Vlaurb’s signature move.

But there they are.

Here we go again.

I stand, dramatically slide my aviator sunglasses on, and say, ‘Looks like this Park Attendant had a Fast Pass to Dea-,’ but before I can finish the best CSI line David Caruso never said, I’m interrupted by horrified screams. It’s a woman and her teen son—the first guests inside the park on this humid August morning—staring at the mangled body by my feet.

Thank God there are only two of them, but they’ll need to be questioned. They’ll need to be silenced. This can be contain—oh God, Petey, another Park Attendant, gets to them first.

That’s going to be a problem.

 
Deb Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
Cayden, my once sweet boy now stuck in the crippling gloom of being fourteen, barely talks to me now, so what will he do when he finds out why we’re truly here? Why I really surprised him with this so-called vacation? When I booked this trip, I felt like a genius. ‘This is brilliant. I’ll take him to Disneyworld and Universal Studios, and he’ll fall in love with Orlando. Then, I’ll break it to him. ‘Guess what, Cayd, we’re moving here! Isn’t that exciting?’

But now, three days in and barely a mumble at Magic Kingdom and an apathetic shrug this morning when we saw the peaks of Hogwarts in the distance, I knew I made a mistake. And now this. Now we’re, I guess, at the centre of some murder investigation? Welcome to Orlando! Our new home sweet home. And this damn Wannabe Mall Cop isn’t helping either, questioning us in a Universal Studios’ storage room he’s turned into his own, personal interrogation room

‘What did you see? Dammit, what did that Park Attendant say to you?’ he barks as if he’s seen one too many police procedurals.

‘Like I’ve said now numerous times, my son Cayden pointed out you eating a churro over a dead body. He asked if that guy was dead, which, yes, of course he was. ‘Look at his chest!’ I said to him. And then another Park Attendant—I think his name was Petey, who was most definitely drunk—ran up to make sure we were okay and then laughed the dead body off. ‘Don’t worry about that. Vlaurb’s been killing people here at Universal Studios for decades. It ain’t no thing.’’

‘He said it by name? He said Vlaurb?’ barked the fake detective.

‘Yes. Again, YES!’ I scream back. ‘How many times are you going to ask us that same question? Now tell us why you’re keeping us here and what the hell is a Vlaurb?’

This trip is officially an unmitigated disaster.

 
Arthur Bergman
Universal Studios Historian
 
The iconic monster movies from the 1930s through the 50s are the absolute bedrock of Universal Studios. You know their names. Dracula, The Mummy, Frankenstein…

…and Vlaurb.

The runt of the litter. Universal’s failed attempt at an alien creature that didn’t survive past one miserable screen test. With its chalky, boil-covered scales, its gruesome hunchback, and severe underbite, Vlaurb is considered the worst-designed monster of all time. From name to character design, Vlaurb never stood a chance and its movie was mercifully scrapped.

Yet! Vlaurb survived, somehow, some way. As the leading expert on the subject, I can tell you only this: the actor who played Vlaurb in the screen test disappeared after the movie was cancelled. As did Vlaurb’s costume and even the screen test itself. Everything, gone.

Soon after, people started dying on the Hollywood lot, with three clawed gashes down the chest. Some were even brutally torn in half. I can’t tell you how many because truly we’ve lost count. Bodies piled up for decades. And it only stopped when we opened up the Orlando park in 1990. Then, as if Vlaurb got sick of the Hollywood lifestyle and needed a change of scenery, people started dying here in Orlando instead of there. Torn apart. Ripped to shreds. Horrible stuff.

I was hired to track him down. I am Vlaurb’s Van Helsing. And I won’t stop until he’s mine.
 

Cayden Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
Yeah, I mean, I used to like all these things. Mikey, Minnie, Harry Potter, yeah even Shrek, when, you know, I was l was like ten. Sure, they’re still cool, but it’s not my thing anymore. And it hasn’t been for a long time. And Mom would know that if she even tried paying attention to what was going on with me instead of obsessively grinding at her lame-ass corporate job she cares more about than me.

This Clownshow’s walkie-talkie crackles to life. ‘Chester? Are you there? It’s Rod. Over.’

‘Damn dude, your name’s Chester?’ I burst out laughing.

‘Dammit. Rod, I told you to call me Pierce. Pierce Northman. What is it? Over.’

‘Vlaurb struck again. This time in the Men In Black Alien Attack line. And Rod, prepare yourself. It’s… it’s… Arthur.’

Chester looks up and dramatically says into an imaginary camera. ‘My God. I’m on my way!’

He runs towards the storage room door way too fast, like a dog losing control of its legs on wet tile, and violently trips into the hallway. It’s amazing. He slams into a framed poster of Patch Adams. Glass shatters and the frame breaks into spiked pieces, raining down on his flailing body. Blood trickles down his head but he somehow stands and scampers down the hall.

Mom and I look at each other in absolute shock, not knowing what to say or do. I can’t help myself and burst into violent laughter. She follows. And it’s… nice. Finally, when the Jaws Theme, playing in the hallway, ends and oh my god, begins again, she says, ‘Amusement Park Serpico left the door open. We can probably just go.’

