Sorry for this different post for today.
I’ve been sick for over two weeks now, and my mind is a bit fuzzy. And since I feel like death warmed over, highlighting my recent release about vampires and zombies seems appropriate. So, I’ll make it short and sweet and give you all a sneak peak of A Vampire’s Bite of Flesh, Episode 3 of The Misadventures of Dick Grewcock.
Dick Grewcock is a vampire working full-time as a computer consultant for Vampires ‘R Us. He had everything he wanted—a pretty girlfriend and a great job—or so he thought. A hurricane blows through town a week before the Fourth of July making a real mess, including riling the sugar craving mush-brain humans. Operation Zombie Takedown begins at Fang Shui, the local vampire bar, to get the infestation under control. Dick’s existence was about to change—again.
Noelle St. Nicholas is Dick’s girlfriend, but four months ago she met with an unfortunate accident and ended up in a cryopreservation chamber at a high security laboratory. She’s revived and Dick isn’t sure she’ll forgive him for what he did.
Dick battles zombies with fireworks exploding and learns what it means to be the vampire he was meant to be, but at what price to losing what’s left of his humanity?
Dick blinked a few times, adjusting his eyes to the brighter light and to gain his bearings. The stench of sweat and cigarette smoke filled his nostrils and every breath he took burned his lungs. God, he knew having the planning meeting here would be a mistake. Why not the VRU offices? At least they were private and smoke-free. But, no, that would have been too easy. Vlad insisted on checking out his latest acquisition, and as he put it, the bar was a good place to keep an eye on others in his coven. Killing two birds, yada, yada, yada.
Dancers scantily-clad in G-strings and sequined pasties climbed, turned and twisted on the brass poles bolted on the five mini-stages scattered around the room. Gyrating couples, males, females and others—Dick couldn’t tell what they were—writhed in a sea of limbs, music, and flashing multi-colored lights. He glanced around, disoriented from the pounding in his head. Where the heck was the bar? And where was his partner?
Urgh! A partner. Another vamp. A pain in the ass vamp cohort his sire insisted on him having until the zombie infestation was exterminated. Dealing with the punk vampire was another reason for his headache. Why did I have to find that ad in the Yellow Pages?
It took him several minutes, but he finally saw his target—a vacant place to sit and have a strong drink. He forced his way through the oversexed crowd of sweaty skin, strong perfume, and the tables with seated customers, advancing slowly to the bar on the far right side of the nightclub. He strode quickly toward his objective, an empty stool at the end of a long, curved bar. On the other side of the sleek wood counter, a man stopped restocking bottles of Vlad’s popular blood soda and stared in Dick’s direction.
Halfway on his trek to the bar, a woman slammed into him. Obviously drunk or high on something, he instinctively sensed she was human, not vampire. He pushed past her, cursing under his breath. What the hell was the world coming to? Vampires, zombies, and what would come next? Werewolves and the Easter Bunny?
Dick reaffirmed his reasons as to why he hated coming to Fang Shui. The dildos that worked there were no different than the types he dealt with when human. Nothing ever changes. Not even the predictable weather.
The first week of July in Florida brought the bitch heat of summer in full swing. Ninety degree days and seventies at night made for sticky situations when hunting for the zombies on the loose. Hurricane Chucky blustered through the Orlando area only a week ago. Eighty-five mile an hour winds along with spotty tornados ripped roofs off houses, damaged parts of the international airport, and the amusement parks suffered enough to keep them closed after seven days. Not that any of those problems affected him directly, but it did make for interesting news to take his mind off Noelle.
Buck Rogers’ Spaceship! Stop thinking of her.
Despite how he didn’t want to be at the meeting, safety at the bar was a welcome relief compared to the chaos he passed on the drive over. Traffic lights were still out at some of the secondary intersections, and people didn’t adhere to the rules of the road. Long lines at gas stations didn’t make sense, either, when the power didn’t work. Did all common sense get blown away with the storm? Was I that dense as a human?
Shaking his head as he grabbed the edge of the wooden barstool to stake claim to the valued real estate, he hauled himself up onto one of the last remaining seats. The place looked like the entire population of vampires and wannabe human groupies had decided to join in the rowdy behavior at the same time. A lot of residences had been damaged, as well as night haunts of the blood-kind. Hurricane Chucky wreaked havoc on the area in more ways than one. The scare of the zombies must be driving them here. What’s with the public display of sex? That’s a new one for this place.
Blooding and sex always seemed to go hand-in-hand in this new life he led, but Dick hadn’t seen such an overwhelming sense of laissez faire toward revealing what he considered a private matter. Was Vlad aware of this? Granted, he’d only been a vampire since last October. Halloween exactly, which was more like November first, but he’d seen a lot of action in those eight to nine months. Maybe this is a special event night at Fang Shui, like Karaoke Night. No, Stormin’ Chucky Sex Night!
He laughed to himself with the thought. With a wave of his hand, he caught the bartender’s attention. He’d frequented the vamp haunt four or five times in the last two months. Ted had been tending bar every time.
“What’ll it be tonight, Dick?” The young, hip-looking vampire bartender asked. The man wiped a towel along the varnished wood bar top waiting for an answer.
Why couldn’t I have looked like him as a human?
“VieSang, cherry.” The nasty stuff was his favorite among the flavors available. Since turning last Halloween, he’d supplemented his need for blood with the weird concoction. The blood-laced carbonated drink came in ten varieties, and he’d tried them all. Some he couldn’t get past his lips, let alone down his gut. The tart one had the most tolerable taste.
“For a change?”
The sarcastic tone wasn’t lost on Dick. “What can I say? I like popping cherries with my blood.” Not really, but better than nothing. As one of the many creations in Vlad’s business empire, the ten flavors of the nasty tasting drink acted as a change of pace for whole blood. Cherry at least was more palatable than the peppermint-flavored one he made at Christmas-time.
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