VAMPS

A sexy Goth-rock band comes to Merridale, & people start dying from bites to their throats

The main street of Merridale, in the Victorian Countryside, Rochester Road, contains a built-up promenade down the centre of the road, which includes World War I and II Memorials for Merridale-East Merridale men who died in the chaos. Also, there is an ancient World War Two cannon, so coated in rust that it would probably disintegrate if you fell against it. But of more interest to the three hundred screaming teens (and teens at heart) that day, July 12th 2025, was the large, white, ornate-metal bandstand, which was the centre-piece of the promenade.

Upon the bandstand were three very sexy, late teen Goth women, with long, shiny black hair, and a distinctly Morticia Addams look to them. If Morticia Addams had ever dared to show so much flesh in public. Their shiny, black and blood red outfits looked like Las Vegas Showgirl outfits: sparkly velveteen covering their breasts, buttocks, loins, with a strap running up the front from pants to bra, with a cutout to display their belly buttons. They also wore knee-length vinyl boots, which were black and blood red.

"Hello, Merridale!" shouted the gorgeous lead vocalist. Waiting for the hysterical screaming to die down, before she added: "I am Mysteria Manners." After the hysteria dropped to a dull roar, she said: "The beautiful lady on the Moog synthesiser is my sister, Malaria Manners ...." Again, the crowd roared in excitement, before she could add: "And our lovely drummer is our cousin, Magenta Manners ...."

Again, the crowd roared, almost going ballistic, when the three young women opened their mouths wide to display fake vampire teeth that they had had made up for their show.

"We are the Vamps," continued Mysteria, starting to play her guitar and saying: "And we vaunt to rock your blood!" Which really sent the mainly teen audience into hysterics. Not waiting for the ululation to die down, she started singing:

"We are the Vamp Girls

"We are the Vamps

"We've come to rock your minds

"Across the oceans wide,

"We flew here on our wings," at which the three woman flapped their arms like wings:

"And we can do most anything ...

"Most anything to rock your minds...."

Circling the stage were fifteen or so local police, all wearing headphones which muffled the sound of the band and roar of the audience, while allowing the police to communicate with each other.

"So are we here mainly to enjoy the band, or to protect the girls if the hysterical fans rush the stage?" asked Suzette Cummings. Her eyes were shining a little from excitement and fear. This was the eighteen-year-old raven-haired teen's first case of crowd control. It was also the first time that she had attended a rock concert.

"We're here to protect the girls from hysterical fans wanting souvenirs," said Terri Scott. A tall, beautiful ash blonde, Terri was the Senior Sergeant of the area, and was in charge of the crowd control assignment, upon request from the local magistrate, and Mayor of Glen Hartwell, Don Frazer.

"Such as an ear, an eye, an arm, or a leg," said Colin Klein. A retired crime reporter, a tall, redheaded Englishman, Colin was now employed by the Glen Hartwell Police Department and was engaged to Terri.

"Also, there's the horny blokes who might want to rush the stage to gang bang the three chicks," said Sheila Bennett. A thirty-something Goth chick with black-and-orange striped hair, Sheila was the Chief Constable of the area.

"Not just the blokes," said Wendy Pearson. A honey blonde, in her mid-forties, Wendy looked more like a fashion model than a cop. Pointing into the crowd, she said, "Half of the girls have a hand down their pants, frigging themselves shitless."

"Don't worry," offered Stanlee Dempsey, a forty-something, ox of a man with short, black hair, "if any of the horny females charge the stage, I will heroically put myself in their way, so that they will tackle me instead."

"That's very chivalrous of you," said Alice Walker with a laugh. A forty-seven-year-old brunette, Alice was an amateur weight-lifter and gymmate of Sheila on Saturdays.

"We are the Vamp Girls

"We are the Vamps

"We've come to rock your minds

"Across the oceans wide,

"We flew here on our wings,

"And we've got nothing to hide.

At which, all three of the Vamps opened their mouths wide to reveal their vampire teeth and hissed at the crowd, sending them into raptures.

"At night, we will take flight

"At night we'll blow your minds."

Again, the Vamps opened their mouths wide to reveal their vampire teeth and hissed at the crowd, causing excited girls and youths to charge the stage, until being pushed back by the police.

"I hope they're not going to keep doing that," said Terri over her headphones.

"I'm not complaining," said Stanlee Dempsey, as young women kept pressing up against him, trying to force their way through the police cordon.

"Why didn't they hold this concert inside the town hall in Glen Hartwell?" asked Alice.

"The Vamps are doing a free concert," explained Sheila, "and the rental of the town hall would've been two grand."

"A free concert?" asked Colin.

"Yes, to promote their first CD, Vamp Powerment."

"Powerment? Is that even a word?" asked Wendy Pearson.

"If these lovely ladies say it is, then as far as I'm concerned, it is," said Stanlee.

"Stop enjoying the ladies pushing up against you," said Terri, "and start pushing them away."

"I don't know where to push them, for fear of getting into trouble with the Negative Action Gestapo!" replied Stanlee.

"We are the creatures of the night," sang Mysteria Manners:

"We have come to blow your mind,

"We will make you die of fright

"But not until you see this sight ...."

At which the Vamp girls ripped their tops off to continue singing and playing topless.

"Oh no, why didn't they warn us that they were going to do that?" demanded Terri.

The excited crowd gang-rushed the stage, managing to break through the police cordon to charge the three sexy, topless Goth chicks.

Now the ones running from fright, the Vamps jumped off the back of the stage, still topless, and ran down Rochester Road with the police, and three hundred-plus horny youths and teen girls charging after them.

Racing toward Terri's police-blue Lexus GX parked nearby, Sheila sped after the running Vamps until she drew level. Slowing, but not stopping the car, she called out: "Get in!"

Running across to the Lexus, the three young women managed to get into the car, then Sheila accelerated well away from the pursuing crowd.


Half an hour later, the Vamps and the police were crowded into the tiny Morcambe Street Police Station in Lenoak.

"What in God's name possessed you three to rip your tops off in front of that crowd!" demanded Terri, glaring at the younger women like their Mum.

"All the other Goth rock chick bands do it," said Mysteria Manners, who was a beautiful twenty-two-year-old redhead when she removed her long, black wig: "The Hot Chix, the Hex Girls, Neutron Nookie, all of them!"

"We didn't dare not follow suit," said Malaria Manners, a pretty, twenty-year-old honey blonde.

"Would you have jumped off the top of the Sydney Opera House if all of the other Goth rock chick bands were doing it?" asked Colin.

