Ophelia’s worried hazel eyes gazed up at Mike until her spidery lashes finally fluttered. She was still shorter than him, even with the five inch black vinyl platform boots. Her black and teal dreads cascaded gracefully past her shoulders, framing some glorious cleavage. But Mike couldn’t lust after her now – they had more important things to worry about, like how to get into the Devil’s Cave, an exclusive goth club that they regularly attended. Even though it was three hours away it was worth it for a night of dark debauchery and there was nothing like it in their own city. Tonight one of their favorite synth bands, Velvet Crotch, was playing along with Twisted Witch and DJ Desolation. Normally newcomers had to wait several months to get on the admission list which rarely had any openings. Ophelia and Mike had been around since the grand opening and were naturally part of the goth elite. But tonight there appeared a new doorman, or doorwoman, rather. Where was their usual fun-loving and bouncy Zeke, who towered over everything and everyone and whose long, silver hair spiked out like some kind of crazy Tim Burton character?
No, tonight the entrance was guarded by Neetzchi, an otherworldly girl whose cold stare could freeze your soul until it cracked. Neetzchi radiated tonight with luminescent skin, glittery green eyeshadow and lustrous green lipstick to match. Her white-blonde hair was reminiscent of David Bowie as the Goblin King in Labyrinth. Sporting a holographic mini skirt, black fishnet crop top, and gravity-defying boots, she was certainly a sight to behold. Her eyes glowed like little green lasers. She held a clipboard and narrowed her eyes at them. It was only an act. She wished everyone could attend this club but she needed the money and was given strict instructions not to let anyone in that wasn’t on the list. She didn’t want to disobey the club owner. Terrible things happened if you did. Hopefully she wouldn’t need to use Kung Fu.
Mike was in serious thought when Ophelia suggested the unthinkable: “Let’s call Blair.”
“No, we can’t possibly –”
“It’s the only way.” She brushed a stray dreadlock from her face and gave him the sad puppy look.
He sighed and ran his hands through his own dreadlocks. “But remember what happened last time someone needed her…”
“Yes, yes, I know, the city was shrouded in darkness from all the bats.” She remembered it well – the shrieking of bats upon bats upon bats. The bats swooping down and sinking their fangs into innocent people. Slapping people with their rubbery wings, spreading fear and gloom. Blair, grinning amidst all the chaos and crying out, “Fly and feed, my freakish little fiends!”
At the moment, Blair was snuggled up at home, recovering from a nasty cold. Clad in purple pajamas with bats on them, she absentmindedly leafed through a psychology magazine and sipped on tea. Hanson’s “Mmmbop” played in the background. She bobbed her head and sang along, “You have so many relationships in this life, only one or two will last…You go through all the pain and strife…then you turn your back and they’re gone so fast….oh yeah! And they’re gone so fast, yeah!” She became annoyed at that point as she had to stop and blow her nose. She was pissed for missing tonight’s show at the Devil’s Cave where all of her friends were. Suddenly, the bat tattoo on her wrist heated up and glowed purple. “Fuck…” she groaned, blowing her nose again. “Why?! It better be a good reason this time.” Last time she was called in for an emergency, it turned out to be two girls who wore the exact same outfit from Hot Topic. Who wore it first, and who wore it best? Blair rolled her eyes and then smirked. She couldn’t reason with those idiots so she let the bats deal with them.
Sniffling, she yanked on her tights, cape, and mask, and trotted downstairs to the computer, where she typed in a set of complex codes. The computer churned and came to life. “Bweeeep bwooop! Emergency situated in Quadrant 4, 666 Batshit St. Doom City, KS 00666.”
“That’s the Devil’s Cave club,” Blair murmured. Her eyes rolled back, revealing the whiteness. And then she vanished.
“She should be here any moment,” Ophelia said, pacing back and forth. “She usually gets here faster than this, though.”
From behind her, an icy voice replied, “I needed coffee first.”
“Ohhh! You scared me, Blair!” Ophelia cried, as the masked woman emerged from the shadows and let her cape loose, exposing a tight black batsuit underneath. She gave her best Blair glare, and then sneezed into a tissue. “Tell me, what did I leave the comfort of my own couch and my dear Hanson for?”
“It’s that girl Neetzchi, she won’t let Mike and I into the club.” Ophelia lowered her head. Neetzchi was, at the moment, paying a pizza delivery boy for hundreds of large pepperoni pizzas with extra cheese. She glanced at them, her green laser eyes blazing in the night. The pizza was of great importance, though, so she turned back to the matter at hand. She practically worshipped pizza and it was quality control time. She chomped onto a slice, but a long string of melted cheese had somehow caught on her lip piercing and swung around. It was adorable and didn’t make her look very threatening. She chewed thoughtfully and realized what needed to be done. She pulled out a green bandana, folded it into a long piece and tied it around her forehead. It was time for Kung Fu, pizza style.
