"What about my shipment!"
"I got a basement—calm yo bougie ass down." Chauncey sneered into the phone. "I need a truck from you."
"A truck!"
"Goddamn Melvin," he heard thug in the background. "Look, I got zombies, bitches, dogs, I need a truck."
"Count." Melvin Lyons challenged. He stood in the business in the basement. He wore a black and white suit and pants. His loafers were a spic and span black. On his collar, a little silver bat.
He took a drag from his cannabis cigar and blew a plume of smoke. He made it circle around his head. In the background of the basement, a collection of screams with the wining of a machine.
Several bodies were attached to a wheel while the White Parade spun it over a set of flames like a rotisserie chicken. "Pick up the speed, one of these motherfuckers is still breathing..."
"No more! No more!" the person bellowed but despite all pleads the wheel begun to spin, the flames scorching the flesh of the belly till burnt. "Stop the wheel, they burning." the geist's eye shimmered white. "Kobe! Did you drain the bodies!" he hollared across the area. Kobe was a six-foot man, he leaned over the rail and shouted back, "Seventy-five vials up here!"
"What about bone?"
"Surplus!"
"Body count!"
Kobe snickered, "Uprising..."
Melvin paced in his office, still arguing on the phone with Chauncey. "What happened to the factory?" he put into question.
"I had to sell it," said Chauncey. "You sold my fucking drink!"
"I had too!"
"I bet the fuck you didn't!" he took a long drag from his weed. "You fucking lost my money, my bodies. What about my fucking plan!"
"What plan?"
"The drunks!" Melvin cursed. "I got imps stored up—wait a mintue. What happened to She?"
"Ataullah?" Chauncey grimaced looking at the ceiling. "Aw shit, he in the penitentiary."
"Pen!" Melvin tripped in his office. "Goddamn!"
His fangs stuck into his lip. "He can't be. You lying."
"The Arab and fucking—the hell his name—Sherwin!"
"Sherwin works for me, I told him--"
"A bullshitter can't bullshit a bullshitter."
"Fuck you!"
"No... that's gay..." Chauncey frowned. "Chance!" Melvin raged. "I had the whole thing locked down."
"You made this fucking creation... what did you put in the flesh to make it split into a fucking snake."
"I told Ataullah to keep it safe."
"What?" Chauncey arched a brow. "Fuck it. Melvin, just listen..." he pinched the bridge of his nose. "I want the land and the people. Vampires—here me out, here me out—So, we get anime fans--"
"What the fuck is anime?"
Chauncey dropped the phone and rubbed his temples.
"Chance!"