"If it would make us look cool in our last few seconds of life, you bet that we would," insisted Magenta Manners, a short, twenty-one-year-old ravenette.

Sighing from frustration, Terri said, "You could have been killed."

"Or worse," added Colin.

"He means gang-banged," explained Sheila.

"All right, what are your names?" asked Terri, taking notes.

"Mysteria ...."

"Your real names?"

"Susie Frazer," said Mysteria.

"Edith Frazer," said Malaria.

"Mary Frazer," said Magenta.

Looking up, Terri asked, "Any relation to our Mayor and magistrate, Don Frazer?"

"He's our uncle," said Susie-Mysteria, "that's how we got permission to give the free concert to promote our CD, Vamp Powerment."

"Nepotism is a fine thing when it works for you," teased Sheila.

"Did your uncle know that you were going to pull that topless stunt?" demanded Terri.

"We may have forgotten to tell him that bit," admitted Edith-Malaria.

"Well, he'll know this evening when the papers come out," said Alice Walker. "There were plenty of people taking pictures, even while they gang-rushed the podium."

"So you girls will be front page news this evening, or tomorrow morning at the latest," said Wendy Pearson.

"I've already ordered a hundred copies of the Glen Hartwell Reporter with the pix," teased Stanlee Dempsey.

"Thank you, Stanlee!" said Terri in a harsh tone. "Okay, Sheila will drive you all home, but try to avoid going topless again between BeauLarkin and Willamby, please."

"But all the girls are doing it," insisted Susie-Mysteria.

"The Hot Chix, the Hex Girls, Neutron Nookie, the Proton Pussies, you name them," said Edith-Malaria.

"Gee, they come up with some cool names these Goth chick rock bands," said Suzette Cummings.

"All of the girls, except The Vamps from now on!" insisted Terri, standing to glare down at the three Goth chicks.

"Oh, all right," muttered the three girls.

"Come on, girls, I'll take you home," volunteered Sheila.

"Do we need to post a guard at their house?" asked Stanlee, hopefully. "Because I'm available."

As Sheila and the Vamps were leaving, Colin called, "And leave your wigs off until your next concert."

"That's tomorrow night," called back Mary-Magenta.

"They'd better hope that their Uncle Don doesn't see any topless pictures of them in the papers," said Colin.

"He will, I'm personally taking some of the papers to him," said Terri.


Billy, Floyd, and Glenn Hooker were wandering down Hawksbury Way, Merridale, at 8:30 that evening. The three teenagers had been at the Vamps concert earlier that day, and had led the chase to run down the fleeing, topless Goth chicks, not quite certain what they would have done with them had they caught up with them.

"If that nosy Goth cop chick hadn't interfered," complained Billy, a thin but wiry nineteen-year-old man with dark hair.

"They all stick together," complained Floyd Hooker, a tall redheaded youth of seventeen.

"Goth chicks?" asked Glenn, a short, blond, seventeen-year-old, nicknamed Pizza Face due to his extreme acne.

"No, chicks in general," explained Floyd, "they all conspire together to stop boys from getting any K.U.N.T."

"So, what would we have done with the Vamps, if we had caught them, anyway?" asked Glenn.

"Damned if I know," admitted Billy, "I was too damned excited by the sight of tits to think that far ahead. I guess we could have squeezed their tits, if nothing else."

"Yeah, they all have nice big tits," mused Floyd.

"Especially, Mysteria, the singer," said Glenn, "she puts Bianca Censori to shame."

"No one puts Bianca Censori to shame, tits wise," corrected Floyd, "but she came damn close." Then to Billy, "So, you weren't thinking of raping them?"

"Frankly, I wasn't thinking, full stop," admitted Billy. "Seeing tits for the first time in my life, I was like an enraged bull with a red flag waved before it."

"Yeah, and what red flags they all had," mused Glenn.

"That doesn't make any sense, bro," said Floyd.

They were still discussing how close they had come to catching the Vamps when they noticed the three figures sauntering toward them, down the street.

"Hey, is that them now?" asked Billy. "He peered, trying to see under the poor street lighting."

"The Vamps? I doubt it!" said Floyd. "If they've got any sense, they'll never set foot outside again without a police escort."

Yet, as the figures approached, it soon became clear that they were three women, with long black hair, wearing long black dresses.

"It looks a bit like them," said Glenn.

"Except that they're not wearing their sparkly cabaret costumes," said Floyd.

"Would you be, after being chased by three hundred excited blokes and sheilas?" asked Billy.

"No, I guess not," admitted Floyd.

As the three, tall, Goth women approached them, Billy asked, "Are you the Vamps?"

By way of answer, the three women opened their mouths wide to reveal evil-looking fangs and hissed at the three youths.

"I think that means yes," said Floyd as the three women stepped into line with them.

"So, would you like to have some fun?" Glenn risked asking.

"Fun," repeated the middle woman, who had more than a passing resemblance to Elvira, Mistress of the Dark, especially in the chest area. She spoke in a strange, husky voice.

"Yes, fun," said Floyd. "Boy on girl fun," he said, stressing the word 'on'.

"Boy on girl fun," repeated Elvira-clone.

The three Goth women looped their left arms through the right arms of the teenage boys.

"Whoo, you're as cold as ice," said Glenn, his arm starting to freeze as soon as the woman touched him.

"I'm sure, you boys know how to warm us up," said Elvira-clone. "Boy on girl fun." Her husky voice turning on the three teens.

"Boy on girl fun," repeated Glenn, no longer caring how icy her touch was.

Unaware of where the three women were leading them, Billy, Floyd, and Glenn Hooker allowed themselves to be led just outside the city limits, into the start of the sweet-smelling pine, wattle, and eucalyptus forest beyond.

"Hey, what are we doing out here?" asked Billy, looking around.

"Boy on girl fun," said husky-voiced Elvira-clone.

Reaching up, she gripped the sleeves of her long, black dress and slipped them off, allowing the dress to drop to the forest floor. Seconds later, the other two Goth chicks did the same thing, standing before the boys completely naked.

"Whoo," said Glenn again, not sure where he wanted to look first.

Billy walked across to grab the husky-voiced Elvira-clone's huge breasts, and said, "I'll soon get these frozen beauties warmed up for you."

"Boy on girl fun," repeated husky-voiced Elvira-clone.

She lay down onto the ground, spreading her legs wide, as she thrust her pelvic region up at him in invitation.

"Boy on girl fun, indeed," said Billy.

He raced across to kneel between her spread thighs. His manhood already rampant, he only had to get it into her vagina, something which he struggled to do at first.

