Dirty Little Secret? (Damien)

[DODES]

The rain was really coming down now, and I was glad I was in a car where I was protected from being drenched. Actually, if you wanted to know the truth, it was quite cozy and warm inside this nice little car. I almost felt sorry for those wandering around outside in the rain—but only almost. Certainly not enough to be offering them any rides. Besides, I doubted Damien would like that too much. He sat next to me, in the passenger seat, and he was handing me the keys for the car’s ignition. Of course, this wasn’t my own car that I was about to drive, but Damien’s, which would explain why I needed him to give me the keys. It was a bit different than usual, though, I must admit. I mean, since it is indeed his car—a terribly expensive and shiny looking Saleen S7 at that—he should be the one to drive it, not the other way around. However, just a few moments earlier, I had simply asked if I could drive, and he simply said, “Sure.” Now I didn’t know if this should make me surprised or indifferent—surprised because it wasn’t the answer I expected, but indifferent because it was the answer I should have anticipated. That is what friends did, wasn’t it? Give you what you want and require nothing in return? The same thing should apply to Damien. He was a friend to me, and I shouldn’t have doubted his sincerity… or generosity… or however you want to put that, so I shouldn’t have been surprised that he was giving me what I wanted. I shouldn’t have expected him to say no and deny my request. Clearly I wasn’t giving him enough credit. So no, even though it wasn’t what I expected, I wasn’t surprised—but I wasn’t really indifferent, either. Grateful was more like it. That would be the logical thing to feel when something you didn’t anticipate was given to you.

“Thanks, DD,” I said, presenting my gratitude as I started the car. “I owe ya one.” Well, I owed him a lot more than one, but I wasn’t about to say ‘thanks, I owe you about 274 953 now.’

After speaking, I put the car into reverse and backed out of the parking space. Other than the constant rumble of the vehicle’s engine, along with the soft patter of rain and the sound of the tires over the pavement, it was fairly quiet, which bothered me somewhat. I never did like the quiet while I was in the company of another person, but since I didn’t have anything of interest to say, I instead turned on the radio. And wouldn’t you know it, a gayass song began blaring. I couldn’t quite place it at first, but the course went something like, ‘don’t tell anyone or you’ll be just another regret—dirty little secret. Who has to know?’ Like I said, fairly homo-like, especially since it was men who were singing it. I would bet ten bucks that their dirty little secret was that they were gay.

It would amuse me if I was right.

I gave a side glance toward Damien, having half a mind to change it, but didn’t bother because my hands were a bit too preoccupied with driving. At the moment, I needed to turn out of the parking lot, and there was a fair amount of traffic streaming by that prevented me from doing so. I would rather get out of here as soon as possible than waste time on changing the radio station when the song was most likely about to end anyway. Despite this, though, I couldn’t help but think that the song was rather irritating. I mean I really did not care about whatever the hell his dirty little secret was. Like I had already said, it was probably him coming out of the closet, and if that was the case, then I really, REALLY did not care.

I was regretting turning on that radio now and my fingers drummed along the steering wheel absently to present my agitation.

Eventually, after much waiting, I was given the chance to turn, and I did so without even realizing that I didn’t know which way I was supposed to be going. We had only discussed who was driving, not where we were going and what we were doing once we got there. That little bit of information had simply slipped my mind, and wouldn’t you know it, I acted without even considering it. All I wanted to do was see how fast this baby could go, but I couldn’t really do that on these busy city streets, meaning that I was basically stuck with asking Damien. “So Damien...” I said evenly, careful not to sound annoyed because of the song, which was, evidently, still playing as I gave him a side glance. “Vhere to?”

(See, I toldja it wasn't good man. rofl. The title matches its... badness... rofl.)

[AKREE]

The car’s door opened easily enough, I climbed in and sat down, turning my head to the driver’s seat just in time to see Vincent climb in, I stretched out my hand, the key dangling from my fingers and Vince took it eagerly enough. I was beginning to wonder whether it was that I had a ‘bad friend’ seal stamped across my forehead and hadn’t noticed it or if I really was such a bad friend. But I had little time to wonder since the expression (or rather slim flash of it) was wiped away from Vince’s face soon enough. Sometimes I wished I wasn’t so skilled at reading people’s faces, when it came to Vince’s odd reactions most times I was left guessing, like now. Of course I could always ask it myself, but I guess I just respected Vince’s privacy to ever seriously ask him about what was he feeling at a certain time, of course I might sometimes do it when teasing… or drunk, but it wasn’t really meant for Vincent to answer truthfully, rather to annoy him or amuse him. Then I caught myself over thinking things again, what did it matter? If something was bothering Vince he would tell me about it… eventually, that’s what friends were for, right? I wouldn’t mind helping Vince, he could just ask for anything he wanted, that’s what best friends forever did. Hehhehe, best friends forever, I amuse myself. So yeah, Vince was my BFF he would most definitely tell me if he needed something or something was bothering him, then it would be Damien to the rescue! Yeah, see, all solved now Damien. That sounded good enough… but maybe it wasn’t like that? Oh fuck, how the fuck was I supposed to know? Vincent was the only friend I knew, a fuck, I’m a mess. Maybe I should hire a shrink… then kill the bastard; I don’t need anyone telling me I should be in a cuckoo nest. I didn’t, ok?

Shit, Damien, silence your internal blabber, blabber be gone! No need worrying about such an idiotic thing, Vince would be Vince no matter the circumstance; he was impulsive and liked cars. Now see, that was better, think about the nice car because it’s probably the last time you’ll see it so nice, sleek and shiny. Yes, that’s right think about the nice car. Now I wondered if Vince would cause much damage to it, I know he would probably, y’know… regret it or at least say his sorry and try to pay up, but really now, I had enough money of my own to pay for a… screwed up car and if I liked I would buy another of these. I turned my eyes towards Vince who had grabbed the keys, put them in the ignition. The car started up with a nice purr, this is why I like nice expensive, fast cars they start up with a gentle purr then can go from zero to 872 346 782 534 856 378 in ten seconds. “Thanks, DD,” he said, I just offered h9m my best imitation of a smirk, I say imitation because I doubt it looked very real on my face. Hm, maybe I should try practicing how to smile… “I owe ya one.” I looked up this time, startled and even insulted he would suggest he owed me anything. It was just a car and it was my… pleasure to bring joy to Vince’s life, another thing that came in hand with friendship, I guess. I mean, I wouldn’t mind if Vince repaid me with something to eat, but y’know it wasn’t necessary.

I shrugged “No you don’t” I muttered simply. Vince didn’t owe me anything,… guess I had to make that point clear, whether to myself or him I wasn’t completely sure, but justy snuggle up in your seat Damien, no need to worry about that, don’t think about. Don’t you dare think about it, good boy.