‘I dunno, maybe we should stay? This is kinda fun,’ I say, unable to hide my laughter.

Her face brightens, ‘Okay, let’s stay and see what happens!’

Oh God, I made her smile. She’ll never live this down.
 

Chester Beackman
Universal Studios Security
 
The top half of Arthur Bergman’s body—who was supposed to be the living oracle of all things Vlaurb—was dropped from the rafters above the line for the now-outdated Men In Black ride. Even though the lower half of his body is nowhere to be seen, and Arthur is very much, absolutely dead, I still check his pulse because that’s the job. ‘It’s toying with us,’ I say to no one, staring into what’s left of Bergman’s dead black eyes.

‘What’d you say, Chester?’ Rod, another studio security guard, asks, leaning against a wall of screens showing clips from Men in Black on a loop as he scrolls through his phone.

‘Nothing. And call me Pierce. Pierce Northman.’

‘You can’t force your own nickname, Chester. That’s not how it works,’ he says, still scrolling.

The pompous Orlando cops barge in like they own the place and that’s my cue to disappear. As I move through the growing crowd in the park, I wonder what Vlaurb is doing. He’s never had multiple kills in one day before. Hell, sometimes years go by between attacks.

I would ask the authority on the subject, our go-to Vlaurb historian, but I just stood in his guts, and I don’t think he has any more secrets to tell.

 
Petey Daniels
Universal Studios Park Attendant
 
I don’t get why I’m here, getting an earful from HR. What’s the big deal? It’s my last day, obviously I’m gonna come to work a teensy weensy drunk.

‘As a Universal Studios Park Attendant, you are supposed to help guests in every and any situation and always, always, always stick to the script. You revealed company secrets this morning that have put everyone in grave danger,’ the HR lady drones on in front of me as the room begins to spin.

‘Wait, what? Are you mad about the Vlaurb thing? But that’s just some stupid urban legend employees tell each oth—’

She stares at me. She doesn’t blink. She doesn’t move. My stomach flips. Yeah, I’m way too drunk to be here. Yeah, I’m seconds away from blowing chunks.

‘I’m sorry, but we’re going to need you to hand over your Universal Studios vest and walkie.’

Thank God. I toss them over and burst out into the hallway looking for the closest bathroom. But instead, I see a man. No, a thing. A chalky, hunch-backed alien in a tattered space suit digging into the chest of a very dead Universal Studios Intern down the hall.

‘Vlaurb,’ I say as a burp, a teaser before the main event, bubbles up in my stomach. It looks up, hearing its name—his name. He stares me down with his orange football-shaped eyes. I begin to backtrack but I’m no match for his speed as it launches off its back legs towards me.
 

Chester Beackman
Universal Studios Security
 
I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t always super jealous of Arthur Bergman’s position here at Universal Studios. He had the job I’ve always dreamt of having. Sure, on paper he was Universal’s head historian, but that was just his cover. His real job was Vlaurb.

He is… was our in-house authority on the monster that has now terrorised both Universal Studios for almost a century. When Vlaurb’s terror transitioned from Los Angeles to here, he was hired to do one thing and one thing only: to capture the beast. To finally put an end to Universal’s endless massacre. But good ole’ Arthur never even caught a single glimpse of Vlaurb. And he sure as hell never caught him.

I could’ve done so much better. And maybe now I can.

Something happened here in Arthur’s usually pristine office. Something awful. Every wall is covered in familiar-looking, three-pronged gashes. His desk has been thrown onto its side and a gruesome trail of blood leads me from the door I just entered to the back wall.

Again, I try to keep my churro close, so I don’t contaminate the crime scene.

The blood leads to a hidden door cracked open in the back wall. That’s called a lead, folks. ‘This is it. No guts, no glory,’ I say to myself, wishing I had a real badge on my belt buckle, a real gun in my hand.

I open the hidden door wide and find a bare room with a large cage at its centre. There are piles of bones scattered about, along with endless stacks of old monster magazines and black-and-white photos of every other, way more popular Universal Studios Monster than Vlaurb.

This is where Vlaurb lives. Scratch that. This is where Vlaurb was held. My God, Arthur did capture him. How? When?

And there, by the back corner of the cage is the lower half of Arthur’s body. This is where it tore Arthur apart. This is how it escaped.

My walkie crackles to life. ‘Chester, Vlaurb’s in the administrative buil—’ but the voice is cut off by an insect-like screech and the thud of a lifeless body hitting the floor.

I turn and run towards my destiny.
 

Deb Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
The drunk Park Attendant from this morning runs past our open door, screaming his head off.

‘You’re right. This is pretty entertaining,’ I say to Cayden, both of us cracking up.
 

Cayden Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
‘Should we go and see if he’s okay?’ I ask between laughs, having the most fun I’ve had with my mom in, like, forever.

