MAVIS MY ZING
It was late last night, Rachel Lyburn came home at 2am after her lacrosse match. But that's another story.
Penelope Ummerall awoke at a strange breathing and drooling next to her, but before I tell you that, let me begin at the beginning.
In 1892 Dr. Avis was in his lab late one night when a little girl by the name of Mavis came in asking to be turned into a vampire. Dr. Avis was intrigued and immediately turned her into a super duper scary vampire. MAVIS WAS BORN AGAIN!
The curse that Dr. Avis had given her was a gift and a burden: Mavis could not age and she would watch her friends and loved ones die, but she had an uncanny ability to find pocket change in couches.
Life carried on this way until the ripe years of 122. With her birthday right around the corner (this means her birthday will occur soon), Mavis was bunkering down in her studio apartment in Salt Lake City, the city world renowned for its salty lake. She invited all of her friends to her birthday party, but forgot that they were dead. Her only friend/lover had been her love interest Rachel Lyburn.
Now Rachel wasn't the best top Mavis. Rachel would often push Mavis around and eat the last gogurt without so much as a "hey this is the last one, do you want it?". Rachel was a straight savage. Many would go as far as to call Rachel a, how you say, douche?
On the day of her 123rd birthday, Rachel had not gotten her a present… again. Fed up, Mavis began to list the awful things about Rachel: ugly, stupid, rude, messy, never folded the linens, and depended solely on Mavis's pocket change income.
Mavis threw her hands up and charged angrily at Rachel. Rachel could barely muster a "Yoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo" before Mavis thrust her elbow through Rachel's larynx, killing Rachel instantly. As Mavis sat in her lover's blood with a droopy party hat on, she whispered "happy birthday to me".
Mavis knew that she was Rachel's zing, so she went to Rachel's funeral, where she hooked up with the pope. Now as she drifted off to sleep in the Vatican City, her dreams were of Rachel; how could she kill Rachel? Rachel had often called Mavis her zing. The best the pope could do was foot massages.