You Suck: A Love Story

Flood had given me.
    And the woman was totally a bitch.
    She was like, “Hello. Blah Blah Property Management.”
    And I was like, “I need to rent an apartment.”
    And she was all, “How many bedrooms and did you have an area in mind?”
    And I was all, “What’s with all the questions, bitch? Are you some kind of thought police or something?”
    And she was like, “I’m just trying to help.”
    “Right, help. Like tuberculosis.”
    So she’s all, “I beg your pardon,” like the queen of freakin’France or something.
    And then I remembered that I was supposed to ask for a specific person, so I was like, “Oh, I need to speak to Alicia DeVries, Is she there?”
    And the bitch connected me.
    So it turns out that Alicia DeVries is this crusty hippie who is like as old as my grandma, but wants to be all Earth Mother and everything, which I’m not against, because old hippies have the best pot and they’ll just give it to you if you pretend not to notice that they’re crusty and old. So Alicia picks me up in her crust-mobile rainbow peace-and-love Jeep CJ and I give her the requirements of the vampyre Flood, which were bedroom with no windows, a washer and dryer, private entrance with lockout, and, at least above the ground floor, windows looking down on the street.
    And she’s all, “We have to have a Social Security number and driver’s license number for the paperwork-you have to be eighteen.”
    So I’m, “My client will provide all the information you need, it’s just that he’s very busy and can’t deal with pissant details during the day.” Then I waved the cash that Flood gave me and she went all spacey, overmeditated, “namaste” on me, like it’s not about the money when it’s really about the money. Then she takes me to this loft, which it turns out is only like a half a block from the address where Flood said to meet him at sundown. Sweet!
    So I’m all, “Excellent, the master will be pleased.”
    And she’s like, “I’ll make you out a receipt.”
    Then she starts to lecture me about respecting myself as a woman, and not allowing myself to be subjugated to the desires of an older man and shit-like I’m this corporate fuck-puppet for some creepy businessman or something. I didn’t want her to get suspicious and try to rescue me, so I’m like, “No, you misunderstand, I call him the master because he’s the sensei of my jujitsu dojo-he’s not boning me or anything.”
    Luckily I have an extensive martial-arts background from watching anime with Jared and I knew that one must never bone the sensei.
    So she like reaches over and pats my knee. All, “That’s okay, sweetheart.”
    And I’m like, “Step off, rug-muncher!” I mean, I’m as bi as the next person, but not with some crusty old hippie-I need music and some X, and then only if some guy has rejected me and thrown my heart into the gutter like an abandoned vegetarian burrito-and even then I draw the line at making out.
    So she gave me the keys and took my money and just, like, left me there. So I called Lily, who came over with a two-liter of Diet Green Tea, a bag of Cheese Newts (I still hadn’t had breakfast), and some book she found called The Big Book of Death. So we looked at the book, which is this how-to thing with great art, and drank tea and ate Cheese Newts until she had to go to work. I wanted to tell her about the vampyre Flood, but I promised that I would keep his secret, so all I told her was that I had discovered my Dark Lord, and he would soon satisfy my every desire and I couldn’t tell her anything else. So she was all, “what ever, ho,” which is what I like about her-Lily is tres noir.
    So I walked over to the Sony Metreon and watched the flat-screens until it started to get dark. I was already about ready to pee with nervous ness when I got to Flood’s door, but then, just as I get my key in the door, this big Hummer limo pulls up, and these three college-age guys climb out followed by this blue woman in a silver dress with ginormous fake boobs. And they’re all, “Where is Flood? We need to find Flood?” And she’s all, “Where did you get the key? You need to let us in before it gets dark.”
    I’m not intimidated-because I know that her boobs are fake. And it’s so obvious that they hunt the nosferatu that it’s not even funny. Inside, I was like: “Ha, suck my spiky rubber strap-on, vampyre hunter!”
    But on the outside I was totally chill. And I’m like, “I don’t