BONETI MASHETANI SKELETAL WOMEN OF NIGHT

The three tall, gorgeous night-black woman slinked their way into the reception area of the Hunter-Smythe Hotel in James Matra Drive in Harpertown. In the Glen Hartwell to Willamby region of the Victorian countryside.

The Hunter-Smythe was decorated in a Hawaiian theme, complete with palm trees, and waitresses dressed as hula girls. They even had a hideous floor show with some idiot strumming a ukulele while murdering every Hawaiian song that he knew. Including the complete soundtrack to Blue Hawaii.

"Hello," cooed the tallest lady: "My name is Amara, these are my sisters, Njinga, and Zuri, we have a booking for three under the name Akintola sisters."

"Yes, indeed Miss Akintola," said the desk clerk, trying not to ogle the three African beauties too obviously.

They signed in, and then Amara asked: "Is it too late for dinner?"

"Not at all, if you go in through the door marked dining, I'll get the porter to carry your luggage to your room."

"I'm afraid we have trunks, not cases," said Njinga, shorter than Amari, but with huge 35DD breasts, almost falling out of the top. Like her sisters, she was wearing African tribal dresses with wildlife pictures on them. Long skirts, split to the waist on the left side.

"That's not a problem," he said ringing for a porter.

A short blond man, looking no more than seventeen appeared from a neighbouring room.

"Luggage," said the clerk Guido Pistroni. As the blonde man headed off, he added: "You'll need the trolley, they're got trunks."

"Just my luck," moaned the porter.

"You won't say that when you see them," said Guido: "They're all hotter than a blast furnace in Hell."


Inside the dining room, the three night-black beauties walked across to the first empty table that they could find. Unfortunately close to the stage where the non-funny comedian was trying to tell jokes, before trying to play the ukulele, without having any talent at either.

"May I take your orders," asked Shelley, a tall, attractive brunette Hula waitress.

"Three large steaks, rare," ordered Amari.

"Actually, the way they undercook around here, you want them well done," advised Shelley.

"Three large steaks, rare," repeated Amari.

"Okay, any salad, apéritif, or digestif?"

"Three large steaks, rare," reiterated Amari.

"Okay," said Shelley finally getting the message."

A short time later the non-comedian, non-singer, ukulele non-player, George Walker, headed off stage. Seeing the three gorgeous African ladies he walked over and asked:

"How do you like the way I play the ukulele?"

"Is that what it was?" asked Zuri.

"Yeah, a ukulele," said George, a short bald man with more than a passing resemblance to the late Jackie Coogan.

"No ... I meant playing?"

"Burn!" said Shelley, laughing as she brought them their steaks on a tray.

"Everyone's a critic these days," said George turning and walking away.


Over at Mrs. Morton's boarding house in Rochester Road Merridale, Deidre Morton and the others were waiting patiently to dine, while Terri Scott was talking to her boyfriend on the phone.

"Okay, see you, honey," she said, kiss-kissing. Then to the others: "Why is it that men won't kiss-kiss back to you over the phone?"

"They don't want to seem like dills in front of their mates," said Freddy Kingston, a short, obese, dark-haired retiree. A big fan of science fiction in general and Doctor Who in particular.

"So what's the news?" asked Natasha Lipzing, a tall thin grey-haired lady of seventy. A massive fan of mysteries and true crime stories.

"At this stage, they don't know whether Albanese is going to be tried or not," said Terri, a beautiful blonde, thirty-something. The top cop in the local area.

"So we don't know yet whether to play Black Christmas by the Devil's Advocates if he gets away with it," said Sheila Bennett, a tall, orange-haired Goth chick, as Chief Constable, the number two cop in the area: "Or White Christmas by Elvis, if Albanese goes down."

"'Fraid not," said Terri.

"I'll have a black, black Christmas

"And an unhappy New Year

"How can I think of Christmas things

"If Albanese's in the clear,

"I'll have a black, black Christmas

"A black, black Christmas

"Dah doo dah doo dah dah," sang Sheila.

"Thank you and good night," said Tommy Turner. A short, fat balding retiree.

"Would you like me to say grace?" asked Sheila, surprising everyone, as Terri sat down: "For what we are about to receive yadda yadda yadda, let's get stuck in."

"I knew we should have stopped her," said Deidre.

"Is that the condensed version?" asked Natasha Lipzing. Looking perplexed, as everyone turned to stare at her.


As he performed on stage in his second performance for the night, George Walker noticed that only the tallest of the three Akintola sisters was sitting at the table watching his show. And unlike her sarcastic sister, Zuri, she was laughing and applauding, clearly enjoying his show. When he sang and played ukulele she stood up and cheered.

After he had finished, he walked across to her and said: "You seem to have enjoyed my show, more than your sister."

Signalling for him to sit down, Amara said: "Don't worry about Zuri, she is what you call in this country ... " She struggled to think of the term.

