The Beer Can

beer can

I was riding down the highway in Transylvania in 2012 behind a red pick-up truck. Suddenly a squashed beer can came flying out of the back portion of the truck. Some bum the driver gave a ride to had likely left it there.

The beer can flew into the window of the Beemer behind the truck, shattering it and sending the car careening into the ditch beside the highway. I stopped to see if I could provide any help to the passenger of the auto, but that looked impossible. Flames surrounded the car and everything was burning – or so I thought.

A hand at the end of an outstretched arm was waving in the hopes someone would notice. Approaching I noticed it was a female hand. I surprised myself when I pushed the car off her. The woman, dressed in a long, flowing dress and white slippers, stood up gracefully and nodded.

Her black hair flowed straight to the middle of her back. She turned and winked then asked, “Why did you harm him? You ran that spike I was sitting on thru Dracula’s heart. It hurt him. He squirmed”

Then I noticed another body, in a black suit covered by a black cape. Indeed there was a steel spike sticking out of his chest. It seemed to stand where the heart would be.

When the lady pulled the spike out of his chest, one eye opened, followed by the other. The wound sealed itself and I noticed for the first time that the man had not bled, whoever he was.

He stood, smiled in my direction and transformed into a bat. He flew off before I could ask him any questions. But the lady hung around, so I talked with her.

“I didn’t mean to kill him; or change him into a bat. I wasn’t driving the car that hit you,” I said cautiously.

“Yea, that’s what they all say,” stated the woman. “Only usually they’re little old men with bald heads and glasses. You’re tall, strong and healthy looking. Do you walk?”

“I walk six blocks three times a week. You look healthy too; do you work out?”

“No. I’m just always healthy. I’m one of Dracula’s brides. He has a coven, you know. We’re never sick. How can I help you?”

I thought an instant. It was a little like winning the jackpot being asked by a complete stranger, who had proven herself magical, what I wanted her to do for me. Figuring she could do anything, and fearing her choice, I decided nothing would be the best answer, and that’s what I said. Nothing.

She eventually turned into a bat and flew off, too, though in a different direction from Dracula.

I returned to my car wondering what my colleagues at the law firm would say when I returned to Paris and told them; or whether I should.