"Whoo, I don't think my warm dick wants to travel into your icy crevice," said the nineteen-year-old, starting to have some doubts.

"Boy on girl fun, indeed," said husky-voiced Elvira-clone, making Billy lose the last of his doubts.

Bracing himself for the cold, he slammed forward, crying out as his manhood felt as though it were caked inside a wall of ice.

Having dropped their dresses, the other two vamps also lay on the carpet of pine needles and gum leaves, which blanketed the forest floor.

"I think this is where the man becomes a boy," said Floyd.

He knelt between the legs of the second vixen, who looked a little like an older version of Mavis Dracula. Or at least Maisie Williams as Mavis Dracula.

He leant forward to suck one of her generously-sized nipples and thought: It's like sucking a pointy icicle.

"What ...?" he said, startled as Mavis Dracula-clone took the lead, reaching down to grasp his warm penis in her freezing hand to guide it into her cold vagina.

"Boy on girl fun, indeed," said Mavis Dracula-clone, also in a husky voice.

"You girls do need warming up," said Floyd.

He started to thrust in and out of her, for fear of his manhood being frozen inside the ice-cold woman.

"Boy on girl fun, indeed," repeated Mavis Dracula-clone.

"If you say so," said Floyd.

He wondered where the three women had been to get so cold. Victoria had had a moderately mild winter so far, at least in July.

Deciding that it didn't matter, he began thrusting up and down on top of the Goth woman, who soon wrapped her long, ghostly white legs around him to pull him as deeply as possible into her body.

Wow, it's almost like fucking a corpse! thought Floyd. Not that he had had any experience at fucking corpses.

Embarrassed by the rutting, not love making, of the other two pairs, Glenn Hooker had hesitated to climb aboard the third Goth chick, who had a striking resemblance to Wednesday Addams, or at least to Kalinka 'Sweetie' Fox as Wednesday Addams.

"Boy on girl fun! Boy on girl fun!" offered Wednesday-Kalinka, thrusting her hips wantonly up at the hesitant seventeen-year-old.

Oh well, the worst I can do is bukkake her before I even get inside her, thought Glenn as he knelt between Wednesday-Kalinka's thighs and managed to get inside her without ejaculating, although he didn't think he would be able to hold off for long!

"Boy on girl fun! Boy on girl fun!" repeated Wednesday-Kalinka, wrapping her long, ghostly white legs around the teenager to hold him down inside her.

As predicted, Glenn had hardly started thrusting when he ejaculated inside the Goth woman. However, the cold of her vagina kept him erect, and he was soon thrusting up and down on top of her again, as much as he could in the vice-like grip of her long legs.

I've heard that in cold water you can fuck forever, he thought, since the cold keeps you hard. Maybe it's the same with a cold cunt?

For the next three hours, almost to midnight, Billy, Floyd, and Glenn Hooker continued to fuck Elvira-Clone, Mavis Dracula-Clone, and Wednesday Addams-Clone, occasionally swapping, so that they could each have a turn with each of the women, until, finally, they were too exhausted to go on.

"That's it, Elvira-Clone," said Billy before passing out from fatigue.

"Still didn't manage to warm them up very much," muttered Floyd before falling asleep.

"Next time, let's do it indoors," muttered Glenn, also falling asleep from fatigue.

"Sleep, boys, sleep," said husky-voiced Elvira-clone.

"Sleep the sleep of the dead," added husky-voiced Mavis Dracula-Clone.

Kneeling beside the three men, the three creatures opened their mouths wide again to reveal their wickedly sharp fangs, which they used to rip out the throats of the three men, to feast hungrily upon their warm blood.

"Drink, sisters, drink," said husky-voiced Wednesday Addams-Clone.

When they had drained the last drop from the teenagers, the three vampires walked across to their dresses, which they pulled back on. Then in the blink of an eye, they transformed into tiny vampire bats, hardly any bigger than mice with wings, and set off for their coffins to sleep off their meal.


It wasn't until the next morning that the Glen Hartwell Reporter's headlines declared: Topless Vamps cause riot at Merridale Promenade!

It went on to give a largely fictitious account of the previous day's events, including suggesting that the topless riot had led to a three-hundred-person orgy: Writhing bodies going everywhere: men with women, women with women, men with men.

"That's strange," said Sheila, seated at the breakfast table at the Yellow House in Rochester Road, "I don't remember any three-hundred-person orgy after the riot."

"And if there was a three-hundred-person orgy, why weren't we invited?" asked Tommy Turner, a short, blond, chubby, reluctantly reforming alcoholic.

"They probably only wanted people still sexually capable," teased Natasha Lipzing, at seventy-one, the oldest resident of the boarding house.

"Natasha, how could you?" asked a shocked Deidre Morton, owner of the Yellow House. A short, plump, sixty-something brunette and cordon bleu chef. To Tommy, she said, "You do know that they only have sex at orgies, not booze?"

"Really? Oh, then forget it," said Tommy.

"Besides," teased Freddy Kingston, a tall, chubby, balding retiree, "if they were running as fast, after the Vamp Girls, as the paper suggests, you would have had a heart attack long before reaching any booze ... or the Vamp Girls."

"Yes, that's true," admitted Tommy, "running isn't my forte."

"No, getting sloshed like a newt is your forte," said Leo Laxman. A tall, lean, black Jamaican, Leo was a nurse at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital.

"It would be, if Deidre hadn't confiscated all of my grog, then started parcelling it out as though I'm a child."

"Well, you drink like a child," said Colin, "with zero restraint."

"Booze takes me to a nicer place," insisted Tommy.

"Yes ... Heaven ... if you drink too much of it," warned Natasha.


Donald Frazer was a tall, heavyset man with short blond hair and a ginger moustache. Complete with a vest, checked coat and trousers, pipe, and a deerstalker hat, he was the local magistrate of all of the towns between BeauLarkin and Willamby, as well as the Mayor of Glen Hartwell.

Don was seated at the long red gum dining table in the teak-walled dining room of his manor house, enjoying his porridge and sugar, sipping at his Earl Grey Tea. Life is good, he thought.

At that moment, an elderly lady came into the room and dropped a newspaper onto the table in front of him.

"What is the meaning of this, Mrs. Piederson?" he asked. "You know that I never read the paper until after eating my porridge."

"I think you should read this immediately," said the old lady. She opened the Glen Hartwell Reporter to the front cover and read out, "Topless Vamps cause riot at Merridale Promenade!"

"What?" cried Don, snatching the paper from Mrs. Pickering, who went to answer the knocking at the front door.

