Excerpt from Walking In a Weevil Wonderland
I love my job. There’s something incredibly satisfying about hunting down were-creatures and blasting them into oblivion. Of course, since I’m on call as soon as the moon rises, it plays havoc with my social life, and a lot of guys get turned off when you say that you’re basically an exterminator. But that’s the price you pay for keeping the world safe, or so I tell myself whenever I’m feeling lonely.
Like every December, we were battling were-weevils. True were-weevils take advantage of the full moon to open a transdimensional gate from the Were-world and cross over to ours, to destroy Christmas and the entire Christmas spirit. They chew anything that looks or smells or sounds like Christmas, and bite anyone who tries to stop them.
You can guess by the word “were-” what happens to those unlucky humans who are bitten by a were-weevil. Within two heartbeats, they turn into six-legged creatures with long snouts and teeth capable of biting through almost anything. And if they can’t chew it—Christmas lights, for example—they drool on it. The acid in their saliva burns through and destroys it just the same.
Transformed were-weevils chew until the sun comes up and they turn back into humans, at least until the next holiday season. True were-weevils, on the other hand, chew until they’ve absorbed enough Christmas spirit that they can sprout wings. Not only can they then fly to any other source of Christmas spirit that they fancy, they’re also capable of breeding, they can move independently of the moon phases, and worst of all, they’re almost impossible to catch. My job is to make sure they don’t get to that point.
Purchase the book to find out what happens next...
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