Blair knew this was a true emergency. She looked up at the sky and shrieked a horrible shriek, her fangs glistening in the moonlight. Everyone covered their ears. The sky grew darker as clouds veiled the moon, and lightning streaked across. From a distance you could see an even darker cloud rapidly approaching. And then the deafening sound of bats.
“They’re here,” Ophelia whispered in awe. Mike shivered, pulling her close.
Neetzchi was not afraid. She kept flinging all the pizzas out of the delivery car. Once that was done, she bent low and raised her hands in proper Kung Fu pizza stance. She’d give them hell and heartburn! “They shall not pass,” she hissed.
The vampire batcloud descended and suddenly there was great confusion. What smelled so good? They were sick of blood. What were all these tantalizing circular things on the ground? They landed in hoards on the pizzas, immediately fusing to the sticky cheese. Blair frowned. This was uncalled for. Something had to be done. She advanced towards Neetzchi, cape flowing behind. Deep bass throbbed from inside the club. Neetzchi began the motion for a roundhouse kick to Blair’s face, but Blair ducked and rose back up with an uppercut punch, knocking Neetzchi down. She quickly recovered and grabbed a slice of pizza from a box on the ground. She sidestepped Blair’s front kick, twirled around and slapped her in the face with the piece of pizza. Blair was stunned momentarily as grease dripped from her cheek and a couple pepperonis slid down. “Let my friends into the club!” she commanded.
“Never! They aren’t on the list!” Neetzchi growled. More Kung Fu and pizza-slapping ensued. The girls were covered in cheese and rolling on the pavement at this point. In one final move, Neetzchi shoved a piece of pizza down Blair’s throat. “Now that’s what I call stuffed CRUST!” she hollered. “Yusss!” She punched the air triumphantly.
Meanwhile, Mike and Ophelia had snuck into the club’s entrance long before the girls were finished fighting. Everyone was enjoying themselves dancing, but all wondering where the pizza was that had been ordered by the club’s owner.
Blair gagged and hocked up the slice of pizza. She began plucking off the bats from the pizzas one by one, setting them free. She definitely wasn’t at her best tonight, being sick. But at least the two lovers had been able to get into the club with her distraction. The sad, greasy little bats flew off into the night. They vowed to never stray from their bloody diet again.
Neetzchi had just realized that Ophelia and Mike were inside the club. Great. Now she would suffer the consequences of the club owner. Speaking of which, he had just strolled outside to see where the pizzas were. His eyes widened as he surveyed the scene. Two weary female warriors covered in pizza particles, and hundreds of destroyed pizzas lying about. Christian was clad in a tight muscle shirt, bondage pants, and combat boots. He had dark eyeliner smudged around his eyes, and not a single hair on his head. “Neetzchi, explain!” He roared. Trembling, Neetzchi replied, “Mike and Ophelia weren’t on the list and they wanted in. I wouldn’t let them. L-like you said, don’t let anybody in that’s not on the list…”
“Ohmygawd, they weren’t on the list? That’s a total mistake, they were supposed to be on the list. Who made the list?!” He inquired. Neetzchi and Blair gawked at him. “Who…made…the list?!” he screamed, balling his fists. Thunder cracked.
“I did!” a squeaky little voice called out. Everyone looked at the club entrance, where a geeky little intern boy stood. Christian began breathing hard, rasping breaths.
“Neetzchi, go order more pizza. I’m also giving you a promotion because you did everything in your power to obey orders. And you –” he looked at Blair menacingly. “Go blow your nose, there’s a string of snot hanging from it. Here’s a Kleenex.”
Finally, he twisted his head towards the intern boy, who, after a severe bout of trembling, had nearly forgotten how to breathe and was about to pass out. “You know what road this is?”
“B-B-Batshit S-Street,” the intern choked out, tears welling up.
“That’s right,” Christian stated. “And you’re going to clean up all the bat shit that’s out here AND all the pizza scraps.” He smiled sweetly, pausing for a second. “And the restrooms when all of our guests have left later on. That will give you plenty of time to reflect on your mistake this evening.”
“Yes Sir!” The intern squeaked, as Christian began walking his way. The very second Christian was about to pass him, the intern peeked at him and they met eyes.
“Boo!” Christian shouted, and the intern squealed, scurrying out to the pizza and poop-encrusted street.