Christopher Moore - Bite Me

She ran right at the swordsman, waving her arms as if shooing birds or trying to dry some particularly stubborn nail polish and screaming like a madwoman. The cats turned their attention to her, and were crouching, readying to leap, when her jacket lit up like the sun. There was a collective screech of agony from the vampire cats as all around the street, cats and cat parts smoked, then ignited. Burning cats made for the alley across the street or tried to hide under cars, but the thin girl ran after them, darting here and there, until each ignited, then burned and reduced itself first to a bubbling puddle of fur and goo, and finally, a pile of fine ash.

In less than a minute, the street was quiet again. The lights on the girl’s jacket went dark. The swordsman climbed to his feet and fitted his orange porkpie hat back on his head. He was bleeding from spots on his back and arms, and there was blood on his plaid pants and orange socks, but whether it was his or the cats’ was impossible to tell. He stood before the thin girl and bowed deeply.

“Domo arigato,” he said, keeping his eyes at her feet.

“Dozo,” said the girl. “Your kitty-slaying skills are, if I may say so, the shit.”

The swordsman bowed again, short and shallow, then turned and trotted across the street, down the alley, and out of sight.

Lazarus was digging at the Plexiglas door of the police cart with the pads of his paws, as if he might polish his way through to release his master. Abby scratched his nose, nearly the only part of him not covered in blood, and opened the door.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey,” said the Emperor.

He stepped out of the cart and looked around. The street was painted with blood for half a block, punctuated by piles of ash and the occasional charred flea collar. Parked cars were sprayed in red mist, even the security lights above several fire doors were speckled with gore. Acrid smoke from burning cats hung low in the air, and on the sidewalk greasy gray ash spilled out of the sleeves and collar of the parking officer’s uniform.

“Well, you don’t see that every day,” said the Emperor, as a police cruiser rounded the corner, the red and blue lights raking the building.

The cruiser stopped and doors flew open. The driver stood behind his door, his hand on his gun.

“What’s going on here?” he said, trying to keep his eyes on the Emperor and not look at the carnage that surrounded them.

“Nothing,” Abby said.

Triumphant Destroyer of Vampyre Kitties

I weep, I brood, I grieve-I have sniffed the bitter pink Sharpie of despair and mascara tears stripe my cheeks like a mouthful of chewed-up black Gummi bears has been loogied in my eyes. Life is a dark abyss of pain and I am alone, separated from my darling delicious Foo.

But check it-I totally kicked ass against a gang of vampyre kitties. That’s right, kitties, meaning many. No longer does the huge shaved vampyre cat Chet stalk the City alone; he has been joined by many smaller and un-shaved vampyre cats, many of which I turned to kitty toast with my most fly sunlight jacket. Right outside our loft, they were attacking that crazy Emperor guy and his dogs and I saved them by running out into the street and hitting the lights.

It was pure techo-carnage, blood everywhere, and a little Japanese guy with a samurai sword doing the serious Ginsu on the kitties as they attacked.

I know what you are thinking.

Ninja, please…

I know, OMFGZORRO! A samurai in Sucker-Free City!

I didn’t even try to convince the cops when they came.

They were all, “What up?”

And I was all, “Nothing.”

And they were all, “What’s all this?” Pointing to the blood and steaming kitty ashes and whatnot.

And I was all, “Don’t know. Ask him. I just heard some noise so I came out to check it out.”

So they asked the Emperor and he tried to tell them the whole story, which was a mistake-but he’s kind of insane, so you have to give him a break. But they put him in the car anyway and took him and his dogs away, even though it was totally obvious that they knew who he was and were just being dicks about the whole thing. Everyone knows the Emperor. That’s why they call him the Emperor.

’Kayso, Foo finally came home and I jumped into his arms and sort of rode him to the ground with a massive tongue kiss so deep that I could taste the burned cinnamon toast of his soul, but then I slapped him, so he didn’t think I was a slut. (Shut up, he had wood.)

And he was all, “Stop doing that, I don’t think you’re a slut!”

And I was all, “Yeah, well then how did you know that’s why I slapped you, and where the fuck have you been, my mad, manga-haired love monkey?” Sometimes it’s best to turn the tables and start asking questions when your argument sucks ass. I learned that in Introduction to Mass Media class.

And Foo’s all, “Busy.”

And I’m like, “Well you missed my heroic warrior-babe assault.” And I, like, told him the whole thing and then I said, “So, now there’s a lot of vampyre cats. What’s up with that, nerdslice?” Which is a pet name I have for Foo when referring to his mad science skills.

And he’s all, “Well, we know that there has to be an exchange of blood from the vampyre to its victim before the victim dies, otherwise it just goes to dust.”

And I’m like, “So Chet’s smart enough to know that?”

And Foo’s all, “No, but if a cat’s bitten, what’s the natural thing for it to do?”

And I’m all, “Hey, I’m asking the questions here. I am the boss of you, you know?”

And Foo totally ignores me, and he’s all, “They bite back. I think Chet is changing the other cats by accident.”

“But he drained that parking cop and she didn’t turn.”

“She didn’t bite him back.”

And I’m all, “I knew that.”

And Foo’s like, “There could be hundreds of them.”

And I’m all, “And Chet led them here. To us.”

And Foo’s all, “He marked this as his territory before the old vampyre turned him. He sees this as his place. The stairway still smells like cat pee.”

And I’m like, “That’s not all.”

And Foo’s all, “What? What?”

And I totally slip into my dark mistress voice and I’m all, “Chet has changed. He’s bigger.”

And Foo’s all, “Maybe his coat has just grown back.”

And I’m all ominous like, “No, Foo, he’s still shaved, but he’s a lot bigger, and I think-” I paused. It was very dramatic.

And Foo’s like, “Tell me!”

I sort of fainted all emo into his arms. And he totally caught me like the dark hero of the moors that he is, but then he harshed the romantic drama of it all by tickling me and going, “Tell me, tell me, tell me.”

So I did, because I was close to peeing myself, and I’m totally not into that kind of thing. “I think we have to worry about the little samurai guy turning, which would not be good, as he is full badass, despite his deeply stupid hat and socks.”

And Foo was all, “Did he bite them?”

And I was all, “He was full-on covered in vampyre kitty blood. Maybe some drops got in his mouth. Lord Flood said he accidentally turned that blue ho from one kiss on the bloody lips.”

And Foo’s like, “Well we need to find him, then. Abby, we may not be able to handle this. We need help.” And he’s all nodding to the statue of the Countess and Lord Flood.

And I’m all, “Do you know the first thing that will happen if we let them out?”

And Foo’s all, “Jody will totally kick our asses.”

And I’m like, “ Oui, mon amour, epic ass-kickings pour toi and moi . But you know what’s even scarier?”