You Suck: A Love Story Chapter 16~17

Chapter SixteenBeing the Chronicles of Abby NormalCompletely Fucked Servant of the Vampyre FloodOMFG-WOOT I have failed, left my duty und iodin, give c ar so much dog poop on the dusk sidewalk of the tragedy that is my life. Even as I sit here at the Metreon Starbucks, writing this, the bubble slaves calculatem to move desire silver-eyed zombies and my nonfat, soy Amaretto Mochaccino has g matchless as bitter as snake bile. (Which is comparable the bitterest bile you can frig around.) If there wasnt a tot whollyy hot hombre 2 tables away, acting reach show uple he doesnt notice me, I would weep provided real tears make your mascara survive, so Im staying chilly in my despair. Your loss, cute guy, for I have been chosen. Suffer, bitchI had to leave Lord Flood to his knowledge devices last night, but before I left, I confessed my undying manage for him. I am a hopeless hose beast. All I had to do was say good-bye, but no, I unspoilt barked it turn bug out. Its eq uivalent he has this power over me standardized I have an feeding disorder and hes a case of Oreo Double Stuff cookies. (I dont have an eating disorder, Im fair(a) skinny because I enjoy eating mass quantities and then yakking it hindquarters up. Its not a body-image problem. I repressk my system has always treasu scarlet to live on a liquid diet, and until Im brought into my Dark Lords loving embrace, then its Starbucks for me.)I have been stressful to c totally my Dark Lord and the Countess all day on their cells, but I kept acquire voice mail. Well, duh theyre vampires. They wont be answering the phone. Im such a tard neartimes.So I went to the out of date pigeon loft proto(prenominal) this morning, in fact plane before dawn. I should be, like, do a Bronte sister for culmination up with a story to get out of the house that premature, but I wanted to talk to the sweep over before his slumber. Thing was, the scary drunk guy and his huge cat were gone, but so were my overcome and the Countess. Every affaire had been moved except the statue of the turtle and the Countess.So I rolled out, headed for the new loft I rented, when I sight two get the pictures sitting in a POS chocolate-brown car. I knew they were vampyre hunters discipline away. It must be the masters dark powers rubbing moody on me. There was a big fat gay cop and a sharp-faced Hispano-cop.So I was like, Could you guys look any to a greater ex 10t like cops?And they were like, Move a presbyopic, little lady.So I was forced to point out to them that they were not the boss of me and then I proceeded to humiliate them by verbally bitch-slapping them until they cried. What is it about the crusties? Their minds turn over so slowly that you have to, like, prompt them to stand up so you can slap them again until they faint like the little wuss- grasps that they are. I n ever want to be crusty. And I wont be, because my Lord go forth bring me into the fold and I shall stalk the n ight for eternity, my beauty forevermore preserved as it is, except Id like a little bigger boobs.Anyway, I wandered slightly on Market Street and up in Union Square to give the cops enough time to slink off to lick their wounds, then I re morose to the masters street to check the new loft. This time there was this Asiatic guy sitting across the street in a Honda, looking all Manga-cool, but it was self-explanatory that he was watching the loft admittance. He didnt look like a cop, but he was in spades watching, so I stopped and pretended to watch the sculptors work who have the space below the masters old loft. They are these two crusty biker guys, but they do some(prenominal) amazing s impinging. Theyd left the garage doorsill open so I stepped in.They were putting dead chickens on wires and dipping them in silver paint, then intermission them on sticks by the wires.So I was all, What the fuck, biker? What are you doing?And one of them was like, Its almost the year of the cock.And I was all), Dont be gross, you crustacious fuck. You pull that thing out and Ill pepper-spray you until you fry. (You have to be stern with weenie waggers Ive been exposed to on the autobus over seventeen times, so I know.)And he was like, No, its the year of the cock in the Chinese zodiac.Which I knew, of course.Were making statues, said the bigger biker, who was named Frank. (The early(a) ones name was Monk. He didnt talk much, which might explain the name.)So they showed me how they besidesk real dead roosters they bought in Chinatown, ran wires through them to pose them, then dipped them in a thin metallic paint, then put them in this big tank and attached electric clips to them. They pass some current through the clips and the current attracts bronze molecules or something to the metallic paint. Its like instant bronze rooster. I thought about the statue of the Countess on a higher floor and got a little creeped out.So Im all, You ever do a psyche?And they were like, No way, that would be wrong. Youd better go now, because were tail and dont you have school and stuff?So walk out, I saw the Asian guy checking me