Some Were In Time

by Robyn Peterman

  "When they shift they're roughly the size of a Hummer," Dwayne said with a smirk.

  "You really enjoyed saying that," I said as my eyes narrowed at him.

  "Yes. Yes, I did."

  "Anything else?" I asked and then instantly regretted it.

  "Stay the hell away from their asses," Granny instructed.

  "I don't want to ask why—but why?" I could tell Granny was going to explain whether I wanted to know or not. I was simply expediting.

  Hank just pinched the bridge of his nose and stared off into the darkening sky. I was unsure if he already knew all of this information or if he was simply too smart to have opened a can of worms—or ass.

  "Because they blow wind that can singe the hair right off your head. The Were Cows’ gastric explosions are directly responsible for the Greenhouse Effect," Granny said.

  "Bull crap," I said as I rolled my eyes.

  "That too," she added.

  "Wait—what?" Following her train of thought was headache inducing.

  "Were Cow patties are destroying our ozone too." She shook her head with disgust. "Their rectal issues are gonna be the end of the world. I really think they should have their rear ends permanently plugged up."

  "They'd simply start producing killer stanky burps," Dwayne told Granny.

  "Sweet Jesus in a mini skirt, you're right."

  "Oookay guys, I think that's probably enough," I stammered.

  Note to self: stop asking questions of Granny and Dwayne. Or at least make sure my stomach is empty if questions are necessary.

  "Remember how they said Mrs. O'Leary's cow started the Chicago Fire?" Dwayne asked.

  "That was totally disproven," I argued.

  "More like covered up," Dwayne sniffed. "A Were Cow ate twenty-six pounds of baked beans and tooted next to the lantern that started it all. Damn thing blew up like a bomb."

  "Enough," Hank said in frustration as he ran his hands through his hair and gave Dwayne and Granny a look that would have scared the hell out of most people. Granny and Dwayne were not most people. "Most importantly, if they shift don't let them gore you. The tips of their tusks are poisonous. Also, their hooves are razor sharp so… "

  "I really think the ass part is more important," Granny interrupted Hank. "Of course, Dwayne would be fine because he's bald."

  "And don't step in their poo poo—it will eat your foot right off your body," Dwayne added.

  "I'm actually really sorry I asked." My gag reflex was so close to the surface I had to pace it off.

  "Okay," Hank said as the color began to come back into his face. "We ready now?"

  "I was born ready," Granny crowed.

  "Of course you were," I mumbled as I swallowed carefully to make sure nothing was going to come back up.

  "I would just like to say that I love all of you and if you die tonight, please accept my sincerest apologies." Dwayne hugged each of us and then dropped to the ground and did eleven one-handed pushups.

  "Does that help?" I asked as I watched him.

  “Not at all," he replied.

  "Move it," Hank said in exasperation.

  I grinned and slapped his butt. Even annoyed he was hotter than asphalt in August.

  The dirt road was rutted and uneven. Rusted-out junk cars and garbage littered the fields on either side. Up ahead I spotted several rundown trailers. The entire place made me sad. What could have been beautiful property in its stark simplicity was an unkempt pathetic disaster.

  "This confuses me some," Granny said quietly as she took in the abject poverty. "How does a powerful species come to this?"

  "Don't know," Hank said tersely. "Maybe it's a cover to keep people away."

  "Possibly," I whispered, "but I don't detect power here. I smell desperation."

  "I feel sick," Dwayne said. "If I'm the cause of this… "

  "How could you be the cause of this?" I asked.

  "I don't know." He wrung his hands and then wrapped them around himself. "I don't know, but I have a bad feeling."

  I did too, but not one of fear for my life—one of fear for the state that the Cows had gotten themselves into.

  "Desperate people do desperate things," Hank reminded us. "Stay alert and let's find out what's really happening here. Do not kill unless provoked."

  "You think they're in the trailers?" Dwayne inquired as he pointed down the road.

  "Or possibly out grazing and farting in the fields?" Granny suggested.

  "Um… nope," I said as I put up a hand to halt our movement. My other hand went to my pocket and attached itself to my gun. "Cows. Twenty feet away on our left."

  "What the hell?" Dwayne gasped and levitated slightly.

  "Down, boy," Hank ground out as he yanked Dwayne out of the air. "They don't seem aggressive—mostly confused."

  "Um, I'm kind of confused." I tilted my head to see if that would clarify what I was staring at.

  There were eight sexually ambiguous people watching us closely. Their hair was cropped short and they wore dirty baggy jeans and oversized work shirts. Were they men or women? I had no freakin' clue. I was scared to ask. Being Southern, I had manners, but this was a conundrum… and it was bugging the crap out of me.

  "My theory is starting to make more sense now, isn't it?" Granny muttered under her breath.

  "Actually, yes," Dwayne told her.

  "What you be wantin'?" the one in the front grunted in a voice that could have been a feminine male or a masculine female.

