“May I have your attention, please?” the douchebag ... err, Jeff, shouted out. “Midnight is upon us. The time you have all been waiting for has arrived.”
The time I was waiting for? Holy shit, maybe there was going to be an orgy. As long as I didn't have any dudes trying to rub their junk up against me, this had potential to be the best night of my life. If this actually happened, then, from this moment on, my roommates would have to worship me as if I were unto a god. Oh, yeah.
“But first,” Jeff continued, “a few quick words, my children (Children? Okay, douche). Judging by the new faces I see, the gauntlet thrown down last month by your brothers has been answered.”
Huh?
“Dread Stalker's is the score to beat.” He motioned to a muscular goon of similar douchey appearance off to his left.
Dread Stalker? Either this guy was still living out his high school football fantasies or his parents were a couple of Goth weirdos.
“Bring forth your offerings, my daughters.”
Several of the girls, all of them sweet little morsels, stepped forward, leading some of the men. I immediately noticed the accountant amongst them. I was about to comment when Sally's arm entwined with mine and she started to gently pull me forward. I tried to look at her expression to get a sense of what was going on, but she was facing toward Jeff. Hmm, if this was an orgy, I hoped I wasn't expected, as the new guy, to perform in front of everyone else. Sally was hot and all, but I wasn't quite sure whether stage fright might keep me from getting the job done.
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She led me through the crowd and we wound up next to the group who’d been singled out. I couldn't help but take note that all the guys I stood with appeared to be of the decisively non-male-model variety I had noticed before. Odd. I was actually starting to wonder if this was about to turn into the hazing scene from Revenge of The Nerds when Jeff began slowly pacing in front of us.
“Very nice. Any that you fancy before we get started, Ozymandias?” he asked in the direction of the main group.
A bored voice with a vaguely Bostonian accent replied from near the back of the crowd, “Not particularly. Carry on with your silliness. Don't worry about me.”
I couldn't help but notice a brief look of annoyance cross Jeff's mug at the answer he was given. I tried to scan the crowd for the source, but that was when his overly smug-looking face stopped in front of me and continued. “So be it. As host, it is mine to offer our hospitality, but as guest, it is yours to refuse.”
Ooh, I wonder how many brain cells this ox had to burn off to come up with that.
“Now, where were we? Oh, yes. Excellent choices, my daughters. But before we can judge the cattle...”
I interrupted, “Did you just call me... urk!” Make that tried to interrupt. His hand shot out, lightning quick, and grabbed me by the throat with a grip that felt overly strong even for a guy with his build.
“Cattle do NOT speak!” he spat at me. “They are to be judged ... after we feast.” He flashed a predatory smile. If you're guessing that his eyes turned black as coal, and his canines elongated in front of me, well, you're wrong. Don't be such a pretentious know-it-all.
Just messing with you. That's exactly what happened.
It's kind of comforting to know that being a corpse hasn't affected my sense of humor. Unfortunately, it's the, hah-hah, if I don't laugh, then I'll start screaming, type of comedy. But hey, never let it be said I didn't crack wise in the face of a creature that shouldn't exist, right before it lowered its head to tear into my throat.