Chauncey laid his mother in the living room. Her face devoid of color, she still wore her church attire. Her pearl necklace dirtied along with her white blouse and stockings. "She might do."
"So," he looked one last time at his mother, the biggest eyesore was the giant bite in her shoulder. Also, she was missing an arm. "What now?"
"You said you did it. That's how the fucking devil got in here. Also, what happened to her arm?"
"Did you really just ask me that?" Chauncey sniggered, he stood next to the fireplace. Looking down at his mother ever so often. "Son of a bitch ate the mail man. I can't fucking put the pitbull on a leash."
"Disrespectful." Saint John sneered. "My dog heresy was stepped on by Aleigha. Fuck that nigga high and holy."
"Ok…" he loitered. "And?"
The bottom of the flowerpot busted apart. Branches from John's roots stretched out, grabbing hold of his neck. He squeezed and lifted him off the ground. "For right now, you are nothing but a disciple. Don't disrespect me. I told you." He let him fall to the carpet with blood stains. "If I get what I want. You get whatever but…" the plant leered. "I might just take you."
Chauncey coughed and rubbed his throat, "The fuck that mean?"
"I want some bitches."
"You need new glasses?" taunted Chauncey.
"You got jokes. Listen to me closely. The body is very fresh, so during this ritual she might reclaim her house. I don't need that happening, who else is dead?"
"My daddy." He spoke. Though he said it, he knew he couldn't use it. He already attempted that.
"Who else, I can sense the nigga gone."
"Shit," he shrugged. "The mail man?"
"What's his name?"
"I don't know." Chauncey scowled. "I don't get friendly with niggas."
"Guess I gotta hunt— or," he started, "I can… have you?"
"My body is a temple."
"And the strip club is a bank." Said the head. "I don't care. I'm tired of being an unsmoked herb." Chauncey chuckled and immediately received a vine across the face. "Do as I want cretin!" John asserted. Chauncey stepped towards the plant and punt it into the wall.
The ceramic shattered against the side. "ɓuᴉɥʇ ssǝʅɥʇɹoʍ no⅄"
His ears began to ring. "ʎoq ʎssnd ɐ ʇnq ɓuᴉɥʇou ʇˌuᴉⱯ!" he snickered. "ɐɓɓᴉu ssɐ ʎɹɹos ʻuᴉɐɓɐ ǝɯ ʞɔᴉꓘ."
"You lucky I don't understand shit. But you gettin' me heated."
"You feel so weak. I know you."
"Good." He walked towards the wall. "Let me introduce to you another part of me…"
Chauncey began rubbing his size sixteen shoes into the flower. Hearing the plant suffocate beneath his foot. He pressed his toes down, dragged his foot downward. Chauncey braced the wall, his leg lifted ad he brought it down on the demon flower. Again, he stomped out the nuisance. Saint John gurgled, wheezing. "If I kill you, I still get to be King."
WRONG. YOU INVITED ME IN.
Black tendrils surrounded the being. Plumes of purple and red smoke lifted into the air. A face became apparent in the fume. A man with a triangular face, a somewhat roman n with nostrils flared out nose. "Give me your blood and soul." his voice low and sinister, a smokey tone. He grinned; his point teeth flashed Chauncey. He backed away.
"I'm done being nice." The soul shot through Chauncey. Engulfing him In a purple and black cloud. His lungs tighten. His stomach dropped, and his bones shifted within. Chauncey took a deep breath, he yelled, scars appeared on his body. His eyes cut and four claws across his back.
Chauncey blinked rapidly; he held his ground. His back broke, the spirit came out his mouth. Chauncey's eyes rolled into his head. "This… body…"
A thin smoke rose, circling saint john. "get out…" he breathed. "let me in!' the vampire disputed. "What are you?"
Easy. "I'm conscious."
The white funnel grew consuming the lesser. A larger phantom pinned john down. "Do you remember, Delegati?" Chauncey bit into his neck. He drew the soul into his jaws. It filled his chest, his neck twitch sporadically. His eyes grew hot, he spit him out.
John screamed, "You're just like your fucking father!"
Chauncey wiped his mouth with his hands, "So?"
His own spirit wet back to his body. He straightened and took a deep breath. "Sinner!" shouted Saint John. "No… well, I guess."" Chauncey wiped his mouth again; he approached the soul. "I mean, y'all started it. You robbed my daddy." He grinned widely. "You broke in and took his soul."
"Lies!"
"Truths."
"Your mother killed him!"
"Oh, fuck me sideways—" his eyes expanded. "I didn't know."
"Fucking body snatcher!"
Chauncey swayed happily, "And?"
Saint John scooped his spirit towards the wall. "Who are you? Whose's body?"
Chauncey paced towards his mother's body. He put her over his shoulder and headed to his room. Putting the body back on the round carpet in the middle of his room, he looked at the Devil Thing. He called back to Saint John being pathetic on the wood "All I know is the Jefferson's is paying for everything."