"A sarky cow?" suggested George.

Laughing, Amara said: "Yes, exactly. She thinks that everything should be as it is in Africa. But I can appreciate a talented and charming man like yourself."

"Well, thank you," he said. Too stupid to realise that he was about as charming as a huge fart in a tiny elevator.

Leaning forward, she whispered to him: "I was hoping that I could make it up to you later tonight, say around midnight. In a private tête-à-tête."

"Tête-à-tête?" asked George, too stupid to understand.

"How do you say in Australia, rumperty pumperty?"

"Oh you mean ..." Lowering his voice: "Some rumpy pumpy?"

"Yes," said Amara, running a palm across his stubbly face: "You are a very attractive man."

"But I share a room with my wife," he said before he could stop himself.

"Them come to my room," she said, subtly passing her room key to him: "My sisters share the next room. I will be careful to lock the dividing room."

"Well, it's tempting," said George: "But if the old woman found out..."

Amara leant across the table and gave him the most erotic French kiss in his life. In fact, the only one since his wife of thirty years regarded sticking your tongue into someone else's mouth as disgusting.

"Shit in a hand-basket!" said Shelley, not believing what she was seeing. So shocked that she accidentally dropped the bowls of hot soup that she was carrying all over a fat customer.

"Burn!" said George, making Shelley blush and Amara giggle as he got up, saying: "It's a date, midnight tonight!"

"See you, handsome," said Amara, hoping that she wasn't laying it on too thick.

"Shelley," shouted the maître d'hôtel: "Are you trying to scold Mr. Willis to death? He is one of our most important guests." Something which he said about all customers if they needed placating.


Over at Deidre Morton's boarding house, Terri and the others were in the lounge room, watching, "The World's Stupidest Stuntmen Volume One," which Sheila Bennett had amongst her vast collection of action DVDs.

"Isn't it fab?" asked Sheila as they saw a stuntman race across the top of one building, flying across toward another building a hundred metres away. He just failed to make it, but the pile of mattresses that they had stacked around the front of the second building saved his life. Although he would be in hospital for six months.

"If that's fab ... I'm switching to Omo," said Deidre Morton, getting up to head up toward the first storey.

"You're not leaving yet?" asked Sheila, as Natasha Lipzing got up to leave too: "There's still nearly an hour to go!"

"Well, I've had enough," said Terri, starting up the steps, followed by Freddy. Only Tommy, a big horror fan, stayed to watch the rest with the orange-haired Goth chick.

"Philistines," Sheila called after them.

"Hey, don't be anti-serpentine!" said Tommy.


Over at the Hunter Smythe, it had just turned midnight, when there came a knocking at the door to room 261, on the second storey.

"Come in handsome," said Amara in her sexiest, cooing voice.

The door opened and George turned on the light to see all three Akintola sisters in the room, all facing with their backs to him so that all he could see was their hair and long skirts.

"I thought it was going to be just us?" he asked puzzled.

"My sisters wanted to join in," cooed Amara: "Njinga found you incredibly entertaining too. And Zuri is sorry for her cruel, thoughtless comments.

"I'm sure a real he-man like you can handle three women?"

"Of course," said George, shutting and locking the door. In truth he didn't know if he could handle one woman, it was so long since he had had sex. His wife Mildred didn't believe in sex after marriage.

His party piece was saying, in front of Mildred: "My wife doesn't ... understand me?"

"Take your clothes off darling, then Njinga, Zuri, and I have a big surprise for you."

"Oh, I like surprises," said George. Unaware that he would not like this one.

"Close your eyes and turn to face the door," Amara Cooed.

Grinning like an idiot, George did as instructed.

Dropping their dresses and turning around the three women revealed their night selves as walking skeletons, although their hair was real. In their hands, they carried short spears - left hand for Zuri, right for Amara and Njinga.

They crept up on him till they were barely three metres away, then Amara cooed: "Open your eyes and turn around."

He did as instructed and stared at the three skeletal women in horror: "If this is your idea of a joke!" he said.

"Surprise," said Amara, throwing her spear straight into his heart. Followed a second later by Zuri and Njinga.

"Three bull's eyes," said Zuri proudly as the spears landed so closely together that they were touching.

"Feeding time," said Njinga, racing forward to start chewing at his fatty chest before George had even hit the ground.

Soon Amara and Zuri were feasting upon the fat man too. Greedily tearing away flesh and organs, which went into their skeletal structure, revitalising them, rebuilding flesh, blood, and organs in them.

By the time that they were finished, the three sisters looked like gorgeous night-black women again.

By the time that they had finished, even licking up the blood from the linoleum floor, there was nothing left of George but bones. Which they had already broken open to suck out the juicy marrow.

"Waste not, and all that jazz," said Zuri, and the three sisters laughed at George's expense.