A couple of minutes later, Terri, Colin, Sheila, and Alice turned up, each holding copies of different newspapers.

"Terri, have you read this?" asked Don, reading out the largely fictitious account of the riot at the rock concert.

"The bit about the orgy is completely untrue," assured Sheila.

"And the bit about my nieces going topless?"

"Unfortunately, that's true," conceded Colin. "It's what started the riot."

"The crowd was worked up into a sexual fervour already," explained Alice, "and the girls going topless was like a red flag to a bull."

"I got them away safely," said Sheila, "the girls weren't hurt."

"Not yet," said Don meaningfully

"It seems that all of the Goth rock, girl bands are doing it," explained Terri. "Hot Chix, the Hex Girls, Neutron Nookie, the Proton Pussies, and so on."

"The Proton Pussies?" demanded Don.

"According to your nieces," said Alice.

"And I thought the Vamps was a strange name."


It was almost lunchtime when a local jogger stumbled across the remains of Billy, Floyd, and Glenn Hooker, less than a kilometre outside Merridale.

"Just as we were getting ready to have lunch," complained Sheila Bennett, as she took the crime scene pictures with her mobile phone.

"Feel free to eat it after seeing this," teased Cheryl Pritchard, pointing at the corpses. A sixty-four-year-old Amazonian brunette, Cheryl was the chief paramedic of the area.

"Don't think I won't," said Sheila. "If we missed a meal every time something gruesome happened in the Glen Hartwell region, we'd all be as anorexic as fashion models. Instead of being built like real women."

"Personally, I take great pride in not being built like a real woman," said Jesus Costello, a heavily built, fifty-something man, the administrator and head surgeon at the Glen Hartwell Hospital.

"Ha-ha, it is to laugh," said Sheila, stepping aside to allow Jesus to start examining the three corpses.


Later that day, the four cops were in the morgue in the basement of the hospital, watching the autopsies of the three teenage men.

"So far, it looks like nothing has been done to them, except for the extraction of their blood," said Tilly Lombstrom, Jesus's second in charge, a tall, attractive, fifty-something brunette.

"So are we talking about a vampire attack?" asked Sheila.

"Or more likely, loonies with some kind of suction device?" asked Colin.

"At this stage, we would not even rule out vampires," said Tilly, "but don't quote me on that. Or, I'll deny it."

"Do you think that the Vamps could be real Vampires?" asked Alice Walker as they headed back toward the hospital's parking lot.

"If they were real vampires," asked Colin, "why would they have run like hell when the sex-crazed mob charged, instead of turning into bats to fly away, or wolves maybe to scare away the crowds?"

"Good question," agreed Terri, "but it might pay to get the girls tested, for their own protection, to prove that they are human."


"Of course, we're not real vampires," said Susie-Mysteria, before fainting at the sight of the needle that Tilly Lombstrom planned to use to take her blood.

"Well, that does make things easier," said Tilly.

She signalled for two orderlies to lift the redheaded teen onto a chair, before extracting some blood from her left elbow.

"Now, do you two want to faint first?" teased Tilly.

"No, we're braver than her," said Edith-Malaria, "even if she is the oldest."

A very short time later, they were X-raying the girls to ascertain that they did not have real vampire fangs concealed in their jaws.

Then, by tea time, Tilly was able to affirm, "The Vamps are living human girls."

"So, can we go home and have our tea, now?" asked Sheila Bennett.


The old Cartwright house on Chatterton Street, Westmoreland, is a spooky old manor house that dates back to the early 1800s. It was a good example of classical English architecture, apart from having been abandoned almost fifty years ago. Concrete lions sat on stands guarding the front door. Gargoyles sat on the eaves guarding them from aerial attack. The windows were stained glass, featuring intricate designs of life in jolly old England in the early nineteenth century, and an intricately designed mermaid served as a knocker on the solid oaken front door.

Elvira-Clone, Mavis Dracula-Clone, and Wednesday Addams-Clone stepped out of the front door of the mansion as soon as darkfall came. Above them, the stone gargoyles looked down to watch them exiting, but knew that they were no threat to the mansion. [See my story, 'Gargoyles'.]

Rounding the corner, they had barely set out for the night when they saw the four teenage boys walking towards them.

"Fresh blood," said Elvira-Clone in her sexy, husky voice.

"Fresh bloody," agreed the other two vampires.


"So what'd you think of the Vamps concert yesterday?" asked seventeen-year-old David Boone, a short ash blond youth.

"Well, tonight's concert was pretty tame after yesterday's," said his nineteen-year-old brother, Ritchie, a tall raven-haired youth.

"Yeah, we're lucky that the Reporter included a full colour supplement of topless pix of the three hotties," said Davy's twin brother, Micky.

"That's why we got six copies, two each," said Ritchie, holding the papers up, "We'll be able to wank off until the cows come home looking at these pix."

"Or we could just admire them for their artistic merit," teased Davy, before bursting out into laughter.

"To quote Buddy Holley, that'll be the day," said Micky, before all three boys started laughing riotously.

"Yeah, that first concert must've been a beauty," mused Ritchie.

"If only we'd been there, we might've managed to catch the topless Vamps," said Micky.

"Then what?" asked Davy. "With cops everywhere, we couldn't have done anything with them."

"We could have squeezed their titties at least," suggested Ritchie.

"Yeah, they do have nice big titties," mused Micky, who had already glanced through the colour supplement.

"Especially that Mysteria, their leader," said Davy. "She's up there, tit wise, with Kat Denning, Pammy, or Bianca Censori.

"Yeah, Bianca Censori," mused Micky, "did you see those as-good-as naked pictures of her at the 2025 Grammy Awards Ceremony?"

"See them?" asked Ritchie. "Hell, I saw them, downloaded them, then used Pixlr picture editor to lighten them up until she became naked."

"You cunning perv," said Davy, before laughing.

"Why didn't you show us the full naked versions?" demanded Micky.

Before Ritchie could answer, the three teenagers virtually collided with Elvira-Clone, Mavis Dracula-Clone, and Wednesday Addams-Clone.

"Hey, are you girls the Vamps?" asked Micky.

"Love your full colour topless spread," said Davy tactlessly.

By way of answer, the vampire women displayed their evil-looking fangs and hissed at the boys.

Then Elvira-Clone said in her sexy, husky voice, "Do you boys want to have some fun?"

"What kind of fun?" asked Micky.

"Boy on girl fun," said Wednesday-Clone.

"Boy, do we ever," said Ritchie. Looking at their chests, he added, "Hey, you girls have even bigger tits in real life then in your photos."

