I have a new driver.
He's white. Not sure where he's from, don't care. I get my bag of drugs. Legal drugs.
"Are you Alexis Kelly?" he asks.
"Yes, I stay in the rehab apartments."
The sun is going down. I like the afternoon times, you really see the world slow down. We're on that street where the vamps were fighting, this time, it's a car crash and three dead bodies.
There's a much older vamp. I mean, the police have him in handcuff and his jaw is locked as we say. He must be malnourished with his skin shagging or other. I hope I never get old.
I have worry about who gon take care of me. How imma live. What death feels like. I think I asked my grandma how does one die in there sleep and she was like vamps dying inside coffins isn't unknown.
She said that homeless vamps usually bury themselves. That's fucked up. Nobody looks for them so… bye I guess. I'm not sure how it works and thinking about it makes my stomach sick.
I wonder what happened.
.
.
.
I make it home with my legal drugs.
I hope my apartment didn't get broken into, I hope I still have food even though I can't cook. I hope I get rest. I hope I live.
I need sleep.
I'm going to ask my stupid landlord once again. Or punch that nigga in the throat for another goddamn lock. I unlock my homely ass apartment and my shit is still the same. Thank God.
I step on something as I walk in, it's a letter. I pick it up and read the mess in green maker. "CALY WAS HERE. CALL ME." My second stupid but richer boyfriend has contacted me through a piece of paper.
I'm going to make something to eat.
I set everything on the floor and go into the kitchen. Rummaging through my fridge, I have tortillas, I take that out. I go through my cabinets, I have macaroni and green beans.
I didn't wash my pot from last time. So I take out a large bowl and push a tortilla in it and set the bowl in the oven on 200.
I have to clean dishes. After that I boil the noodles till they're tender and throw the beans in with them. I forgot how long it's been, so I take the bowl out the oven.
SHIT I FORGOT BLOOD!
The edges of the tortilla are black, that wouldn't have happened if I put blood on the edges. The noodles are still boiling with the beans. As for the tortilla in a bowl, I contemplate how to get it out the bowl. I could break it.
I can't pick it out, it's hot as shit. Good sense would tell me that I need to let the bowl cool, imma do that.
I start off the stove and struggle to drain the pot full of water. I lose a lot…
With the remaining filling, I pour off the noodles and beans into the tortilla.
I don't have cheese.
What about mayo? I get a jar of mayonnaise and pour about half into the tortilla. Using a wooden spoon that's half ass broke. I mix it together, shuffling and flinching the contents of my survival around and onto the fucking floor!
But alas I have food!
Why am I so retarded!
.
.
.
I said I was gonna do something at the hospital. I completely forgot about that. I have so much time on my hands, I get the trash together in the kitchen, in my small livingroom, the bathroom, and my room. That's a total of four boxes.
I got a trashcan from the junkyard a mile away and took it upon myself to use empty boxes from amazon. Why do I keep so much junk. I set everything outside the door and use the shopping cart I have in my apartment that seats towards the window looking at the side stairs.
I'm so fucking cluttered with mess. The shopping cart ends up being pushed down the steps and the trash litters the ground but after traveling down to pick up the trash. I go to the large trashcan on the side of the building.
Despite living here for like a year, I don't know anybody. Thank God, I'm six feet two because I have to get the lid off the trash bin. Throwing my trash away, I notice a pair of feet sicking out from the side. I peek, it's just a zombie, he shifts his eyes at me and groans.
"You homeless?" I ask as if it could speak back. "How long you been here?"
He moans. "I see, you got a job?"
It blinks. "Stay up my nigga, it's treacherous out here."
I go back to my apartment and lock up the place, this time I put the cart outside by the steps. I have so much more activities to do with it outside. Like put that tv on the table I got from the junkyard that's like super fancy.
I look like a rich bitch with it.
Instead I go to my room and look through my phone
DUBIOUS: Alexis!
DUBIOUS: I went by your apartment today and left a note. Text me!
-2 hours ago-
DrunkSlut: You called?
DUBIOUS: I am alive after going to walmart.
DrunkSlut: Why? What the fuck happened?
DUBIOUS: You know the walmart near downtown?
DUBIOUS: Somebody stashed bodies near a kiosk and it started a full fucking riot up in that bitch
DUBIOUS: A white lady fell down the stairs like she don't know nothing about the supernatural
DrunkSlut: You lying
DrunkSlut: A kiosk ain't that big
DUBIOUS: I'm talking about the big ones not the machines, dumbo.
DrunkSlut: It's still not that big tho. If somebody stashed bodies in there it was three people or less.
DUBIOUS: Well shit, somebody used magic because they said out there it was like 36 free roaming zombies
DrunkSlut: I got a question. You ever heard of Paul?
DUBIOUS: Logan Paul?
DrunkSlut: No, dumb ass. I forget the name but he made zombies outta kids.
DUBIOUS: My daddy been dead.
DrunkSlut: What!
DUBIOUS: Monroe Paul? Yeah my daddy dead.
Drunkslut: Liar!
DUBIOUS: Nah for real. He got shot.
DrunkSlut: Your dad's a serial killer?
DUBIOUS: We used to rob stores. I grew up homeless, baby. Daddy stole a ice cream truck when I was like thirteen maybe fourteen.
DrunkSlut: Who shot him?
DUBIOUS: The Department's police
DrunkSlut: sorry…
DUBIOUS: It's fine. I'm half vamp and my 'other' daddy had a book
DrunkSlut: What?
DUBIOUS: My other… dad
DrunkSlut: Boy go on.
DUBIOUS: I'm vamp on my mom's side and he's human. Mama tried to get him to be conscious.
Drunkslut: Like drunk or we talking about a witch?
DUBIOUS: they took her real name, I haven't seen my mama in years
DrunkSlut: I saw a zombie outside by the trashcan of my apartment
DUBIOUS: Did it speak?
DrunkSlut: ?
DUBIOUS: You have some zombies with a soul and just empties walking around.
DUBIOUS: Don't worry about getting bitten, they actually don't bite.
DUBIOUS: There are even pet zombies used by vamps from the realm
DrunkSlut: I got followed home once from the club fucking with Cooly
DUBIOUS: They don't bite. Vamps bite when they starving.
DUBIOUS: The body is too rotten for a zombie to do anything. And with a soul, that's not the duty.
DrunkSlut: Well, what do they do?
DUBIOUS: nothin'
DUBIOUS: Some vamps keep zombies around to do chores. Hell, a vamp might keep your granddad around to work in the house.
DUBIOUS: Did you hear about the Slave House in Virginia?
DrunkSlut: Slave house?
DUBIOUS: It's an urban myth but also not.
DrunkSlut: What makes it a myth?
DUBIOUS: I don't live there anymore.