Since it was still dark, they piled George's broken bones into black garbage bags that they had brought with them in their trunks. Careful to return their spears to their trunks. Then they carried George's broken bones, along with his unneeded clothing, outside and dropped the black bag, carefully tied closed, into the large recycle rubbish bin to be collected the next morning.

Before creeping back upstairs to catch some much-needed sleep.

"Boy do I need some sleep," said Zuri.

"Me too, I'm just dead," said Njinga and the two of them giggled like schoolgirls.

"Don't be silly," chided Amara: "We've all been dead for centuries." This time all three of them chortled, racing into their bedrooms, so as not to wake the sleeping food.


The next morning Terry and the others were bright-eyed and cheery. Except for Sheila Bennett who had been up half the night watching 'the World's Stupidest Stuntman Videos'. She had barely been in bed two hours when Deidre Morton had waken her for breakfast.

"Who turned out the lights?" asked Sheila, unable to see.

"Open your eyes, Sheils," said Terri.

"Can't, lids too heavy."

"I know how to wake her," said Terri: "The same way that Jessie Baker once woke me."

"Well, for goodness sake take her into the kitchen," said Mrs. M.: "I don't want my dining room getting soaked through."

"Lend us a hand, you blokes," said Terri. She, Freddy, and Tommy half-led and half-carried Sheila into the kitchen. "Now hold her up, you blokes."

Filling a pitcher with cold water the threw the water into Sheila's face. Sheila rubbed at her eyes, but still could not quite open them. To Terri, she said: "Again!"

Terri refilled the jug and tossed the water into Sheila's face again. Working the now wet sleepy stuff away from her lids, Sheila finally managed to open her eyes.

"Enough?" asked Terri.

Sheila blinked for a moment, then said: "One more."

So Terri refilled the pitcher and threw a third lot of water into the face of her assistant.

"Better now?" asked Terri.

Sheila thought for a moment, lapping up some of the water that ran down across her face, then said: "Yes!"

The four of them returned to the dining room as Mrs. M. was handing out homemade fish and chips, complete with potato cakes and Dim Sims.

"Sorry, Mrs. M., but you'll need to mop the kitchen floor."

"Better than my dining room floor," said Mrs M. as Sheila sat down and her head flopped onto her plate. Which fortunately was still empty.

"Something tells me that Sheila won't be having her usual big breakfast this morning," said Freddy.

"And I'd advise you to do the driving Terri," suggested Tommy: "Don't risk your life by letting Sheila drive."

"Actually, after brekkie can you blokes carry her back up to her room?" asked Terri: "There's nothing much going at the moment, so let her sleep the day away."

"But hide her silly DVDs so that she can't keep taking advantage of your good nature every night," suggested Natasha Lipzing.

"Are you suggesting that Sheila ...? Okay, you're right she would. Mrs. M. have you got a place to hide them?"

"I've got an old chest of drawers up in the attic."

"Sounds perfect," said Natasha.


Over in the restaurant at the Hunter-Smythe in Harpertown, Amara and her sisters sat each eating a double order of almost raw meat as they watched Lance Willis, whose head was bandaged from where Shelley had spilt the hot soup onto him the evening before.

Mildred Walker came in, asking if anyone had seen her husband that morning.

"He said something last night about going out early today and spending the day bird-watching," said Lance, rubbing at his bandages.

"Bird watching, indeed," said Mildred: "More likely chick watching at a local pub."

"Don't scratch, dear," you'll only make things worse," said Maria Willis, a short, dumpy fifty-something brunette.

It was all that the three African sisters could do not to laugh out loud. But they needed not to offend Lance because they had already picked him out for their next meal.

They waited, eating slowly until finally Maria Willis got up to go to the powder room. Then the three sisters stood up and crept across to Lance's table.

"What do you three harpies want?" he demanded.

"To say how sorry we are for your little injuries?" said Amara, trying her best to sound sincere. Despite a burning desire to laugh out loud.

"Well, it was partly your fault."

"Yes, we know," said Njinga: "And we wanted to make it up to you, in the only way that we know how?"

"And how is that?" he demanded.

Looking around to see that Maria had not returned, Amara said: "Have you ever had sex with three beautiful African ladies all at once?"

"What? Why? Are you suggesting?" he stammered.

"Don't worry you'll love every second of it," lied Zuri.

"But what about my aching head?"

"By the time that we finish laving your entire naked bodies with our fingers and tongues ... you'll have forgotten that you have a head," said Njinga.

"Well, the one on your neck anyway," said Amara, slipping him the key to room 261. "Come around midnight."

Hearing footsteps outside, the three sisters hurried back to their own table.

Seeing his wife enter the dining room, Lance hurriedly put the key into his coat pocket. Not sure yet, whether he would keep the appointment.


It was about three PM when Sheila Bennett finally woke up. She yawned widely, got dressed, and then went downstairs and asked: "Is it breakfast time yet? I'm starving."