"Boy on girl fun," said Mavis-Clone. "Come with us."

"Whatever you say, gorgeous," said Davy. "So, what are you girls named?"

"Elvira-Clone," said the chief vampire, remembering the name that she had heard the Hooker brothers call her the night before.

"Mavis Dracula-Clone."

"Wednesday Addams-Clone."

"Those are ... strange names," said Ritchie.

"Boy on girl fun," reminded the three sexy vampires.

The three boys followed the three vampires back to Cartwright Manor House on the outskirts of Chatterton Street.

"Wow, you live in this mausoleum?" asked Ritchie Boone.

"Boy on girl fun," reminded Elvira as they stepped inside the derelict structure.

"Boy on girl fun," agreed Ritchie, any qualms that he had started to have instantly vanishing.

The vampire women led the three boys into a large, ornately decorated, although dust-laden, banqueting hall.

"Hey, the dining room," said Davy, "I hope you aren't planning to eat us?"

The three boys laughed at this, while the three vampires dropped their dresses to stand before them stark naked.

"Boy on girl fun," reminded Elvira-Clone.

"Boy on girl fun," agreed all three teenagers, advancing, hands at breast height, upon the three women.

"Whoo, you girls need warming up," said Micky.

"Boy on girl fun," suggested Mavis-Clone.

The three female vampires lay on their backs on the dirty, dusty carpet, spread their legs wide, and thrust their hips up in invitation.

"Boy on girl fun," cried the three vampire women.

"Boy on girl fun," cried the three teenage boys as they raced across to mount the three sexy vampires.

"Jesus, you're just as cold inside as out," said Micky, after slamming his penis into Mavis-Clone's vagina.

"Boy on girl fun," reminded Mavis-Clone, wrapping her long, ghostly legs around him, to pull the boy onto and into her as fully as possible.

"Wow, I like an obliging chick," said Davy, even though he had never met an obliging chick before, "but she's so tight, it's like fucking a vice."

"Boy on girl fun," reminded Wednesday-Clone, also pulling him down onto and into her body with her ghostly white legs.

"These chicks could work as vices in their spare time, the way they can pull us down and clamp us inside them," said Ritchie, "not that I'm complaining."

"Boy on girl fun," reminded Elvira-Clone as she matched the horny teenager thrust for thrust.

"Boy on girl fun," agreed Ritchie without a care in the world.

He didn't even mind lying on top of her upon the dusty floor. He wasn't allergic, and he was getting pussy for the first and last time in his short life.

"Boy on girl fun," repeated all of the vampire chicks as the orgy continued.

After nearly an hour, he was exhausted; nonetheless, Micky asked Mavis-Clone, "So do you do it with your arse?"

By way of answer, she ripped out his throat and started hungrily drinking down his hot, spurting blood, while the other couples kept making out.

Leaving Micky's corpse lying face-down on the thick layer of dust, Mavis-Clone stood up and walked to the back of the banqueting hall, where three coffins were lying upon a vast teak dining table.

Leaping effortlessly onto the table, Mavis-Clone lifted the lid of one coffin, which was partly filled with graveyard dirt, then stepped into the coffin, lay down, and closed the lid over herself.

Finally, Elvira-Clone and Ritchie, and Wednesday-Clone and Davy finished, the boys panting from exhaustion, the vampire women heavy breathing from expectation.

"Hey, what are those?" asked Davy.

Before Wednesday-Clone could rip his throat out, the teenager jumped to his feet and raced down to the dining table.

"They look like coffins," said Davy.

He opened the lid of the first coffin and said, "This one's full of dirt. It must be a vampire's coffin."

As he started to tip the graveyard dirt onto the floor, Wednesday-Clone called: "Hey, my bed!"

She raced down to the dining table and ripped out Davy's throat with her incisors.

"What the fuck?" asked Ritchie, struggling to his feet.

He looked down at where Micky lay, saw his chalky white complexion and said, "Real vampires, you girls are real vampires!"

"Boy on girl fun," teased Elvira-Clone, rounding upon him.


An hour later, the three vampires were sound asleep in their coffins.

Having managed to stop Elvira-Clone from ripping out his throat by covering it with his hands, Ritchie had been drained of a dangerous amount of blood. Unable to stand, he managed to crawl to the front door, fell down the concrete steps, with the gargoyles upon the eaves of the building looking down at him in amazement. Then, slowly, he started crawling down Chatterton Street, hoping to find help before he died.


It was 4:15 in the morning when Terri Scott's mobile phone rang, waking her and Colin from a sound sleep.

"This had better be urgent!" warned Terri into the phone.

Then, after a moment, she climbed out of bed and started hammering on the bedroom wall to awaken Sheila Bennett:

"Wakey, wakey, mad Goth chick!" called the ash blonde.

"But I'm still sleepy, Mummy," said Sheila in a little girl's voice.

"Wakey, wakey, eggs and bakey!" cried Terri.

"It's only 4:18!" complained the Goth chick, reluctantly climbing out of bed.


It had just gone five o'clock when the three cops arrived at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital on Baltimore Road.

Instead of taking them down to the morgue, as they had expected, however, two orderlies took them up to a mauve-walled room on the second storey, where Tilly Lombstrom and Topaz Moseley were attending to a pasty white Ritchie Boone, who had blood drips attached to both of his arms.

"We were expecting to see three more corpses," said Terri.

"There might be two at least," said Topaz, a gorgeous thirty-three-year-old platinum blonde nurse. "He was out walking with his two brothers."

"He was found, almost dead, crawling around Chatterton Street, Westmoreland," explained Tilly.

"Isn't that where the living gargoyles protect that old mansion?" asked Colin.

"The Cartwright Manor House," said Sheila.

"Then let's go check it out," said Terri.

"Are you mad?" asked Sheila. "If they are real vampires, they'll be too powerful until dawn. Also, we have to get some things first."

"What things?" asked Colin.

"Several cedar wood stakes, wooden mallets, silver crosses, and a few litres of holy water."

"Father Montague is going to love us," said Terri.

"Yes, he said something about excommunicating us, last time," said Colin, "if we ever came begging for more holy water."

"That's no big deal for you or me," pointed out Sheila, as they headed back out into the corridor, "we're not Catholics, so we've never been in communication with the Pope."

"No, it's poor Charlene Muggins who could get excommunicated," said Terri. "And there will be demotions for anyone who dares to laugh at my expense."

"We wouldn't dare," said Sheila, having to cover her mouth with her hands as they headed for the silver-doored elevators.


