Episode Notes
The Last Taibon by Rob Fields
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Transcript:
It’s dark, the middle of winter, and it’s a fucking blizzard. I’ve been walking along this highway for a while now, keeping tight hold of my Reebok Pump basketball shoes. I suppose I take great joy in knowing that I’m walking around in the elements half-naked and barefoot, and am actually quite comfy. Also, I’m fucking soaked from all the snow. I’ll have to take my clothes off and let them dry when I can find a place to take shelter. Not the first blizzard I’ve walked through, and it won’t be the last. 
It’s about an hour before I finally see the lights of what appears to be a tavern. I turn and walk across the snowy parking lot and past several covered cars. I’m sure there’ll be people inside waiting out the storm. But I’m wondering if a certain motherfucker named Richland Jillian will be inside. 
I open the door and walk in. Of course this fucking place is going to be filled with men. They all look at me, some gawking that I’m dressed like a slut, while others are probably wondering how long I’ve been out in the blizzard like this. And, no, I don’t see Richland Jillian in here. Might as well have a drink before I head back out. Not a single motherfucker in the place says anything to me as I make my way to the bar and sit on a stool. 
The bartender slowly approaches me. “Can I . . . help you?”
I point to the bottle. “I’ll take that Fire Water – all of it.”
He just looks at me. “All of it?”
I dig into my tattered jean shorts and pull out some money. Then I slam it onto the bar. “Did I fucking stutter?!”
The bartender takes my money and hands me the Fire Water. No asking me for an ID, which is how I like fucking it. After popping the spout off and draining the hot cinnamon liquor, I slam the bottle down and see the looks on everybody’s faces, especially the bartender’s. 
“You, um, want anything else?” he asks me. I point to the unopened bottle of Jim Beam. “All of it?”
Slapping the bar gets that bottle put right in front of me. I open it up and this time enjoy my drink. So delicious . . . 
Then, one of those motherfuckers finally decides to approach me. I suppose I’m always asking for this kind of fucking shit since I’m a blonde who’s wearing tattered, short denim shorts and an athletic top that’s only good for covering my small titties. Like I said, I look like a total slut. Unfortunately, I haven’t been able to wear normal clothes for a very long time. And now . . . I’m pissed when a guy who looks like he could eat me whole puts his hand on my shoulder. 
I neither hesitate nor look his way. “Hands off, motherfucker!” 
He clamps down on my shoulder now. “Quite a mouth on you, little girl. Little young to be in here, aintya?”
I almost swing my bottle to shatter it on his head, but I stop and remember that it’s Jim Beam. I take hold of his wrist and make him scream in intense pain. Then I turn around and give him a kick that sends him flying across the bar and smashing into the jukebox. Oh well, country music sucks major dick, anyway. 
I turn around to see a few other so-called men bold enough to come at me. I have no problem picking one up and slamming him right through a table – one-handed. I grab the other one and throw him behind bar. He hits the back and falls forward. The rest of the motherfuckers quickly back away. 
I turn to the bartender and grab him to me. “Nearest town!”
He gulps when he sees my red eyes and points in the direction. “Strickfield! Five miles!”
I let him go. “Thank you.”
I pick up my Jim Beam and my shoes and head back out into the blizzard. 
I’ve finished my Jim Beam by the time I cross into Strickfield. After dropping the bottle in a trash can, I walk around some more. Very few people are out in this blizzard. I do see a few cars on the streets, though. Then I see more bright lights and become excited. It’s a twenty-four-hour diner! Yeah, Denoyer’s Grill’s bound to have some good comfort food.  
I walk into the diner and get the same looks as the motherfuckers back at the bar. The college boy behind the counter gives me that look. I hold up my wet men’s basketball shoes for him to see. Then I drop them to the floor and slip into them. The guy smiles. “You can sit wherever’s open.”
I park my sexy ass at the counter. Minutes later, I get my order. Wow! Now this is a fucking burger! I pick up the huge burger and take a bite. Sure wish I had more Jim Beam to wash it down. The Coke will be just fine. The counter boy keeps stealing peeks at me. Can’t really blame him. Some of the other patrons in here are staring at me with contempt. Fuck them!
I ask the counter boy, “You don’t have any booze in here, do you?”