"It's a little after three PM," said Tommy Turner: "You've missed both breakfast and lunch."

"Oh, no," said Sheila: "No wonder I'm starving."

"Don't worry, Sheils, I'll make you some cold roast beef sandwiches," offered Deidre Morton.

"Tah, cheers Mrs. M.," said the orange-haired Goth chick.

"Hey, how come you make her a sandwich when it's not meal times, but you won't for us?" demanded Tommy.

"Because she's a worker, you're not."

"Terri'll kill me for oversleeping like this," said Sheila.

"Don't worry, she said that there was nothing much going on, so that you could sleep all day. Since you stayed up most of the night watching those stuntman videos."

"Oh, I see," said Sheila as Deidre Morton handed her a six-centimetre thick sandwich.

"She also told me to hide your videos, so that you can only watch them on Friday, or Saturday nights. In case you got any bright ideas about watching them every night and sleeping every day."

"How could she think that," said Sheila before taking a bite of her sandwich: "Any chance of a cuppa?

"I'll get you one."


By four PM they had started to get worried at the Hunter-Smythe and had started to ring around the pubs and other inns to see if George Walker was there.

By four-thirty, they had rung through to the Mitchell Street Police Station in Glen Hartwell. Terri was just getting ready to head to the Hunter-Smythe when Sheila finally turned up to help out.

"Bright-eyed and bushy-tailed now?" asked Terri.

"Yes," said Sheila holding out her hand for the keys to Terri's police-blue Lexus."

"Are you sure you're awake enough to drive?"

"How many times have I crashed it since you made me the designated driver?" demanded Sheila.

"You've reversed into other cars three times."

"No, no, I said crashed," insisted Sheila: "Reversing into doesn't count."


Half an hour later they were at the Hunter-Smythe interviewing everyone about the last time that they had seen George Walker. Most of them hadn't seen him since watching TV after dinner the previous night.

Jessie Baker, Stanlee Dempsey, Paul Bell, Donald Esk, and Drew Braidwood were all called in to check around the pubs and surrounding areas.

By midnight, even with torches, they decided to call the search off until daybreak.

"He might be dead by then!" insisted Mildred Walker.

"And we might walk straight past him, without even seeing him in the dark," pointed out Terri Scott as they headed home for the night.


While the search was still on, Lance Willis sneaked out of his room, unaware that his wife Maria had found the key to room 261 earlier, while hanging up his clothing. As he sneaked out the door, Maria who had been feigning sleep sat up, put on her slippers, and sneaked after him.


In room 261, the Akintola sisters were waiting like before, dressed in concealing floor-length dresses, with their backs to the door, when they heard Lance Willis's knock on the door.

"Come in, handsome," cooed Amara: "The door is unlocked."


"Oh, boy!" said Lance aloud.

I'll give him 'handsome!' thought Maria, not aware that that did not make any sense as she sneaked after him.

As he entered the room, she rushed forward, raced into the room, saying: "Aha!"

Only to faint when she saw the three skeletal women carrying spears.

Not noticing his wife on the floor, Lance said: "Is this some kind of bizarre joke."

Then the three skeletal women hurled their spears at him. The outer two spears were direct hits into his heart. The middle spear was a few centimetres high.

"We can't give you a bull's eye for that, Amara," said Zuri: "At best it's an outer."

"Twenty-five points only," agreed Njinga.

"What are you girls complaining about?" asked Amara. Pointing at Maria, she said: "We got two meals for the price of one."

She hurried across to pull Maria completely into the room, so that no one could see her feet in the corridor, then shut and locked the door.

They soon had their meals undressed and were hurriedly devouring every centimetre of flesh, fat, muscle tissue, and organs.

It was nearly two AM by the time that their gluttonous feast had ended. The three carnivores just wanted to sleep, they were so stuffed. But remembering not to take any unnecessary risks, they placed Maria and Lance's broken bones and clothing into two large black garbage bags and sneaked downstairs to put them into the bins outside. Careful to put them in different bins, so that the bones would not be near the top, come next week's rubbish collection.


Early the next morning, despite being still full, the three sisters went down to have a small breakfast this time, more to suss out their next meal, than to eat breakfast.

"What about the bellhop?" whispered Zuri: "He seemed quite fascinated by us."

"Too scrawny," said Njinga: "But the desk clerk might do?"

"What about the old bag?" asked Amara, nodding toward George Walker's widow, Mildred.

Seeing Amara nod her way, Mildred smiled at her, and Amara went across to talk to her:

"I'm terribly sorry that your husband has vanished. But I'm sure the police will find him alive today."

"I certainly hope so," said Mildred, struggling not to cry.

"We're all praying for you," said Amara, taking the middle-aged woman's hands in hers. She patted the old woman's hands, kissed her on the cheek, then returned to her sisters.

To Zuri and Njinga, she whispered: "The old bag it is!"


After staying out searching till midnight the night before, both Terri and Sheila were struggling to keep their eyes open at seven o'clock the next morning.

"You two should go back to bed for a few more hours," suggested Natasha Lipzing as Deidre passed around the breakfasts.

"Can't," said Terri, yawning widely: "Got a missing man to find."

"Well, have a good breakfast before starting out," said Mrs. Morton.

"We always do at your house," said Sheila.

"Thank you, dear," she said. Then to Tommy Turner: "I suppose you'd like a glass of rum with your steak."

"Don't be ridiculous," he said, making them all stare at him in amazement: "Scotch is what you have with steak!"

"My apologies," said Deidre, going to get him a very small glass of Scotch.

"What part of 'A double" don't you understand?" he asked.

"What part of 'That's all you're getting', don't you understand?" asked Deidre.

"Burn!" said Sheila.


Ted Hobbs, dressed in tall leather boots, leather coveralls, and leather gloves was wading through the rubbish at the Glen Hartwell City Municipal Refuse Storage Facility (a.k.a. the city tip) when he accidentally split open a black plastic bag. Falling over backward in shock as George Walker's shattered marrow-less bones tumbled out.

"Let me outta here!" he cried. In his terror he tried crawling up the mountain of rubbish bags, only to start a rubbish slide so that he was almost buried in garbage.

Seeing his trouble Louie Douglas drove his yellow bulldozer to the edge of the mountain of rubbish and lowered the blade for Ted to climb in. Then raised the blade and backed up to let Ted off.

"What's up?" asked Louie, seeing Ted looking as white as chalk dust.

"Bag of bones down there," said Ted pointing.

"What, the Stephen King novel? Personally, I prefer 'The Green Mile' or 'Gwendy's Magic Button Box'."

"No, you great dingleberry head, I meant there is a plastic bag of what looks like shattered human bones down there!"

Climbing down from his dozer," Louie asked: "Where?"

"Down...?" said Ted starting to point. Only to discover that the garbage slide that he had started had completely covered the bag of bones. If he hadn't imagined it in the first place.

"Down there somewhere," he finally said.

"Well, I don't see anything."

"No, because tonnes of garbage slid down on top of it."

"When you freaked out?"

"When I had a perfectly understandable terror attack after seeing what could be the remains of a murder victim."

"You've been reading too much Stephen King," said Louie: "Stick to Dean Koontz, you'll freak out much less."

"I didn't freak out," insisted Ted, turning to start toward the office building half a kilometre away.

"Where you going?" asked Louie.

"To report what I seen."

"You'll only make a laughing stock out of yourself."

Ted hesitated for a moment, then went on to report the discovery anyway.


With the help of Terri Scott, Sheila Bennett, and a dozen other cops and public works people, they dug through the mountain of rubbish, not helped by the fact that from time to time more garbage slides would bury the bag that they wanted.

They were ready to pack up for the night when Sheila suddenly called out excitedly: "Score!"

"You've found the bag of bones?" asked Terri.

"No, a perfectly good Frisbee," she held up a pale blue Frisbee with a picture of Bart Simpson on it. "Oh, double score, it's a Bart Simpson Collector Frisbee!"

"Sheils, that is not what we're looking for!"

"I know, but I'm taking it home." She unbuttoned her blouse, put the Frisbee inside, and buttoned up again.

"Sheils, you're one of a kind, thank God," said Terri laughing: "Well, we'd better call it quits for tonight. We'll start again after breakfast tomorrow."


They had hardly reached home, however, when they received a call from the maître d'hôtel of the Hunter-Smythe about the disappearances of Lance and Maria Willis.

"Here we go again," said Terri as they set out for the Hawaiian-themed hotel.


I haven't seen so much hula stuff since the last time I saw Paradise Hawaiian Style," said Terri looking around the decor.

"You haven't seen me at the beach then," said Sheila.

"No, I look forward to that."

They spoke to the maître d'hôtel, Harry Hunter, a tall French-looking man, with more than a passing resemblance to Basil Fawlty. Then checked out the Willises' room before starting hunting outside again.

Despite one of the tracker dogs taking a keen interest in the rubbish bins, they ignored them, thinking that they were not big enough to get an adult body into.

By ten PM Terri called the search off until the next morning.


When they reached Deidre Morton's boarding house, Mrs. M. asked: "Did you find anything?"

"I'll say," said Sheila, unbuttoning her blouse to take it out: "A Bart Simpson Collector Frisbee."

"Oh, score!" said Tommy

"Listen Hale and No-pace, she meant bag of bones."

"No, but I'm thinking of getting a new copy of Salem's Lot," said Sheila: "My old one is worn out."

Ignoring Sheila, Terri said to Deidre: "No, but two more people have gone missing from the Hunter-Smythe's clientele."


Over at the Hunter-Smythe, they were getting ready to go to bed.

Walking through the Hawaiian decor, Amara inched across to Mildred Walker and asked: "Still no sign of your husband?"

"No, and I didn't get any sleep last night. I'm not used to being in a room by myself."

"Why not sleep in our spare bed for the next few nights, until George is found," said Zuri: "We've got two double bed room. Njinga and I share one room, and Amara is by herself."

"It does get lonesome," said Amara: "It would make me feel safer to have someone else sleeping in the spare bed."

"Well, if it's not too much trouble?"

"No trouble at all," said Amara: "I look forward to it. Just go get your night clothes and then come to room 261."

"All right," said Mildred smiling broadly. She trotted off to her room, 141 as the three sisters waited for her.

A few minutes later she returned and followed them upstairs to room 261.

"Would you mind, if I have a quick shower, before going to bed?" asked Mildred.

"Not at all," said Amara.

"You're so kind to me," said Mildred.

"That's what friends are for," said Amara, grinning almost lasciviously behind the middle-aged woman's back.


When Mildred returned from having her shower, she said: "I hope you don't mind...?" Stopping at the odd way that the three sisters were standing with their backs to her.

"Is everything all right?" asked Mildred.

"Perfectly," said Amara, as the three skeletal women turned round and dropped their dresses.

"What the...?" asked Mildred fainting, so that Amara's spear missed, flying over her head and into the en suite, shattering a wall tile.

"Clumsy," teased Zuri as she and Njinga threw their spears perfectly, straight into Mildred's heart.

"It was bad luck," insisted Amara: "She fell backward just as I threw."

Not wasting any more time fighting, the three women raced across to strip Mildred's corpse. First of its clothing, then of its flesh, blood, and organs, even licking her blood off the linoleum, before cracking open her bones to get at the tasty marrow within.

"Not as appetising as her husband," said Zuri.

"Or the Willises for that matter," said Njinga.

"Still, she was better than nothing," said Amara, and the three sisters laughed wickedly, before packing Mildred's bones and night clothes up into another black, plastic garbage bag.

They dressed and carried the bag downstairs, only to almost collide with Guido Pistroni the desk clerk, who was on night duty that night.

"Ladies, can I help you?" he offered.

"No, thank you, my sisters can manage," said Amara, waving them to go on without her. "Just throwing out some old things we no longer need," she said."

Noticing that Guido couldn't look away from her generous cleavage, Amara accidentally-on-purpose, allowed her left arm to fall out of the dress, revealing her full, opulent black breast.

Guido's eyes almost popped out of his head as she acted as though she wasn't aware of the 'wardrobe malfunction'.

"Perhaps you can help my sisters and I with a little problem?' she asked.

"It's wonderful," he said, then corrected himself: "If I can possibly help."

"My sisters and I get very lonely at night sometimes and we hoped that a big studly man like you could come us and tuck us in bed ... if you know what I mean?"

"I would like to, but I am on desk duty tonight."

"After all Australian men are so rugged and athletic."

"Actually, I was born in Italy," or eeh-tally as he pronounced it.

"I should have known," she said sticking her hand onto his hairy chest to rub it: "You are quite the Italian stallion."

When he said nothing, she picked up his right hand to place it on her left breast and moved it around for him, until he started to move it on his own.

"Well ... I'm off duty tomorrow," he said: "I could come up to fuck you in bed," less subtle than she had been.

"Excellent," said Amara as her two sisters returned. She kissed him on the mouth, sneaking her tongue into his mouth for a few seconds, then said: "Just after Midnight tomorrow night then."

"Count on it," he said, reluctant to take his hand off her full, night-black breast.

She let him keep caressing it for another minute, then chased after her sister, saying: "Until tomorrow night, you handsome hunk of man."

As they ran up the stairs Zuri said: "We should change your name to Hunter."

"Yeah," agreed Njinga: "You are so good at getting us food."

"Yes, I am a natural at it, aren't I," said Amara, and the three sisters giggled like schoolgirls as they ran across to room 261.


In Rochester Road, Terri had almost fallen asleep, when there came a thump on the wall between her and Sheila's room. A few seconds later came a second thump. Then a third.

Sitting up, Terri called: "Is that you, Sheils?"

"Sorry, just playing with my Frisbee."

"Well put it away until morning."

"Okay," said Sheila.

Lying down again, Terri said: "She really is just a little girl in a woman's body."


Over the next day, the police spent half of their time at the tip trying to find the bag of bones. The other half of the time they spent trying to find the three missing Hunter-Smythe residents. Without any luck at either.

They were just getting ready to knock off at the tip for the day when Sheila said: "Oh, score!"

As everyone turned to look at the orange-haired Goth chick, Terri said: "Don't get too excited." Then to Sheila: "Sheils whatcha got."

