Operation Hysterical Talons

Choose from a list of random titles.

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TL:DR - Choose from a list of random titles. 1000 words maximum, due in a week. Post a link if you want, for free compliments and suggestions.

This 2012 challenge from Terrible Minds was to use a random title as a prompt. The site they used actually had generated a series of slightly silly military operation titles. The story doesn’t have to be military in nature, though.

My list was: Operation Hot Sheikh; Operation Hysterical Talons; Operation Smite the Venom; Operation Temperamental Nakba; Operation Unleashed Meerkat. Go here for a similar title site—just add that you want silly-named Operations. I used some of my Fairy Tale folk too—Romulus the Wolf and Agnes the Witch, Plus a bartender from my local.

My story, 1100 words.

Operation Hysterical Talons

She paused in the doorway, peering into the gloom. It was a typical small bar, dim even on a sunny day, with 80’s tunes in the background and a faint scent of beer, old smoke, and disinfectant. Maybe her prey would be here. A good metaphor, she thought, as today her spells transformed her. Gone were the warts, blotchy skin, hooked nose, and long fingernails. Now she was a very attractive woman, full-figured, mid-forties, well-dressed in a short, tight grey skirt, with white ruffled blouse open just enough, straight-seamed stockings, impossibly high heels—a cougar on the prowl for something young and vulnerable.

But first, she had some business.

“Hi, I’m Micheline,” said the bartender. “What can I get you, honey?”

“I’ll start with a Scotch, please,” she replied. “Straight up.” She leaned closer to the bartender. The woman looked yummy—low cut t-shirt, tight jeans, long curly brown hair, nice jewelry, bright nails, bright smile. And just a hint of flirty eyes.

The place seemed almost empty, but it wouldn’t hurt to ask. She leaned forward and touched the bartender on the arm.

“Love to relax and visit, but right now I’m here on business. I’m trying to track someone down for a client.”

“Nothing criminal, I hope,” said Micheline. “I’m new here, I don’t want any trouble.”

“No, just a business deal,” she said. She took a folder from her bag, marked Operation Hysterical Talons, Top Secret, and removed a photograph. “Ever see this guy around here?”

The bartender took a look, then laughed. “That’s easy, that’s Buddy. Nice guy, calls everyone buddy. He usually sits on his own, but after a few beers, he starts telling all these tall tales of his younger days, fighting monsters and stuff. He has a big imagination, but he's harmless. We call him Buddy the Vampire Slayer. He’s here now, over there in that dark corner, all by himself.”

“Thanks,” she said, “you’re a doll. Give me another scotch, and whatever he’s drinking. I’ll take it over.”

Buddy slumped in his chair, his large hand around a beer mug, eyes almost closed, with rumpled clothes, long hair, and a two-day-old beard. He was a big man, and looked to be well muscled under a layer of fat. He glanced up as she approached, squinted, then jumped a bit in his seat.

“What the . . . ?” He paused. “Must be the light in here, for a moment I saw a—”.

“A witch?” she said.

“Yes, I mean no, sorry ma’am.”

She put the drinks down and pulled out a chair. “That’s OK, I am one. And I know what you are, or were, and that part of that is the ability to see past disguises and simple spells.”

Buddy sat and looked at her for a minute, a thoughtful look on his face.

“OK,” he said. “I’ll go along with your little story, since you did buy me a drink. I like stories.”

“So do I,” she said. “They’re my life. Let me tell you one.”

She explained about the Grimms, the new interest in their tales, how generations of stories had brought the characters to life, and how, in return, she and her friends added new life and impact back into the stories.

“Nice little tale,” he said, “but this isn’t a German forest. It’s not even Germany. How do you explain that?”

“Outsourcing,” she said. “After hundreds of years, we’re back and strong enough that we can be hired out to help other stories and characters. Such as you, a Slayer,”

“Sorry,” he said. “You seem like a nice lady, so I’ll let you in on a secret. Those are just all stories I tell—none of it really happened.”

“OK, my turn to doubt,” she said. “I’ve heard some of those tales, pretty amazing stuff. But if they are only stories, what can’t you remember anything else about your past? How do you explain those blanks?”

Buddy waved his hand dismissively. “The doctors tell me I must have been in an accident that affected my memory. So I get a disability now.”

“And so here you sit and drink and tell your stories,” she said. “Is that fun?”

“Well, it’s what I have,” he said. “Anyway, what’s it to you?”

“I’m here to convince you to get out of that chair and back into the stories,” she said. “You’re needed again.”

“Sorry, haven’t convinced me,” he said.

“Not yet,” she said. She took out a cell phone, texted a message, and smiled. “I have a Plan B.” Buddy closed his eyes again. She sipped her drink, and waited.

As door of the bar suddenly flung open, the bartender, the two guys at the bar, and Buddy, all stared at the tall figure standing there.

He was tall and lean, with a full head of dark hair, black glittering eyes, white teeth, an open shirt showing off a gold chain amidst thick curly chest hair, tight leather pants, and bare feet. Conversation had ceased. The bartender smiled, “Wow, I mean hello, come in.”

The witch picked up her drink and moved her chair off to the side. She gave a little wave of the hand over the rest of the bar, saying, “Freeze, folks. OK, over here, Romulus, he’s all yours.”

Buddy pushed his chair back and stood up. “A wolf? In here?”

The wolf raced across the floor, long claws clattering on the floor, teeth gleaming, and leaped at Buddy. There was a growl, a bellow, and a crash of furniture. For several minutes, the two of them rolled back and forth, punching, scratching, slashing, biting, until finally the wolf managed to pin Buddy down.

“Thanks for the show, boys,” she said. “Buddy, calm down. This is my business associate, Wolf. He came to remind you of what our idea of fun is. Remember now?”

Buddy shook his head. “Damn, I’d forgotten. It all came back when he rushed at me, all those battles over the years—they were real! And I just seemed to know what to do, like riding a bike. Well, sort of, this is a little more violent. I’m glad these scratches will heal quickly, as there sure are a lot of them. ”

Romulus retracted his talons. “I did get carried away, but you did pretty good for a while. Are you in?”

“I think I’d have been OK if I’d only had some warning,” said Buddy. “OK, I admit it sounds like a crazy proposition, but I’m in. I’m really out of shape, though.”

“That’s why I’m here,” said the wolf, “I’ll be your trainer. Now, let’s straighten up this furniture before my friend releases her little spell she threw over the others. She’s already heading back to the bartender. I can guess she’s planning some fun for the evening.”