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The Vampire Who Doted on His Chicken [MultiFormat]
eBook by Ken Rand
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$0.49 |
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$0.42 |
eBook Category: Fantasy/Humor
eBook Description: Us regulars at the Lucky Nickel Saloon, Second Ave, Laramie, Wyoming, U S of A are not surprised to see a stranger walk in. Happens now and again. But this stranger is stranger than most. Turns out, he's foreign royalty, name of Count Wrekala or something from Roominie or one of them Europe places. Turns out, he used to dote on sipping folk's blood, but he reformed and now he dotes on chicken blood. Except there's a snowstorm afoot and we ain't had us no victuals in a week, let along chickens. You're wondering iffen our guest will turn to old habits and want to dine on us regulars, ain't you? Well now, that's what the dang story is about.
eBook Publisher: Fictionwise.com, Published: Challenging Destiny 23, 2006
Fictionwise Release Date: January 2008
Available eBook Formats [MultiFormat - What's this?]: Adobe Acrobat (PDF) [144 KB], eReader (PDB) [21 KB], Palm Doc (PDB) [7 KB], Rocket/REB1100 (RB) [8 KB], Microsoft Reader (LIT) [71 KB] - PocketPC 1.0+ Compatible, Franklin eBookMan (FUB) [78 KB], hiebook (KML) [47 KB], Sony Reader (LRF) [34 KB], iSilo (PDB) [6 KB], Mobipocket (PRC) [8 KB], Kindle Compatible (MOBI) [36 KB], OEBFF Format (IMP) [15 KB]
Words: 2077
Reading time: 5-8 min.
Microsoft Reader (LIT) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud ENABLED
Adobe Acrobat (PDF) Format: Printing DISABLED, Read-Aloud DISABLED
All Other formats: Printing DISABLED, Read-aloud DISABLED
 
"What we see in Rand's story tells me the author knows what he's doing when it comes to humor.... I always appreciate seeing humor in a speculative magazine, and enjoyed this story and the premise both."--Tangent Online
A feller parted the batwing doors of the Lucky Nickel Saloon, letting in a bucketful of snow and a cold gust off Second Ave, Laramie, Wyoming Territory, U S of A, holding a chicken in his hand, and he looked bewildered. The feller, I mean, looked bewildered. The chicken looked dead.
The feller looked preacher-like, clean-shaven, and gussied up in a black frock coat, boiled shirt and string tie. Hatless. He wasn't a preacher, though. He held a chicken in hand instead of the Good Book. The chicken, your regular white bantam, hung upside down, feet grasped in the feller's bony fist. A white feather drifted floorward. The feller, tall and rail-fence skinny, all knees and elbows, blinked somber-faced in the dim light--the saloon was bereft of windows--as if he wasn't sure where he was at. "Twas a tranquil though cold winter day. Me and Banky and Casper sat at table playing poker, matchstick stakes as we were broke as usual. We sat close to the potbellied stove so we could shove sticks in as needed because 'twas colder than a banker's smile. Blizzard been going on three, four days. We'd caulked the wall gaps as best we could with gum and chaw and spit. Helped keep the heat in, but it kept the smell in too. You don't want to know. Still, 'twas tranquil enough.
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