Tansy Undercrypt
Author, Illustrator, Purveyor of Doom & Whimsy


September 11th 2017 in Microfiction

“So … uh … so a little bit confusing here,” the lawyer said. “In the breach, records going back an impossible number of years returned attached to you, so … ” “How many years?” he asked, controlling the urge to smile. “Well, really a stupid amount … clearly, your information was compromised, even corrupted in the data mining,” the lawyer replied, mopping the sweat from his brow. “How many years?” he asked again, his mouth turning up at one corner. “637 years,” the lawyer answered apologetically. “I will be here to completely clean this up, of course; your policy provides generously for support with identity the—.” “Yes, that’s me,” he whispered, his eyes unblinking and blazing from his chair in the dark corner of the room. “637 years sounds about right for full-time employment, although I had a part-time job as a herald as a boy … the equivalent of one of your newspaper delivery jobs.” “Uh … ,” the lawyer whispered, unable to think clearly. “It was fun cleaning this up the last time it happened,” Dracula said, rising slowly from his chair and moving to stand over his blankly staring counsel. “It is fortunate you’ll be here through the entire process,” he continued, bending low (his teeth visible in the firelight). “Let’s have a drink and get started.”

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