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Bad Company

Brilliantly crafted bit of horror from the loup-garou himself, Daemonwulf. Not for the faint of heart or avoiders of the gruesome. *grin* Just the way I like it.

“So, am I correct in assuming that you only go for our white women?” Richard asked, spearing the slice of grilled pork with his fork and jabbing the meat into his eager mouth.

Here it was. The moment of truth that Nathan had been dreading since before he arrived. The question, delivered with such revulsion that his many hours of mental gymnastics had proven inadequate preparation for the sting once the words finally sliced through the tenuous air.

He shot a sly glance across the table at his host.

“Richard, it’s obvious you and I come from different worlds, but we’re not all that different,” Nathan responded, the frozen eyes from the faces of so many dead animal heads mounted on the walls staring down at him, urging him to continue. “In Philly, questions like that don’t get asked. It doesn’t matter how others live their lives. My guess…

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2 thoughts on “Bad Company

  1. Why thanksssss, Dear Murph, if you don’t mind the familiar… *toothy grin* I very much appreciate your sharing my black-hearted madness with the rest of your pub-goers. To be quite honest, it is best to read this piece with a pint (of whatever) and the namesake song blaring from one’s speakers. *slinking-through-the-pub slink* But, in all seriously, I very humbly thank you for sharing. *sincere smile*

    • Familiar? What? *looks around wildly* Don’t tell me they sent me another black cat…. I told them the dog is enough….. *sneaky I-knew-what-you-really-meant grin*

      I don’t mind at all. Most folks ’round these parts call me Murph or Murphy anyway. *dat’s-me smile* I most wholeheartedly approve of your suggestion and hope the pub-goers take you up on it. In the meantime, while you’re in the pub, feel free to slink on through… *elaborate bow* Don’t mind the dog if she follows. Hounds, you know. Gotta smell everything.

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