Friday, July 16, 2004
Atkins versus Nicotine
The fat man fought me, but I was too strong. It took only minutes for me to drain the blood from him. He didn’t die, but he did lose consciousness while I bit into his neck. There was no way I could drink enough blood to kill a man of his size. If I tried, I would have too much blood in my system… and get a feeling of being drunk.
Being a petite brunette girl allows me to seduce large men. But the taste of nicotine in his blood irks me, as does his foul odor. He hadn’t bathed today, or perhaps in the last week. He was probably one of those poor slobs who wondered why no woman wanted to date him. I wondered why he believed a beautiful woman like me would ever be interested in a man like him.
I found his wallet tucked inside his jacket pocket. His driver’s license read: David Tresser.
I ignored the credit cards and took the cash from his wallet. He had a lot of cash. With the bad comb over, I imagined him to be a computer programmer.
I left David’s body in the parking lot. He would wake up in a few hours with a bad headache. There were security cameras, but I didn’t care. I sprinted from the parking lot, licking my teeth repeatedly. His blood was terrible. Almost as bad as someone on the Atkin’s diet. If one can be called a professional taste tester for blood, I most certainly qualify. Smoker, no. Atkins, no. Professional athlete… depends on my mood, but no. Too many steroids or muscle enhancers. I have a friend who prefers crackheads, but my friend can be an idiot. I suppose I don’t have a preference for any type of blood. I just know what I don’t like. Is that strange? I don’t like smokers, I don’t like people on the Atkins Diet. To me it just seems like a coin flip as to which is healthiest. Smoking helps people lose weight, so does Atkins. Whatever. Both taste bad.
The headlights flashed on as I climb behind the wheel of my black Porsche. The windows are tinted black incase I don’t make it to Chicago before sunrise. Chicago is not a far drive from Indianapolis, but my gas tank is on empty. Can I make it to the gas station before the prices change again.
Oh… and my name is Meghan Casey Coleman. Yes, I hate my name. My friends call me Casey.