After that little chat, Vincent backed up and decided to turn on the radio. Meanwhile I concentrated on looking directly in front of me, watching the cars move in and out, probably created in the panic of Vince’s little show, or maybe going home I had no bloody idea what hour it was. My eyes flicked momentarily to the dash, the digital clock marking 11:56, I guess people come out of work at this hour and maybe for a vampire or two it might be lunch time, yum, I could use lunch. Maybe we could go to a restaurant or something and grab a bite, a vampire restaurant of course, maybe we could get some little snack on the street, but that would be to much work, I wasn’t feeling like going through the world of finding some yummy human, maybe a bit lazy, I face it, but I don’t know what Vincent had in mind. Guess I would leave the driving to him; I really didn’t care as long as we were away from this place, Vince’s mess and I wanted my shoe back. I looked at the sock where my shoe should be and almost sighed. Vincent owed me a shoe, that’s what he owed me. I wanted some food and new shoes. Then again, I had plenty of money to get my own shoes at any given time, but if I decided that I was feeling too peckish we wouldn’t be able to go to any of my favorite restaurants. You had to be fully dressed, though I’m quite sure they wouldn’t dare deny my entry, I was to filthy rich for that, but it would ruin my Vito the Serious image and Vince would have to pay for that. There I go, over thinking stuff again, it was rather simple to fix, kill the bastards that dare talk about you, see simple.

This is when I really noticed the gay song that was playing on the radio. I couldn’t quite place it yet except that I had listened to it somewhere, that gay rhythm and lyrics were unmistakable, then I placed it a that very gay song belonging to an even more gay band Dirty Little Secret. I blinked once I realized this and a cruel smirk plastered across my expression, which I then directed at Vince. Some new idea to tease Vince popped into my head, of course the smirk was wiped off my face soon enough, replaced by me normal serious expression. “Nice song, Vincie.”

[/b] I said, keeping my careful, calculating gaze on him. “So… You’ve got any dirty little secrets you’d like to tell your best friend?”[/b] I continued, the cruel smirk returning to my face. After watching Vince’s reaction for a few seconds I turned my head to look directly in front of me, already puzzling over what to think and fingering the bag of gummy bear in my inside jacket pocket. Oh, I guess I would be polite and offer Vince some, but he said he didn’t like gummy bears. Sadness.

“So Damien... Vhere to?” asked Vincent. Now this was indeed a question, I myself wasn’t sure. I really had no place to go to, I guess. I just reasoned Vincent would have any idea of a place to go, which he would simply decide to drive to without waiting for my input on such a matter. Besides, I really didn’t care, he could try to drive the car over water for all I cared at the moment, I was bored, for Pete’s sake. I was kind of hoping Vincent would do what he wanted and entertain me for a minute or two, an adventure. So yeah, drive the car to a wall, but you’re paying for it, man. Just so you know, of course you can’t read my mind, while I think of what to say, but maybe you should. Anyways, what to answer that would please all of us? Well, maybe I should just joke with it and have Vince do whatever he wanted to do or take it the way he wanted to take it, better to appear joking than an idiot, in my opinion. But then again, he might just take it wrong…

You know what Damien? What? Shut your internal blabber up! You’re over thinking stuff again. Ohshit, you’re right, ok, shutting up now.

“I thought you wanted to try this baby out, guess I was wrong.” [/blockquote]

[DODES]

Well, this was boring. If you’ve ever sat inside a parking lot while you watched traffic stream by as you waited for the smallest break in its flow so you could merge and get the hell out of there, you’d know what I’m talking about. What’s worse, the music on the radio gave me half a mind to scream, “AHHHH MY EARS,” that’s how bad it was. It saddened me to think that people actually enjoyed whatever sort of music this was. As I had already established, I was in a tremendously boring predicament here, and if you knew me at all, you’d know that I couldn’t stand boring. I was restless and my mind needed constant stimulation, otherwise… Well, I don’t know what would happen otherwise. I never really wanted to find out, but nothing good, I’m sure. I could… implode or something because of my own boredom… but I must admit, if I had to choose a way to die, imploding would be one of my top choices. Just imagine it. One day, you’re casually walking down the street, not a care in the world, and all of a sudden, WHAM. Your head implodes. Simply imagining the shocked faces of random bystanders amused the hell out of me. I don’t know, though… which would be better? Imploding, or exploding? With exploding, little pieces of yourself would spew everywhere and cause those random bystanders to not only be shocked, but disgusted as pieces of flesh and blood stuck to their skin and clothes. I’m sure some people would begin screaming as well… Yeah, that would be fairly epic. Even in death, I would give people a hassle. Too bad, though. To my knowledge, I didn’t have an active bomb in my head, so that would probably never happen. So much for my hopes and dreams…

Then again, I could put a bomb in someone else’s head and videotape it as it exploded for a keepsake. I’m sure that video would never get old… Ahahaha… hahahahah…. It amused me just thinking about it. The only problem was—where the HELL would I get a bomb? I’m sure everything else would be a piece of cake, but it wasn’t as though bombs grew on trees. Ah hell, what was I worrying about? I had Damien here. I’m sure he’d know a thing or two about bombs… One day, when I’m feeling especially ambitious, I’ll have to bring it up. Not today, though. I was content with imaging it for now. Just think of the sound it would make… ahahah… hahahah… I’m fairly certain I had a fairly moronic smile on my face right about now, but I really couldn’t care less. Only Damien would witness it, and for all he knew, I could be smirking at the... lovely weather we’re having. Yes, of course. That’s what I was all smiley about.

Soon, however, this smile faded as my patience slowly ebbed away. Really now, how many cars are there in this fucking shit can? Did they just plan to all drive passed here at this particular moment so they could make my life miserable? Yes, I believe that is what’s happening… The world conspiring against me… Even Damien seemed to be against me, claiming that I didn’t owe him anything when I really did. I owed him a lot. Believe me, I was keeping track. It didn’t matter much what Damien said because it didn’t change my mind set. I still owed him one, whether he thought so or not. How else did he expect me to present my gratitude? Singing it from the rooftops? Although that method may work, it wasn’t exactly my… style. So you know what? Damien was going to have to live with my random bouts of kindness and overprotectiveness, if that’s a word… Anyway, he should consider himself lucky that I wasn’t embarrassing myself and him by shouting from the rooftops.

Now then… where was I?

Oh, that’s right—turning out of this parking lot. See, I’d been waiting so long, I had nearly forgotten, but thank god, a red light must have came up somewhere because there was now a long line of empty space—also known as the perfect opportunity for me to pull out, which I did so without hesitation. A simple matter, really. All it took was a turn of the wheel and a foot on the gas pedal, then VOILA. You’re on the road—about damn time, too. I was running out of things to conjure up. At least this way, I was driving and therefore occupied with something other than my thoughts, and thank god for that. My mind can get quite tiresome if I spend too much time with just it alone, and my thoughts just seemed to slow down like an overworked computer, but luckily, I wouldn’t have to worry about that while I was driving. You see, no matter how much experience you’ve had with driving, it seems to never get easier because of the idiot drivers you have to share the road with that are always making your life difficult. Speeding always made things a bit more challenging, too, and in case you’re wondering, YES, of course I’m speeding right now.

