Never Give a Tiny Vampire a Happy Hour Mojito

A vampire walks into a bar at happy hour. He’s so small the barkeep cannot see him. Even when he waves his arms over his head no one seems to notice, except for one hobgoblin babe drinking by herself in the corner. She watches as he jumps and yells, grinds his fangs. Finally she takes pity on him, walks behind the bar and orders two mojitos to be brought to her table. She invites the tiny vampire to join her. They drink and chat. Swap tales of dark deeds done.

As the evening enfolds the tiny vampire starts to look more appealing to the hobgoblin babe, so she invites him back to her place. Here they share more drinks before eventually making it to her bed, where he drains her dry, grows a metre taller and leaves for bloodier climes.

“The rumours were true” he muses as he walks away, “Hobgoblin blood does reverse Vampire Dwarfism. How lucky am I to have found such a willing one!”


Copyright November 2013


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