Ready for anything and down for whatever…. From MorbidbookS!

Herod the Great

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From MorbidbookS!

I proceed to squeeze the warmish goo into my open mouth, swallowing all 500cc of the blood at once. I concentrate on pulling in supplemental oxygen through my nose. What is efficient for humans; is woefully inadequate for vampires. The blood I consume and oxygen I inspire will increase my deficient oxygen levels a mere twenty percent. If I relax, this treatment’s enough to quench my need for fresh blood until the following day. Then I will have to feed. If I find myself under extended duress, my oxygen reserves will swiftly evaporate. This will leave me weak and vulnerable. “I’m going to check it out,” I say at last. I was getting so very hungry. I turned the tank off and remove the nosepiece. “I’ll feed before my return.” “Okay,” replies Juan. “Do you need us?” “No,” I state and rise. “I’ll return soon enough and we’ll discuss what I find when I do. Mary will give me some rows and we’ll figure all this crazy shit out together.” Juan nods, looking like he is feeling better with the return of our routine. We always discuss business while Mary gives my long hair some nice tight cornrows. I study Juan’s face, sensing his concern. “I’ll bet it’s the quota,” Juan states. He looks up at me. He suggests, “Maybe we should cash some in, you know, catch us up with Herod. Get him off us for a while, give us time to figure this out; negotiate a different price or some of the other ideas we talked about.” I have considered dipping, but I still must decline. I am stubborn about Herod’s quota demands. I feel that the hit Plata is taking should be shared by all in the organization, not dumped solely at our feet. “Don’t worry,” I reply instead, “I’m sure it’s nothing, some sort of misunderstanding. We’re only, what – thirty grams short for this whole year? I sincerely doubt that we can get moved without notice, without a word over an ounce. What is it we push, forty-five, fifty zees a year? And Herod is getting pissed off over one?” “Doesn’t seem likely,” agrees Juan. “Anyways as long as it isn’t approved by Herod, his flunkies will see the light. I’ll bet they’s nothing more than a bunch of dumb cowboys playing dress-up. We shouldn’t worry about it too much. Herod will have to be a raving lunatic to bounce me. Look at how much money he gets from us,” I smile, “you’d think he’d be happy.” I can feel from my tongue that my partially starved state is making the sharp fang tips poke out of my pink-gummed smile. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” I repeat, then get up to leave. Juan follows me down to the basement of our old abandoned church. This is the place were Mary, Juan and I call both home and work and have been doing so for going on five years now. Juan watches me as I leave out the back door. I turn to him, smile once. I easily leap over the tall property wall and then disappear into the mushrooming dusk. Ready for anything and down for whatever.



~ by MorbidbookS, Extreme Fiction Publisher. on December 26, 2011.

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