“Nice song, Vincie,” Damien commented, reminding me of that dreaded song on the radio I had long since forgotten about. I gave him a side glance for a moment or two, but for the most part kept my eyes on the road and allowed him to continue. “So… You’ve got any dirty little secrets you’d like to tell your best friend?” he said, and I smirked a bit. I should have known some remark like that was bound to come with this gayass song playing. “Actually, fhere is somet'ing I vanted to tell you…” I replied seriously, the smirk falling from my face as I spoke. I wanted to make him wonder if I was joking or not. It was only fair. He had brought up the topic in the first place.

I looked at him now from the corner of my eye as I drove. “You know that piercing you got me?” I continued, the smirk returning to my face. I knew he’d know what I was talking about. I can’t recall how it had come about now, but somehow, someway, I had taken up a dare to see how many drinks it would take to get me drunk—and I mean, really drunk. I remember that, earlier that day night, Damien had been joking around, saying that I ‘needed a belly button ring’ or something along those lines, and I had said, “You’d have to get me real drunk to get one of those.” I had been kidding, of course, but I suppose Damien had taken that literally, and when I woke up that morning with a horrible hangover, I couldn’t help but laugh when I saw that my belly button had been, well, pierced. I had no memory of it, of course, since I had to be fairly drunk to willingly get my belly button pierced. Despite this, though, I had a fairly good idea that this was all Damien’s doing.

My eyes returned to the road, but my smirk only grew larger. “Vell, I vanted to let ya know dat I took it out. Dat is my dirty little secret.” As I spoke, my hand reached out toward the radio, turning the knob a few notches to find a half decent station. Sure enough, it wasn’t long before Highway to Hell replaced that ear-burning, questionably gay music.

Now this was my kind of music. I was much more content now, driving along to this other than whatever that other shit was.

After I had asked Damien of his input on where we should go, I was forced to come to a stop for a red light. Damn. I took this as an opportunity to relax for a moment as I awaited for the light to change and for Damien’s reply. You know, it’s a good thing me and Damien are about the same height, because I don’t have to worry about adjusting the seat or mirrors. Nifty, eh? I should borrow his cars more often…

“I thought you wanted to try this baby out, guess I was wrong,” Damien remarked while the light was still red. I looked at him, taking this as a challenge. It was true that I did want to test it out, but man, I didn’t think that’s what he was expecting me to do. Besides, me ‘testing out’ any car risked plenty of damage to the vehicle, and it never occurred to me that Damien would allow me to do that. Then again, it is just a car. It could be repaired. And plus, that’s where all the challenge was—driving recklessly and not damaging the vehicle in the process. I mean anybody could drive like a maniac and end up in an accident, but it took a skilled driver to do the same and not even have a scratch.

“Alright, den,” I replied, turning my attention to the road once more as a slight smirk lined my lips. “If dat’s the vay you vant it...”

Shortly after I had spoken, the light turned and I hardly hesitated in flooring the gas pedal. Man, let me tell you—they weren’t lying when they said this thing could go from 0-60 in a few seconds. It was AWESOME. I swear my expression must have resembled the look of a little kid who had just been brought into the biggest toy store ever built. Okay, well, maybe not quite that far, but I believe you get my point. It was sort of like a roller coaster, though, with the speed of it literally pushing you against the seat and the engine roaring with effort as the tires kicked up the rain water on the cemented roadway. Yep, it was fairly epic.

Much too soon, however, I was forced to brake to prevent myself from rear-ending the vehicle in front of us, and it was so sudden that the force of it jolted me forward, reminding me of the reason why we wear seatbelts. “Better buckle up,” I remarked, mostly as joke because I doubted Damien would comply, especially when I myself wasn’t even buckled up. I hardly cared, though. Sometimes I thought flying through a windshield would be quite the experience, and me being a vampire and all, I had nothing holding me back. I was fairly sure I could fly through as many windshields as I wanted… or I hoped so, anyway.

Geh. 4 hours to type that, man. FOUR I TELL YOU. I WAS COUNTING. rofl

[AKREE]

This was getting to be real boring, like boring boring. That sucks, that sucks so badly I wish I was somewhere else. Like my hometown, Italy was such a nice place, maybe it was because I was used to everything there, but I just preferred Italy over London, I didn’t have to fake a stupid English accent that way. I wonder if Vincent had any idea I was Italian and not English, it would amuse me and there was the tiny fact that if Vincent discovered this he would be a pain in the arse for a good while. I looked sideways at Vince, he looked as bored as I felt, but still it would be better if he tried to revive a conversation, because I was just to bored I fingered the walkie-talkie still stuffed there in my jacket pocket, it was a tiny thing, consisting of an ear piece and a tiny black box that had batteries and what not. The conversation was more interesting when I killed someone with my shoe… talking about my shoe… Vince you dog, you still owed me a god forsaken shoe so you better notice it or I will kick your butt when you so much as breathe the way I don’t approve. Of course, right now I guess I had to wait for his gaze to stray to my sock… then notice it… and make some nice comment about buying me shoes… then again, guess it wasn’t really that necessary since I could get some damned shoes whenever I wanted, but like I said before I am hungry and repeating the subject. Why do I keep prating about the same things? I should mentally slap myself, there, did that hurt? No, it didn’t, ‘cause I only mentally slapped myself, it doesn’t hurt. Damn, if I slap myself in broad moonlight would Vince notice? Yes, yes he would, if not he’d just be plain deaf and blind, in which case that would be a problem because he’s driving…

Well, guess I will have to live with it…

Damn it all.

Another side glance at Vince made me realize he was smiling like a moron. What the hell was he on? I even though of peering closely at him to see if he was really smiling like a moron or was it a trick of the light? Could be, though… Vince is not like me, he smiles as his heart desires, guess he must really trust me… wait Damien boy, for how long have you known him? And yet you still doubt Vincent trust? Well… no, it’s not that I didn’t trust Vince, it’s just that I over think stuff to much, of course I trust that smiling moron, who else would let me get them to wear a friendship ring and then complain and be mock hurt when he doesn’t? I’ll tell you who, no one else, Vincent is the only person I can be… Damien-like with… as gay as that sounds, but you shut the fuck up, he’s my BFF and I like hanging around the smiling moron monkey mutant. So what? Wait; maybe it’s this gay song getting into my head… Yes, must be stupid gay song of death I hope you rot in the fiery pits of hell for influencing my thoughts in such a matter. Still Vince had that moronic grin plastered across his face, now I was getting curious. What the fuck was he thinking about? Now I wanted to know, I should ask him, I could ask him, but when I finally made my mind up to make some smart remark about it instead of directly asking, this way there was a chance he would tell me –however small- and I didn’t appear rude or whatnot, but when I decided to ask him the smile wore off and he was almost glaring at the lovely stream of cars speeding past us, like a wall of moving projectiles. Ah, Vince, you’ll never change with your none-patience. The very thought seemed more comforting… guess it was just so like Vince, either way there was a break in the traffic and you can bet Vincent didn’t waste the opportunity, he stepped on it and was soon enjoying the semi-open streets. Good for him.

