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| The small state of Rhode Island has been known throughout history as being rich with stories of Vampirism. In the late summer of 1981, the small town of Eggster was plagued by a string of strange, unexplained deaths. Local police were baffled when four of the town�s homeless persons were found dead with no apparent cause of death. The town coroner had later confirmed that all four had been drained of all their blood, and each had two small puncture wounds upon the neck. The following week, three more victims were found, all bearing the same strange marks. Town officials and state investigators didn�t know where to turn, that�s when they contacted Wayne and Raymond. �It didn�t take a psychic Einstein to figure out what was going on there,� says Raymond. �The townsfolk should have had enough wits about them and should have seen enough late-night TV to know that they were falling victim to an undead creature of the night; a Vampire. The only question was where the fanged freak was hiding.� The following day the Boorans arrived in Eggster and examined the corpses. �They were sucked dry all right. Judging from the fang marks, we were able to determine that we were dealing with a very strong, very thirsty, male vampire, possible Rumanian decent, about 6� 6�, and approximately 450 years old, give or take half a century.� The very next morning, another body was found outside the town�s cemetery gates, again, a homeless bum. It was then that Raymond got an idea that might help catch the bloodsucker. He disguised himself as a homeless drunkard by wearing some discarded clothes found in the town dump, not shaving, and dousing himself with cheap wine and cherry brandy. He laid on the street in a darkened corner of town and sang a wobbly version of Auld Land Syne. Wayne hid in the shrubbery a few yards away armed with a crucifix, garlic scented holy water, and other implements of vampire extermination. Shortly after midnight, a large, hairy bat flew out of the shadows and into the ally where Raymond was laying in feigned drunkenness. Ray changed his tune to Battle Hymn of the Republic to signal to Wayne of the monsters approach and they prepared to spring the trap on the unsuspecting Vampire. �Our plan of attack may have seemed simple, but it was actually quite complex,� explains Wayne. �We knew a vampire of this power would be very difficult to kill in the dead of night, when he is most powerful. Although we knew a confrontation was going to take place, our goal was not to attempt to destroy the vampire at this time, but to affix a small homing device to his undead bodily person so we could later track him down to his lair and destroy him at the crack of dawn, when the sun has rendered him weak and defenseless.� Moments later, a thick, ghostly mist swirled out from the alley and drifted ominously towards Ray. It slowly materialized into a large human shape and it stood towering over him. It was indeed a vampire! Tall, glowing eyes, fanged teeth, and a flowing black cape. Ray appeared to take no notice of the creature that stood over him and with a lethal hiss the vampire sprang upon him and went straight for his throat. Little did the monster realize that Raymond was wearing a silver-plated, titanium, fang-proof neck-guard, and as the fiend attempted to sink its pointy teeth into Ray�s neck, they splintered and chipped and the creature bellowed in agony. Wayne knew that this was his chance to attack and closed in on him with the crucifix and blasts of holy water from the high-powered spray gun. As the creature was misdirected and tried to shield his face from the attack, Ray reached up and attached the homing device to his inner thigh. �We wanted to give the vampire the impression that we had failed in our attack. Now that he was bugged, we wanted him to retreat to his lair,� says Ray. The creature did indeed retreat. Burned and blistered from the holy water and nauseated by the crucifix, it transformed back into a bat and flew off, but not before depositing several bat droppings directly onto Ray�s head. �We regrouped our energy, and used our computer to track the vampyr to its hiding spot. As it turned out, he was staying in a Howard Johnson�s right in the center of town. We gathered our things, drank coffee and waited for sunrise.� �There are very few pleasures in Demonology, but one of them is destroying vampires on sunny mornings. It�s so easy a school child could do it. They lay there so still and helpless. These ancient, powerful, mysterious creatures become harmless as babies as the sun rises, and we use this to full advantage. After all the innocent lives they�ve sucked away, it�s a great pleasure to destroy them with no mercy.� The morning came, and so did the Boorans to room 31 at the Eggster Howard Johnson�s. Without hesitation they kicked the door in. Sure enough, lying in the center of the shabby hotel room was a large, black, coffin. Strewn about the room were empty blood bags, chunks of half eaten beef jerky, and a wide array of porno magazines. �At this point, we�ve already won. The hard part is over. We can relax and unwind a bit. All that remains is to stake the creature through the heart and decapitate him, and seeing he�s in no real mood to resist, we like to celebrate a bit. We crack a bottle of Dom Perignon, and we toast to our victory over his final resting place before we complete our grisly task.� Indeed the Boorans finished their task, like they had hundreds of times before. The vampire of Eggster was no more, nothing but a pile of battered ashes. Town officials today discredit the Boorans, saying that they never had any proof of their supposed �vampire killer,' or their story for that matter, but nonetheless admit that the killings stopped. �Ungrateful people,� said a saddened Ray, �We sent the creature back into nothingness, and they want proof of that. So essentially, they want proof of nothing. Go figure. Demonology is a thankless, respectless job, but somebody has to do it.� FAMOUS CASES HOME |
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