I've been dreading this field trip.
Last time, we went to a farm located in the west side of the Quid Est. I was with a group of vampires while Wyleisha, Mokiri, was in the shack. One of the vamps was sleep deprived. I told them to milk some cows and this six-feet-five vampire eats the side of was the cow.
"Alright, everybody board the goddamn bus!" yells Ernestine. "We are not eating much like last time for this so I hope you ate all your breakfast."
We had Buttermilk scones, caper and lemon penne, with cinnamon cupcakes for breakfast. I had a cupcake cake from the longue and leftover spaghetti.
It was cold. The microwave was broken.
I think I'll start eating somebody if this keeps up. I haven't had blood in a while. The plant doesn't prohibit eating the vamps. But I don't wanna be black.
All the vampires of different origins board the bus. I sit in the middle section next to a girl. She's indian. She turns to me and smirks. "Are you a vampire? Or a witch?" she asks.
That question is so hard to respond to. "Witch."
"Really?" she looks at my outfit. "I guess so, you have the gear. So!" she leans in real close. "What's it like being a witch?"
"It's cool."
"So, I got a question. Do witches like eat each other?" she runs her hands through her hair. "Cause like, witches come from vampires--"
"Drunks." I correct.
"Oh, yeah. So like--" shut up. "How do you become a witch?" she squints. "Cause like, I know somebody. Though I haven't seen her in a while. But I wanna talk to her about this thing--"
"What thing?"
"Huh? Like, uh, piano…" she trails off. "And, huh--actually nevermind."
"Who's your friend?" I ask.
"Uh… Coco…"
"Your friend name is Coco?"
"Coco… Ashley?"
The bus moves and as usual we pass the Vybe area and go down the tunnel that leads to Mississppi. On the way to the tunnel, I saw a vampire shoot somebody. I wonder what that was about.
"Did y'all see that green eyed nigga?" shouts somebody.
"Boy, say, I'm happy I never moved here…"
"Bitch, this the Ghytto. You crazy saying you don't wanna live here."
And I know the next voice in front is a fat nigga. "I used to go the corner store and get one of dem honey buns with the white icing."
"I know! The ones with the sprinkles!"
I never had a honeybun like that.
We get into the Mississippi territory. This is Perhume 88. lose to the territory center, you can see a space of dead angels. That's the Torah Walk. I can pick out the bones of wings. If you suck out the marrow in the wings, they say you might be human again or immortal.
And that shit don't exist.
To be in a world where vampire don't live forever and a mere bullet can take anybody out is alarming when vamps have always been everlastinng.
But at the end of the day, it isn't really about that. Dying at everything if you find a good body. But I have heard about vamps… dying twice.
Even people…
We make it to Robinson's Wheelbarrow. As the bus parks on the premises, there's a fat short man with a tan and a crooked wing out his back.
The bus driver opens the door and as always it's a zombie so some human just died today or yesterday, perhaps last week, last year. This is perfectly normal.
I found out what happens to souls that are kicked out the body to make a zoomie (that's what I call them sometimes). You in, and out the next.
"Closwintha…" a paper slaps my shoulder from behind. "These are the instructions for today's activity." says Ernestine. "You got a bonnet?"
"uh… do I need one?"
"That's why I asked…" she glares at me. "It's smokey and you have to deal with oil."
"You mean like a cap and mask. Not a bonnet."
"Same thing."
The man comes on the bus. "Howdy niglets of darkness," he has a wide smile. "I'm your teacher for today's criminal activity, Clifton Harry Hawkins."
Lord…
"I'm a vampire from the south. I used to own a chop shop and survived my first hit and run when was 31. Now, I'm dead." he claps. "We here at the Wheelbarrow dismantle the evidance that was linked to murder, slavery, and can anybody tell me the next one."
The indian girl next to rises her hand. "People?"
"That's right, young lady. That's same thing as racism."
"Y'all get rid of people?" asks a nigga.
"Yep. People, clothes, blood, and right down to the butt crack of sins." he smiles. "Now, we do not discriminate, personally. We work with the chinese and the other yellow folks here. Even though, they are the reason they have this fucking job…" Clifton mutters gritting his teeth. "Anyway! Get out and dressed for hell. It's hot as a devil's fart."
We get off the bus and as you get close to the chop shop, it gets hot. "Ok, ok, I need to make sure nobody is dead on this trip. So everybody line up for roll call." instructs Ernestine. "Elijah West?"
"Here."
"Byron Flynn."
"Can I die?"
"No, and I don't care about your free will." says Ernestine without looking up. "Sat…" she stammers. "Sat…Satti?" she looks up. She put the paper in my view. "Can you read that?" she whipsers. "NO, it's greek."
"Ok," she looks at the paper herself. "S-A-T-Y-R-I-O-N?" she spells. "Honestly, the last perfix I swore it was a nigga." she utters to me.
"It's greek…"
"I'm here."
"Change your name. Oh my fuck--K-L-A-V-D-I-A, last name boy!"
"She committed suicide in her closet." says somebody.
"Well I'll be, if we go home we have to beat Quinn again…" she huffs. "This morning or yesterday?" she yells out.
"She was raped by what's his face." says another. "Well that don't concern me. When did she die?"
"Last night! Goddamn!"
"I'll just write that in, somebody got her body already probably but I'm just keeping note."
What the fuck. "Who did it!" I ask.
"We don't know his former anymore. He black."
"Y'all can't give me nothing?"
"we heard guns last night." I did too.
"I heard guns also, I was in the bathroom, thank God." states Ernestine. "I know two people died in my hall. I sleep on the top floor. Anyway--" she fixes her glasses. "MOSES MORRISON!"
"Dead!" they all announce.
"Ok. RATI SAHRAWI!"
"Dead!"
"GUO PEIZHI."
"Dead!"
What.
"Goddamn. Honeslt I hope they keep saying dead--JASEN MYERS AND QASIM FRANKS.
"DEAD!"
"One more, my eyes hurt." she actuallhy has several other names to go through. "KAEJA CRAIG!"
"DEAD!"
"JOYNISHA DIXON!"
"DEAD"
"JO-LEE FUMIKA"
"DEAD!"
"WYLEISHA GAINS!"
"MISSING!"
"This easy." Ernestine puts a paper or the pervious. "OYAMA KATZ!"
"DEAD!"
"REUBAN GORDON!"
"DEAD!"
"Damn… ALBA LOPEZ!"
"DEAD!"
"nah she ran--"
"Nooo she killed herself!"
"Why is everybody dying?" I question. I got the shivers. "I ain't hungry!"