It was nearly 7:30 by the time that they had collected the wooden stakes and other objects to kill or restrain the vampires.

Yawning, Sheila said, "With any luck, we can kill the three vampire chicks, then still get home in time for brekkie."

They pulled up outside the manor house, carrying their vampire-slaying accoutrements. As they approached the building, the three concrete gargoyles leant further down to watch them.

"Now, the tricky part is getting inside, without being attacked by our gargoyle friends," said Terri. [See my story, 'Gargoyles'.]

"Just act nonchalant, and whatever you do, don't run," said Colin as they started, slowly, toward the front door of the derelict manor house.

"Hello there," Sheila called up to the gargoyles, who looked puzzled.

"But don't go bloody mad," teased Alice Walker.

Entering the dining room, they saw very little in the dark.

"First things first, open all the blinds in here," instructed Sheila.

The four cops went around and opened the curtains, allowing light to flood into the room, probably for the first time in fifty years.

"Oh, my God!" said Alice.

The four cops raced across to examine the corpses of Davy and Micky Boone.

Seeing their ripped out throats, Colin said, "Both dead."

Without being told, Sheila took out her mobile phone to take some crime scene photographs.

Standing, Terri pointed to the dining table and said, "If my knowledge of vampire legend, which is feeble compared to Sheila's, holds up, we should find our deadly ladies sleeping in those three coffins."

"Yatzy!" said Sheila as the four cops headed toward the dining table.

Between the four of them, they managed to remove the heavy lid from one of the coffins. Inside lay Wednesday-Clone, arms crossed over her more than ample bosom.

"He she looks a bit like Wednesday Addams," said Alice Walker.

"She won't even look like More-Tittier Addams, by the time that I'm finished with her," said Sheila, holding a cedar wood stake in one hand and a wooden mallet in the other.

"It's pronounced Morticia," corrected Colin.

"Whatever," said the Goth cop chick.

Placing the stake's point over the vampire's heart, Sheila whacked it with the mallet.

Opening her eyes, Wednesday-Clone shrieked in rage and agony. However, as Sheila drove the stake right into her heart, the vampire lay silent. Then, like in a Hammer Horror Film, she began to age, then start to dissolve into dust.

"One down, two to go," said Sheila, smiling broadly, adrenaline surging.

Putting down the mallet for a moment, Sheila helped the others to remove the lid from the middle coffin ...

Which was empty apart from a few scatterings of graveyard dirt.

"What the Hell?" asked Terri.

As quickly as possible, they removed the lid from the final coffin, which was also empty."

"What the fuck do we do now?" asked Colin.

"Well, we got one of them," said Alice lamely.

Forty minutes or so later, Jesus Costello and Leo Laxman were at the scene, examining the chalky white remains of Davy and Micky Boone.

"Same as the Hooker brothers," said Jesus, "sucked dry of every drop of blood."

"Do we have to worry about the five teenagers returning as vampires?" asked Leo, startling the others who hadn't considered that possibility.

"No, I doubt it," said Sheila. "According to legend, if vampires completely drain their victims of blood, then they stay dead. If they only drain a little blood, that's when they come back as vampires."

"Is that part of the original legends, though?" asked Leo.

"No," admitted Sheila, "some horror writer, who aced mathematics, worked out back in the 1980s, that if every vampire had to kill someone every night, and every victim came back as a vampire, needing to kill someone every night, within about six weeks the entire population of the planet would be vampires, and they'd all starve to death with no humans left to feed upon. But it does make sense."

"Well," said Colin, "we have got five litres of holy water. We could always pour a litre down the throat of each of the five dead boys."

"That ought to do it," agreed Sheila.

"Then I'll have to get excommunicated to get us some more holy water from Father Montague," complained Terri.

"Look at it this way, Chief," said Alice. "Seventy-two percent of Christians are Protestants anyway, but we could always use another member."

"Grrr!" said Terri as they headed outside again.

"She grrred at me," said Alice as they returned to Terri's police-blue Lexus.


That night, there was no free Vamps concert, due to the concerted efforts of Terri Scott and Don Frazer.

"Hopefully, that will keep the teens indoors and make it harder for the vampires to get them," said Terri.

"And harder for us to promote our CD, Vamp Powerment!" complained Susie-Mysteria, leader of the Vamps.

"You can promote it ... with your tops on, as soon as they destroy the last two vampires," insisted Don Frazer in his book-lined drawing room.

"But the Hot Chix, the Hex Girls, Neutron Nookie, and the Proton Pussies all flash their ti ... knockers," complained Edith-Malaria.

"Well, your ti knockers will remain covered," insisted Don.

"That is so unfair," complained Mary-Magenta.


It was nearly 9:00 PM when the four teenage boys approached the chain-link fence of the Shady Rest Cemetery just outside of the northwestern end of Glen Hartwell. The four boys all carried pinch bars, hammers, and even a short-handled spade, in the case of Elmer.

"Can you tell me again, why we're coming here?" asked John Anthony, nicknamed Goober due to his love of Goober brand peanuts. Aged nineteen, he was short, strong as an ox, and almost half as smart.

"Because," explained Gomer Gilliard, the leader of the boys. He was eighteen and had shoulder-length raven hair. "It'll be fun."

"I don't know about smashing up graves," said Goober, "I mean, my Granny Hilda died. She could be buried here."

"Your Granny Hilda was cremated, and her urn is sitting upon your mantelpiece," pointed out Chester Fielding, a tall, redheaded nineteen-year-old.

"Oh, yeah," said Goober.

He shoved a handful of goobers into his mouth and began chewing them.

Cringing at the noise, Elmer 'El' Rudd, a buck-toothed eighteen-year-old with long, greasy blond hair, said, "And can you stop crunching those bloody things until we're finished for the night?"

"Sorry," said Goober, between a mouthful of peanuts.

Rather than climb the fence with all of their tools, the teenagers used wire cutters to cut a large circle in the chain-link fence to make their way into Melbourne Road.

"So, when do we start smashing graves?" asked Goober.

"Not until we're deep enough in the place, so we can't be heard from the street," explained El.

"We're outside town, and there's no one about," insisted Gomer.

"Pi-ell!" cried El, imitating Sergeant Carter in the Gomer Pyle Show. "It's best to take no chances."

So saying, he led them up Melbourne Road, past the next three crossroads, until they were approaching the Catholic section.

"We'll do it just inside the Mick section," said El, leading them into Glenrowen Drive.

"Hey, I'm a Mick," said Goober.

"All the more reason to do it in the Mick section," teased Chester, making everyone except Goober laugh.

