You Suck: A Love Story

inside him that he didn’t even recognize-something that felt wild and on the verge of out of control-like when he first made love with Jody as a vampire, only this felt-well, lethal.
    “It’s Cheddar.”
    “Cheddar? Like the cheese?” He was getting beating because of cheese? “Yes.”
    “So I said it. Now what?”
    “You’re broken.”
    “’Kay,” Tommy said, straining against the heavy nylon straps, understanding now what he was feeling.
    He was going to kill her. He didn’t know how yet, but he was as certain of it as of anything he had ever known. Grass was green, water was wet, and this bitch was dead.
    “So now you have to turn me,” she said.
    “Turn you?” he said. His fangs ached, like they were going to leap out of his mouth.
    “Make me like you,” she said.
    “You want to be orange? Is this another Cheddar thing? Because-”
    “Not orange, you nitwit, a vampire!” she said, and she snapped the riding crop across his chest.
    He bit his lips again and felt the blood running down his chin. “So for that you needed all the hitting?” He said. “Come over here.”
    She leaned up and kissed him, then pushed away hard and came away with his blood on her mouth. “I guess I’m going to have to get used to this,” she said, licking her lips.
    “Closer,” Tommy said.

16 – Being the Chronicles of
    AbbyNormal: Completely Fucked
    Servant of the Vampyre Flood
    OMFG-W00T! I have failed, left my duty undone, like so much dog poop on the gloaming sidewalk of the tragedy that is my life. Even as I sit here at the Metreon Starbucks, writing this, the froth slaves seem to move like silver-eyed zombies and my nonfat, soy Amaretto Mochaccino has gone as bitter as snake bile. (Which is like the bitterest bile you can get.) If there wasn’t a totally hot guy two tables away, acting
    like he doesn’t notice me, I would weep-but real tears make your mascara run, so I’m staying chilly in my despair. Your loss, cute guy, for I have been chosen. Suffer, bitch!
    I had to leave Lord Flood to his own devices last night, but before I left, I confessed my undying love for him. I am a hopeless hose beast. All I had to do was say good-bye, but no, I just barked it out. It’s like he has this power over me-like I have an eating disorder and he’s a package of Oreo Double Stuff cookies. (I don’t have an eating disorder, I’m just skinny because I enjoy eating mass quantities and then yakking it back up. It’s not a body-image problem. I think my system has always wanted to live on a liquid diet, and until I’m brought into my Dark Lord’s loving embrace, then it’s Starbucks for me.) I have been trying to call my Dark Lord and the Countess all day on their cells, but I kept getting voice mail. Well, duh-they’re vampires. They won’t be answering the phone. I’m such a tard sometimes.
    So I went to the old loft early this morning, in fact even before dawn. I should be, like, made a Bronte sister for coming up with a story to get out of the house that early, but I wanted to talk to the master before his slumber. Thing was, the scary drunk guy and his huge cat were gone, but so were my master and the Countess. Everything 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 spotted two cops sitting in a POS brown car. I knew they were vampyre hunters right away. It must be the master’s dark powers rubbing off on me.
    There was a big fat gay cop and a sharp-faced Hispano-cop.
    So I was like, “Could you guys look any more like cops?”
    And they were like, “Move along, 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 work 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-bags that they are. I never want to be crusty. And I won’t be, because my Lord will bring me into the fold and I shall stalk the night for eternity, my beauty forever preserved as it is, except I’d like a little bigger boobs.
    Anyway, I wandered around onMarket Street and up inUnion Square to give the cops enough time to slink off to lick their wounds, then I returned to the master’s street to check the new loft. This time there
    was this Asian guy sitting across the street in a Honda, looking all Manga-cool,