out and I was like, Hey, its almost the year of the cock. Shouldnt you be out shopping for one?He looked real nervous, but he potpourria grinned. Then started his car and litter off, but he wants me, I can tell, so hell be corroborate. I hope he wants me. He was so cute in that Final Fantasy Thirty-Seven way. What Im saying is, the Sex Fu is strong with this one.So there was no sign of my Dark Lord or the Countess at the new place. I approve if they have crawled under the earth in some park and satisfied their perverse desires with each other among the worms and the tree germs. EwwOh well, almost dark. Id better go suffer to the loft and wait for them.Addendum The lice shampoo didnt work on my sister. Looks like we might have to shave her head. Im dismissal to try to talk her into getting a pentagram tattooed on her scal p. I know a guy in the Haight who will do it for foreswear if you verbally abuse him dapple hes tattooing. More later.Sun worst. Jody awoke to pain and the smell of cooking meat. She rolled away from the rise of the pain and went crashing through the acoustical ceiling tiles to land in a commercial sink wide of dishes and soapy water. A Mexican guy was backing across the dish room crossing himself and invoking saints in Spanish as Jody climbed out of the sink and brushed suds off her detonator and jeans. When she touched the scarecrow of her thighs she nearly leapt back through the ceiling the pain was so sharp.Mother-fuck-that-hurts she said, hopping near on one foot, because that will generally help all manner of pain, regardless of where its located on the body. Her boot heel clicking against the tiles sounded like a limping flamenco dancer.The dishwasher turned and bolted out of the dish room into the bakery.The bakery. When the alarm on her watch had threatened dawn sh e ran down the alley checking doors as she went, and the only one she found unbarred led into the stockroom of a bakery. She commanded a place to hide where shed be undisturbed while she slept, and although she considered hiding under a couple of the fifty-pound bags of dredge, she had no way of knowing if the bakers would be using them today. Shed already awakened in a morgue at once before (when Tommy had frozen her), and finding a large necrophiliac morgue attendant rubbing his hands and other bits over her seminaked body while she thawed had ferment her to the whole morgue experience. No, she had to find someplace more secluded.One of the bakers had been coming into the stockroom, she could hear his voice and footfalls right(prenominal) the door. She looked around for somewhere to hide, then spotted the grimy acoustic ceiling tiles suspended above. She leapt onto the pallet of flour, upraised a tile to see that the ceiling was suspended a full four feet below the struct ural ceiling. Bless old buildings. She grabbed a water pipe, pulled herself through the ceiling, jackknifed her legs up and around the pipe, then used her salvage hand to pull the ceiling tile back in place, all in less than two seconds.She listened as the man moved around below her, then scooped up one of the big bags of flour and left the room. That was a good call.She checked her watch. Less than a minute before shed go out. She spotted four pipes runway together parallel to the floor. They were s hop outly warm, which was wherefore she could see them at all in the darkness, but each was two inches around and braced to the ceiling every few feet. Theyd look into her.She go over to the pipes, squirmed out of her leather jacket, and put it across the pipes, then lay facedown on top of it. This way, even if one of her legs slipped off, it wouldnt pull her off the pipes. She was trying to wedge the toes of her boots into the gap between the pipes when she went out.The problem wa s that the pipes werent used that early in the morning. As the building awoke, hot water began coursing through them, and Jody had been subjected to the heat all day. Her jacket had protected her face and torso, but her thighs had been slow-cooked inside her jeans.She gritted her teeth and bolted through the dish room door into the back room of the bakery. So now its deserted. Of course, bakers work in the middle of the night and the early morning. At sundown the dishwasher would be the only guy still in the building.She found her way to the stockroom, then out into the alley. She could see the entries to both of their lofts from the end of the alley, and fortunately, no one appeared to be watching from the street. There were lights on in the new loft and she made her way to the door, her legs burning with every step.She listened at the door did what she thought of as reaching out. If she focused she could almost hear shapes, depending on the ambient noise. There was someone in th e loft she could hear the heartbeat, industrial music playing in headphones, the shuffling of a body a light body dancing. It was the kid, Abby Normal. Where in the hell was Tommy? He couldnt be far from the loft the sun had gone down only five minutes ago.Jody pounded on the door, but the shuffling sounds upstairs