The Legend of The Headless Motorcyclist

As Dr. Cadbury Rocher the chief scientist at Set Enterprises' lab instructed the leather clad motorcyclist to lift up his arm to receive the needle, a news bulletin broke in on the radio in the lab...

"This just in," the voice of BBC News said, "the infamous Were-Zomb-ire has attacked the Convent of the Order of Nuns of the Immaculate Heart of Our Lady of Fatima just outside London. The convent which had 21 living nuns just prior to the attack now has none..."

"This is what happens when mere amateurs try to practice science," Dr. Cadbury Rocher spat out a sneering reference to the shapeshifting hamster/human Renfield.

"So this shot you're going to give me is going to make me immortal, right doc?" the motorcyclist asked.

"It is or I'm not a member in good standing of the London Transhumanist Association," Dr. Rocher injected the serum, "this needle contains the DNA of a rare variety of fruit recently found growing in a lush valley in northeastern Iraq. I believe this fruit was the one that was growing on the Tree of Life in the Genesis account of the Garden of Eden."

"Wow," the motorcyclist smiled.

* * *

As Jefferson Harley sped on his motorcycle at 400 kilometres per hour down the streets of London, he relished the fact that he was going to live forever thanks to the injection that Dr. Cadbury Rocher had given him.

Harley raced towards the underpass in front of him.

He looked up at the bridge overpass above him.

"What an ugly looking gargoyle," Harley remarked, "I've never really noticed that before. This is what happens when someone tries to incorporate neo-medieval art into post-modern architecture."

The gargoyle who was actually the Were-Zomb-ire sitting atop the bridge was bothered by the noise of the motorcycle.

The Were-Zomb-ire jumped down on top of Jefferson Harley and ripped the motorcyclist's head off.

Since the motorcyclist had been injected with the serum of immortality, both body and head continued to live despite their Were-Zomb-ire enforced separation.

Harley's head was on the roadway pavement screaming, "Help!" Help!".

The headless body of Jefferson Harley continued to speed down the street driving the fast moving Harley-Davidson.

And thus was born the Legend of the Headless Motorcyclist.

To be continued.