MisStaked by J. Morgan Read Free Book Online Page A

underwear would have to come off before he even thought about waking the chimp.
    He eyed the phone suspiciously. Grabbing his ever-ready bottle of Lysol from the bookshelf beside the phone, Breathred gave it a healthy dose and gave Stud a shot for good measure. Satisfied the phone was now safe to touch, he picked up the receiver.
    "Hello,” he grumbled.
    "Is this Mr. Breathred Petrifunck?” a husky female voice asked.
    "You're not a telemarketer are you?” he asked back, ready to slam the phone down.
    "No, my name is Professor D. L. Grayson. I'm calling in response to your ad."
    "Well, in that case you have reached the offices of Petrifunck Paranormal . How may I be of service?"
    "Now that I have you on the line, I'm really not sure,” Dr. Grayson admitted.
    Breathred answered in his best businesslike tone, “Please be assured I will hold this conversation in the strictest of confidence. Feel free to discuss your situation."
    "This is not something I wish to discuss over the phone. Is there any way we can meet later today?"
    "My calendar is free any time this afternoon, I can meet you then, if it's convenient,” Breathred said, giving himself a gold star for his professionalism.
    "I have a free hour after five before my evening class starts at six. Can we possibly meet then?"
    "Of course. I and my associate would be more than happy to meet you then."
    "Good. I'll be in the Science building at the college. Do you know where it's located?"
    "Yes, I am familiar with the campus.” Breathred said, not wanting her to know he had no idea where it was, but Luna did.
    "You will find me in room 507. I guess I'll see you then, Mr. Petrifunck. If possible, I'd like for you to keep this between you and me for the moment,” Professor Grayson repeated.
    "You have my word this will go no further than my ears,” Breathred reassured her.
    "Till then, Mr. Petrifunck,” she said, and hung up.
    Breathred fell back into his chair. This was all just too much. Two clients in two days! That had to be some kind of record. True he had only made a buck and some change on the first one, but this one would be different. She was a professor. Professors never cheated anybody, like mean old ladies did.
    This would be a good day. Wait a minute. Today was Wednesday. What did Wednesday mean? Comic book day! A client and comic book day, what more could a man ask for?
    For those of you who have no concept what all the hoopla is all about, it's quite simple. Every comic book company ships their comics to a main distributor. Then the distributor sends the comic books to select dealers on Wednesday. To any most right-thinking people, this has no bearing whatsoever on their lives. Not so the comic book fan. In expectation of said event every Tuesday, a massive gathering is planned by the comic-buying community to go to their own private Mecca.
    This event doesn't happen once a year or even once every month. No, every week. That's fifty-two times a year and happens as regular as clockwork, barring national holidays. To a geek like Breathred, it was like having Christmas fifty-two times a year. No other day invigorated him like Wednesdays. Birthdays didn't even come close.
    But today was even more special. The latest issue of Tales of the Undead hit the shelves today. Of the multitude of titles populating the comic shelf, not to mention his floor, closet and bed, this was the only one that mattered. Aside from the Boffrend handbook, all 178 issues of the hallowed magazine taught Breathred everything he knew about vampire slaying.
    He checked his alarm clock. Its red numbers proclaimed 12:32 pm. His late start didn't give him much time to get everything done by six. Planned just right, he might be able to squeeze it all in. The big thing was to get hold of Luna. She had morning classes and one overlapping the dinner rush at the Jumper.
    To have any hope of catching her meant getting Stud up and running. He tossed the remote toward the sleeping monkey. It