"That's not funny," complained Goober.

"Quiet, moron," said Elmer before starting to swing a sledgehammer at one of the graves. "Get stuck in, boys."

Needing no further encouragement, all four teens were soon smashing open graves, shattering headstones, and destroying vases with flowers in them.

A little before midnight, they stopped for a breather and to drink a can of Melbourne Bitter each.

"Ah, this is the good stuff," said El, "we'll soon be ready for some more smashing."

The teens had finished their beer, and had tossed the cans into one of the graves that they had smashed open when they saw the two beautiful, chestalicious Goth chicks walking down Glenrowen Drive, heading toward them.

"Actually, there is one thing that I like better than beer, and that is K.U.N.T.!" said El, although he had only had sex once, with a fifty-year-old friend of his mother.

"Hey, I think it's the Hex Girls," said Goober.

"What would the Hex Girls be doing in Glen Hartwell?" demanded Chester. "It's two of the Vamps."

"The chicks who caused a riot a couple of days ago by going topless in public," explained Gomer.

"Oh, yeah," said Goober. "I think I remember them."

Seeing the four young men, Elvira-Clone, and Mavis Dracula-Clone strolled down the drive, hips swaying like porn stars, smiling lasciviously at the teens. They were dressed in long, black dresses, with black shoes, and nothing else.

"Hello," said Elvira-Clone in her sexy, husky voice.

"Hell ... hello," muttered El, "I'm Elmer, or El."

"Hello, El, I'm Elvira-Clone."

"So you're not one of the Vamps?" asked Gomer.

"I'm Elvira-Clone," she repeated.

"I'm Gomer."

"And who are you, gorgeous?" Chester asked the second Goth chick.

"I am Mavis Dracula-Clone," she said in her sexy, husky voice.

"So, do you wanna have some fun?" asked El, hopefully.

"Boy on girl fun?" asked Elvira-Clone.

"Is there any other kind?" asked Gomer.

The two women exchanged looks, then dropped their black dresses to stand there in their named splendour.

"Holy shit!" said Goober. "I've never seen tits before!"

"So who goes first?" asked Chester. "There are four of us, but only two of them."

"Two at a time, boy on girl fun," said Mavis-Clone, opening her mouth wide.

Seeing her fangs, Chester said, "If she thinks I'm putting my cock into her mouth, she's crazy. But I'm happy to fuck her arsehole while someone else fucks her pussy."

As the Goth chicks went down on their knees on the gravel path between the shattered graves, Elmer and Chester lifted Mavis-Clone's left leg high into the air, over El's shoulder, so that Elmer could slam his erection into her vagina, while Chester attacked her sphincter.

Looking back at him, Mavis-Clone hissed like a snake, but did not try to stop him, as Chester started to force the glands of his penis against her anus.

"Open wide," teased Chester, slamming his manhood forward. "Jesus, she's as cold inside as out." As he started to penetrate her sphincter, Mavis-Clone looked back to hiss at Chester again.

Soon, Elmer and Chester were fucking the vampire woman rapidly, plunging in and out of her like cams in a shaft.

"Don't worry, you frozen beauty, we'll soon get you warmed up," boasted El.

Mavis-Clone hissed at the two men again, which only excited them, making them even more brutal in their two-sided fucking.

"Jesus, she's as tight as a clam," cried Chester, already starting to ejaculate into her rectum.

"When have you ever fucked a clam?" teased Elmer.

"Hissss!" said Mavis Dracula-Clone.

"Jesus, I'm flushing out her bowels," boasted Chester as he ejaculated into her perfect, heart-shaped backside.

"Hissss!" shrieked Mavis-Clone.

"Wanna swap holes?" asked Chester.

"Nope, I'm happy in her K.U.N.T.," said Elmer.

"Then, I guess I'll have to risk her mouth after all."

Although she hissed at him again, Mavis-Clone opened her mouth wide, as he held onto her shell-shaped ears to start thrusting his manhood into her mouth, then down her throat.

Meanwhile, Gomer and Goober were double fucking Elvira-Clone; Goober in her mouth, Gomer in her vagina.

"Geez, this is the best cock sucking I've ever had," said Goober.

"When did you ever have your cock sucked before?"

"When I was thirteen, Mrs. Morrison, the English teacher, sucked me off at lunchtime."

"What?" demanded Gomer, not believing him.

"Yeah, she loved cock sucking. I think she sucked off and swallowed the loads of every boy in school ... until she was caught one day and fired. I really missed her."

"How come she never sucked me off?" demanded Gomer.

"You were probably too ugly for her."

"How dare you?" Then to Elmer and Chester, "Is it true that Mrs. Morrison sucked off all the boys at High School?"

"That ginger-furred hottie, I'll say she did," said Elmer. "For more than twenty years she sucked off almost every boy at school ... until one day that tight-arsed principal caught her and fired her."

"How come she never sucked me off?"

"You were probably too ugly for her," teased Chester.

"Grrr," growled Gomer in anger.

Pulling out of Elvira-Clone's vagina, he suddenly slammed his erection hard into her anus, making the vampire chick chortle and almost chew off Goober's dick.

"Hey, watch those teeth," cautioned Goober.

Pulling out of her mouth, he went around to start fucking her vagina.

"Hey, double fucking is good, she's so tight," said Goober.

"That's because a woman's K.U.N.T. and her arsehole are so close to each other that when they're both being fucked, they each compress the other hole, making it incredibly tight."

"Wow, you always were the smart one," said Goober.

"Hissss!" shrieked Elvira-Clone, deciding that she was ready to feed.

As the two boys ejaculated into her bowels and vagina at once, she leant back and ripped out Gomer's throat with her fangs, greedily gulping down every drop of his hot, gushing blood.

"Holy shit!" cried Goober.

Abandoning his friends, Goober sped off down Glenrowen Drive, then down Melbourne Road, only by accident finding the circular hole in the wire-mesh fence. Not stopping, he dived head first through the hole and came up running, charging for dear life down Baltimore Drive.


Too preoccupied with her feast, Elvira-Clone barely noticed when Goober ran off. She sucked out every drop of Gomer's hot blood, then carefully licked her fingers clean. Then, after watching Mavis-Clone being double-fucked by Elmer and Chester, she sashayed down Glenrowen Drive until reaching the grave that she had taken over, then dematerialised into gushing smoke, which disappeared through a large crack in the concrete top of the grave.

"Oh God, that was good," said Elmer, "but I think I will try her arse after all."

"It's a beautiful heart-shaped one," said Chester.

