She remembered that. She wished she hadn't. "I SAID MOVE TROLL"
Troll? The things that hide under bridges and look for gold? That was the definition to her. "Get out of me!" Torielle fought the air. Her waist crumpled, "OBEY"
What was she going through? She swung her left arm out, hitting Davea in the jaw and rolling out from under her. The sides of arms were bitten and covered in blood. She ran upstairs, barging into the room and shutting the door. Davea hit the wood and swiped with her nails, eventually breaking her middle fingernail.
"Stupid bitch!" Torielle shouted. She aimed to the right. Cedrica's body was motionless. "Cece…" she stammered. What could have gotten her, she was downstairs. Who was up here?
She got to her knees by Cedrica's body. She put her head on her chest. "Cece?" she shook her. "Bitch stop playing with me!"
Torielle put her lips together. She slapped her, "Cece!" her eyes wandered to the suitcase. Did she get something out of the case? She looked at her sister. "What did you do?" she muttered. She got up and looked at the suitcase. The letter, wand, feather, three photos, and teeth.
Torielle picked up the teeth, "I wonder who this belongs too." They were real teeth. From the looks of it, it was top row of teeth but the canines were sharp. "Who sent this shit…" she sniffed. What happened to the jar of blood?
The bathroom door was beside the bed and open. Torielle went to the bathroom and saw the jar empty. "Did she drink!"
She smacked her sister's body, "Stupid bitch, you probably passed the fuck out. You know what, lay there." Beatings at the door sounded again. "And you can kiss my ass!" she squawked.
So, she was trapped in a house. Davea came back from the dead and tried to eat her. Cedrica drunk blood and passed out.
Was Davea a zombie? Well, she had a bat in the closet and the mop was in there bathroom. She took the mop behind the door. "Alright you undead musty bitch."
Torielle stood in front of the door. Though it might take forever for her to break through, she was prepared to stand for an hour. "I'll knock the dog shit outta that thot." she swung the cleaning object.
The door banged. "You worthless little brat!"
Zombies can't be intelligent. Torielle thought deeply, they shouldn't even be able to speak. When death happens, the brain is dying which meant they had a limited number of functions. Vampires are dead but the body can think. So why wasn't a vampire like a zombie? Was it a ghost? But a ghost was technically to a degree, the equivalent of air.
Ghost could not be seen but Davea was visible.
She couldn't be a zombie, she could talk.
She died and came back. That's a vampire.
How the fuck do you kill a vampire with a mop. With that good source of reason she put the mop down. Should she call an exorcist?
But the definition of an exorcist of a priest that got rid of demon and bad spirits like if somebody's grandma came back because she wanted to keep the house.
And she had come to the conclusion that Davea was a vampire.
So she really she needed Van Helsing.
Davea kept swiping at the door. This clearly wasn't a threat. Could a zombie become a vampire. That didn't make any sense, because a vampire was alive and a zombie was dead.
What was that she said? Obayifo?
She had no idea what that meant. There was still some blood in the jar, maybe she smelled it?
But then she thought, can a vampire smell blood inside a human being. Can smell it in a jar?
The door broke apart. Davea gasped and flew towards Torielle, she grabbed her throat. Torielle pinched her fingers to let go. She to split off a piece of skin till Davea's body dropped her.
She went for her ankles and tripped her. "nigga!"
"Amen!" Torielle went for the mop and swung across Davea's head. Davea caught the mop and pushed it forward, hitting Torielle in the stomach. Once she managed to take it away, she beat her over the head. "By the way…" the woman snickered. "I'm not your mother." Her smile was ugly, Torielle fought not to vomit.
Not her mother?
"This is hilarious…" the zombie bitch chortled. "Yahoska's daughter is a fat troll."
"What?"
"You're mother's a whore." She attempted to strike Torielle but she dodge to the side. With enough bravery Torielle tackled her, making her walk backwards, crashing into the window. She wanted to lift her legs and hoped she fall out but Davea's mouth opened.
"BREAK!"
A wave blew down, her ankles fell and screamed. "What the fuck was that?"
Her vision went out, she blinked rapidly. "Stupid little bitch." Another hit to the head. The ground shook and blood on her lip. Being hard-headed was a good thing. Davea went for another stomp but fell on top of her.
