I don’t remember my feet moving and before I knew it I was at the front screen. The door was already wide open and the smell of sour milk wafted into my face.

Usually, this smell would have turned me green and had me gagging. But, for some reason, I wasn’t affected. In fact, the smell was sort of pleasant to me. Maybe that scream did some real damage to my brain after all.

“Anyone home?” I asked, opening the screen door. I winced, expecting to be greeted by the creator of the scream but nothing answered except for a cockroach climbing the wall and retreating behind an old analog radio once it saw me.

My shoelaces must have come undone while running as they clattered on the linoleum flooring. Although not as loud as the scream, this small sound seemed to echo throughout the house but still, I persisted.

“Hello?” I asked, this time in a much lower voice. I don’t know why I was asking because I really didn’t want someone to answer.

The kitchen was filthy. Dishes were piled up in the sink with flies buzzing all around their special, filth mountain. The fridge door was not only open but was attached by just one latch. It would have taken someone or something with incredible strength to do such a thing.

A milk jug lay on its side, its contents having poured out and turned to cheese a long time ago.

Great, I thought. The smell mystery has been solved. But why would someone live like this?

The stairwell was nearby and the steps were thankfully carpeted allowing my ascent to be silent. Like a kid, I climbed on all fours. Goosebumps lifted on my spine as the sound of a wet moan entered my ears. I shivered, still feeling the pain in my bones from the damned banshee hollering.

I opened my mouth to warn whoever was up above me that I was on my way but I couldn’t form the words. I made it to the top and now faced three doors and of course, the moan had stopped meaning I had to make a choice.

Which door do I open now?

I waited a few more moments hoping the moan started up again. Dear God, what if I stumbled in on two old people making love? I stopped.

What if it’s a lemon party?

At the thought of this, I did finally gag.

Swallowing away my disgust at the image that held too much saggy skin, I put my ear to the left door. Nothing. Couldn’t hear a peep. I was onto the second door, expecting to hear nothing as well when the tip of a stainless steel blade stuck out of the wood mere inches from my nose.

I was too stunned to make a noise. Not true, I did let out a tiny little squeak from the back of my throat. I could hear Father Donovan yelled from behind the door and the blade was withdrawn without warning.

Taking a few deep breaths, I creaked open the door and stepped inside. The smell hit then, a mix of barnyard animals and roses. Father Donovan’s back was to me. He held a bottle of holy water in his right hand and proceeded to douse whatever was in front of him with it.

“The power of Christ compels you!” Father Donovan yelled, giving a pop of his wrist and splashing more water onto the tortured soul. “The power of Christ compels you!”

“Fuck you!” shouted a raspy voice. The bed jumped up and down on the hardwood flooring as whatever was being exorcised was quite the strong one. “Fuck you! Fuck you! STOP SPLASHING ME!!! I’ll KILL YA MOTHA!”

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I moved further into the room, careful not to make my presence known just yet. I leaned over to see just what Father Donovan was working on, but what I saw then didn’t make any sense. What was laying on the bed wasn’t a man or a woman. No, it wasn’t even a human!

“Holy shit,” I said under my breath.

Father Donovan spun around, his face twisted in horror. “Revan? Get out of here!”

“I’m-I’m here to help,” I said. “What is that monster?” I pointed behind him.

Whatever it was, it leaned up to get a good look at me. Its arms and… hooves? were shackled to the bed and the jingling of the chains stopped as the beast went calm.

“Who do we have here?” It asked in a sinister voice.

Two big horns spiraled out of its forehead, curling into themselves. Fur covered its entire body which was bare-ass naked. Its two hands looked normal enough, but it was below the hips that made me stare, and not at the horse-like legs.

But its massive schlong.

“Holy crap, Father, it’s huge!” I exclaimed.

Father Donovan scrunched his face, his hand still raised to administer the holy water. “You see before you a vampiric fawn, a male of an ancient race with a heavy curse placed upon his soul, and the first thing you want to ask me about is his genitals?”