"Malibu Barbie, still in its original packing, plus red sports car, Ken doll, and three sets of clothing for each of them."

"Technically, we should charge you for anything that you take from the tip," said the manager.

"Technically, I could get some mates of mine at the A.T.O. to give you a tax audit, back to the year you left school."

"On the other hand, we always like to stay in good with our fellow public servants."

As they walked back to the blue Lexus, Terri said: "Sheils, I should arrest you for police corruption and taking a bribe."

"Let you play with my Frisbee, if you don't."

"Deal," said Terri.


As they came in for dinner, Tommy asked Sheila: "Whatcha get this time?"

"Complete Malibu Barbie, with Ken doll, sports car, and changes of clothing."

"Oh, score!" said Tommy: "It's like a lucky dip, that rubbish tip isn't it?"

"They prefer to call it the ' Municipal Refuse Storage Facility'," said Terri.

"What does all that mean?"

"The rubbish tip," said Sheila.

This time, straight after dinner, Terri and Sheila went up to Sheila's room to play with the Frisbee for half an hour before Terri went off to her own room and the two of them were soon asleep.


It was five minutes to midnight when the Akintola sisters heard knocking on their bedroom door. Turning their backs on the door, Amara cooed: "Come in handsome."

"I'm in," said Guido Pistroni.

"Take off all of your clothes, handsome," she cooed.

"They are off."

"Get ready for a surprise," said Amara. The three skeletal women turned around...

And found themselves staring at a huge grey and white timber wolf.

"Where the Hell did that come from?" asked Zuri.

"Surprise," said the wolf, before transforming back into Guido.

"You're a werewolf?" asked Njinga.

"Yes, what are you?"

"In Swahili, we are called 'Boneti Mashetani'." said Amara: "Which more-or-less means bone devils, or bone demons."

"We have to feed on humans every night, or we stay in this shape for another twenty-four hours," said Njinga.

"You have really ruined our plans, Mr. Werewolf," said Zuri.

"Don't worry, I'll show you how to hunt in the forest."

"But we cannot eat animals, except in small quantities," said Amara: "Not in the quantities that we need."

"Relax, there is an Aboriginal village not far from here."

"Do Aboriginals count as Homo Sapiens Sapiens?" asked Zuri.

"They look like throwbacks," said Njinga.

"Homo Sapiens Neanderthalensis," said Amara.

"I have eaten them many times," assured Guido, changing back to his wolf form. Racing forward, he gracefully leapt out of the second-storey window and landed two storeys below like a gymnast coming off the bar.

"Here goes nothing," said Amara, leaping out of the window.

Landing less gracefully, she collapsed into a pile of bones. The bones began rattling and shaking and soon reassembled themselves into Amara Akintola.

"That wasn't so hard," she said.

Looking at each other sceptically, Zuri and Njinga reached across to a water pipe outside the window and climbed slowly down.

"Cowards," teased Amara.

"Come on," said Guido, still in wolf form.

The three skeletal women started after him at a run as the werewolf raced toward the forest two or three kilometres toward the nearest Aboriginal camp. From time to time he looked back to see that the three sisters were keeping up with him and was pleased by how gracefully and rapidly they could run through the sweet-smelling pine and eucalyptus forest.

"We should have teamed up years ago," said Guido, before shooshing them as he stopped just outside an Aboriginal village.

Like most Aboriginal villages, including the women and children, there were only about fifty people.

"So, do we kill them all?" whispered Zuri, excited by the run through the forest.

"No, that would be waste," said Guido: "I see them as breeding stock, like with cattle or sheep. You kill and eat what you need and let the others breed again to keep the herd going. If you're careful a single herd can last you years."

"There's a nice big fat one," said Amara, pointing at a grey-haired lubra, with huge breasts hanging down almost to her navel. Before Guido could say to charge, she threw her spear straight through the back of the woman's head.

Guido charged down a tall, muscular male, ripped his Achilles tendon open on his left foot to trip him, then ripped out his throat and started eating.

Zuri and Njinga followed Amara's example of picking fat elderly lubras which huge breasts, spearing one through the neck, the other through the heart.

Then the rest of the tribe ran off into the night terrified, as the three bone demons and the werewolf chomped away hungrily.

By the time that they had finished, they were well-sated, and the Akintola sisters had fleshed out again to look like gorgeous night-black African women.

The werewolf farted loudly as they headed back toward the Hunter-Smythe, and all four of them laughed riotously.

"If we'd known it was this easy to get food, we would never have risked being caught by killing residents," said Amara.

"And the Aborigines usually won't go to white authorities for help, relying solely on their shamans to try to solve things," explained Guido.

"Shamans," laughed Amara: "They've tried for hundreds of years to kill us, drive us away, or exorcise us."

"And as you can see," said Njinga: "We're still here."

"In the flesh," said Zuri: "Well, in the daytime anyway."

