FAMOIUS GHOULS FAVORITE FOURTS

By Professor Heinrick Hemlock, PHD, DDT, ESP

The Fourth of July celebrates America’s birthday with fireworks, food, family reunions and fun for us living large, but what about the undead? Technically though, we the living are the undead too, because we’re not dead yet.
However, in the creature features the undead are zombies, vampires and werewolves. Sorta like The Three Stooges of horror.
So I sent my assistant and cemetery grounds keeper, Ace Hack, on assignment to interview some famous ghouls at midnight under a full moon at Jolly Holly’s Cemetery and Custard Stand. Here’s his tape recorded report.
“You all had dinner, right? ‘Cause I could look like a steak tartar to you guys.” Ace asks haltingly.
All seem to answer in the affirmative with a series of low growls, howls, hisses, grunts and lip smackings.
“Let’s start with you, Bob Zombie. What was your favorite Fourth of July?”
“Well Ace, you know how people say that life is no day at the beach and no picnic? My favorite fourth was a day at the beach when me, and several hundred of my closest fiends, picnicked on a sand dune full of Frenchmen at Omaha Beach.
I’ve always loved French food and they were delicious with a nice chilled Chianti and some warm arterial blood to wash them down. They were like a salad bar of fresh meat. The great thing about being a practicing zombie is that after you bite into somebody and kill them, a few seconds later they come back as your new best friend with the same interest in killing every human in sight. So you’re constantly killing people and making new zombies.”
“You’re a very articulate zombie. I’ve only seen them growl and slobber.” Ace states.
“It’s the media misrepresenting us. Being hungry does make one a bear, but after some fine dining we like a good cigar, a snifter of brandy and witty conversation just like you.”
“Fascinating! What about you Lord Dracula. What was your favorite Fourth?”
“As luck would have it, it was American’s first Fourth of July in 1776 Philadelphia. It was so hot then that my fangs stuck to my gums and I couldn’t get them to shoot out and bite properly. They went up and down like a garage door in my mouth. It’s all in my autobiography ‘Fangs, For the Memories’.”
“I’ll have to pick up a copy. What happened next?” Ace asks quickly.
“I went to several dentists and killed them when they couldn’t help me, but it was like biting their necks with baby teeth. Then I ran into Ben Franklin flying his kite in a thunderstorm. I explained my plight to him and he hooked me up to his kite. A lightening bolt struck it and, consequently me, and jump started my teeth to full bite.”
“And then?” Ace asks eagerly.
“I was so grateful to Ben that I spared him, although he was plump and full of blood. I had to feast on a family of four to make up for this act of kindness. I spent the night pretending to drink beer with the Founding Fathers at the Bleedin’ Like a Stuck Pig Pub, an old haunt.”
“Fascinating! Now Mr. Warner the Werewolf, what was your favorite Fourth?”
‘It was tonight. Right here, right now.’ He slobbers and shines under the moonlight.
“But this isn’t the Fourth of July. It’s more than a month away.” Ace explains uncertainly.
“Hey pal; I’m a werewolf who changes into a hairy killing machine every full moon at midnight. I don’t know what century it is, let alone what national holiday. And you look good enough to eat.” He snaps.
Thump! Ayeeee!! Chomp! Chomp! Slurp! Slurp! Burp, all echo on the blood caked tape recorder found the next day at the cemetery.

Funny, Ace hasn’t been by yet to pick up his paycheck. Probably slept in…forever.