“It’s like a third leg,” I said, unable to take my eyes off it. I hated myself, but I just couldn’t look away.

The beast blinked its creepy, goat eyes and nodded, “It is pretty fuckin’ impressive,” he said, thrusting his hips making the African Bull Worm slap against his legs. “Fuckin’ trigger right here. Come, little boy, and see how many licks it takes to get to the center of my tootsie pop, bitch.”

“Enough!” Father Donovan exclaimed. He splashed a heavy amount of the Jesus juice on the goat’s face.

“AHHH! Fucking stop it, you monster-hunting sonofabitch!”

“What is it?” I asked.

“Are we done talking about its penis already?” Father Donovan asked, giving the faun mercy by staying his hand for a moment.

“Yes. I’m sorry, I just can’t believe my eyes! It looks like a centaur, doesn’t it?”

The faun spat some of the Holy Water from his mouth, “Keep giving me compliments like that and maybe I’ll be the one suckin’ dick.”

Father Donovan sighed, “It’s like I said. It’s a faun with a vampiric curse which I’m trying to get rid of but he's too damned stubborn!” Father lifted his pimp hand and the faun hissed, recoiling into himself.

“Yeah, I heard you the first time,” I said, walking closer to the bed. Father Donovan held out a hand to stop me but I just walked around it. “But I don’t understand what your words mean. This is all too much to believe.” I stared into the goat man’s yellow eyes and asked, “Are you really real?”

“By, am I real, do you mean am I really a fuckin’ half-goat that’ll suck your blood? Damn straight. I was just about to work on my third girl scout when the super priest came in here with his Holy Super Soaker.” the faun said. “Name’s Mickey. Mickey Avalon. I’d shake your hand but me and ya dad are still having a little fun, ya see? Foreplay’s not quite over with but you’re welcome to stay and learn a thing or two.”

“Avalon?” I said. “Wait, are you related to Vinnie Avalon? The pawnshop guy?”

“He is,” Father Donovan confirmed. “Vinnie’s the one who called me.”

“He should’a called the Ghost Busters or something,” I said. “Better yet, call the city and send over the dog catchers.”

“HA HA, very funny little bitch,” Mickey said. “Now, can you please talk some sense into Pope Been-a-dick to let me go?”

“Don’t listen to him,” Father Donovan said. “Vampiric fauns can be very persuasive.”

“Who the fuck you think I am?” Mickey demanded angrily. “The fuckin’ Wolf of Wall Street? My persuasive skills end at either please or I’ll kick your ass if you don’t do as I say.”

Mickey stopped and raised his nose. He sniffed the air a few times before his lips retracted showing off his cud-chewing teeth. He let out another scream which nearly dropped Father Donovan and me.

But before we succumbed to its ear-splitting cry, Mickey shut his mouth followed by a deep wheeze.

“I know that scent,” he said.

I noticed the color drain from Father Donovan’s face as he ran to the bedside, covering the sheep man’s face with a pillow.

“Enough! No more talk!” Father Donovan pressed the pillow harder into Mickey’s face.

“Are you going to kill him?” I asked, stunned.

The beast’s feet were kicking now. The whole bed sounded like it was about to collapse at any moment as Mickey struggled underneath Father Donovan’s surprising strength.

“No, I’m just calming him down,” Father Donovan said.

“What’s he saying?” I asked, stepping forward.

“No closer,” Father Donovan warned. “He’s um… he’s casting spells!”

“No, he’s not,” I said. “He’s saying one word. Over and over again.”

“Don’t listen to him, Revan! Leave the room before the vampiric curse jumps over to you!”

I didn’t listen and moved over to the other side of the bed. Mickey’s face managed to turn to the side and look at me from beneath the pillow. Its eyes were blazing with both hatred and shock as it hissed two words at me.

“Fucking Gargoyle.”