The Death of Terry
Terry downed another glass of Smitchwick’s, as Fiona did the same. His new friend got to her feet, and walked off. She smiled at him. “I might talk to you later, I do have other customers.”
Terry toasted her off, downing yet another glass. As she left, she topped him off once again. He sipped this drink, and thought to himself. What the heck was he going to do about the girls. They were werewolves, and Rachel’s grandfather was telling him to stay away. At least he had good drinks, and Fiona was nice. Still, it was not like the girls were just going to walk in.
Heather, Dita, and Rachel walked in the pub, talking to each other. Dita was the one currently speaking. “So, your grandparents own this pub?”
Rachel nodded. “Yeah, that means I get free drinks. Not to mention I meet a lot of interesting people. Hi Fiona!” Rachel waved at Fiona, as the girls moved to a table near the center. Before they could sit down, Heather shook her head. She motioned instead to a table near the back, which offered a good bit more privacy. Curious, her friends followed.
And so did Terry. He sat up, and tried to discreetly move a little closer. He was pretty successful, though he nearly bumped into a table. He shook his head. Looks like I had a few too many drinks. Maybe I should sit down. Oh, here is good.
He slid into a booth near the girls, and listened to their conversation. Rachel was the one currently speaking. “Shouldn’t we be sitting a bit nearer to the front? I visit here every couple of years. Fiona’s a friend of mine, even if she is boy-crazy.”
Heather let out a breath. “I’m just a bit worried. I’ve been feeling funny this whole trip.”
Dita leaned closer to Heather. “Let me guess. Sudden urge to look out the window, howl at the moon? Legs getting fuzzy? Urge to mark your territory?”
Heather pushed Dita away, a faint smile on her lips, but her eyes were without warmth. “Be quiet. No, It’s not about my mom being a werewolf. Okay, I did need to shave thanks to YOUR mom.” Dita looked confused. “I’ll tell you later. It’s just that I’m a bit worried about Sharon. She’s been kidnapped by a psychotic FBI agent! That doesn’t happen to normal people.”
Then Terry did one of the stupidest things in his entire life. He turned around, looked the girls in the eyes, and said, “Wait, that teacher at the university?”
Terry could have sworn he heard a creaking sound, as the three girls slowly turned to face him. It was complete silence, at least until Fiona walked by, refilled Terry’s drink, and turned to the girls. Fiona smiled at Rachel. “Guinness, I take it?” Rachel wordlessly nodded. “And you, ma’am.”
Heather looked at Fiona, and responded in a monotone. “I’ll have a Guinness.”
Dita ordered next. “Guinness.”
Rachel broke the silence. “You’re not eighteen.”
Dita reordered. “Milk.”
Fiona walked off, and Heather was the first to speak. Her voice was quick and questioning, nearly angry. “Terry. What are you doing here?”
Terry began to breathe deeply, and looked Heather in her eyes. “I’m doing a pub run. I happened to come in this place a bit before you guys, and I was talking with Fiona. When I saw you come in, I was going to talk to you, when I heard you mention something about Sharon being kidnapped.” And your mom being a werewolf, which you inherited.
Rachel realized something didn’t fit. “How do you know Sharon?”
Terry smiled, and spread his hands out wide. “I meet a lot of people in a band. It just so happens, we were trying to all go to the local university, and we met her there. Where did you guys meet her?”
Heather took the response. “She’s a friend of our mom’s. So, you just happened to pick this pub, out of all the pubs in Ireland. Weren’t you going to pay tribute?”
Terry gulped. “I decided to do the pub crawl first. Plus, I was worried about you guys. I was afraid something might happen.”
Rachel glared at him. “I’ve been to Ireland every couple of years since I can remember. I’ve been here more often then you. How could you protect us?”
Dita picked this time to speak up, meeting Terry’s eyes. “By spying on us, apparently. He wasn’t sitting next to use when he arrived, and he didn’t immediately speak to us, but he did sit down close enough to hear what we were saying.” Her eyes seemed to change color for a brief moment. “Now, what ALL did you hear.”
Terry’s throat worked around, and a bit of saliva sloshed around. He tried to speak, but found words weren’t coming out. “I heard you were werewolves, when you were on the airplane. I bumped into an air vent, and knocked the cover off. I could hear everything you said. Including that the FBI was after you. So, I got worried, and decided to make sure you were all right. Even though Mr. McDonald told that really weird story.”
Dita closed her eyes, and crossed her hands in front of face. She had a cold look, one that left Heather with shivers down her spine. “You must be mistaken. We didn’t say anything about werewolves on the plane.”
Terry looked at her, confused. “What are you talking about? I HEARD you say you and Heather were both werewolves?”
Dita narrowed her eyes. “Oh, really? And I’m telling you we didn’t say anything. You must have imagined it.”
Terry’s confusion did not stop. “I didn’t imagine anything. You’re all…”
He never finished his sentence. Dita grabbed him by the collar and pulled him an inch in front of her face. Her eyes glowed with an unearthly light, as she yelled in his face. “WE DIDN’T SAY ANYTHING ABOUT MOTHERFUCKING WEREWOLVES ON THE MOTHERFUCKING PLANE!”
She dropped Terry, as she and Heather could both smell the scent of urine coming from Terry’s pants. The boy backed up slowly, hit a table, and ran like hell. He bumped into Fiona, tossed a credit card into her hands to pay for his rather large bill, and ran out the door.
Rachel looked to the people at the pub, who were all staring. “Obviously, he has a terrible phobia of bad rip-offs of equally bad movies.”
The pub roared with laughter at the flimsy joke, and everyone went back to their drinks. Fiona, meanwhile, went back to tallying Terry’s drinks. His many, many, many drinks.