"Then, see you again tomorrow night," said Guido. He changed back into human form just before they reached the hotel, and escorted them inside. "We might try another tribe tomorrow, there are plenty in the area, and that way we won't drive any of our herds to extinction."

"For a werewolf, you are very wise," said Amara.

"For a Boneti Mashetani, you are very sexiful," he said.

"Maybe we have time to still have our little tête-à-tête."

"As long as you promise not to eat me."

"Well, if you're going to lay down conditions," she teased. She laughed as she ran off with her two sisters.


Over the next few days, the three sisters and Guido continued to raid other Aboriginal villages, around the Glen Hartwell to Willamby area, none of them going to Terri or the other cops for help.

The police had finally found the bones of George and Mildred Walker, and Lance and Maria Willis without getting any nearer to catching the murderers.

Then on the eighth day, they received an excited phone call from their friend and pro rata Aboriginal tracker, Bulam Bulam, from his Grocery Shop in Chappell Street, Harpertown.


When they arrived in Harpertown the grey-haired Elder, Bulam Bulam, hugged Terri and Sheila, then said: "My village, my people, the Gooladoo tribe were attacked last night. Three elderly lubras and a village Elder, my cousin, were slaughtered, torn to pieces and eaten."

"Oh, my God," said Sheila giving him another hug.


Out at the village, they looked at the four skeletons and asked: "What did this?"

"A huge timber wolf," said a topless, huge-breasted lubra: "And three skeleton women dressed in long brightly coloured dresses. They used short but powerful spears."

"Skeleton women?" asked Terri.

"Yes," said the lubra, handing her a mobile phone on which she had filmed the three women before running away.

"They definitely look like ... " began Sheila; She stared at the video again, then said: "I've seen those dresses before somewhere. Or ones very much like them?"

Terri thought for a moment, then said: "The three night-black Swahili women at the Hunter-Smythe."

Sheila looked again and said: "Oh yes, and their heights look right for the three women too. Although having no flesh or organs throws you off a bit."


That night they staked out the hotel and the lobby, as well as positioning officers in room 259 next-door to the three sisters' rooms at the Hunter-Smythe.

Watching from the ground floor, Sheila and Drew Braidwood noticed movement just before midnight. Using their night goggles they saw Guido Pistroni, one of the desk clerks walking across to the elevator.

They waited till he was inside the elevator then raced up the stairs warning Terri what was happening.

"I hope we're chasing the right person?" said Drew.

"Or werewolf if the chief's whacky backy theory is right," pointed out Sheila as they ran up the steps to the second storey.

They reached the second storey just in time to see Guido enter room 261. Then they heard the sound of the key locking, followed by laughter.

"You two wait outside, and shoot anything that comes out of room 261," advised Terri over her cell phone.

"Will do, chief," said Drew.


Outside the Hunter-Smythe, hidden behind gum trees were Terri, Stanlee Dempsey, Donald Esk, Paul Bell, and four pro rata policewomen, all armed with guns loaded with steel-tipped bullets, with silver pellets inside. The steel would enter the werewolf's flesh, releasing the deadly silver inside it to kill the beast -- they hoped.

The werewolf and Amara leapt down from the second-storey window and landed smoothly.

"You're getting better," teased Guido: "You didn't go all to pieces that time."

She chattered her teeth at him like joke false teeth, as Zuri and Njinga climbed out onto the drain pipe and started down more carefully.

"That'll do," said Terri. Racing out from cover, she fired four quick shots into the head of the werewolf.

The wolf shrieked in agony, died, and then transformed back into Guido Pistroni the desk clerk.

Stanlee Dempsey and Jessie Baker opened fire on the head of Amara, who screamed then fell into a pile of bones, which began to smoke, then collapsed into powder, which soon blew away in the wind.

Zuri and Njinga tried to climb back into room 261 as Donald Esk and Paul Bell opened fire upon Njinga. Again aiming for the skull. She screamed and fell to the forest floor in a pile of bones, which soon started smoking and then collapsed to powder like with Amara.

Zuri managed to climb back into room 261. She shut and locked the window, pulling the shades for concealment. Then raced across and opened the doorway.


Drew and Sheila now knew how wicketkeepers felt as they stayed crouched, pointing their guns at the door to room 261, ignoring the sounds of gunfire outside.

Finally, the door opened, and Zuri raced out and was gunned down by Drew and Sheila. Again she ended up as smouldering ashes on the red floral carpet in the second-floor hallway of the Hunter-Smythe.

"Nice shootin', Tex," said Sheila.

"Mighty nice of you to say so, Miss Kitty," said Drew Braidwood in the worst James Arness impression ever.

"Never do a Matt Dylan accent again, Drew," said Sheila laughing: "You sounded more like John Wayne with the flu."

THE END
© Copyright 2023 Philip Roberts
Melbourne, Victoria, Australia