Page 3 of Plaidypus
The moose had gone through the truck’s windshield on his side of the vehicle.
The average moose cow weighed in at several hundred kilograms. A direct collision with several hundred kilograms of moose through a windshield typically ended in death. In the case of our accident, my brother’s death.
I’d have nightmares for a long time about the crash.
My kettle whistled, and I went the heathen route, using water instead of milk for my hot cocoa. Armed with my drink, I joined my brother in the living room, snuggled into my nest in the bay window, and joined him in observing the drama unfolding on the front yard.
The moose pawed at the snow-encrusted grass, her coat shimmering from the ice building up on it. A light snow began to fall. The foxes grouped together, barking at the beavers, who circled their chosen prey while snarling threats. “You should record this. We could put it on the internet with ads enabled and make a fortune. I’ll even give a play by play.”
Matthieu snickered, but he dug out his new phone, the last thing he’d purchased before the crash. Unlike mine, which could barely make calls and held on by a thread, his had all the bells and whistles. In our original plan, I would have gotten an upgrade in a few months, after we’d saved up enough to get me something decent.
He loved the bright and shiny, and I was happy with functional.
Laughing more than I’d heard since he’d been transformed into a vampire, he said, “If you make a fortune off this video, I’ll be truly impressed.”
I needed to make a fortune off the video, else we’d be up a creek without a paddle or a boat with a blizzard on the way. “If I don’t make a fortune off a zombie moose and a congregation of various critters of the undead variety, I’ll be truly disappointed.”
As a child,I’d loved giving play-by-plays of hockey, basketball, football, soccer, baseball, and any sport my parents would let me watch. They’d drawn the line at cricket, as none of us understood the rules and it quickly devolved into general giggle-punctuated insanity.
“And Team Beavers, also known as the Snarlers, have settled into a circling pattern, opting for a strong defense rather than attempting an offense. Team Vampire Foxes, while outnumbered, are holding their ground, evaluating the offensive line for an opening. They’ve identified Player #4 on Team Beavers as a potential weak link. As the smallest of the team and with a tendency to crowd to the right, the Vampire Foxes are wise to exploit this weakness in Team Beavers’ game.” I gave it less than five minutes before the foxes went for the weak link, and I gave it fifty-fifty odds on whether they’d try to have a snack or make a run for it. “The sole spectator, Miss Zombie Moose, finds the dead grass in my front yard to be far more entertaining than the stalemate match between Team Beavers and Team Vampire Foxes.”
Movement out of the corner of my eye drew my attention, and a desiccated wolf shambled out of the woods. I heaved my most dramatic sigh, tapped my brother’s shoulder, and pointed at the newcomer. “And from the woods, we have a new contender in the form of a mummified wolf. Likely an Algonquin wolf, this endangered undead species is best known for its residency in Algonquin Provincial Park, a jewel of Ontario. Of the undead species, the mummies are known for excessive aggressiveness, a dislike for the indoors, and an enjoyment of driving off other undead types from its territory. Its range extends anywhere it goes, as the mummified wolves rarely stay in one place for long.” I observed the wolf, which halted on the road and considered the grazing moose and the odd dispute between beavers and foxes. After some deliberation, it angled for the impromptu sporting event.
I wondered who would win—if any of them won.
“Team Wolf has decided it will enter as a solo participant, approaching at a steady prowl.” The wolf halted a few feet away, and I gave my brother’s phone a play-by-play, with Player #4 on Team Beavers continuing to crowd her neighbor. Once the two beavers were close enough to touch, the foxes bolted for the opening.
“And Team Vampire Foxes has taken advantage of the gap. The leader has opted to take a bite out of Player #4’s rump, although none of them are sticking around to determine if beaver blood is their new favorite flavor of the day. Team Beavers has been taken by surprise, failing to capitalize on their offensive positioning.”
Team Wolf eyed the dispute with interest, and after the scuffle mostly resolved with the foxes bolting for the forest, it lifted its head and howled.
A pale fog emerged from the wolf’s shriveled muzzle, spreading out in a roiling blanket. When it touched the beavers, ice crackled over them.
“Holy shit,” my brother muttered.
“Team Wolf has emerged as an unexpected aggressor in the game of undead animals. Howling icy fog, it has frozen Team Beavers in place.” The fog halted in a twenty foot circle around the wolf, who prowled through the mists to investigate the beavers. After consideration, it selected Player #4, bit down on the back of its neck, and gave a vicious shake. “Team Wolf has eliminated Player #4 of Team Beavers in an effective neck strike.” Turning, the wolf left, and as the mists departed, the other beavers collapsed, gradually melting into piles of empty fur.
The moose continued to graze without a care in the world.
“And the game ends in a tie between Team Wolf and Team Zombie Moose. Congratulations, winners. Please go away, as I’d like to go get groceries sometime today.” Reaching over, I peeked at my brother’s phone and turned off the video. “I vote we move, Matthieu. There’s crazy, and then there’s watching a mummified ice wolf liquify a bunch of beavers while the vampiric foxes run away. Smart foxes, though.”
“You know what? I think you might be right. But let’s at least try to earn a fortune off this video first. Moving isn’t cheap.”
It really wasn’t, so I agreed to his terms with a nod of my head, taking a sip of my hot chocolate while wondering what I’d done to deserve my current lot in life.
TWO
Our parents aren’t vampire-murdering dickheads.
My brother took over the whole idea about trying to go viral with my play-by-play of the undead critters taking over our yard, ordered me to make another hot chocolate, and retreated into his lair. Fortunately for us, he’d always liked the basement, which lacked windows but boasted a fireplace and all the creature comforts a vampire could want. As he’d always been a basement-dwelling recluse, nobody would think twice if they visited and discovered I ruled the second floor while he preferred his underground domain. The ground floor remained our shared turf, and the UV-blocking films I’d installed might draw unwanted attention if anyone realized they were there.
I hated lying to people, and my brother’s conversion into a vampire had required a shameful amount of lying.
The zombie moose continued to graze in the front lawn, and lacking anything else to do, I resumed my search for a job I could do at home while accommodating my brother’s feeding schedule. I needed something low-stress, which eliminated most of the available work. I didn’t need it to pay allthatmuch; our parents owned the house, and if I confessed our new situation, they’d help without even thinking about it.
Asking for help would top my list of defeats, and damnit, I wanted our parents to continue enjoying their empty nester lives without believing we might come to an immediate demise.
Our parents had gone to New York City the day after I’d turned eighteen, handing over the keys to their house and ordering us to prove we were adults while they lived the high life. Dad chased his dreams of becoming a cop, and thanks to his status as Canadian-American, he’d been able to enroll in the academy. Mom, also Canadian-American, went to school to become an accountant, as she liked numbers and wanted purpose down the road.