  Mystery still not solved. I moved slightly for a better view, trying to detect if there were any boobs evident.

  "Came to buy some milk," Hank said agreeably with a neighborly wave.

  "That girlie right there could use some," another grumbled as it pointed at me. "She's so skinny she could fall through her butt and hang herself."

  "I'm sorry, what the hell did you just say?" I shouted. This was unbelievable. A group of Androgynous Pats were insulting me? This was not working for me…

  "You can't take the truth then you can just walk your emaciated carcass right back to where you came from," the first one snorted with an indifferent shrug.

  "Yep," my insulter backed the leader up. "And don't let the gate hit ya where the good Lord split ya."

  "What is this? A bad redneck comedy show?" I mumbled. I was not too skinny—at all.

  "Shhh," Granny whispered. "I wanna hear what else they have to say. This is some good stuff."

  "You ain't human," the leader yelled. "What is ya?"

  "We're wolves," Hank said with a calm that belied the tension I could feel coming off of him. "Heard your milk was good and thought we'd stop and try it."

  "Wolves. Interesting," she said, puzzled. "Thought we was the only Were Species left in the world."

  They all nodded sadly and hung their heads. What was happening here? I was tempted to go up and hug the grubby crew.

  "Where did you hear that?" I asked as I took a small step forward.

  "We read poop patties," the leader announced proudly. "We learned about forty years ago that we were the only ones left. I'm kinda flabbergasted at the moment."

  They all nodded and stared at us as we all tried to keep the contents of our stomachs in place and stared right back at them.

  "Huh," I said, searching for something appropriate to follow that one.

  "I regret all those doughnuts now," Granny muttered.

  "I'm Essie. This is Hank and my granny, Bobbie Sue," I said as I took another tentative step forward and held out my hand.

  "Francis," the leader said as she took my hand and shook it.

  Well, that certainly didn't help the sexual identity crisis. As they reeled off their names I got more confused than ever—Pat, Mickey, Terry, Lee, Harley, Morgan and Jamie.

  Damn it, this was going to drive me bonkers.

  "That one there in the back ain't no Werewolf," Pat said as she pointed at Dwayne.

  "That's correct," Dwayne said carefully. "I'm a Vampyre named… Dracula."


  "Well, I'll be damned," the one named Mickey yelled and smacked its forehead so hard it took it a second to remember what it was saying. "I thought you looked familiar. I saw you in the movies at the discount drive-in. You was great."

  "Thank you," Dwayne said graciously and bowed.

  All the Cows were wildly impressed with Dwayne's fictional acting career. I rolled my eyes and tried not to laugh.

  "Seeing as we have a celebrity on the property, we'd like to invite you in and serve you up some milk," Francis said.

  "Do we got any?" Jamie asked doubtfully.

  "Hell to the yeah," Harley crowed proudly. "I shifted earlier and Lee yanked on my teats for a good two hours. We got plenty of milk."

  "Come on in, y'all. Harley's milk’s so good it will make you wanna slap your mamma!" Francis and the crew began to lumber over to the trailers.

  We stood frozen to our spots. Were they for real? I didn't feel an ounce of fear and I could tell Hank, Granny and Dwayne didn't either. The Cows were either really good or really stupid.

  "Hey, Dracula," Pat grunted as it and several others came up behind us to usher us to the trailer. "You happen to know a Vampyre named Dwayne?"

  "Um, possibly," Dwayne, aka Dracula, mumbled as he glanced over at me with huge eyes.

  "Hey," Pat shouted to the rest of the bovines as they moved en masse down the road. "Dracula knows Dwayne."

  They all turned abruptly and ogled Dwayne. My hand went back to my gun and Hank's magic began to spark a bit. Granny took hold of Dwayne and kept him from levitating.

  "I didn't say I knew him. I just know of him," Dwayne corrected Pat quickly.

  "That's too bad." Francis' hands balled into fists and the others followed suit. "A poop patty told us to find him."

  Hank pulled me and Granny towards him and moved Dwayne to the center of our tight triangle.

  "What else did the poo pile tell you?" Granny asked.

  Granny's fangs had dropped and popped through her colorful scarf. Thankfully the Cows didn't seem to notice.

  "First of all, it's a poop patty. A poo pile doesn't speak to us. Poo piles are useless," Francis explained in a very serious tone.

  "Good to know," Dwayne murmured tactfully. "Do the poop patties actually speak?"

  "No," Harley said as they all laughed heartily. "They show us pictures and words."

  "That makes more sense," Dwayne said with a sigh of relief. "Talking feces would just be alarming."

  "’Nuff said, Dracula," Lee agreed.

  "Well, if you wanna know the rest of the story, you're gonna have to come on in and set a spell," Pat said as she herded us forward.

  "It's a real fine story," Francis said. "The poop don't lie."

  "But Dracula does," I whispered under my breath. "We going in?" I asked Hank.

