Eight Versus Twelve

By Gail Fulkerson

There was a gopher in the neighbor’s yard yesterday, the first of the season. If Roscoe had seen it, he would have snatched it up and throttled it to drink its blood. Since gophers are larger than rats, they carry more blood, and Roscoe would be satisfied with the blood of eight gophers instead of a dozen rats. He’d have to wait a couple of weeks more to hunt gophers since they don’t like the snow and will stay in their burrows until most of it is gone.

Ophelia had other things on her mind. She needed to go out shopping for laundry soap and an enzyme cleaner to get blood stains out of her bright white nighties. She dressed in her coat, scarf, hat and boots and headed for the 24/7 grocery store, aka the neighborhood 7- Eleven. The person behind the counter sleepily greeted her as she entered the store. She took the laundry soap and enzyme soak off the shelf and then remembered she was low on loose tea, so she got a pack of that, too.

Roscoe waited for Ophelia in the parking lot and noticed some rats feeding on garbage by the dumpster, so he snatched one, broke its neck, and drank its blood. He was on his fourth rat when Ophelia came out of the store with her purchases. She telepathically called to Roscoe that she was heading home and for him to follow her. He told her he’d be right behind her as he finished off the last rat.

When they got home, Ophelia got busy with her laundry, soaking bloody nighties in the enzyme cleaner and then washing them. It took about 3 hours from start to finish, and Ophelia was satisfied with the results.“How ‘bout a cuppa blood tea, Roscoe? I’d love a cup, and I know you never turn down any opportunity to drink blood tea,” Ophelia said. The pair traipsed up the basement stairs to the kitchen and put on the water to boil. She measured out the black tea and blood powder into her mug and Roscoe’s bowl, then, when the water was boiled, she poured that, too.

Taking their tea into the living room, Ophelia and Roscoe settled in to watch the world go by from their vantage point in her comfy chair. As they sipped, they saw a cat, then a second. Roscoe was almost beside himself with excitement: a kitty two-fer! He was at the front door, impatiently waiting for Ophelia to let him out, then he was off like a rocket after the cats.

Roscoe was scratching at the front door to come in, about 45 minutes later. He was bloodied and dirty, but that’s what happens when you’re battling two cats at once. As soon as Ophelia saw him, she exclaimed, “You look a fright.” She grabbed him up and headed upstairs to the bathroom, where she ran a hot bath and plunked him into the tub. By the time the dirt washed out of his fur, Roscoe had finished telling his mistress how he’d fought the two cats at once. To hear him tell it, the battle was touch-and-go, but Roscoe prevailed to win the fight.

“My brave little killer,” Ophelia said, as she toweled him off. Roscoe beamed with pride at impressing his mistress.

She dressed him in his newly cleaned replica bright white nightie and hair towel, then scooped him up and cradled him in her arms, hugging him hard. He loved the attention almost as much as his blood tea, which steeped on the kitchen counter while he bathed. Roscoe lapped up the blood tea, licked his bowl repeatedly, and asked for a refill. Ophelia obliged and poured herself another cuppa tea.

The two killers watched a skunk trundle by the window, but Ophelia told Roscoe to stay away from them, because they stink to high heaven, and she didn’t want the smell in her house. Roscoe understood, then asked if he could hunt them outside, and Ophelia said no. The smell would cling to his fur for days.

“How about a quick hunting trip, my little man?” asked Ophelia. “We’ve got hours to go until sunrise, and I want to stretch my legs.” Roscoe was at the front door with his leash in his mouth, waiting for Ophelia to shrug on her coat, hat, scarf and gloves. She opened the door, and Roscoe was off like a shot, straining against his leash.

“Slow down, Roscoe,” Ophelia demanded, but he was consumed with bloodlust and couldn’t wait to get at his first rat, and the second one, and the ones after that.

Properly sated, Ophelia and Roscoe headed in the opposite direction towards town, where they encountered humans after humans strolling the streets. All Ophelia had to do was choose one and follow them to a dark area on the street. She didn’t have long to wait: a rather portly older man walked past the pair of killers, huffing and puffing as if he’d just run a race. Ophelia turned on her heels and followed the man a short distance until he turned into a neatly kept yard and began mounting the steps to his front door.

Ophelia accosted the man as his foot stepped on the first stair, knocking him off balance and making him fall with an ‘Oooomph ’and a thud. Ophelia and Roscoe were on him in a flash, tearing open flesh on his neck and one of his ankles. The pair drank hungrily and quickly, then she brought out the blood bags and started filling them. She filled 4 before the man ran dry.

Leaving the corpse where it lay, the pair lifted off into the night sky and headed for home. Once there, Ophelia decanted the blood into clean mason jars and set them on the shelf, holding one back so the two of them could have a deliciously warm drink after all their work.

Ophelia and Roscoe both yawned. There was a slight tinge of color in the eastern sky, signaling it was time to go upstairs to bed, so Ophelia scooped up Roscoe and cradled him like a baby as she mounted the stairs. She deposited him in his spot on the coffin bed and got in behind him. Closing the lid, the pair snuggled into the myriad blankets and quilts and were asleep in minutes.

Gail Fulkerson is a writer and a regular contributor to 'OZ', who specializes in writings of the supernatural. She lives with her family in Saskatchewan, where she is working on another story. This is a series about Ophelia Banks. 

Gail just published her new book: "Tales of the Macabre". The book is available at Turning the Tide bookstore in Saskatoon or online direct from Gail. Make a comment and I will pass on your information to her. Stay tuned to 'OZ' for future stories.