Bloodsucking fiends: a love story

guess that that is no ordinary fog bank."
    The cloud undulated into the shape of a huge viper that reared up, twenty feet over the water, as if preparing to strike. Bummer and Lazarus let go with a fusillade of barking.
    "Gents, let us away to the showers. I've left my sword by the sink." The Emperor turned and ran down the dock, Bummer and Lazarus close at his heels. When he reached the clubhouse he turned to see the cloud creeping over the lip of the dock. He stood, watching transfixed, as the cloud began to condense into the solid form of a tall, dark man.
    The Animals began drifting into the store around midnight, and to Tommy's delight they all seemed at least as hung over as he was. Drew, tall, gaunt, and deadly earnest, had them sit on the register counters and wait for his medical diagnosis. He walked from man to man, looking at their tongues and the whites of their eyes. Then he walked toward the office and seemed to lose himself in concentration. After a moment he went into the office and came back with the truck manifest.
    Drew noted the number of cases, then nodded to himself and removed a bottle of pills from his shirt pocket and handed it to Tommy. "Take one and pass it down. Who drank the tequila?"
    Simon, who had pulled his black Stetson over his eyes, raised his hand with a slight moan.
    "You take two, Simon. They're Valium number fives."
    "Housewife heroin," said Simon.
    Drew announced, "Everyone drink a quart of Gatorade, a slug of Pepto, three aspirin, some B vitamins, and two Vivarin."
    Barry, the balding scuba diver, said, "I don't trust that over-the-counter stuff."
    "I'm not finished," Drew said. From his shirt pocket he pulled an aluminum cigar tube, unscrewed the cap, and tipped it into his hand. A long, yellow paper cone slid out. He held it out to Tommy. It smelled like a cross between a skunk and a eucalyptus cough drop. Tommy raised an eyebrow to Drew. "What is it?"
    "Don't worry about it. It's recommended by the Jamaican Medical Association. Anybody got a light?"
    Simon pitched his Zippo to Drew, who handed it to Tommy.
    Tommy hesitated before lighting the joint and looked at Drew. "This is just pot, right? This isn't some weird designer kill-the-family-with-a-chain-saw-and-choke-to-death-on-your-own-vomit drug, right?"
    "Not if used as directed," Drew said.
    "Oh. Okay." Tommy sparked the Zippo, lit the joint, and took a deep hit. Holding in the smoke – his eyes watering, his face scrunched in gargoyle determination, his limbs contorted as if he had contracted a case of the instant creeping geeks – he offered the joint to Lash, the black business major.
    There was a thump on the front door, followed by an urgent pounding that rattled the windows. Tommy dropped the joint and coughed, expelling a blast of smoke and spittle in Lash's face. The Animals shouted and turned, not so much startled by the noise, but tortured by the assault on their collective hangover.
    Outside the double automatic doors the Emperor pounded on the frame with his wooden sword. The dogs jumped around his feet barking and leaping as if they had treed a raccoon on the roof of the store.
    Tommy, still gasping for breath, dug into his pocket for the store keys and made his way to the door. "It's okay. I know him."
    "Everybody knows him," Simon said. "Crazy old fuck."
    Tommy turned the key and pulled the doors open. The Emperor fell into the store. Bummer and Lazarus leaped over their master and disappeared down an aisle.
    The Emperor thrashed around on the floor and Tommy had to step back to keep from having his shins whacked by the wooden sword.
    "Calm down," Tommy said. "You're okay."
    The Emperor climbed to his feet and grabbed Tommy by the shoulders. "We have to marshal our forces. The monster is at hand. Quickly now!"
    Tommy looked back at the Animals and grinned. "He's okay, really." Then, to the Emperor, "Just slow down, okay. Can I get you something to eat?"
    "There's no time for that. We must take the battle to him."
    Simon called, "Maybe Drew has something to mellow him out." Drew had recovered the joint and was in the process of relighting it.
    Tommy closed and locked the door, then took the Emperor by the arm and led him toward the office. "See, Your Majesty, you're inside now. You're safe. Now let's go sit down and see if we can sort this out."
    "Locked doors won't stop him. He can take the form of mist and pass through the smallest crack." The Emperor addressed the Animals. "Arm yourself, while there