He was nervous. Nervous like never before. He could endure a lot, a real lot, and during his many years as a history teacher and fortune teller (he had to work extra to maintain a relatively high standard of living), he had encountered many things that could have unsettled him.... But this... this was simply horrific! He never wished anyone harm, but whoever did this should die a long, slow death... By God almighty! Why his carrots?! He had nurtured and cared for them... experimented with water levels and sunlight for seven long years. He had tried various fertilizers, and finally, this year, he had grown the perfect carrots...
Until something ate them.
Although, no... ate them up would be a more accurate term. In the end, some of them were still... nibbled or trampled, but they remained.
"Ehhh... I'll get you, you..." he didn't finish. After all, it wasn't proper for a teacher to swear.
He threw the remains of the carrots into the garbage can and went home to formulate a plan. And not just any plan, but a Plan. A Real Plan that would help him stop the tormentors of his small, defenseless carrots. Because he wasn't stupid and knew that since someone had been eating (eating, he mentally corrected himself) for several nights, they would show up today. And he would be prepared... After all, the world knows no such untamed anger as the anger of someone whose carrots have been eaten (eaten, that is).
He didn't know, however, if he was dealing with a human being or perhaps some supernatural carrot-eater from another dimension. So he went to his bedroom, opening his wardrobe (which, by the way, didn't hold any clothes) with a special magnetic card, and then examined the contents...
"Oh... who do I see! Mr. Sadist, just remembered me?" said Fred's head, enclosed in a large pickling jar.
"Shut up, Fred, I don't have time," he grumbled absently, absorbed in choosing the right gadgets.
"How many times have I told you?! My name is Sergei, not Fred!" And I swear, when I get out of here and find my body, I'll..." He didn't finish, as the wardrobe door closed with the haste of a man with a good idea.
He spread everything he'd brought on the table and began preparing his equipment.
"Just like the good old days," he sighed.
Just as it began to get dark, he had all his equipment ready: a crossbow with a telescopic sight, a stake, and holy water (after all, you never know what's eating your carrots). After a moment, he sat by the window, hidden behind the curtain, listening for anything approaching. After an hour, when it became completely dark, he put on his night vision goggles and searched for the psychopath who committed such heinous crimes. Around three in the morning, he was about to give up and go to bed when he heard rustling in the yard.
"That's a cheeky bastard!" he whispered. "He's using my gate!"
He waited a moment to make sure he'd actually heard something, then slowly and quietly walked out into the yard.
He tiptoed quite close to the degenerate, who hadn't heard anything because he was too busy chomping on carrots.
When he got close enough to the thing, he couldn't believe his eyes.
"This will be easier than I thought..." he whispered.
Suddenly, the werewolf turned to him...
What a shock! He'd been prepared for anything, but a werewolf chomping on carrots?! Raw meat would have been more appropriate, preferably human meat.
He tossed the crossbow aside (after all, a single silver-tipped bolt cost a fortune) and reached for a shovel lying on the ground. The werewolf had clearly recovered from his surprise, considered what to do, and growled in werewolf fashion.
"I eat people like you for breakfast," Stanisław replied. That wasn't entirely true, but it sounded passable enough.
He swung his shovel and slammed it into the werewolf's head with all his might. It let out a strangled growl and fell to the ground. Stanisław stepped closer and chopped off the werewolf's head with the shovel. Immediately, it transformed back into a human.
"Mrs. Jadzia from across the street?!," Stanisław asked, surprised.
Mrs. Jadzia was a kind old lady he liked to talk to sometimes... Well, he probably wouldn't talk to her anymore... unless he organized a séance, but he suspected Mrs. Jadzia might hold a grudge against him for what he'd done.
The moment of surprise vanished, and he had to act. After all, he had a corpse with a severed head that he couldn't just leave in the yard. He washed the blood off the shovel and began digging a grave. After an hour, he had dug a hole the right size and depth and dumped the corpse in. He began to bury the grave when he remembered the head. However, it was nowhere to be found.
He was terribly frightened. What if she had rolled into the street? She could be practically anywhere now. That was all he needed. A complete mess. If the police found the head, they'd very likely start looking for its owner.
"Don't lose your head," he consoled himself eerily, "it has to be here somewhere."
He hurriedly searched the yard and found the head. It hadn't rolled far. He threw it into the grave and then hastily buried the corpse. He returned home and fell asleep.
The next day, he planted some flowers on the grave. Eventually, someone would notice the disappearance of this lovely old lady and might connect it with the digging up of the yard. He finished around noon and spent the rest of the day resting.
The next day, after going out into the yard, he broke down.
More carrots were missing.
"Misfortunes come in pairs," he said sarcastically.
That night, he repeated the previous evening's procedure, and by the next morning, he had two beautiful flower beds. But that wasn't the end of it. The werewolves proved to be a veritable Egyptian plague. He had even lost all hope of saving any carrots, not to mention the fact that soon there would be no room for more.
A week passed, and he already had a plethora of flowers in the yard. He was just planting more when he heard someone entering his property. He turned and froze.
They were two policemen.
"Good morning. Mr. Stanisław?" the policeman asked, out of principle.
He collected himself and decided to play it cool. After all, you never know. If anything happened, he could always invite them into the house and offer them poison... although there was no room left in the garden (and the thought of more flowers made him nauseous), he could always wall them up in the basement. He didn't like murdering innocent people, but sometimes there was no other option. Besides, he was a middle school teacher, and things like that aren't very educational.
"So, what can I do for you gentlemen?" he asked,
his tone almost exaggeratedly polite and innocent. "
Recently, a few people died in this neighborhood... specifically, all of them from the vegetarian club... have you seen anything suspicious in the area?
Vegetarians. So that explains why they preferred carrots to meat. Well, since he'd already killed the entire vegetarian club, there should be peace...
" "No... I hope this doesn't pose a threat to anyone?" he feigned surprise quite well.
He spoke with the police for a while, listened to their warnings about locking the doors, then went back to planting flowers.
He was starting to like it.
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