Here’s a little taste from the next Bubba the Monster Hunter story. Currently untitled.
“Skeeter,” I said in my best “be calm so you don’t cuss out your best friend in front of the entire kitchen staff of the hotel” voice. “Do we know anything new about the L-E-P-R-E-. . . The thing we’re after?” My attempt to spell out leprechaun ended in miserable failure when I realized I couldn’t spell “leprechaun.”
“There was another attack last night. And underground poker game just outside of town. I’ll send the address to your phone.”
“Okay, I’ll head out there as soon as I finish breakfast.”
“You mean you ain’t finished? Damn, Bubba, even hobbits only eat two breakfasts Save something for lunch.” I flipped off the air and pressed the button to hang up the phone, then headed back upstairs to shower and get dressed to face the day. Somewhere in Greenville, SC there was an Irish mythical creature killing people and raiding poker games. I needed to find it, and kill it. And maybe stick around for more grits tomorrow morning.
