Bite Me

Countess was burned from going out on some hot water pipes, so she fed on me, right there in the loft, and I was all, “Oh shit, I’m going to get the dark gift and I’m, like, wearing my lime-green Chuck Taylors, which are totally not the kicks for becoming a creature of unspeakable power in.” But no, the Countess just partook of my sanguine nectar so she could heal. That’s probably where I fell in love with her. Anyway, she goes asking around about Tommy, and this completely crazy homeless guy who thinks he is the Emperor of San Francisco (you see him and his two dogs in the north end of the City all the time) says that one of the Animals was asking around about Flood.
    So I’m all, “Uh-oh.”
    And the Countess is all, “Yep.”
    Next thing you know, we are at the Marina Safeway and the Countess—wearing her black jeans and red leather jacket, but no lipstick—underhands a steel reinforced trash can like as big as a lesbian gym teacher through the big front window, and she just walks right through the falling glass, badass as shit, into the store and starts kicking stoner ass. It was glorious. But she didn’t kill anyone, which turned out to be a mistake, as was, in my humble opinion, not wearing any lipstick. For while it was a heroic ass-kicking as has ever been delivered in real life, it would have been that much cooler if she had some black lipstick on, or maybe something in a dark maroon. But they told her that Tommy was tied up at Lash’s, the black guy’s, apartment.
    And their shit was all busted up, and I was like, “You bitches have been powned!”
    And the Countess was like, “That’s cute. Let’s go get Tommy.”
    She can be kind of a bitch sometimes. Anyway, we go to the apartment where Tommy is being held, but when we get there, he’s still tied to the bed frame, but stood up against a wall, all naked and covered in blood, even his junk. And the blue ho is dead on the floor.
    And I’m all, “Uh-oh.”
    And the Countess is all, “Yep.”
    And she says something about how the blue ho must have broken her neck or something, because if Tommy had drained her, she would have turned to dust and there would have been no body. Anyway, the cab ride back to the loft was très awkward, you know, with Flood naked and covered with blood and the two of them all, “Oh I love you” and, “Oh I love you, too.” And I was being kind of a mopey little emo queen because I was jealous of both of them because they had their dark and eternal love for each other and I had like my lime-green Chucks and Jared the gay-bait rat-shagger.
    So that was good. The rescue and whatnot. Because we found the old vampyre art money that the Animals had paid to the blue ho, which was like a half a million dollars. But then we found out that the blue ho was not dead, but somehow had accidentally drunk some of Tommy’s blood when she kissed him during his torture and now she wasnosferatu. And she turned all the Animals. Which, you know, was bad. And not in the good way.
    And the old vampyre had somehow escaped his bronze shell, and he was coming after Tommy and Jody, and even me? He even shook the living shit out of William the Huge Cat Guy while Jared and I watched from an alley across the street.
    I know! We were all, “Whoa?”
    So it’s like, Christmas night, and Jared and I are watching the midnight show of The Nightmare Before Christmas at the Metreon. And we’re all traumatized and whatnot from watching the vampyre pound the huge cat guy, and the Countess calls us. And she and my Dark Lord Flood meet us for coffee at this Chinese diner, which is like the only thing open because the Chinese totally blow off Christmas because there are no dragons or firecrackers in the story.
    Note to self: Write narrative poem exploring Christmas if the three wise men had given baby Jesus firecrackers, a dragon, and mu-shu pork instead of that other crap.
    So, after all night drinking coffee laced with Jared’s blood and getting the story on the old vampyre from the Countess and Flood, we go back to the loft and there, in the stairway, is the old vampyre, naked. And he’s all, “I had to do some laundry. That guy peed on my tracksuit.” (He was wearing a total gangsta yellow tracksuit when we saw him shaking the huge cat guy.)
    So we like ran, and we had to hide my masters in some rafters under the Bay Bridge when they went out at dawn.No yawning or anything—they just became dead. Well, undead.
    So we wrapped them in