The Fool and The Vampire

BY : Knorg
Category: Comics > Garfield
Dragon prints: 351
Disclaimer: I do not own Garfield nor any of the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

The Fool and The Vampire
By Knorg

Description: Is Jon Arbuckle stupid enough to not realise that he is being preyed upon by a horny and hungry newborn vampire Irma? Well, yeah.

Disclaimer: I do not own Garfield nor any of the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Story Codes: COMPLETE MiCD MF MCD Oneshot PWP Rape Violence

Codes note: The Rape code refers to a brief flashback reference to offpage rape which may be triggering.

Author's Note: This was written in late 2003 and has had some amendments but is left mostly as rough as it was. It was written before the 2004 movie made Jon/Liz the official ship.

Light bursts. Random memories. Dream melds with reality. Cleaning the booths. Mopping the floor. Serving a millionth coffee refill to a beer-gutted trucker who doesn’t even slap my ass. Steak and burger meat fumes. The chickens screaming. Sore feet and aching back. Lifetime of toil. The stranger.

The waitress’s eyes flickered open as a car pulled up outside. Frozen like a winter’s morning. She focused on a splash of blood across the strip light in the kitchen, mostly dried. She felt no pain even from the bloody neck wound that stained her collar and black uniform. It itched like grass on a hot summer day. There was a hunger building in her cold stomach that twitched her hand towards her neck, and she felt the wetness.

It’s a hunger even the legendary he-man burger couldn’t satisfy.


Jon Arbuckle stood in the empty diner doorway – amazed to find for the first time ever that Irma wasn’t in her customary place behind the diner’s long counter. Dressed in a purple tartan suit and bow-tie he considered himself the epitome of style and sophistication. He’d not been the slightest bit put off when his pets had laughed so hard they’d choked on their food – Garfield had even managed to choke on some of Odie’s.

‘She probably saw the suit and ran’ commented the portly ginger cat as he peeked around Jon’s legs, ‘Let’s go raid the kitchen before she comes back’

“She keeps this place open 24 hours. She’s probably napping. C’mon Garfield.”

Jon sounded depressed. He was depressed. As a forty year old almost virgin – he briefly remembered Kimmy, the girl raised by wolves who, like a typical alpha female, hadn’t taken no for an answer – he still had a high sex drive and wanted action with the chicks. It was his persistence in calling them chicks that had in part severely stunted his chances, as had an over-eagerness that had caused him to ask out almost every woman he’d ever met.

He’d even hit on Irma once.

They took their seats at the diner’s counter, and carefully managed to not touch the slickly glistening plastic.

“What happened tonight? I was wowing her! She was wide eyed with awe and amusement… then she ran off…”

Garfield wondered if delusion had reached new depths.

‘What’s the weather like in Jonland?’

“What’ll it be… hon?”

“Irma! You’re bleeding!”

“Special sauce, hon…”

Garfield’s claws flicked out and dug into the counter. Suddenly hyper-aware the ginger cat could smell a dead body in the kitchen… chef Tony. Irma also smelled… wrong. Her black hair was down about her shoulders, freed from the constraints of her hairnet. Her glasses were gone. She held a bloody pad in one hand, and a pencil in another. She stopped in front of cat and dork and flashed them a grin with teeth to match the cat’s own.

‘Check please!’

Garfield could tell this wasn’t some diner promotion like the three bean special that had seen Irma dressed in an oversized sombrero. Jon seemed to be under a different impression as he gazed into Irma’s eyes. He’d try it on with anyone. Rumour had it anything while trying for a New Year’s Eve date.

“Why Miss Irma… you’re beautiful…” Jon took the dorky stereotypical reaction to seeing Irma with her hair down and glasses removed.

Garfield’s claws were stuck fast in the counter. He pulled with all his strength, teeth grinding together, but couldn’t budge.


Irma reached out and stroked a blood-spattered finger down Jon’s face. The hunger snarled within her, a raging beast of lust and fury. The emotions failed to flicker across her immobile face, worn with years of service in the diner. Jon felt the frustrations of the night forcing blood into his crotch.

“That’s sweet, hon… sweet as suger…” She knew what she had to do. He’d seemed like such a nice young man, coming into the diner on a Saturday night. She could see his friends slumped in the back seat of the car through the window. Tired from their journey. “What’ll it be?” she asked. “You.” He punched Tony’s head right off as the old chef tried to stop him taking her into the kitchen. Slaking his thirst. Thirst she now shared.

“Well, Irma, a smart sophisticated guy like m-ARRGGHH”

Irma pulled Jon over and onto the counter. She held him down on the sticky, stained surface with just one cold hand.

“Why Irma… this is all so sudden!”


“I want you, Hon.”

Jon’s leg accidentally booted Garfield in the head. He grew seriously annoyed, but even the anger couldn’t yank his claws from the bench. He hadn’t felt so helpless since he was too fat to run away from the big dog next door. Irma mounted Jon with cruel abandon, as he pushed her skirt and apron up, and pushed her panties aside to feel for her snatch. He was surprised to find it so cold. With his other hand he pushed his trousers down as much as he could to pull out his cock.

He was getting laid! Jon wasn’t even stopping to think of the craziness of Irma pulling him on the counter, or the blood, or any of it. Irma looked down at his neck and fancied she could see his jugular pulsing fit to burst. The hunger howled within as Jon penetrated her, so happy he felt as if his bow-tie was twirling.


Irma casually flicked out her arm hard enough to knock Garfield back out through the diner door. He lay stunned on the asphalt as birds snickered overhead, ‘This is a job for the caped avenger…’ the cat fuzzily thought before losing consciousness. Jon had his eyes screwed tight as he held onto Irma’s hips and pumped into her.

“Wow! My sock collection’s got nothing on this!”

Irma let the hunger build as she held Jon’s head to the side. She rolled her head back and ran her tongue across her teeth; letting the anticipation build. She envisioned breaking all the diner’s customers in the same way, taking their blood.

“Irma! Kiss me!”

“Sure… hon…”

Jon felt like Irma crushed him against the counter as she pressed herself close into his warm body and bit deep into his throat.

“Arrhhh! Lovebite!”

Jon started cumming, hips jerking without conscious effort against her. Heat and lust. Hunger and death. Jon’s eyes were wide with panic even as he pasted her undead womb. With terror-lent strength he tried to pry Irma from his neck. The waitress thrilled as the blood washed her tongue, finer than any coffee, as Jon’s life pumped into her from neck and crotch.

“Irma… please…”

Jon felt the exquisitely erotic sensation as Irma lapped at his lifeblood, and kept cumming. Irma pulled herself off of Jon slickly, and stepped down beside the counter. He weakly looked into her eyes and saw the embers of the hunger. Irma rubbed his wilting penis with one hand, and slurped seminal fluid from her finger.

“Bye hon. Come again soon.”

The End
On behalf of 15 years ago me, I very much appreciate any reviews given on this old work. I do not have a forum account under this old pen name, so thank you in advance for your time.

Oh, and for any curious searchers there's an MST of this story out there by a user called Spork, who pretty much nailed why it is a terrible crime against Garfield fanfiction, or fanfiction in general.

Citation: "The Fool" is a card of a Tarot deck.

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