He didn’t say anything to my comment about not owing me anything, because it was true, but Vincent seemed thoughtful. I really wish he wouldn’t do that. He was my friend; I really did think he didn’t owe me shit; just a new shoe is he was really feeling like being cooperative. I mean, really Vince was being way too… Vince-like, we’ve known each other for eight years, eight fucking years I should think about proposing at these heights. In fact, we should have a friendship anniversary, y’know treat each other to have a little fun with a girl or two… though we could do that in a daily basis, really but maybe the fact that it was on that day would make it… special? I amuse myself, maybe I should even suggest the idea to Vince, I’m pretty sure he would be equally amused. Even though my idea of a party wouldn’t be getting bloody drunk senseless than having sex, but not sure if Vince would have the same opinion. It was hard to remember what you had done when you were drunk, even harder still to remember how you ended up in a certain place, but let me assure you, I am not the type to get drunk just for kicks, blame Vincent if I ever do, he makes me get drunk. I mean it; it’s like some puppy dog’s eyes or something gay and fag-ish like that ‘cause every time he invites me to a drink I can’t refuse even though I know the consequences, I know I will end up dead drunk with Vincent and probably try something out I would never try under different circumstances. Point being, he doesn’t owe me anything and never will, BBFs I say!

Vince simply stepped on the gas pedal and began speeding himself through the street, having to dodge, signs and maybe even a cat trying to cross the street at the time, but his speeding was nothing really, there were always slow driver in London, but there were always the ones that decided enough was enough and sped their way to the street like it was nothing, most of them had nice cars like this one and had lots and lots of money, that way they could buy themselves out of a measly ticket, having now the opportunity to come out of their little race with clean reputations. Their criminal record would be so sparkly clean and glittering you would consider it a work of art. Just like mine and Vince’s was, of course I was one of the richest vampires in London, so it wasn’t all that amazing or anything, it was just what money could buy these days and I was sure it would only get worse. Basically, everyone was out to get theirs and this make the local mafia very happy, it was easier to buy yourself out of such things or even stop they altogether, all part of our little London culture. Crime, crime, murder and more crime.

“Actually, fhere is somet'ing I vanted to tell you…” Vince sounded deadly serious, which would explain why my head rotated back to his general direction, eye brow arched in something between confusion and disbelief, if it was important he would have told me a good while ago, so it could be something that only mattered to him. He waited for a time, which bothered me, I was about to open my mouth (I mean even if I was patient it didn’t mean I would leave a sentence hanging for so long) but Vince decided to ease my curiosity with saying: “You know that piercing you got me?” said Vincent and I couldn’t help but smirk cruelly at the memory. I had offered Vincent a belly button ring that day and Vincent had joked that I would have to get him really drunk for that to work. I was pretty sure he didn’t mean it literally, but I made it my sole mission in life to get to do that and it had been fairly simple actually, I had offered Vince to a few drinks and dared him, Vincent couldn’t turn down such a direct challenge and began swallowing one drink after another until he finally was so drunk he almost fell and I had to grab him. I had pretended to drink, I was actually throwing them away every time Vincent could the teeniest bit distracted, but let me tell you if I had one of those shots that day I’d be exaggerating. After that, when Vincent almost passed out in my arms I dragged his arse to get his belly button pierce, I picked a very gay pimp-ish looking one, I nice expensive diamond encrusted on the silver edging and everything. Could bet when Vincent woke up he knew immediately I was behind that little prank and the very memory of that amused me to no end.

That’s what you get for being my friend Vince.

I turned my full attention to Vince, letting him know it was my invitation to continue with his little secret. I would have said something, but I knew Vincent wouldn’t keep my waiting, not really. “Vell, I vanted to let ya know dat I took it out. Dat is my dirty little secret.” he said. For a minute I was so amused, to think I might have even laughed right there and then and to my amazement, oh god do my ears betray me? I do believe I laughed a little, a very tiny little. What is this am I dead or something is someone dying? No, I don’t think so I was really that amused. But of course, it didn’t last that long, not really. “But Vincent, that symbolized our friendship, how could you?”

[/b]I said, sounding so miserably hurt and offended that the difference between those two reactions would make anyone’s head spin. But, again, my laugh was only heard by a very distinctive few, Vince should be considered proud of himself to really amuse me that much. But that was just my opinion, Vincent knew me well and he knows I rarely laugh unless it’s that sadistic laugh of mine when I kill something… or someone. Either way, that’s of no concern now. What is of any concern is that Vincent removed my gift. I will me mock hurt now. Immediately after I settled my mind I dropped my gaze and turned to look thoughtfully out the window, I was hurt, my best friend just removed the belly button ring I gifted him. You’re hurt Damien, man you’re a good actor, I can just see how miserable I look in the mirror, it really does look like Vincent had deeply wounded me, ripped my own heart out and threw it against the ground, stomped it and spit on it. Damn, my thoughts are to funny, concentrate man, your best friend did you wrong. Your BFF just cruelly rejected your very nice gift…

How… woeful.

After we hit a red light and Vincent was busy musing about where we would go, my answer seemed to surprise him for a minute or two. He honestly looked a bit shocked then turned thoughtful, then he turned accepting than the full force seemed to hit him and he seemed to consider it less and be ready for any kind of high-speed cop chase. Of course, Vince being Vincent Fromm he could never say no to such an offer and I could see how his eyes seemed to sparkle with resolve as he must really and I do mean really consider my words and make use of them rather quickly. But whatever he was a slight grin crept to his face and I could tell he had something in mind. “Alright, den, if dat’s the vay you vant it...” he said. I rotated my head and met his gaze with my own deadly serious one, Vince should know by now that I didn’t like kidding around too much; he also should give me more credit. I knew he wanted to try out the car’s speed just as much as a little kid wanted the biggest toy in the whole store.


I discovered something very interesting today; you know the concept ‘floor it’? Well, I must say Vincent took that very literally, why you ask? Because I just think he pressed the gas pedal so hard his foot must have touched the street under the car and he very literally tried it out, the car was getting going really fast really quick and I must say I enjoyed driving with Vince. At least he appreciated having this much speed as much as I did, my expression remained serious, but anyone that knew me well could catch that spark in my eyes that I was enjoying myself very much, though Vincent was a bit preoccupied with dodging vehicles and whatnot to catch it. Then he was forced to break or experience the marvels of flight once a car was crashed and the sudden breaks made me be jolted forward. Thank the heavens for fast reflexes, else I think I might have face slammed against the dash, I held myself against the seat and managed a glare in Vince’s general direction, warning him not to rear-end any vehicles, no matter how much he was tempted to. “Better buckle up,”

“My mother will buckle up, just drive.” I said sounding more like a might have been grinning, but of course it was just serious ol’ me.

[/blockquote]

[DODES]

I watched silently as the windshield wipers swiped back and forth across the window before me in a momentous pattern. First they would swipe the rainwater upward, making an almost squealing sound as they rubbed across the glass, then they would return to their place on the vehicle’s hood. In the wiper’s absence, water would sprinkle onto the windshield once more, gravity pulling it downward, and their descent creating snake-like trials along the glass. But then came the wipers, and in seconds, there wasn’t a trace of rain left on the windshield. This hardly lasted, however, since the rain was relentless and continued to pour, making more snake-like patterns that were eventually swiped away. It was like an endless battle between water and wiper—a fairly boring battle, at that. Each round was the same. Maybe the water would fall a different way, or the wipers would wipe at a different time, but really, it was much of the same. I only watched it because there was nothing else that could hold my attention. Awaiting for traffic to clear was such a boring task, but somehow, I didn’t mind it all that much. Just being in a vehicle with the wheel in front of me and the pedals beneath me seemed to make up for it. I supposed I was only eager to move, and displeased that the traffic prevented me. Yes, that was my mood right now—displeased, a mild form of annoyance. My face, however, didn’t mirror my current feelings. In fact, my expression was quite the opposite as I mused over what sort of sound an exploding human’s head would make. Quite the amusing thought, if you ask me. So amusing, in fact, it had my lips curled into what I’m sure was a fairly moronic smile. In one of my side glances toward Damien, I realized that he was staring at me fairly intently, probably mulling over the reasons behind this smile on my face. I didn’t mind much—he could mull that over as much as he wants, but I doubted he could ever guess what my thoughts were. This only caused the smile plastered across my face to grow larger as I contemplated the things he could possibly guess. Perhaps he was thinking I was on some sort of euphoric drug. He clearly wouldn’t know me at all then, but it was a possibility. You know, the ‘Vince is unnaturally happy, maybe he’s on drugs,’ possibility. Or there was also the ‘maybe he’s drunk’ possibility as well, but no. I was merely amused by my own thoughts, which was just as effective as drugs or alcohol, in my opinion, though my amusement was only short lived. Soon enough, I was back to glaring at the stream of traffic, as if glowering at it long enough would cause a break in its flow.

And apparently it did because shortly after, a gap in the steady stream of cars formed, which I had drove into much too eagerly. I supposed I was just relieved that I wouldn’t be forced to wait any longer than I already had. If you knew me, you’d know that I despised any waiting of any sort and I’m always glad when it ends.

Anyway, so there we were, driving along and dodging slow-moving vehicles and the occasional pedestrian when they decided to randomly waltz out onto the street. Well, okay… so most times there was a crosswalk painted on the road where the pedestrians were walking that I simply decided to ignore, but really, what is it that people are expecting in the west end of London? If they want civility, they would be sourly disappointed. Anything run by vampires would hardly be civil, let me assure you. Well, unless you considered murderous blood sucking civil… Who knows, you could be that sort of person. There are plenty of whackos out there. As a matter of fact, why was I even wasting my time with these thoughts? I supposed I was simply bored… this is the effects boredom has on me.

As luck would have it, it was Damien to the rescue, saving me from my bored thoughts with one of those bantering remarks of his. Of course, the setting was perfect for it—being in a car didn’t give me the option to simply walk away and pretend I never heard it or something of that sort—and the music playing on the radio was the perfect opportunity. It was that gayass song that I was busy trying to ignore, Dirty Little Secret. I only say this was the perfect opportunity because the very title of the song would give Damien ideas—and wouldn’t you know it, not long after I thought this, he had inquired if I had any dirty little secrets. See what I mean? I couldn’t help but smirk. Not only had his question amused me, but Damien could be quite predictable at times.

Multiple possible answers immediately came to me, but only one was notable, and that was the memory of my belly button piercing. Long story short, I was drunk, and Damien was there. That should be enough of an explanation. The next morning when I had awakened with one hell of a hangover and a chunk of metal above my belly button, I couldn’t help but laugh and, of course, remove it. A belly button ring for a straight man just wasn’t right.

Anyway, I had confessed that to him, saying I had removed the piercing and claiming it was my ‘dirty little secret’. I was only kidding in the hopes that it would amuse him. That’s what friend’s did, after all—amused each other.

I grinned, giving him a side glance as I drove to analyze his reaction. At first, his face bore a smirk—a rare occurrence, in Damien’s case. To be able to put that smirk there with such ease caused a twinge of pride within me. Yeah, I’ll admit it—I’m proud to be Damien’s friend. It was such a feat to have accomplished, you can’t really help it. Damien wasn’t the type of guy to have people lining to meet him, if you know what I mean. Me, though—I had line-ups miles long with people waiting… to get out the back door, that is. But that’s what made us perfect for each other.

As I continued with my confession, Damien had offered something even rarer than a smirk, and that was a laugh. It was a small, of course, but I don’t think you could hear anything more than that from Damien. The only real exception occurs when he’s in the process of killing someone, in which he may offer a malicious laugh, but there’s a difference between that laugh and this one. Again, I couldn’t help but feel a bit of pride for hearing this laugh instead of the other. However, this wasn’t much of an unusual occurrence for me, and therefore this sense of pride was only short lived. I had caused such a reaction in Damien many times before, and now it wasn’t too note worthy.

What is note worthy, however, is Damien’s extreme mood swing. It had happened so quickly that it nearly confused me. See, one moment he was laughing, and now, he appeared upset and offended. “But Vincent, that symbolized our friendship. How could you?” he asked, sounding genuinely miserable. I glanced at him in slight amusement because I, for one, knew he was only feigning these feelings as a way to pull at my leg—something Damien liked to do a bit too much, if you ask me. But for the time being, his leg pulling was on the comical side and for now I’d play along. No harm in that, was there? “T’was easy, actually. All I had to do vas pull it out,” I replied very matter-of-factly, taking the literal meaning of the question instead of the inferred one and pointing out the obvious. “Now de hole in my stomach can symbolize our friendship,” I reasoned, now partially distracted by driving. There was no hole in my stomach, I had to admit. There had been one, but it had healed long ago. I was only exaggerating, really, now trying to pull his leg instead of him always pulling mine. I preferred my leg unpulled, thank you very much.