As he lunged forward, Mavis-Clone came as close to shrieking as she could, giving Chester the deepest deep-throat that he would ever get.

"Jesus, she swallowed the lot, balls and all," said Chester.

Deciding that she had had enough of the two teenagers, the vampire suddenly bit down hard, making Chester scream, then faint, as she chewed away his penis and testicles and swallowed them straight down her throat. Before greedily gulping down his flowing red blood.

"Is she that good?" asked Elmer, misunderstanding Chester's scream.

Unable to see what had happened to his friend in the dark, Elmer continued to hold onto Mavis-Clone's heart-shaped backside with his large hands, almost pulling the snowy white flesh away from her body as he started sodomising her ruthlessly.

"Man, she is that good!" cried Elmer as he ejaculated into her rectum.

Spinning around, Mavis-Clone hissed at Elmer, then tore out his throat and drank as much of his blood as she could. Then, standing, she put her dress back on, sashayed down to the grave that she had taken over and dematerialised into smoke, which rapidly vanished into the grave.


It was 3:48 in the morning when Terri's mobile phone awakened her this time.

"Damn you, mobile phone," said Terri, turning on her bedside lamp.

"This had better be important!" insisted Terri.

Getting out of bed, she knocked on the wall to Sheila's room, calling, "Wakey, wakey, mad Goth chick."

"Damn you, Terri's phone!" cried Sheila before climbing out of bed.


An hour later, Terri, Colin, and Sheila were at the Glen Hartwell and Daley Community Hospital, listening to John 'Goober' Anthony's story about the two vampire women whom they had fucked, before the women had started to turn on them.

"Well, they turned us on from the start," said Goober. "But I meant they ripped out poor Gomer's throat and started drinking his blood."

"That proves that they're real vampires," said Tilly Lombstrom. "Blood is an emetic; it would make human beings throw up."

"So it's okay to stake them both!" said Sheila happily.

"But once again, we need to wait till daylight," reminded Colin.

"You're certain that their graves were in Glenrowen Drive?" asked Terri.

"That's where we were, when they appeared," assured Goober.

"Time for sleepy byes," said Tilly, injecting a clear liquid into the drip that was connected to his left arm.


"So what now?" asked Colin as they returned to her blue Lexus.

"Now we go and wake up Don Frazer."

"Yeah, why should he get to sleep in when we can't?" said Sheila.

"No, Dingleberry, I meant we need him as magistrate to sign a warrant for us to start digging up graves looking for ... Who did he say?"

"Elvira-Clone and Mavis Dracula-Clone," said Colin.

"So the one I staked out at the Cartwright Manor House must have been Wednesday Addams-Clone, since you all said she looked like Wednesday."


After arguing with Mrs. Piederson at the front door of Don Frazer's mansion for nearly ten minutes, the three cops were finally allowed into the living room, where they had to wait until Don finally came down in pyjamas and a dressing gown.

"What have my nieces done this time?" asked the magistrate.

"Nothing ... that we know of," said Terri.

She went on to tell him of the latest attack and everything that Goober Anthony had told them. Although a little sceptical, Frazer wrote them a warrant, but kept it on his person, insisting upon overseeing the digging up himself.


The next morning, the police, three ambulances and Eunice Grayson, and George DuBois from the Department of Building and Works driving digging machines to excavate the graves, arrived at Glenrowen Drive at the Shady Rest Cemetery. As usual, Sheila Bennett took the crime scene pictures at the site of Elmer, Gomer, and Chester's deaths, then the paramedics whisked away their corpses to be examined by Tilly, Jesus, and Elvis Green in the morgue at the Glen Hartwell Hospital.

It was a slow, tedious task for the watchers as grave after grave was opened. Finally opening the last grave in Glenrowen Drive, they found the sleeping corpse of Mavis Dracula-Clone.

"It's hammer time!" called Sheila, just before she pounded a cedar wood stake into the vampire's heart.

Shrieking like a Banshee, Mavis-Clone tried to pull herself out of her new grave, so Sheila kept hammering the stake, until finally the vampire collapsed and began to dematerialise into the dust of ages past.

"Two down, three to go," said Colin.

"But where is the third one?" asked Terri. "They've opened every grave in Glenrowen Drive."

They stopped to confer for a few minutes, then George took his digger down MacAbee Street, on one side of Glenrowen Drive, and Eunice took her digger down Mortimer Street on the other side.

"We're bound to find her soon, now," said Eunice, a little overconfidently.

By five PM, they were just getting ready to stop for tea when Eunice called, "I found her."

Running across, hammer and stake ready, Sheila called, "It's hammer time!"

She pounded the stake once, then almost dropped the hammer, startled, as Elvira-Clone shrieked like a dying animal, reached up and grabbed Sheila's stake hand in her own left hand.

"Kill you now!" cried Elvira-Clone in her sexy husky voice.

"Hit the damn stake again!" shouted Colin.

"I'm trying," called Sheila, "but this one's a fighter."

Baring her fangs, Elvira-Clone hissed at the Goth police chick and tried to pull the cedar wood stake out of her chest.

"Oh, no you don't!" cried Sheila. She swung the mallet again, missed the stake, and hit the vampire on her left breast instead. "Sorry."

"Don't apologise, Sheils," called Terri, "you're trying to kill the bitch."

"Oh, yeah," said Sheila, swinging the mallet again.

This time, Elvira-Clone managed to cover the top of the stake with her hand. However, Sheila pounded the mallet hard into the snow white hand, making the vampire shriek and vomit blood up over the Goth policewoman, as the stake finally entered her heart.

As they watched, Elvira-Clone aged to at least a thousand years old, then fell apart into dust and blew away.

"If anyone laughs at me for having a vampire chuck up on me, I will kill them!" said Sheila Bennett.

"We wouldn't dare," said Terri Scott, having to turn away and cover her mouth with her hands.


Later, after Sheila had had a shower, Susie-Mysteria asked, "So, Uncle Don, is it all right for the Vamps to give a free concert in Merridale tomorrow?"

"Sure," said Don Frazer, "just so long as you keep your tops on."

"But Uncle Don?" pleaded the three girls.

"We know," said Terri, "the Hot Chix, the Hex Girls, Neutron Nookie, the Proton Pussies, you name them, all take their tops off on stage."

As everyone else laughed, Don Frazer warned, "Nonetheless, the Vamps keep their tops on whenever performing around here."

"But Uncle Don," pleaded Susie-Mysteria, starting to realise that they were fighting a losing battle with him.

THE END
© Copyright 2025 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia