(Parameters: free write, Format: First Person POV, Subject: Three Randomly Generated Nouns–“Garlic, Hell, Car”)
Can’t a girl go out and buy groceries without being mauled? Seriously. The older ones know better. They’ve long since sloughed off their dramatic antics and instead they choose their victims with dignity, lying in wait and searching for a greater challenge. These newly turned ones though. They fly at you out of nowhere, going straight for the jugular. Assholes.
It’s my belief that when humans get bitten and turned, some of their brain cells die. Technically they die everywhere and come back to life but not all of the brain does. It’s the only explanation I have for these nublets forgetting that humans aren’t surprised by the existence of the supernatural anymore. There are stores that sell garlic scented jewelry and silver nail polish. There’s holy water cologne and earbuds to negate banshee shrieks. Going for the seemingly defenseless human in a darkened alley way will get them castrated more often than get them a meal. In my case, it gets them a one way ticket to Hell on Wheels.
“Quit yer bitching” I snapped at the teenage vamp hissing and spitting behind me. My boots clomped across the pavement at a determined pace as I dragged him through the streets. People made way for the cranky blonde with the barbed whip wrapped around the nublet vamp’s neck. I had a ripped back of groceries swinging from the other hand. My bananas were bruised and my Nilla Wafers were crushed from his sudden attack. There goes breakfast for the week. I wish I had the time to make him pay myself but I had other obligations that night.
“Where are you taking me?” he spat, yanking with all his feeble vampy strength. I yanked him forward and he stumbled into my back, getting a face full of the silver spikes on my jacket. He yelped and started to whine. Stronger than humans these supes were not. Becoming a vampire was more like an ad for dieting. “Get undead now and become super gorgeous, super strong, and have thrall over the human race! Call today and one of our representative would be happy to service you!” We were so over it. The ones stupid enough to fall for it deserved to get whatever was coming for them be it stake, beheading or in my case…
“Hey Zan!” I had to shout over the roar of the engines and the crowd to make myself be heard. “I got a volunteer for you got tonight’s derby!”
I handed my whip over to a large muscly bouncer manning one of the side doors of the arena. He looked at the whip, the bloody nublet vamp, and then me. He cocked an eyebrow.
“Tried to fang me. Bruised my bananas.”
“Sounds like a good time.”
I smirked. He would know. I’d bruised his banana plenty in our shared past.
“I guess he’ll find out.”
“So what’ll it be? Derby? Obstacles? Gush Mob?”
“I say tit for tat is fair punishment.”
“Derby it is. We’ll strap him in next round and bang him up a bit. We appreciate your contribution to the festivities.”
I enjoyed the look of abject horror on the fanger’s face hearing this dialogue. He started gibbering when money exchanged hands and I saluted him.
“Always a pleasure. I’ll be back for my toy later.”
“Take it by force and it’s a date.”
I gave a backward wave, ignoring the pleading and the cries, and sashayed back through the cars, folding the bills and putting them into my bra. Hell on Wheels: Entertainment for humans, Monster Truck Gladiator style. Some supes were paid to work the trucks, some were drafted and some, like my nub, were brought in for attempted violation of my sacred white girl skin. He would think twice about fanging someone in a dark alley once he’d been in the pit with 13 other criminals all hell bent on being the last survivor, ensuring his freedom.
Goddamn vamps. At least I could get more bananas now.