Now my thoughts had strayed from Damien, focusing on my driving as I literally floored the gas pedal. Don’t blame me—it was Damien who suggested I ‘test it out’. For me, a skilled driver (if I do say so myself), this is what’s considered testing. The thrill of speeding 5x over the suggested limit was actually rather entertaining. It was more of a challenge, really—I mean, it made evading those pedestrians plenty more difficult. So difficult, in fact, that I’m fairly certain I nearly ran a few over. I’d already nearly had a collision with another car, but thank god this thing had good brakes, because without them, I would have surely crashed right into it. Because of my reckless driving, I had even requested that Damien buckled up, more as a joke than anything since I knew he wouldn’t, especially if I myself had no intentions of buckling up, either. It ruined the risk of it that way—the risk of suddenly flying through the windshield. “My mother will buckle up. Just drive,” Damien replied, his tone a bit amused as he did as I predicted, which was to not take my request seriously. That was alright, though. If he flew through the windshield at some point throughout this test drive, he can’t say I didn’t warn him. Of course, I was fairly confident that my driving would prevent this from happening, and I was hoping it would. I mean, the thought may be amusing now, but I don’t think I could stand witnessing Damien going head first out of a windshield. The only thing I wanted to see him come head first out of is his mother’s womb, and that was that.

…

Actually, I would never, ever want to lay eyes on that in my life. I was only providing it as an example to prove my… what’s the word… some positive emotion… caring. Yeah, that was it. I was only providing it as an example to prove my caring attitude toward Damien. With that in mind, why don’t I just shoot an amused remark right back at him? “Vhat does it look like I’m doing, scratching my ass?” I said, referring to his ‘just drive’ comment. I was hoping he knew that this was a rhetorical question, because I really wasn’t scratching my ass, and therefore I really hoped it didn’t look like I was. What I was doing was driving like a maniac, and thus I hoped it looked like I was driving like a maniac. You see those people we just sped by? If they hadn’t seen me coming and stopped, I would have surely ploughed right through them. See, driving like a maniac, alright. Actually, to be frank with you, it was rather disappointing. I always had this desire to run someone over. It would be especially fulfilling if their skull cracked open on the windshield, but then again, it would be a bit difficult to see through the blood and brains—rather inconvenient, if you asked me. But you know, the rain would wash that off… it’d be no skin off my back… With this in mind, I deduced that this whole not running a random pedestrian over was actually fairly disappointing. I would have done it purposely, but it simply wouldn’t be as amusing that way.

And would you speak of the devil; just as I was thinking these thoughts, the Saleen’s headlights caught the movement of something or other that had stopped in mid-roadway—I hadn’t the faintest idea of what it was. All I knew is that if I came into contact with it at the speed I was going, nothing good would happen. Naturally, my agile, lightning-like reflexes (again, if I do say so myself) came into play and shifted my foot from the gas pedal to the brake. Almost immediately the car slowed, but because of the intense speed we were going and abrupt halt, the tires squealed against the rain-ridden pavement and I was violently jerked forward. In fact, I was fairly certain my head took a good hit from the steering wheel—which would make it twice in that one day. Now what sour luck was that? Maybe that whole seatbelt concept wasn’t such a bad idea… but look on the bright side… at least I hadn’t crashed into anything. I suppose the aching in my head was just a small sacrifice for that.

I sat up, doing one of three things—first was looking at what I had nearly ploughed through, and standing stock still before the vehicle was a young girl, frozen with shock and her clothes soaked with rain. Her features were eliminated by the vehicle’s headlights, and I swear I could have seen her before… Just then, a flash of recognition shot through me, and I could clearly remember that same face earlier that night. It was that girl—the same girl that I had nearly collided with in my previous reckless driving incident that occurred on this night of nights. It seems she didn’t learn her lesson the first time and had now come back for more. The little bitch. It would have been much more satisfying to teach her to look before she crossed by sending her right into next week with this car. Once she was in a wheelchair from all the broken bones I would give her, I don’t think she’d be so careless about not looking both ways. Certainly her brush with death would teach her. Then again, killing her would be much less trouble. As a matter of fact, what I should be doing right about now is stepping on the gas pedal while she stood there like a dazed deer.

However, before I could act on this impulsive thought, my attention was drawn to the second thing I needed to be doing, which was, of course, check on Damien. My attention refocused on him, turning my head toward him as I ignored the honks of the other vehicles behind me. They could manoeuvre around me if they were in that much of a rush, after all. Plus, I hardly gave two shits about them—it was Damien I was worried about.

“You alright dere, Damien?” I asked, genuinely concerned. Immediately after speaking, however, I regretted ever opening my mouth. Now this was only because of the pungent scent of blood that came when I inhaled. Once reaching a hand to my nose, I realized that I was bleeding—again. Well, that was just perfect, now wasn’t it? Two nosebleeds in one day—the first from my earlier head-bashing-against-the-steering-wheel incident, and the second from just a few seconds ago. And all because of that damn girl, too. Stupid bitch. It was really too bad that she seemed to regain her composure and moved her ass off the road because I have half a mind to, as I said, plough her straight into next week. However, I had already missed my chance for that, so I supposed I should settle with at least taking care of this nosebleed, since I didn’t want my drippings to stain the interior of Damien’s nice, expensive car—and plus, it would be a bit stupid of me to lose too much blood from a simple bleeding nose, although I wouldn’t be surprised if it was broken from that second hit it took.

I veered off to the side of the roadway to allow the other vehicles to pass, considering how annoying their constant honking was, and began wondering what I could possibly use to stop this bleeding nose. I doubted Damien would have Kleenex, and since I didn’t need to smell that blood again, I didn’t bother asking. I casted my gaze downward, and I couldn’t help but notice that my shirt had already been stained with my own blood. What a perfect day to be wearing a white shirt. Actually, now that I mentioned it, wasn’t this the shirt that I accidentally flushed down the toilet? I smirked a bit at the memory—it was. Funny story, really. I had gotten myself especially drunk for some reason—I couldn’t recall that now—but the main point was that I was really drunk and had my head hanging over the toilet bowl, puking my guts out. Don’t worry, this isn’t the funny part… at least, I hope you don’t find that amusing.

Anyway, as I reached for the handle that flushes the toilet, I didn’t realize that my shirt, which had the buttons undone for some reason that I can’t recall, had sort of draped into the puke toilet water, and when I flushed it, of course my shirt had nearly went down with the puke. I didn’t realize it until then, but that was a damn powerful toilet.