Torielle heard nothing but push the woman off her. "Tori…"
She looked towards the door. Her lip fell. "Lord…"
In the doorway was a man with a set of blue eyes and beefy body. His skin was green and scared. "Tori…"
She backed away, "What… What are you?"
He stepped closer. "Tori, baby let's go…" he lent his hand out. She grimaced, "Baby…"
"I'm your father…"
.
.
.
"Personally I would never eat hairy pussy. It doesn't come to mind."
"Hairy pussy isn't that bad. Pussy is Pussy."
"Nah man, just think. Would you eat spaghetti with hairy in it?"
"No…"
"Exactly, you going for fine cuisine." Curtis kiss his finger tips. "Curtis are we talking about pussy or food?"
"On the contrary, pussy is food. Its mobile."
"Pussy is mobile. Do you hear yourself?" Dareion looked down the train station. "It is!" Curtis pointed to a woman. "Movable pussy." he pointed to a fat lady sitting on the bench. "Pussy!"
"Ok," Dareion nodded. "A bitch in a wheelchair?"
"Handicap niggas need dick and me personally, If she got one leg I'm finna ask."
"So handicap pussy is ok?"
"Yep."
"So you wanna talk about your record?"
"No." he shook his head with a smile. "Stop bringing it up."
"What's wrong with yo' eyes." Dareion clenched his teeth looking at Curtis. "What? They blue. No biggie." He stood by Dareion at the train station with his hands in his pockets.
"I fucked a white bitch." said Curtis. "White pussy is a whole new pussy. THe texture inside the pussy is not like black pussy."
"Spanish pussy?"
"Spanish pussy isn't too bad. But personally, I don't like like Spanish pussy."
"Why?" asked Dareion squinting.
"Can't speak it."
Dareion sighed as he looked at the train coming. "Goddamn what does it take to make you smile?" Curtis said. The doors to the train opened. He stepped in with curtis following behind him. They sat directly next to the door.
"I got cancer."
Curtis's neck twisted, "Nigga!"
"It started in the pancreas. My doctor said I also might have stomach cancer stomach cancer." He looked at the nigga's shocked face. "I was talking about pussy. Pussy is the circle of life and you tell me, that you basically have to quit pussy." Curtis looked as the train filled. "Damn Dare!" he leaned back with his hands behind his head.
"I told Shiloh and she said, rest in peace."
"No she didn't!" he exclaimed. "That's yo girl!"
"I know…" he shut his eyes. "Like that's a whole new level… of hoe-ness. Not whole-ness but H.O.E. Fuck Shiloh. And she pregnant."
"You doing too much…" The train pulled off and the sound was about the calmest thing ever. "So… she's pregnant and you have cancer." Curtis looked at Dareion's dark face. "Don't be sad."
"I ain't sad. I hope she choke on dick." he inhaled. "She's cheating on me."
"With who?"
"Madaki." he blinked at him, turning his head slowly. "Big ass fat nigga."
"She left you for a fat nigga?" he shook his head. "You mean, Chauncey Lyons."
"No, fuck nigga. I don't me the fuckin' albino."
"How could she? After all the sex--"
"Goddamn it Curtis, shut the fuck up. Are you high?"
Curtis's lips drew together. "I had Percocet this morning with a banana, so that was breakfast. Last night, I had lean steak."
"What the fuck is that?"
"I made some lean, cough syrup, soda, and jolly ranchers--"
"On steak?"
"Yep."
"You don't think you have a problem?"
"I shove a black purple dildo in my ass and you have the audacity to ask me that?"
Dareion turned away. "You need help."
"No shit. I take at least seven aspirin a day."
"You wanna robe this train?" he looked at him from the corner of his eye. "What? Nah…" Curtis put his feet in the walkway. "Not yet… let me say that." he pointed to the other row of seats. A man in a black coat looked at them but his face was covered.
He flipped the two off. Curtis pressed his back against the seat. "Who is it?" Dareion murmured. "We gotta find some bodies. That nigga asked for thirty."
"I can give him shiloh's baby…"
"You for real?"
"You know how black bitches is. They want a baby then damning a nigga so that means they never wanted a baby to begin with."
"What you gon do? Wait nine months?"
Dareion licked his lips. "I mean… I can beat a bitch."