LOLfic!
I found this ancient gem on the hard drive--it might be from the nineties. I left it unedited for the LOLz.
This is all Dad's fault. I was watching Vampire Hunter D, which I'd rented, innocent of anime and such at the time, and once I got past the artwork, got my mind blown. I know the first time I watched it, it was dark and I was alone as the parents were out getting pizza or something after they drove around a bit, which could be hours. It creeped me out bigtime.
I rewatched it again before I had to return it, and Dad started cracking, "Vampire Hunter D? What happened to Vampire Hunter A, B, and C?"
"They didn't make the cut," I quipped.
And thus this fic was born. I think I stopped cause all my other jokes were too visual to work. (I finally found my copy of the first novel again btw--it was on the coffee table of all places! Under all my javascript books. I read it yesterday while I was in bed sick.) This is very short. Enjoy!
Vampire Hunter C
The Guy Who Didn’t Make the Cut
A parody of Vampire Hunter D
Written by the mad fan Jaded Scorpio
Cast o’ Characters:
C aka Phil, Vampire Hunter (D)
Myrtle (Doris Rumm)
Al (Dan, VP joke)
Dr. Hoping (Doc Fehring, Peringo)
Da Count Maggee T (Count Magnus Lee)
Waneeka (Ramicca)
Deco Art (Greco Rohman)
Billy Idol (Reigensei)
C’s Hand: Peachy? (D’s hand, Rosy?)
Dayglo-the cyborg horse (Nightmare)
(I remember spending an absurd amount of time on the names of the cast.)
This story takes place in the distant future
when mutants and demons slither through a world
of darkness.
It was a dark and stormy night. A blonde in a short skirt with a laser bayonet stalks through the fields. She reaches the orchard, and halts in surprise. A big ugly dinosaur is eating her tree.
“Burn in hell motherfucker!” she opens fire.
The monster squeals and spits at her. She dodges, squealing “This is dry-clean only!” She shoots again, exploding the top of its head. The saurian lands with a thud at her feet.
“I am woman. Hear me roar.” Something else roars, and lurches out of the brush. “A werewolf!” It slashes at her, but only catches the cross at her throat. It flees, as a bolt of lightning illuminates an immense figure overseeing them.
“No, go away.” Its eyes glow like blood. “Vampire!” she reaches for her cross, only to find her neck bare.
“Hey baby. Da Count Magge T is in da house. Doh, you are one phat broad. Commere baby. I wanna suck your blood. Bleh!”
“No!” she trips, falling headlong into the grass. “Ooo, my ankle! Noo! Stay away!”
“Bleh! Bleh!”
* * * * * * * *
Green geckos twine around the branches of a long dead tree. The heat of the desert makes the air shiver like waves in a pond. A figure breaches the horizon, tall, misshapen, silhouetted against the sun. He is tall, wearing a broad brimmed hat, and a blue cloak, carrying a sword across his back that is near as tall as he. His strange legs morph as he nears, they belong to his mount, a cyborg stallion. He is a menacing persona, but his hands are elegant upon the reins.
On a windswept plain, the pigtailed blonde straddles the wagon track, energy whip in hand. The rider stops in front of her, waiting for her to move aside.
“Are you a hunter for hire? Well, dammit, speak. Can’t you talk? Nice sword. Give it to me!” She stomps her foot. “Gimme your sword!”
She jumps up and snares the hunter with the many tails of the flog. “I guess you’re not that good after all.”
“Why do women always say that to me?” he wondered.
She electrifies the whip, hoping to bring him to his knees, the proper place for a man. But he doesn’t notice. He’s staring at her boobs.
Suddenly, the whip snaps, and she is thrown to the ground with an indignant squeal. The hunter merely rides on.
“Wait sir, please! You’re a vampire hunter aren’t you? You’re much better than those other cowards I hired, A and B. Please, you have to help me. Count Maggee T wants me to be his new toy. You have to destroy him.”
“Who are you?” he asks, just noticing her.
“Myrtle. Myrtle Brandy. This is where the Count kissed me.”
“That’s one hell of a hickey.”
Myrtle, “Who said that?”
“Said what?”
“Oh, sir, I never got your name.”
“That’s cause I didn’t give it too you.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
She stamps her foot. “What’s your name!?”
“Oh! C.”
“S..e..?”
“No, the letter C. It’s short for Phil.”
“Huh? What? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. There’s a lot I don’t understand.”
“You’ll take the job won’t you? I’ll can’t give you much, but I can give you three meals a day…and you can sleep with me if you’d like.”
“I’d rather have my own bed.”
C rides back with Myrtle. When Myrtle is out of earshot the voice chides him. “You idiot! She was offering you sex!”
“What? When?!”
“Arrrgh.”
“Then why didn’t she just say so? These women, I never know what they’re saying.”
“Just try to keep your mouth shut, you sound like a moron.”
A flock of sheep scatter, bleating frantically as a gaseous entity devours one of their kin. A small boy fires after it with a large laser gun. “Damn it. Missed.” He runs after it, hoping for another shot. “Huh?”
Myrtle and C ride to the gate. “Who’s that?” he wondered. “Is everything alright sis?”
“Fine,” she waved.
“Hi, I’m Al. Here, let me help you.” C allowed him to take his saddlebags, and finished untacking his horse.
“Your mount is really cool. It’s a CU-P cyborg isn’t it?” C doesn’t answer. “You don’t say much do you?”
After no reaction, AL continued, “Dr. Hoping once told me that there are two kinds of men. One kind likes to keep quiet and think about nothing good; the other kind of person knows not to say much because he is always thinking and his actions will be based on his thoughts and experiences.”