Through much time and effort, though, I had somehow managed to salvage the shirt, and when I washed it, it didn’t look all that bad… and I thought it would be a waste of a shirt if I threw it away. I suppose saving my possession just became a habit because of my prior living conditions, and therefore I still saw use in that puke shirt, even though it had been halfway down the toilet. Now, though, with these stains of blood, I guessed I would have to depart from this shirt—there was no way in hell that I was going to go through the trouble of removing the stains just to salvage it. It would be much easier just to buy another one, and therefore, since I wasn’t keeping it anymore, I suppose it could be of use to me one last time and substitute for a Kleenex.

Satisfied with this notion of mine, I ripped off two small pieces of the fabric near the bottom, rolled each of the up in a ball, and shoved each one in both of my nostrils. Now I’m fairly certain I looked like a retard, but you know, at least I wasn’t bleeding everywhere.

Okay, I gave up trying to make this post intelligent-sounding. rofl. And I dunno if that thought was embarrassing enough, but to hell with it. It amused me. rooofl. Besides, yer the one who had given me the idea. rofl. AND THIS IS WHY I NEEDED TO KNOW WHAT THE FLUSHER THING ON THE TOILET WAS CALLED. rofl. Okay I'm done now. Wait, one more thing - damn, this broke my post record... rofl. Oh, and another thing, sorry for the wait. rofl. Probably wasn't worth it, but again, TO HELL WITH IT. I HAVE FINALLY POSTED. THAT SHOULD BE ENOUGH. rofl

Yeah, I'm done now. rofl.

[AKREE]

They say you learn something new everyday. Sadly, today I find myself thinking just that. Have you ever wondered how in movies the superheroes fall in a vat of toxic waste and get super powers of some kind? Or for example how they come from another planet and can do marvels here on earth. Well people could say vampires and werewolves to be some kind of superheroes, if they would rescue people and shit like that. We (sadly I must include both races as a whole) are faster, stronger, better senses. The problem would be that we don’t try to be like superheroes, we just our advantages for ourselves, that’s the truth of the world and that’s the laws of survival. But, even so sometimes you got this silly idea stuck in your head that you want to have a superpower of some kind. Maybe it’s controlling water to drown your enemies… wait I’m supposed not to include my opinion in these explanations… well… uhh, maybe you want to be invisible so you could board an airplane for free and go anywhere you want, or stop time. Something like that, you think, would be awesome, would be wicked. Of course you’d do this for kicks maybe because you saw it in a superhero movie, my point with this, is that you won’t go all gay like the movies and go ‘Oh. My. Gosh. I should use these powers for good,’ of course not, you think of the things you could do to make your life better. To bring a little adventure a little of something new, it’s something that comes naturally to you, because let’s face it everyone is selfish. Some just have a little more luck on getting what they want. It’s the truth of life and it will stay like that ‘till the end of times.

Now I know you’re wondering why I have brought such a subject, this probably has bored you horribly to death. Well like I was saying, you learn something new everyday and today, for me, it’s no different. Believe me I don’t want to have those superpowers and I sometimes wished these events wouldn’t have unfolded the way they did. But of course there’s no use regretting, I’ll just be scarred with the mental images and the possibilities for as long as I live. Poor me…. Well not really, I’m stinking rich but you get the idea. Though I am not searching for your pity I will tell you what has made me ponder these very boring thoughts that I wish would have not happened. Let me repeat, do not wish for superpowers, just be careful what you wish for kids. Not that I care about you really, I’m just trying to hand out some advise here, so if you don’t listen go fuck yourself or go die in a hole.

Yeah, anyway, this is what happened:

I looked out the window, my eyes boring into the speeding streets. The buildings here were reduced to a blur as Vincent sped by rock, cement, sidewalk, dog, human and monster mutt. Everyone probably verbally or mentally cursing Vince, the truth of the matter being, that while Vince was distracted with dodging vehicles I had nothing better to do than to watch the people scream or gasp in horror. Which was fairly amusing, especially the faces they pulled, I never had an idea how wide someone eyes could go before. Just now Vincent barely dodged an old lady and I caught a glimpse of eyes widened with fright. Seriously I swear, I saw them pop out of their sockets, the thing was the expression that old lady had on her face scared me shitless and my jaw literally most have dropped to the floor of the car. I must have muttered a ‘holy shit’ in my moment of fright, because I had pointedly redirected my eyes to the front, staring straight at the road ahead of me and un-leaned myself from the car’s door. I stood stock still, pondering how a human face could contort itself to appear into such a monster. I remembered how wide her eyes had seen, her silver hair seemed to do like the cartoons and stand up on end, her mouth agape as she had tried to scream, revealing blackened and yellowed teeth, her tongue, a thick toad in her mouth rolling around her mouth as she tried to scream her shriveled old lungs out. Fat pudgy hands clawing at thin air and nostrils flared like a vicious bull. Now if that isn’t enough to scare a grown man out of his wits I don’t know what is. Seriously, we were talking here about a guy who tortures and kills in a daily basis, so trust me when I say that shit was scary. Now every time I see and old lady I’ll remember that and will attempt to claw my own eyes out. Shit, I just blinked and turned to look sideways at Vince though I was sure he missed that circus act. Seriously that shitbag old hag belonged in a haunted house, where people wanted to be mentally scared for life. I blinked again and turn my eyes straight ahead; hopefully I hadn’t said ‘holy shit’ as loud as I though I did because that would ruin my whole reputation. That would be sad, watch my pride rip itself to pieces and fall to the ground like it had just been shot, all because of a scary old lady. But I must repeat, holy shit because I don’t think I’ve ever have been scared of something or someone in my whole life and damn freaky old lady accomplished it in a matter of seconds. Holy shit that would seriously ruin my pride. Good thing only Vince was here… even if that was maybe even worse but I trusted Vince not to torment me too much.

Key words there being too much.

I continued to look dead ahead, somewhat… afraid you could say to turn my eyes to see the warty old hag again. Considering that now I was afraid she would eat me in my sleep or something like that, I’ll have nightmares. In fact adults shouldn’t scare little kids with tales of the bogeyman or the chupacabra or whatnot; they should take a picture of that old hag, just like I say her and present them to the children. Instead of physically scold them, you scarred them for life, every time they would do something wrong you would show them the picture and they will start screaming and writhing in horror, covering their eyes and trembling all over, begging for mercy. In fact, now I have a new method of torture, I showed the people I wanted to make suffer that picture and they would surely give me all the information I required, it was so simple and it would amuse me. In fact I could picture that already, tying the dear victim to a chair and peeling of their eyelids so they would be forced to look forward then I would reveal the picture and they would start screaming and trashing in pure horror. Now that was a bit amusing and now it was my turn to have a fairly moronic smile plastered on my face, of course as soon as I noticed the strain of the muscles I just returned to my normally serious expression. Concentrating forward to the black streets before me, contemplating whether I should tell Vincent to go to some less crowded place to try out my dear car, because I wouldn’t want to get it all ruined just to please my friend, else I would start thinking that pleasing Vince would be far to expensive and will stop pleasing him altogether, thus getting him in a mood similar to upset-ness in which our friendship would run the risk. So, yeah maybe I should suggest Vince to –not lower the speed- if not, change to a much less crowded street with less scary old ladies. If it was possible, I would like to remove the scary old ladies from the picture altogether.