didnt change rhythm, and she pounded again, this time sledding a dent in the metal door. Fuck, the kid has the headphones cranked and cant hear a thing.Jody shivered, although not because of the cold, but because the thirst was rising in her. Her body telling her she needed to feed so she could heal.Shed only done it once before, and wasnt sure she could pull it off again, but she needed to get into the loft and leave a lockable door intact. She concentrated as the old vampire had taught her, and gradually, she felt herself fading going to mist.Monet was no longer robed as the statue guy, no longer in character not that character, anyway. Now he was the masta-blas ta, gansta-rappa, full-ninja-badass and a bag of mothafuckin chips, bi-yatch bent on revenge and whatnot. Hed given up midafternoon on making any money and had gone home to remove his makeup and lick his wounds. Hed crawfishn a vicious ass-whuppin today, even if it was only to his ego. barely now he was rolling with his homies, P.J. and Fly, they would put that bronze muthafucka down if he was still around. If he didnt run away like a little bitch.You strapped? Fly said, adjusting his do-rag as he drove his ten-year-old Honda Civic with rims worth more than the rest of the car.Huh? Monet inquired.Do you have a weapon? Fly said, enunciating all Royal Shakespeare community precise.Oh, yeah. Monet pulled the Glock out of his waistband and showed it to Fly.Nigga, put that shit down, said P.J., who was in the backseat, wearing a Phat Pharm tracksuit that was four sizes too big for him.Sorry, Monet said, tucking the gun back into the waistband of his jeans. Hed borrowed the Glock r ented it, really from a real gangsta in Hunters Point, who needed it back in two hours or hed charge another twenty-five bucks. Before he gave Monet the gun, he made him swear that no one would be wearing gang colors, so nothing Monet did could come back on him. Monet had made the assurance, then, after P.J. did a Google search for gang colors, they settled on orange do-rags, since no gang seemed to claim that one.Highway Safety Posse, yo, Monet had said.Yo, Stone Tangerine Thugs, yo, suggested Fly.Yo, yo, yo, check it out, said P.J., with enough hand gestures that any deaf person watching would have thought he had ASL Tourettes syndrome. Cheesy Goldfish Crew.Yo, dog, thats so stupid its not stupid, Monet said.Is that good? asked Fly.Yo, dog, get in character. Fly was a bad actor. They were all in the same acting class.He should have just hired real gangsters to do this. P.J. was probably going to trip over the legs of his track pants and completely ruin their intimidation.This is it, Fly said, pulling off the street, right up onto the sidewalk of the Embarcadero by the Ferry Building. That him?Thats him, Monet said. There was no one around but the insouciant passing car, but the new statue guy still stood there.Remember, Fly said. Walk. Dont run up. Just walk, like you got all the time in the world. Use your sense memories.Right, right, right, Monet said. He and P.J. got out of the car and quickstepped across the bricks to where the statue guy was running his game. Damn, he was good, didnt even flinch.As he reached the statue guy, Monet raised the Glock and the barrel connected with the statues forehead. Bi-yatch There was a tame clank.Whoa, P.J. said. Nigga really is a statue.Monet tapped the statue, three dull clanks. Yep. except he got all that money in his shoes, P.J. said.Well, take it, stupid, Monet said.Yo, step off, Monet. Im not the one that got upstaged by a statue.Shut up, Monet said.P.J. was grabbing handfuls of bills out of the Big potation forms at the statues feet and shoving them into his pockets. Must be a G here, G.Yo, Monet said. Help me get the statue into the car.P.J. stood and got one shoulder under the statue and tried to lift it, while Monet tucked the gun in his pants and got under the other. They dragged the statue only a couple of feet before they had to set it down and catch their breath.Motherfucker heavy, P.J. said.Would you guys come on Fly screamed from the car, in all out of character now.Fuck this, Monet said. This whole thing was just too embarrassing. Hed paid rent on the gun, hadnt he? He drew the Glock from his waistband and squeezed one off at the statue.Shit, P.J. said, ducking. Are you crazy?Bi-atch need to learn a Monets comment was choked off.P.J. stood up and looked back. There was smoke streaming out of the bullet hole in the statue, and in the second he watched, it had formed into a hand and grabbed Monet by the throat. P.J. turned to run, but something caught the hood of his tracks uit and yanked him back off his feet. He could hear Monet gagging and choking. Then he felt a sharp pain in the side of his neck and he felt suddenly light-headed.The last thing he saw was Fly peeling away in the Honda.Chapter SeventeenBeing the Chronicles of Abby Normal unspoiledly Baptized Minion of the NightBow before me, skeezy mortals, for now I see you for the pathetic little rodents that you are. skim before my dazzling darkness, daysters, for I am your mistress, your queen, your goddess I have been brought into the fold I am Abigail Von Normal, NOSFERATU, bitches fork of.OMG. It was so fucking cool like coming twice with Skittles and a Coke. I was in the loft, spacing into my jams on my MP3 player. I had downloaded the latest Dead Can Dub CD (Death Boots Badonka Mix) at the Starbucks and it was completely transcendent. I was transported to an ancient Romanian castle, where everyone had done X and was dancing totally chill and sensuous (with blameless hair). I was grin ding a free-form booty dance on the armchair perfecting my dance gestalt when I saw some smoke coming in under the door.