Finally, Zorro Lobo managed to get his hair slicked into the right style; his reflection smiled appreciatively back. “Rock’n’roll” was said with devotion as Zorro took in his magnificence.
His brand new, straight-out-of-the-box blue swede shoes screamed cool, as did his black pinstriped pants; the black short-sleeved shirt with an up-turned collar just finished everything off nicely, and after a week of practice, he’d gotten the lip curl down pat as well.
An attitude of rebel cool screamed out from his full-length mirror.
“Yeah, baby, all you ladies ain’t gonna be able to resist this hunka, hunka man!” Zorro’s hips swung left and right.
“Yes, they will.” Was sighed quietly from the occupier of the old wicker chair, who sat happily in the shadowed corner. "Here we go again!"
“Yeah, they ‘ll be screaming, ‘Oh Zorro, you’re so cool; take us home with you!’ ”
In the unlit corner, another sigh was given. It was quickly accompanied by a rattle from his newspaper before it became too much for the reader not to comment. “No, they won't.”
“Run your hands all over my body Zorry; you’re so sexy!”
That was the last comment the reader could tolerate before his frustration boiled out and he commented harshly. “You’ll have to go outside to hunt these ladies down, and both you and I know that’s still an issue you need to face.”
Zorro stopped wiggling his hips and adjusting his collar. “Yeah, but this time it’s going to be different.” The highly quaffed young man turned to his observer, “Just you wait and see; I’ll just a hunka, hunka my way out of the front door, wave goodbye to you whilst you flap off to work and then it’ll be party hardy time for my ladies and me.”
The newspaper was straightened and folded neatly along the seam. “That’s what you said last time when you went all punk.”
Zorro refused to make eye contact with Sangre De Ventosa, who had not yet finished, as he resentfully lay down the neat newspaper on his lap.
“Remember how you didn’t want to get yourself pierced, so you just stuck on the safety pins with some sticky tape? Remember you stepped outside, looked at everyone in the café, then and this is my favourite part, you then freaked out and took off all your clothes and stood there with just the safety pins sticky-taped to your nipples. Everyone was quite surprised when you started screaming that you couldn’t breathe! But please don’t forget how there was a tour bus with a group of elderly nuns from the Village Near the River pulling up to the café. Remember how they took pictures of you? Because if you don’t remember, I have copies, and I’m happy to take them off my wall and show you.”
The newspaper was thrust back up in front of Bone Valley's only Vampire, signalling the end of this conversation.
Zorro’s shoulders slumped, “Why do you always have to spoil it when I’m just about to bloom, to come into my own.” He walked over to the seated vampire trying to read a recipe for baked carrots with garlic and honey. “You know what your problem is, don’t you?” Zorro flicked the newspaper.
Sangre looked up with big sad blue eyes, “I have a friend who’s a werewolf and an agoraphobe. I work for the worst person who ever existed. I hate the sight of blood which causes me no end of issues. And the man I love is a huge pillock!” Then because this was true and tried territory, the vampire again folded the newspaper and sighed, “But please, Zorry, feel free to prove me wrong. Bounce up and out of our flat and dance on the street. Embrace your wild side.”
With a grin of defiance, Zorro turned and flicked on the record player. If he was going to do this, it was going to be done to an awesome soundtrack.
As the original Blue Sued shoed one began crooning the knickers off his audience, Zorro poked Sangre in the chest, smiled and said, “Watch me, baby, watch and learn!” Then he swaggered left and right until he stood before the front door of his flat.
Like the rest of the Bone Valley’s residents, ‘flat’ was a very fancy word for a half-dug-out hole in the ground. Sadly, as soon as the first Dragon had appeared, Zorro’s actual apartment, which had been five stories high, was sadly burned down in an unfortunate hiccupping incident. Worst of all though, he’d been in the apartment at the time and was now suffering the after-effects, which had surfaced as a deep seeded fear of being exposed to another… hiccupping incident.
Zorro’s doors were flung open as the young dark-haired werewolf with the long bushy sideburns stepped out onto the busy main street, turned to look at the café crowd next door who were all enjoying their coffee, blinked, howled, ripped all his clothes off, threw them to the ground, then screamed at the stunned onlookers.
The poor café brigade watched with cups half raised as Zorro, in all his naked glory, swung his arm around and around in a circle like a mini windmill, then contorted himself into a tippy-toed, one arm up and pointing to the sky action before he crooned. “Thank you very much!”
Then, unfortunately, Zorro did not leave the building. Instead, he ran back inside, slamming his front door shut.
“See, I told you.” Was heard by the café crowd, who went back to their coffee and newspapers.
For those regulars who had seen this all before, comments were given to the newer patrons. Most believed that Zorro Lombo, the first Werewolf in Bone Valley had provided a much more enjoyable performance when he attempted to leave his flat dressed as a ballet dancer. But still, they were all looking forward to next week because Pat the local postman had delivered a big package from the company that made little pony costumes.