088 fic - Community Spirit
Title: Community Spirit
Author: Bruttimabuoni
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 748
Prompt: 088 Ghosts, Goblins, Ghouls
Characters/Pairing (if any): Original Character
A/N: First time posting here; something silly to start with!
You’d think a ghoul in Sunnydale would have a whale of a time. I was delighted to move in at first. Very supportive local authority - it’s important to have a welcoming environment. My digestion goes haywire if I’m tense. There’s a lot of ignorance about my kind; it makes for a tough old world when you‘re a single ghoul. And since your average ghoul has a hundred kilometer feeding zone, pairing up is extremely rare. I haven’t got laid since the Carter presidency. It’s lonely sometimes, y’know?
So Sunnydale’s tolerant administration was a real bonus. That Wilkins, what a visionary. Really knew how to reach out to the alternative crowd. Great pinochle town. And of course all those corpses. A little fresh for me, but you make the best of what you have. I’m not a violent guy, so it’s nice to have others do the prep work. I had a real cosy cave to ripen ‘em off too. Everything you could want? You‘d think.
I’m not going to lie, there were some good years. Spike, you may know him as William the Bloody, great guy. Ah, in his prime, he ran a sweet town. Real nice deal maker: any body I fancied, whenever I wanted, and all I had to do was fix his cable when ESPN went out. The girlfriend was an issue though - liked to keep trophies. Lungs, mainly. I can’t understand the mentality of such people. Food is food, it’s not a toy. Show the meat some respect, y’know? Besides, lungs are the best part; the real connoisseur choice. Damn selfish vamps.
So I wasn’t really sorry those two couldn’t make it long term. But what happened to Spike after, man that was awful. Sniffing after the humans like a neutered mongrel, slobbering over the Slayer like we couldn‘t see him.
No good to me personally, either, in that state. I had to take up killing again, found I’d lost all my old contacts. Was tough for a while. I got so desperate I was hanging round the frat houses on the campus. Was there a single one without some oogly ghost cult or a pocket hell dimension in the basement? I didn’t find it if there was. Skinny student types, all hyped up on caffeine, beer and worse, brought on my acid reflux. It was a tough few months. But after a bit I got an in at the mental hospital. They had a serious oversupply of patients for some reason, so I felt like I was performing a service. Another good few months there. Happy days.
Trouble was, once Wilkins was gone (and what a waste that was - megalomania‘s a thing we can all respect, but why be a giant snake demon? What good is life without arms?), the situation got out of control. Council let the quota system lapse, all kinds of rough types flooded in. The whole hell-god extravaganza was just nasty. Good friend of mine was taken by one of those pterodactyl type things from the dimensional rift. Bad day. I found his leg, after. I think it was his, anyway. Then the leather demon arsonists, that Proserpexa business (and who the heck thought she’d be good company? Not a nice lady. Not nice at all). My cave was taken by some skin-eater with no respect for private property. Slayers and wannabes sprouting like kudzu wherever you looked.
And that was before the worst phase. You can sometimes feel when a town’s on the slide, but I’ve never lived anywhere I knew was dying before. Weird. I guess a ghoul should enjoy a town in its death throes, loving that decay in the air. But I couldn’t stomach it. Got right out of there with the rest of the gang. The whole community running together. There was a real sharing spirit for a while. I helped a werewolf couple get a jump start off that nice nurse from the health clinic with a Humvee, not a shred of unpleasantness. Okay, tthere was that little problem with some Rwasundi time-slipping a minivan full of goblins into the crater that was going to be there the week after. But that’s the kind of town Sunnydale was. Rough with the smooth, supernatural with the everyday.
I miss it, some days. But I hear Cleveland’s a good place to make a new life. Lots of company. No damn Slayer for sure. And I’m looking forward to it. 'Today’s the first day of the rest of your life', that’s my motto. Well, that, and ‘Never eat your neighbour’s dog or his wife’. It just keeps things nicer, y’know?
