“. . . and to this very day, people still claim to see the mournful Ghost of Two-Hearted River, gliding silently downstream in his birch bark canoe, tenderly cradling the still-beating heart of his one true love.” Mindy finished her story, blushing with pleasure at the brief patter of applause from the small group gathered around the campfire. The First Annual Minions in the Moonlight Story-Fest was going quite well, she thought, as she stepped away from the firelight, even though Evil Editor had failed to show up. She grabbed her overnight bag from the pile in the main tent and headed for the restrooms.
“Pssst! Hey, you!”
Mindy heard movement in a small grove of trees just off the pathway and pointed her flashlight at the sound. She gasped, startled at the sight of a huge, shaggy wolf-like creature with an elegant pince nez dangling from his left ear. She opened her mouth to scream, but no sound emerged.
“I need your help,” said the wolf. “You are a minion, are you not?”
Mindy stood rooted to the spot, terrified and fascinated. “Who, who are you?”
“I am Evil Editor, of course,” replied the wolf, drawing closer. “And I am in desperate need of a depilatory, as you can see. Do you have any Nair?”
Mindy dug through her case and handed a pink plastic bottle to the wolf, watching in amazement as he quickly drank the contents. Evil chuckled and growled at the same time, moving back into the shadows as tuffs of grey fur fell from his rotund form.
Mindy averted her eyes. “B-but, I don’t understand. Are you a werewolf?”
“Hell no! I’m just having some kind of allergic reaction,” said Evil, now returned to human form. “But I’ll tell you," he said, ruefully stroking his muttonchops, "that’s the last time I ever get Botox and Rogaine injections on the same day.”