  "Don't see that we have much of a choice," he said quietly as the Cows behind us pushed us along with gentle nudges.

  "Just don't get behind them," Granny hissed. "If the milk doesn't kill us the gas surely will."

  "This may have been a tremendously shitty idea," Dwayne said nervously.

  "No pun intended." Granny giggled.

  "Actually it was," Dwayne corrected her.

  "Oh. Then that was a good one," Granny congratulated him.

  "Thank you."

  "Nope, not a bad idea," Hank disagreed with Dwayne while completely ignoring the punny talk. "We'll find out what they want with Dwayne. If they want him—you—dead, we kill them."

  "Well, there's a plan," I snapped.

  "You have a better one, sexy?" he asked with a raised brow.

  I thought for a brief moment and shrugged. "Nope. Works for me, love of my life."

  "Let's go drink some milk," Hank said. "No one is going to believe this."

  Truer words had never been said.

  Chapter 8

  The inside of the trailer completely belied the rest of the property. It was immaculate and huge. It was furnished comfortably in a style that hadn't advanced past the 1950's. It was actually kind of cool retro. Everything was mint green and white with a dash of yellow thrown in here and there.

  Glass milk jugs sat neatly on a series of bright yellow shelves that lined the entirety of the mobile home. There were several closed doors that I assumed were bedrooms.

  "What the hell?" Granny said as she admired the plastic slipcovered floral couches.

  She glanced over at me as I gaped and gave me a sharp look.

  "Close your mouth, Essie, you'll catch flies. Literally," she whispered. "Poop?"

  I closed my mouth on a gag that I faked as a cough when the Cows looked over at me, concerned.

  "Sit your cracks down," Francis demanded as she began pulling glasses out of a cabinet. "We're about to blow your minds."

  That statement could go so many ways… All four of us wedged ourselves down on the couch as the Cows grinned and gave each other covert looks.

  "We don't get much company," Pat said. "Humans used to come out here, but Jamie was having a bad day about three years ago and ate one. We don't see ‘em much anymore."

  "I can see how that might affect business," I choked out.

  Hank was correct. No one was going to believe this.

  "How are you feeling today, Jamie?" Hank inquired politely.

  "I'm fine. Thank you," Jamie said.

  "Thank k.d. lang for that," Dwayne mumbled.

  Pat, Lee and Morgan served us tall glasses of milk. They sat them carefully on the mint green Elvis themed coffee table.

  "Aren't you going to join us?" Granny asked as she eyed the milk distrustfully.

  "Oh, hell no," Harley bellowed. "No way I'd drink something I spewed out of my body a couple hours ago."

  The Cows all nodded in agreement. Holy hell, there was no way I'd be able to swallow the milk without projectile vomiting. However, Hank and Granny had no such issue. Dwayne was excused since he was a Vamp and only drank blood. Lucky bastard.

  "Sweet baby Moses in a thong bikini," Granny gushed as she took another sip. "This is magnificent."

  The Cows grinned and high-fived like they'd won a medal at the Olympics. No matter how much Granny liked it, I couldn't do it. Granny also liked lima beans…

  "Ain't ya gonna try it, skinny girl?" Pat inquired with narrowed eyes.

  "The whole spew out of the teats thing kind of put me off," I explained to Pat honestly. "I'll try it in a minute."

  It took everything I had not to snap at Pat about the skinny comment. It certainly wouldn't help matters if I called it a fat ass.

  All the Cows nodded in understanding and I heaved a sigh of relief.

  "Do you shift much?" Hank asked as he put his barely touched glass down on the table with a slight gag.

  "You want me to top that off?" Francis asked pleasantly.

  "No, I'm good," he replied with a smile that resembled a grimace.

  "I want more. That really is slap your mamma good," Granny complimented the Cows, holding out her empty glass.

  Harley gave a whoop of delight and poured Granny another round.

  "As to the shiftin'," Francis told us, "we don't do it much."

  "No siree," Lee chimed in. "After Jamie ate that human we figured we should only shift to yank teat."

  "Amen," Pat said with arms raised to the Heavens. "But because of Jamie's little snafu, the humans don't come round much no more so we got a milk overload."

  "And since we don't drink the shit, we don't have much reason to shift no more," Morgan spoke up for the first time.

  "Two or three of us shift every other week or so. If we don't we'll pop like a tick. Milk explosions are loud and ugly. They can cause deafness in your left ear," Pat shuddered and made a loud popping noise that created the picture vividly.

  "I've exploded at least twelve times this year. It sucks growing back limbs," Jamie explained.

  We all sat in somewhat awkward silence as Jamie shed a few tears over the snafu and the lost appendages. The Cows patted it on the back then grunted and
swayed.

  I accidently picked up my glass and took a sip in my panic to think of something to say. It tasted like warm butt, not that I knew what butt tasted like… but it sure as hell smelled like it. Swallowing my bile as not to upset the Cows was more difficult than beheading a Dragon, but I did it.