He shakes his head slowly. “Unlimited soft drink refills is the best I got, Miss.”
I slide my empty Coke glass to him. “Fine.”
After I get my refill, I slip my shoes back off and relax some more. The counter guy is still looking at me. “You’re probably wondering what my fucking story is, right?”
“Miss, please refrain from using profanity,” he asks me. “We’ve got other customers in here.”
I smile a little. “Okay . . .” I look at his nametag. “. . . Martin. Since you asked nicely . . .” Also, this guy’s really cute, pretty easy going. I think I kind of like him.  
“What’s your name?” Martin asks. 
I flash him a sexy smile. “Bella.”
Martin finally answers my question. “Okay, Bella . . . I guess you could say I’m curious, yes. I mean, it ain’t every day that I meet . . . well . . .”
“A hot little devil like me?” I finish for him. “I get it. I know I’m not dressed for that blizzard outside – far from it. I’m cold and wet all over. But when you’re me, things like blizzards and summer heat don’t really bother you.”
“Um, you’re not on any kind of drugs, are you?” Martin asks. 
I laugh a little. “I can drink all the booze I want and down a hundred ecstasy tablets. None of that affects me. Not when you’re not human.”
Okay, fuckers! Here’s where you pay attention to what I’m about to tell you – and Martin, instead of wondering when I’m going to take my clothes off and fuck Martin’s brains out. 
As I’m sure you horror freaks already know, I’m not a normal girl. I mean, come on . . . a girl like me who looks about seventeen or eighteen doesn’t just throw around big men like they’re pillows. And I certainly wouldn’t be walking around nearly naked in a fucking blizzard, neither. I’m what you would call a Master Vampire. Or maybe . . . a derivative of one. 
My story begins around 1889. I came from Shore Village, which would years later become the huge megalopolis known as Shore City. I came from a family that was anything but normal. See, when you’re a Taibon, you’re forever fucked. Your life is tied to shit such as magic and the supernatural. You spend your whole fucking life training and fighting this shit. I actually started training under Gramps when I was about four. 
Every day it was the same fucking shit. Up in the morning . . . breakfast . . . training . . . lunch . . . more training . . . dinner . . . nightly hunting . . . sleep. I was already a trained killer by the age of six – and the bitch that I am now. In other words, innocence lost. Even then, I found I was always having to compete with my older brother, Nicholas. It was always a motherfucking rivalry between him and me. 
Nicholas was a good three years older than me. Still, he would prove to be a way better fighter than me. I’m not afraid to admit it. Still, he was always so sure of himself that he made it a point to prove it even to me. Probably why he always called me Runt. Still, I could be a pain in his ass, too. Gramps and Grams saw how vicious and clever I could be and called me Little Devil. Anyway, Gramps used our sibling rivalry to make us better fighters. Probably too well. I couldn’t tell you how many times Gramps had to break us up when we’d lose our shit and go at each other. 
Anyway, Nicholas got to be so good at what Gramps taught him, that he was actually good at killing Master Vampires. Master Vampires are quite powerful and are many times older than your average garden variety vampires. The older vampires get, the more powerful they become. I don’t mind telling you that Master Vampires are harder than fuck to destroy. Still, Nicholas actually surprised Gramps out in the field by taking one down – by himself. He understood the vampire weaknesses much better than anyone in our family. The fact that Nicholas liked to face Master Vampires by himself didn’t sit too well with Gramps. Even I voiced my concerns. Of course, Nicholas didn’t want to hear me and let me know about it on no uncertain terms. It was shit like that that made me just want to yank his dick off and choke him with it. 
So . . . Gramps started spending more time with me and working with me himself. Even though Nicholas continued to show his dominance out in the field, I had that gut feeling that he was asking for it. I mean, how long would his luck last? Remember that saying about how no matter how good you are, there’s always going to be someone else better than you? 
That someone was Thornton Jillian, who was the worst Master Vampire the Taibon family had ever faced. Jillian was thousands of years old and had slaughtered many of our family, including my own parents. The Taibons were renowned for taking down the supernatural, but Thornton Jillian would prove to be the deadliest motherfucker we’d ever faced. In fact, he was the reason why I’m the last Taibon. 
Th