(I cant wait to dance with Jared to this new CD. Hes so going to love this move I do. Thats what I love about dancing with gay guys. If they get wood during a booty dance, you can just take it as a compliment, not an agenda. Jared said that if I was a guy, he would totally suck my dick. He can be so sweet.)So I pulled out one of my headphones and I was like, Whoa, fire in the staircase sucks to be me. Theres only one exit, so, you know, portentousened Abby coming up.But the smoke formed into a pillar, and then it started growing arms and legs. When I saw it had eye I ran into the bedroom and shut the door. I wasnt trippin or anything, just totally calm. But it wasnt like when your friends hold your hair while you puke and tell you its just the drugs and youll be okay so I went for the upright thing of locking the door so I could assess the situation. Then the door just splodes into split up and theres the Countess, totally naked, standing in the doorway with the knob in her hand. And she was totally hot, except that her legs were all fucked up, like they were destroy or rotted or something.So Im all, You totally wrecked your deposit.And the Countess like grabs my hair and pulls me to her and bites my neck, just like that. It didnt really hurt it was more surprising like you woke up from getting a root canal to find your dentist going down on you. Well, not exactly like that more mystical. But still, surprising. (Okay, it hurt, but not as much as the time Lily tried to pierce our nipples with a compass from geometry class and an ice cube. Youch)She smelled like burning meat, and I tried to push her away, but it was like my limbs were paralyzed or there was a fat guy sitting on me like I was buried alive or something, just watching it happen. And then I started to get lightheaded and I thought I was going to pass out. Thats when the ho dropped me.She goes, Go downstairs and get my c stilthes off the sidewalk. And make coffee.And Im like, Wait a minute, I just lost my mortality virginity, shouldnt I get a cigarette and a fucking towel or something? But I just said, Okay, because where the Countess was all burned was healing while I watched, and it was kind of freaking me out to be looking at her naked, burned-up thighs and her totally red pubes anyway. So I went downstairs and just outside the door there was a stateless guy digging through a pile of clothes. Well, really, he was sniffing her panties. And because I dont belief we always do enough to help the homeless, I was like, Take them, and tell no one what you witnessed here tonight.(I was already impression the superiority of my Nosferatitude, so it only seemed appropriate that I go all noblesse oblige on his ass.) So off he went to sniff the lacy crotch of the undead while I went back upstairs to find coffee filters.So when I get up there the Countess is dressed and hair brushed and shes all, Where is Tommy? Have you seen Tommy? Did you talk to those cops? And wheres Tommy?And I was all, Countess, begging your pardon and shit, but you need to chill. The vampyre Flood was gone when I got here this morning, and so was that bronze statue from the other side. I thought you guys went off to sleep in the better womb of your native soil or something.Yuck goes the Countess. Then she tightens down all of sudden. Make me a cup of coffee, two sugars, and squeeze one of those vials of blood into it and call us a cab.And I was like, Hey, step off, Countess. Im one of you and you are not the boss of me and And she said, I said for us, didnt I?So I did her bidding well, our bidding, really and we took a cab over to the Marina Safeway, but why we didnt transform into bats and fly is beyond me. Anyway, we were there in ten minutes. But as we start to pull in, the Countess tells the driver to keep going.She was all, Its Rivera and Cavuto. Thi s is not good.The POS brown cop car was parked in anterior of the store. I was all, Cops? Their shit is weak.She seemed surprised that I knew the cops, but I told her how I had owned them like the little wussy-boys that they are and I could tell that the Countess was feeling more or less good about bringing me into the dark fold of the coven.Then she was all, Fucking Clint hes telling them about Tommy.But I couldnt even see what she was looking at beyond the big glass front of the Safeway. I guess my powers will develop as time goes on. Five hundred years is a long time to get your vampyre kung fu down.The Countess