Read Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous: A Dark Humor for Free Online Page A

avoid it because of the memories, but
necessity overruled nostalgia.  Soon his slimy escort came to a stop in front
of a house, the only house on the street with the lights still on.  The small
wooden sign in front proclaimed this the “FEBS House.”  Despite the dark,
Harold could still tell the house was well maintained with freshly painted
siding and new windows through which the light shone onto a grassy lawn.  They
went inside. 
                A bright eyed and
bushy tailed Rufus greeted them at the door with soft growls.   Apparently, the
wereman still held a grudge.  Harold stopped just inside the house, heart
pounding in his chest and all of his senses coming to life.  Rufus moved in closer
and Harold was almost attacked for the third time that night, but Zork slapped
the werewolf on the shin with one of its eyestalks, snapping him out of the
state of mind. 
                “Cut out the
growling,” said Zork, “just cause you’re having that time of the month doesn’t
mean you can eat the fresh meat.”
                The werewolf’s
confidence wavered, glancing back and forth between Harold and the slug and
with a whine, disappeared back into the bowels of the house. 
                “Don’t mind him,”
Zork said, “he’s going through some changes right now.”  Harold grunted,
remembering Rufus’ first greeting for him earlier. 
                The slug led him
through the house in a cursory manner.  To the left a rec room, to the right
the kitchen with an empty fridge or so Harold thought until he into looked
inside and saw gallons of what Zork referred to as Donald’s protein shake along
with various animal organs and packages of tofu.  A bulletin board in the
kitchen displayed room assignments.  Harold got a room upstairs with a roommate
named Vlad, whom according to the slug happened to be a real douche.  The board
also displayed Donald’s rules for the house.  They were exactly what you would
expect from the halfway house, no fights, no illegal substances, no blood, no
human flesh and certainly no live unwilling guests.  On the other hand,
occupants could come and go as they pleased as long as they weren’t under house
arrest or restricted to a certain schedule and provided they attended regular
meetings. 
                The house
featured five bedrooms, each with two or more occupants.  Harold was lucky to
have just one roommate.  Zork had a plague of zombies in its room.  “They just
won’t be separated from each other.  Like living in a cult, if you can call it
living,” joked the slug. 
                Eventually, they
wandered up to Harold’s room where he got to meet his roommate. Vlad the
vampire had some sort of molting skin condition that crept even Harold out. 
Other than a cursory glance on entry, stick figure Vlad ignored him and the
slug while Zork talked at length about the man. 
                Their bedroom
could have been in a monastery for all the decor it featured.  Two twin beds
covered with the same heavy green blankets, a single lamp between them and two
dressers on the opposing wall.  Harold doubted he’d spend much time here.  Although
his own apartment didn’t feature much better quality furniture, his other
roommate was certainly more friendly. 
                Zork left him to
get settled in, something about a hot poker game in the rec room, but Harold
couldn’t relax enough to sit or lie down on the bed.  Vlad glared from behind a
copy of Blue Blood magazine, adding to Harold’s discomfort.  He didn’t
want to play games or attempt to sample the “food” Donald so kindly provided. 
After a few moments of inspecting their shared bathroom and the rickety old
water heater against the wall, he decided to head back to his apartment under
the guise of picking up some of his things for the room and gladly vaulted
downstairs and out of the house.

Chapter