basis.”
A thoughtful silence settled over the room.
Then heads slowly began to turn—all toward Inga.
“I’d pay cash!” the lumpy horror said.
“I’ve got gold coins! So many pretty gold coins!” creaked an especially withered she-thing.
“Would you like a new car?” one dapper cadaver offered. “I bought a lovely red sports car about two weeks before I died. Why, it even matches your hair!”
“You could move in here, if you like,” Rose said. “I don’t use most of the house, so you’d have the run of the place. Say, can you type? I’m thinking of writing another book, but I’m starting to get CDS—Carpal Decay Syndrome.”
Inga wasn’t even worried when new tears—of happiness—began to flow down her cheeks. Her make-up was already ruined, and her generous new friends didn’t care how she looked anyway.
The Agony of Claude Bawls
The Muzak played Alley Cat as Landford stepped off the elevator.
Instantly he knew something was up. Everybody in the office had that deer-in-the-headlights look—a look no one likes to see at work. He was a half-hour late, and for a frantic second he wondered if some crisis had taken place which had required his attention. But no: the fright-eyes weren’t focused on him.
He dropped off his valise and coat at his office and headed for the staff lounge. If gossip was on the wing, that was where it would eventually go to roost.
He found Marla, the receptionist, and Peg, an intern from the community college, by a plate of jelly doughnuts, exchanging sotto voce comments. He tried to maintain his most serious, concerned expression as he snatched a raspberry doughnut. “Everything all right?” he said.
Peg turned to him with a grimace of a smile. “Oh, Isaac. You haven’t heard? It’s so—” She rolled her eyes, as if searching her brain for the right word. “—freaky. In a bad sort of way.”
Marla stepped closer to him. “It’s Zuzie’s husband. Claude.”
Zuzie Bawls was Landford’s supervisor, a fiftyish, dark-haired woman who wore black blazers and loud, flowing scarves. “Claude? The piano teacher?” he said. He had a quick mental image of a keyboard lid slamming down on plump fingers. He pushed the thought out of his mind.
“It’s just so freaky. Really.” Peg whispered.
“Yes, dear, we know.” Marla gave the girl a withering glance, then turned to Landford. “He was