Author: Bruttimabuoni
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 748
Prompt: 088 Ghosts, Goblins, Ghouls
Characters/Pairing (if any): Original Character
A/N: First time posting here; something silly to start with!
You’d think a ghoul in Sunnydale would have a whale of a time. I was delighted to move in at first. Very supportive local authority - it’s important to have a welcoming environment. My digestion goes haywire if I’m tense. There’s a lot of ignorance about my kind; it makes for a tough old world when you‘re a single ghoul. And since your average ghoul has a hundred kilometer feeding zone, pairing up is extremely rare. I haven’t got laid since the Carter presidency. It’s lonely sometimes, y’know?
So Sunnydale’s tolerant administration was a real bonus. That Wilkins, what a visionary. Really knew how to reach out to the alternative crowd. Great pinochle town. And of course all those corpses. A little fresh for me, but you make the best of what you have. I’m not a violent guy, so it’s nice to have others do the prep work. I had a real cosy cave to ripen ‘em off too. Everything you could want? You‘d think.
I’m not going to lie, there were some good years. Spike, you may know him as William the Bloody, great guy. Ah, in his prime, he ran a sweet town. Real nice deal maker: any body I fancied, whenever I wanted, and all I had to do was fix his cable when ESPN went out. The girlfriend was an issue though - liked to keep trophies. Lungs, mainly. I can’t understand the mentality of such people. Food is food, it’s not a toy. Show the meat some respect, y’know? Besides, lungs are the best part; the real connoisseur choice. Damn selfish vamps.
So I wasn’t really sorry those two couldn’t make it long term. But what happened to Spike after, man that was awful. Sniffing after the humans like a neutered mongrel, slobbering over the Slayer like we couldn‘t see him.
No good to me personally, either, in that state. I had to take up killing again, found I’d lost all my old contacts. Was tough for a while. I got so desperate I was hanging round the frat houses on the campus. Was there a single one without some oogly ghost cult or a pocket hell dimension in the basement? I didn’t find it if there was. Skinny student types, all hyped up on caffeine, beer and worse, brought on my acid reflux. It was a tough few months. But after a bit I got an in at the mental hospital. They had a serious oversupply of patients for some reason, so I felt like I was performing a service. Another good few months there. Happy days.
Trouble was, once Wilkins was gone (and what a waste that was - megalomania‘s a thing we can all respect, but why be a giant snake demon? What good is life without arms?), the situation got out of control. Council let the quota system lapse, all kinds of rough types flooded in. The whole hell-god extravaganza was just nasty. Good friend of mine was taken by one of those pterodactyl type things from the dimensional rift. Bad day. I found his leg, after. I think it was his, anyway. Then the leather demon arsonists, that Proserpexa business (and who the heck thought she’d be good company? Not a nice lady. Not nice at all). My cave was taken by some skin-eater with no respect for private property. Slayers and wannabes sprouting like kudzu wherever you looked.
And that was before the worst phase. You can sometimes feel when a town’s on the slide, but I’ve never lived anywhere I knew was dying before. Weird. I guess a ghoul should enjoy a town in its death throes, loving that decay in the air. But I couldn’t stomach it. Got right out of there with the rest of the gang. The whole community running together. There was a real sharing spirit for a while. I helped a werewolf couple get a jump start off that nice nurse from the health clinic with a Humvee, not a shred of unpleasantness. Okay, tthere was that little problem with some Rwasundi time-slipping a minivan full of goblins into the crater that was going to be there the week after. But that’s the kind of town Sunnydale was. Rough with the smooth, supernatural with the everyday.
I miss it, some days. But I hear Cleveland’s a good place to make a new life. Lots of company. No damn Slayer for sure. And I’m looking forward to it. 'Today’s the first day of the rest of your life', that’s my motto. Well, that, and ‘Never eat your neighbour’s dog or his wife’. It just keeps things nicer, y’know?