had the driver drop us at Fort Mason, so we could still see the front of the Safeway, and we stood in the fog like the creatures of the night that we were while we waited for the cops to leave.Then the Countess put her arm around my shoulders and she was all, Abby, Im sorry I, uh, attacked you like that. I was hurt really badly and to heal I needed fresh blood. I wasnt really in control of myself. It wont happen again.No worries, I told her. Im honored to be promoted. Besides, it was kind of hot. Which it was, you know, except for the smell of burning flesh and stuff.And she was all, Well, thanks for looking out for us.And I was all, Pardon, Countess, but why are we at the Safeway? Because its not like we needed groceries.And she was all, These guys used to work with Tommy, and one of them knows that he is, uh, one of the children of the night. I think they might know something about where he is now.Then, over at the Safeway, we saw this goofy-looking guy with nipping hair and glasses unlock the front door and let the cops out. They got in their car and the frizzy guy locked the front door behind them.Showtime, said the Countess. She zipped up her leather jacket, took a pair of sunglasses out of her jacket pocket, and put them on. She goes, Stay back, Abby. Ill be right back. Then she started across the parking lot toward the Safeway, taking big strides and looking all angel of vengeance, with her red hair flying out behind her, and the lights glistening down on her through the fog.I was like, Oh shitShe didnt even slow down. When she got about ten feet from the front window she snatched up one of the steel-reinforced trash cans like it was made of cardboard and flung it through the window. And she just kept walking Little cubes of safety glass rained down on her and she just walked through the front of the store like she owned it and everyone in it which she did.Before I even got in the store, she was coming back around the corner, dragging the frizzy-haired guy by the throat. She threw him up against a rack of wine bottles, which shattered, spilling red all over the floor and splattering the registers and stuff.I was all, Oh, dog, Countess gonna crack open a forty of whup-ass on you now. Oh, you in the shit now, wigga (I am not inclined to use hip-hop vernacular often, but there are times when, like French, it just bet ter expresses the sentiment of the moment.)Just then the whole crowd of guys Id seen in the limo came running around the corner. The Countess snatched a wine bottle off the rack, and without a second of hesitation, she threw it and it hit the first guy, a tall, hippie-looking guy, right in the middle of the forehead and he went down like he was shot.She goes, Back and they all headed back around the corner the way they came, except the hippie-looking guy, who was out cold.Then the Countess picked up the guy with glasses by the throat. And even though he was like a foot taller than her, she whipped him around like a rag doll until he was screaming stuff about Satan and delivery boy and telling her to get behind him and shit. And the Countess was all, Where is Tommy?And he was all, I dont know. I dont know.And the Countess grabbed him by the hair and held his head crocked against the wine rack. Real chilly, she says, Clint, Im going to take your right eye now. Then if you dont tell me where Tommy is, Im going to take your left. Ready. On three. One TwoThen hes all, I didnt have anything to do with it. Shes the spawn of Satan, I told them that. trine goes the Countess.Hes in Lashs apartment on Northpoint. I dont know the number.And the Countess just yells Number? out to the whole store.And the black guy pops up from behind a display of Cheerios and is all, Six ninety-three Northpoint, Apartment 301. And one of the other guys pulls him back down.Then the Countess is all, Thank you. If hes hurt, Ill be back. And she throws the Clint guy through a rack of Doritos, which exploded their nacho inferior goodness all over the place.Then shes all, Well, thats a nice surprise.And Im all, That Lord Flood is in an apartment on Northpoint?I didnt think they would really know. I just didnt know where else to start.Probably your senses attuned to Lord Floods nominal head over the eons, I said, like a total tard.And shes all, Lets go, Abby.And I dont know why, I guess becau se I had like low blood sugar or something from blood loss, but I was like, Can I get some gum?And she was all, Sure. Grab some coffee, too. Whole beans. Were almost out.So I did. And when I caught up with her, she was halfway across the parking lot, headed back toward Ghirardelli Square, and little pieces of safety glass were still shining in her hair and she smiled at me when I caught up and I just couldnt help myself, because that was the coolest thing Id ever seen. Ever And I was all, Countess, I love you.And she put her arm around me and kissed me on the forehead and goes, Lets get Tommy.I guess Ill start feeling my vampyre powers tomorrow night, but right now I feel like a total fucking loser. But I am so going to line up when school starts again.