Disclaimer: I own nothing. All Buffy the Vampire Slayer characters and a certain person’s characters are the property of their original owners. To prevent spoilers (if you haven‘t already guessed), the identity of this individual is revealed at the end of the story.
Grumpily puffing on her long cigarette holder, an uniquely dressed woman glowered at a car parked just by a city limits sign. Her annoyed gaze shifted past the stranded vehicle to the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ notice lit up even in the middle of the night. Muttering to herself, this female of an undetermined age (except possibly by dendrochronology) expressed her cantankerous mood with, “This dump better have a gas station open this late. If my stupid husband had even bothered to look at the gauge before it hit empty, we wouldn’t be stuck here. What’s taking him so long--”
“Oh, maybe he met a friend of mine and they went off for a quick bite together,” came in an interrupting voice with more than a hint of mockery lurking in this man’s voice.
Spinning around in surprise, the woman stared at a guy dressed a couple of decades out of date, who was now standing by the car. As for him, an expression of actual revulsion spread over his bland face at seeing undoubtedly the ugliest lady he’d ever met in his whole life. Which now included all the non-breathing parts of it, the vampire mentally added to himself. Well, it wasn’t like he could find a young, tender virgin every night, and his demonic body was urgently demanding some blood right now.
Assuming there was even any of this delicious life-fluid inside the thoroughly wrinkled hag continuing to smoke while coolly examining him.
Smirking, the vampire changed into game face, and he waited for the expected hysterics.
Instead, all that was done by the woman consisted of her taking another lengthy puff from the cigarette holder, to then drawl, “Listen, buster, I have to live with someone even more hideous than you, and
he clips his toenails during the football games on tv! You don’t know what it’s like, the sound of those pieces of nail bouncing off the screen! Now, scram, or my husband will deal with you.”
Drawing back in surprise, the vampire hastily glanced around for that returning spouse. His confidence soon returned at none of his otherworldly senses detecting anyone near, so this bloodsucker snickered towards the composed woman, “Yeah, nice try. There’s nobody here but us, and in a little while, it’ll just be me and your corpse--”
This time, it was the lady who matter-of-factly interrupted, “Fang, sic him.”
An immense, clawed hand grabbed the vampire’s neck from behind, and effortlessly yanked off that demon’s head.
Taking another puff of her cigarette while the destroyed vampire’s ashes drifted to the ground, Phyllis Diller sardonically told her sheepish, invisible husband, “What’d you do, take the long way around the state? No, don’t tell me. Just put the gas in, and let’s go.”
Author’s Note: This isn’t the real-life person sharing the same name, but rather that hilarious character seen on television and movies with the kooky hair, the weird clothes, and the face which shattered a thousand champagne bottles while those containers were still at the liquor store. And as an added bonus for everyone, we also have Fang, the never-seen husband.