‘He’s just drunk, Cayd. He’ll be fi—’, a Mantis-like screech explodes from the hallway, nearly popping my eardrums. Three blood-covered claws tear through our wall, like someone keying a car in a parking lot.

And just as fast, my mom has flipped the table over and is pulling me behind it. ‘Don’t move. Don’t breathe,’ she whispers as the blood-wet thuds of the creature’s footsteps pass our open door.

That poor, drunk Park Attendant let’s out a guttural scream. Then a deathly silence.
 

Deb Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
I peek around the table just in time to see Petey’s ravaged body thrown against the wall outside our wannabe interrogation room, breaking the Patch Adams poster into even smaller, jagged pieces.

My sweet, sweet Cayden asks, ‘Do you think he’s dead?’ I try to look at the bright side, at least I’ll never have to pay for medical school.

I nod with my index finger against my pierced lips. But it’s too late. The wet steps stop, and I can hear it pivot around, starting to lurch toward the sound of my son’s dumb question, which still lingers in the air.
 

Chester Beackman
Universal Studios Security
 
THERE! I SAW IT! I SAW VLAURB!! It disappeared into my interrogation room. Ah crap, where I left my witnesses. Yeah, that’s not good. I’m gonna have to brush past that little detail in my official report later.

I take a running start and then jump to my knees and slide down the length of the blood-soaked hallway, something I’ve always dreamt of doing. As I get close to the room, I see the shattered remains of the Patch Adams poster.
 

Deb Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
The creature—God, that sounds so stupid but, I guess, yeah, it’s some sort of creature—tears our table in half with its blood-stained claws. Cayd and I shuffle back on all fours, but this storage room is a glorified closet, and we’re already pressed against a wall of boxes. We’re trapped.

It swipes at the boxes inches above our heads and souvenirs no one ever wanted explode out. Pillow stuffies in the shape of the apple pie Jason Biggs assaulted in American Pie and Shrek ears rain down around us but it doesn’t slow the monster down. It jolts toward us with its clawed, chalky arms raised.

I pull Cayd close and put a hand over his eyes. This is it. We’re about to di—
 

Cayden Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
Through my mom’s trembling hand, I see a piece of a poster frame blast through the monster’s chest, like Jason Biggs tore through that pie. It roars out one final, screech and falls to the ground between us. A thick, yellow liquid oozes out of its chest.

‘You think it’s dead?’ I ask.
 

Deb Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
Even as I’m thanking God we’re still alive, I still roll my eyes at his go-to question, ‘Of course it’s dea—’

But it’s not. The monster jolts back to life wildly thrashing its razor-sharp claws in a last-gasp effort to get us.
 

Chester Beackman
Universal Studios Security
 
I shove the frame into Vlaurb’s chest again, maybe, hopefully, finishing him off for good this time. You know why? Because you don’t hesitate in this job. You trust your instincts or people die. It lets out one last pathetic shrill then falls to the ground now covered in American Pie stuffies. I did it. I killed it. This is the greatest moment of my life.

I help my witnesses up, lean against the thrashed souvenir boxes, and deliver the line of a lifetime, ‘You two are free to go.’
 

Deb Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
I somehow survived a monster attack and yet here I am, with the creature’s dried blood covering my body, walking to the parking garage trembling with soul-crushing fear. I have to tell Cayden we’re moving here. Yes, here, the place where we were almost torn from limb to limb. Where I guess murderous monsters exist. How am I going to do this? How am I going to tell him?
 

Cayden Kratofil
Universal Studios Guest
 
This place is amazing. And I’m not talking about Universal Studios. I’ve always heard life in Florida is crazy, but this is like the Wild West. Like, is this what it’s like every day down here? Dead bodies and monster attacks? Because if it is, sign me up. I never want to leave.

I wish we could stay for a few more days.

I wish we could stay forever.

 
Rod Sinclair
Universal Studios Historian
 
The promotion has been an adjustment. We were all shocked when Corporate offered me the gig instead of Chester since, you know, he was the one who supposedly killed Vlaurb. But I guess other things had to be considered. One being, you know, no one liked Chester. And oh boy, did he not take it well. He up and quit and no one has seen him since. Poor guy. This was his whole life, walking the Park beat, as he put it. God, he was such a dork.

It is a boring gig, though. Just a bunch of transcribing and staring at surveillance monitors all day and night. The only semi-interesting thing that’s happened since I took over was Vlaurb’s body disappeared from our deep vault underneath Simpsons World.

Universal didn’t hand over Vlaurb’s body to the police, citing it as an ‘Internal Issue.’ Probably not the smartest move, but I understood their thinking. Once the body of that thing leaves the park, it becomes real. If it stays hidden here at Universal, at least it’s contained. Here it will always be just an urban lege—

My walkie-talkie crackles to life. The trembling voice of a security guard talks over a chorus of screams. ‘We got a dead guest in Diagon Alley. Female. Early fifties. And Rod, get ready. She has three lacerations across her chest and there’s churro dust everywhere. Vlaurb’s… I think Vlaurb’s back.’