“There may be a third kind….”
This is all Dad's fault. I was watching Vampire Hunter D, which I'd rented, innocent of anime and such at the time, and once I got past the artwork, got my mind blown. I know the first time I watched it, it was dark and I was alone as the parents were out getting pizza or something after they drove around a bit, which could be hours. It creeped me out bigtime.
I rewatched it again before I had to return it, and Dad started cracking, "Vampire Hunter D? What happened to Vampire Hunter A, B, and C?"
"They didn't make the cut," I quipped.
And thus this fic was born. I think I stopped cause all my other jokes were too visual to work. (I finally found my copy of the first novel again btw--it was on the coffee table of all places! Under all my javascript books. I read it yesterday while I was in bed sick.) This is very short. Enjoy!
Vampire Hunter C
The Guy Who Didn’t Make the Cut
A parody of Vampire Hunter D
Written by the mad fan Jaded Scorpio
Cast o’ Characters:
C aka Phil, Vampire Hunter (D)
Myrtle (Doris Rumm)
Al (Dan, VP joke)
Dr. Hoping (Doc Fehring, Peringo)
Da Count Maggee T (Count Magnus Lee)
Waneeka (Ramicca)
Deco Art (Greco Rohman)
Billy Idol (Reigensei)
C’s Hand: Peachy? (D’s hand, Rosy?)
Dayglo-the cyborg horse (Nightmare)
(I remember spending an absurd amount of time on the names of the cast.)
This story takes place in the distant future
when mutants and demons slither through a world
of darkness.
It was a dark and stormy night. A blonde in a short skirt with a laser bayonet stalks through the fields. She reaches the orchard, and halts in surprise. A big ugly dinosaur is eating her tree.
“Burn in hell motherfucker!” she opens fire.
The monster squeals and spits at her. She dodges, squealing “This is dry-clean only!” She shoots again, exploding the top of its head. The saurian lands with a thud at her feet.
“I am woman. Hear me roar.” Something else roars, and lurches out of the brush. “A werewolf!” It slashes at her, but only catches the cross at her throat. It flees, as a bolt of lightning illuminates an immense figure overseeing them.
“No, go away.” Its eyes glow like blood. “Vampire!” she reaches for her cross, only to find her neck bare.
“Hey baby. Da Count Magge T is in da house. Doh, you are one phat broad. Commere baby. I wanna suck your blood. Bleh!”
“No!” she trips, falling headlong into the grass. “Ooo, my ankle! Noo! Stay away!”
“Bleh! Bleh!”
* * * * * * * *
Green geckos twine around the branches of a long dead tree. The heat of the desert makes the air shiver like waves in a pond. A figure breaches the horizon, tall, misshapen, silhouetted against the sun. He is tall, wearing a broad brimmed hat, and a blue cloak, carrying a sword across his back that is near as tall as he. His strange legs morph as he nears, they belong to his mount, a cyborg stallion. He is a menacing persona, but his hands are elegant upon the reins.
On a windswept plain, the pigtailed blonde straddles the wagon track, energy whip in hand. The rider stops in front of her, waiting for her to move aside.
“Are you a hunter for hire? Well, dammit, speak. Can’t you talk? Nice sword. Give it to me!” She stomps her foot. “Gimme your sword!”
She jumps up and snares the hunter with the many tails of the flog. “I guess you’re not that good after all.”
“Why do women always say that to me?” he wondered.
She electrifies the whip, hoping to bring him to his knees, the proper place for a man. But he doesn’t notice. He’s staring at her boobs.
Suddenly, the whip snaps, and she is thrown to the ground with an indignant squeal. The hunter merely rides on.
“Wait sir, please! You’re a vampire hunter aren’t you? You’re much better than those other cowards I hired, A and B. Please, you have to help me. Count Maggee T wants me to be his new toy. You have to destroy him.”
“Who are you?” he asks, just noticing her.
“Myrtle. Myrtle Brandy. This is where the Count kissed me.”
“That’s one hell of a hickey.”
Myrtle, “Who said that?”
“Said what?”
“Oh, sir, I never got your name.”
“That’s cause I didn’t give it too you.”
“Well?”
“Well, what?”
She stamps her foot. “What’s your name!?”
“Oh! C.”
“S..e..?”
“No, the letter C. It’s short for Phil.”
“Huh? What? I’m afraid I don’t understand.”
“Don’t worry. There’s a lot I don’t understand.”
“You’ll take the job won’t you? I’ll can’t give you much, but I can give you three meals a day…and you can sleep with me if you’d like.”
“I’d rather have my own bed.”
C rides back with Myrtle. When Myrtle is out of earshot the voice chides him. “You idiot! She was offering you sex!”
“What? When?!”
“Arrrgh.”
“Then why didn’t she just say so? These women, I never know what they’re saying.”
“Just try to keep your mouth shut, you sound like a moron.”
A flock of sheep scatter, bleating frantically as a gaseous entity devours one of their kin. A small boy fires after it with a large laser gun. “Damn it. Missed.” He runs after it, hoping for another shot. “Huh?”
Myrtle and C ride to the gate. “Who’s that?” he wondered. “Is everything alright sis?”
“Fine,” she waved.
“Hi, I’m Al. Here, let me help you.” C allowed him to take his saddlebags, and finished untacking his horse.
“Your mount is really cool. It’s a CU-P cyborg isn’t it?” C doesn’t answer. “You don’t say much do you?”
After no reaction, AL continued, “Dr. Hoping once told me that there are two kinds of men. One kind likes to keep quiet and think about nothing good; the other kind of person knows not to say much because he is always thinking and his actions will be based on his thoughts and experiences.”
“There may be a third kind….”