A bit of an explanation: A while back I wrote a parody story based solely off the title of someone else’s story, Weep Not for The Vampire, by William, A. Veselik. The title itself became a running gag, and a fellow by the name of Alkilyu made up a fake book cover with the title Sheep! Not for the Vampire! I chose to write the story to fit the cover, and for a while this was a “super secret” Easter egg on my web site.
Oriel Stroker hunched in the shadow of the oak tree, sulking as he watched the bloated sheep grazing in the pasture below his vantage point. For years, he had ventured out to the hilltop to stare longingly at the succulent fat beasties, each one seeming to call out to Oriel, “Please, come and suck me like a fluffer in a Long Dong Silver movie.”
But on the other hill was a damned werewolf, and the flock of sheep was his private feeding stock. The land belonged to the werewolf as well, and so if the werewolf caught Oriel, well he was within his rights to do a little righteous mauling on poor Oriel’s ass. It didn’t help that the werewolf was gay, either.
People—that is to say sane people—would often ask Oriel, “Why not just go kill a human? Surely with you being a vampire, you might like the taste of human blood.”
But Oriel was one of “those vampires,” the kind of whining little toady who despised himself, and who couldn’t bear the thought of killing one of his “peeps.” He had always been a fan of a good rack of lamb in life, and so in death, he liked to carry on his old habits. So sheep were on the menu, and he was off to look for sheep. Unfortunately, Oriel had been living in cow country. The only shepherd in the area was the werewolf.
Oriel glanced over to the opposite hill, narrowing his eyes while he stared at the hulking shaggy beast. The wolf looked like it had fed recently and was sleeping off its meal. Bastard. That he should enjoy the fruits of his labors without letting a thief come and steal from him.
Dropping onto his stomach to crawl through the tall grass, Oriel paused to raise his head every few seconds and stare at the wolf before making a small hiss. The wolf was out cold, and under the bleating of the yummy sheep, he heard a rumbling snore.
“Fuckin’ A, I think I’m gonna score tonight!” Oriel gushed.
Four legs dropped over him, and a deep voice growled, “Got that right, biyatch.”
And the raping began. The jerk didn’t even pull Oriel’s pants down or bother with a reach around. When the wolf was finished, he threw Oriel over his fence and into a ditch with a final laughing call of “Bitch.”
Oriel rubbed his abused backside and whimpered. He knew it was not proper vampire behavior to whimper, but he felt fairly certain no one who wrote the rules for vampires had ever been anally assaulted by a werewolf.
He felt dirty. He felt used. He felt…strangely satisfied? No, best not to go there. After all, he was not after the werewolf’s dong. No, he only wanted the sheep. And that was why, in spite of never catching one fucking sheep in ten years, Oriel was still coming to the field. For the sheep. Really.
“One day,” Oriel swore, “one day, I will taste hot sheep’s blood. Then maybe I’ll hump its dry corpse until the wolf finds me. Yeah, that would fuckin’ hawt.”
Oriel snuck out to the grove of trees on tip toes, carrying a big box under one arm. He set the box down, leaning around the tree to look for the wolf. And there he was. What an asshole! Just standing over his flock like he had to protect it or some such nonsense. It wasn’t like Oriel wanted any more than four or five of the sheep for himself…per night.
He pushed the thought aside and opened the box to pull out a sheep costume. “I’m a genius. I’ll just slip up right beside one of those tasty little sheep and drain the beastie right then and there.” He laughed evilly, then stopped and peered around the tree. Good, good. The wolf hadn’t moved.
Oriel pulled on the costume and began creeping down the hill. He was almost on top of a sheep when he heard the loud thumping steps of the wolf. “My, what a tasty little sheep. I think I’ll have two sheep for dinner tonight.”
Oriel rolled onto his back and raised his hands. “Wait! Don’t eat me! I’m not a sheep at all! I’m just a vampire.”
“A vampire?” the wolf repeated.
“Yes…” Oriel groaned. “Yes, just a vampire.”
“Well I guess I’d better rape you then.” And he did, with the screaming, and the bleeding. It was just awful, and Oriel felt like such a slut as he was dropped off in the ditch once again.
“Okay, a sheep costume was a bad idea…but I’ll bet a wolf costume would work. He’d see I was another wolf, and he would share his sheep with me. Yeah, that’s the ticket.”
“Bwa?” The wolf asked. “What the fuck are you supposed to be?”
Oriel raised the arms of his wolf costume. “Hail brother. I am a fellow wolf.”
The wolf said, “The fuck you are, dude. Look at you. If you’re a wolf, you’re the fugliest wolf I’ve ever seen.”
“Yeah, well I haven’t eaten in a long time.” Oriel said.
“Obviously.” The wolf pointed toward the zipper. “It looks like someone tried to gut you as well.”
“Yes, I was…I was stalking Little Red Riding Hood, and this bastard woodcutter, he…” Oriel trailed off as the wolf shook its head. “Not buying that one?” The wolf shook its head. “Um…appendectomy?” The wolf shook its head. “Botulism?” The wolf shook its head. “You’re…you’re going to rape me now, aren’t you?”
The wolf shrugged. “I don’t know, man…that costume is seriously nasty. It would just take all the fun out of it.”
“Oh…well—well I’ll just be leaving then.” Oriel turned to walk away.
The wolf jumped, pinning him to the ground. “On the other hand, I could just rip off the costume.”
And then again, with the raping, and the screaming, and the bleeding; and then the ditch.
Oriel opened the door of his dank and musty castle. (which was in fact an abandoned trailer) Outside, he found a big white box with a bright red bow. A label read: TO: Teh Vampyre. Oriel took the box inside and set it down on the floor. Prying off the bow, he lifted the lid and gasped. A sheep! A huge, fat, yummy sheep. He could tell it came from the wolf too, because the wolf’s smell was all over the huge… but then the sheep stood up on its hind legs, and he saw the zipper.
“Oh… oh no.”
“Oh, yeah, biyatch,” the wolf growled. “I went to a better costume shop than your cheap ass. How do you like me now, bitch?”
Oriel sighed. “Yes, you’re almost convincing, except sheep don’t say ‘biyatch,’ do they? No, they say ‘bah,’ and you’re not even close.”
The wolf shrugged, remarking, “It almost sounds the same though, doesn’t it?”
“No, not at all. In fact—” The werewolf leapt, dragging Oriel off to bed.
Later, after the crying was over, the wolf puffed a cigarette and glanced at Oriel. “Hey, listen, man. Why don’t you just buy your own sheep instead of going through all of this?”
“Well, I don’t have much money.”
“Hey man, you don’t need a lot of money. You just go online like I do and order them. They cost a dime a dozen, and you can get over-day shipping.”
“Wow, that is convenient,” Oriel said. “Where do you shop for sheep?”
The wolf puffed out a smoke ring and said, “E-Bah.”