Booty and the Beast

(Story = character = premise. But how? Click here to find out on this week's Jared's Inkwell. -JMG)

Story Sent in by Louis:

As my first date with Jessie wound down, I reflected on an enjoyable evening. Jessie herself seemed to really appreciate my company. So much so that she asked if we could stay out a bit longer. It was midnight and I was pretty tired.

"What would you like to do?" I asked her. The only things I could think of as options were sitting in my car or a bar, the latter of which would likely be less creepy for a young woman on a first date.

She said, "Anything. I just can't go home yet."

"Why not?"

"Because of the beast."

She said it as if that explained everything. It didn't. "Beast?" I asked.

She said, "When I was little we buried my dead pets in the yard. They've since all combined into one creature that I call the beast."

I laughed but Jessie didn't. She said, "It comes out every few nights and now it's way past due. It just kind of runs around the yard and yips and howls but really late at night I hear it scratching at my bedroom door. I don't want to go home yet."

I said, "I don't think dead pets come back to life."

She replied, "Neither did I until I looked out my bedroom window one night and actually saw it climb out of the ground. I don't know if it's angry at me or wants to eat me or what, but I don't intend to find out anytime soon. I don't want to risk waking up with bite marks all over my ass."

"I know what that's like," I lied, but she didn't seem to register it.

I asked her if she wanted to sit in my car (in case "dead pets back to life and scared to go home" was code for "let's get it on") but she preferred the bar option. While there I practically fell asleep in my drink. She spent most of her time on her iPhone. We finally left and went to our respective homes.

I woke up to some blurry photos that she texted me of what I guessed was her yard post-zombie pet apocalypse. I texted her back, "Is your ass bite-less?"

No reply.