Of course, soon after these events I grew weary of my own thoughts, so I rather turned to Vince and that’s when I noticed the lovely gayass song playing on the radio. First I was slightly puzzled at Vince’s choice of music, wondering if it was annoying him as much as it was bothering me, but of course knowing Vince, his temper had already waned to that of a Canadian geese and he was already desiring with a passion that either my radio burst into flames or that the singer from such a song would spontaneously either choke on his own saliva or suddenly burst into flames and die a slow horrible death, feeling as the flames greedily licked the skin from his bones… Of course, even if that amused me I’m not quite sure Vincent would have those thoughts exactly. Either way what I mean is that since the gayass song kept insisting that they had a dirty little secret and that secret must be very secretive and dangerous and whatnot because not only did he keep repeating that he had a dirty little secret over and over and over again he was now insisting to tell some random listener as long as they wouldn’t tell anything else. Now I began pondering what such a thing of such dire importance that they had made a song about it must be and figured it didn’t matter. Since now I had nothing to ponder about I had turned to Vince, partly pulling his leg and partly for my own amusement. Attempting to ‘decipher’ Vince’s little secret, I being his friend had to ‘absolutely’ must know. So I did just that, I shot a question at Vince to relieve my boredom. He had replied with our friendship belly button ring and the tragic news that he had removed it. Now, the thing was that I had tried to make that thing look as gay as possible, but apparently Vince didn’t appreciate my gift and I pretended to be mock hurt. I mean, it had a diamond; Vincent should be more considerate of me….

Of course I was just kidding and being sarcastic, though it would amuse me if Vincent started flirting with a girl with that belly button ring… then later the face of that girl when she saw the belly button ring and an explanation Vince would have to offer…

Either way that bellybutton ring was supposed to symbolize our friendship. Next time I’m getting him a tattoo of my face in a very noticeable place. A place like… his shoulder. Yeah, that would be bloody brilliant my face tattooed on his shoulder. In fact I was starting to plot how I was going to get Vince drunk enough to get him a tattoo. Of course he already had one arm tattooed so it had to be the other one, though that would barely complicate things. But maybe I should put more effort into it and out a chain of hearts in his spine. In fact, I would pay for them to redo his whole body with pink unicorns and rainbows and a tattoo of my face of course… let’s see how you remove that Vincent Fromm. You may have one the battle, but not the war MUAHAHHAHAH. Ok, I was joking, kinda, I still wanted to get Vince tattooed, maybe pay for one of those tattoos that only remove with human spit… yeah that would be amusing all the pain of a real tattoo, but removable with human spit, Vince would have to take a bath in human spit to wash of the tattoos… even the very thought amused me and I had that cruel smirk plastered in my face again, I just had to get him drunk enough and be careful how I did it, else he would know I was plotting something…

With that thought the smirk completely vanished from my expression.

After my little amused fit was over, Vince seemed to contemplate an answer for a bit, before being obviously confused by my apparent mood swing. It wasn’t a mood swing, I was just pulling his leg a bit more, trying to get him in an uncomfortable situation and whatnot, of course I really didn’t expect this to work, mostly because Vincent knew me well enough to know that pulling his leg for me was as amusing as taking a turtle and flipping it on the back of its shell to watch it kick and trash in a futile attempt to get the earth under its feet again. Of course you might now think that’s amusing, but I do and that was enough, should satisfy you. “T’was easy, actually. All I had to do vas pull it out,” replied Vince to my question on ‘how could he’ playing along to my little game, which amused me, but was to be expected. Vince wouldn’t get annoyed if he clearly knew I was just trying to… pull his leg and amuse us both is some… way or another. Ok, ok, you got me I was trying to annoy him, but Vince was just so funny when annoyed, he began spitting back some bantering remarks, but it sort of was a challenge for me as well. After so many years of being such close friends, Vincent already knew me too well to be annoyed by something like that. So yes, pulling his leg could be considered some sort of challenge for me and that would be enough. “Now de hole in my stomach can symbolize our friendship,” he continued. I pondered this information for a bit, obviously Vince was pulling my leg, because a hole in his stomach would have healed a loooong time ago, of course I could still play the hurt friend role, so that’s just what I did. ”I hope it hurt you ass’ole, that’s exactly what you did to our friendship… ripped it out of your stomach.”

[/b] I replied, still sounding offended, even though my own reply amused me, but I attempted to keep the amusement out of my voice. With that said I crossed my arms in front of my chest and turned my eyes to look out the car window, hopefully no scary old ladies would pop from the darkness this time or else I will be forced to start shooting like a maniac.

Then he was the wickedly awesome of experience of almost crashing into a vehicle, I say almost crashing because Vincent was obliged to step on the breaks so hard I think I hear his foot go ‘whoosh’ as the wind passed by it and then I was forced to grab on my underwear else I would have received a good beating from the dash and there was a chance the airbags would pop and I did not want that. Then of course Vincent had to offer the unnecessary advice that I should ‘buckle up’ in which I responded with a kind, amused comment of mine. Of course Vincent had to have the last word, so he kindly pointed out the following: “Vhat does it look like I’m doing, scratching my ass?” he said. I smirked as I though of my reply to that. Of course I paused for a while, as if seriously considering his words then I lifted my gaze to look at him and arched an eyebrow, my little act would be explained by the following words: ”Oh… that was your face, oh sorry, they are just so… similar”[/color] I replied sarcastically. Referring that he was scractching his face and I ‘confused’ his face for his ass.

However after my bright sarcastic comment I was back to only looking as Vincent nearly ploughed random bystanders. Luckily or not there were no sudden bumps which were fine by me, then I didn’t have to pay for anyone’s stay at the hospital. Again the buildings were reduced to a blur which made me think that at this speed they resembled a wall… a towering wall of cement and I began pondering what would happen if at this speed the car sped into the single wall of cement that were actually multiple buildings. I bet the car would break through brick and whatnot and actually sink itself halfway between the building before it stopped and let me tell you the thought wasn’t comforting. It was made even less comforting as Vincent dodged through the vehicles and pedestrians and nearly ran over the sidewalk in his attempt to dodge everything and everyone, which wasn’t very healthy to my negative thoughts. Now I began picturing what it would be like to get stuck between two trucks, ‘cause right now I caught view of one… Catching the chain that was forming in my thoughts I forced myself to relax, Vincent was a very very VERY good driver, we wouldn’t be reduced to a metal and vampire shish kebab while he was driving I’m sure of that. See, Damien don’t be paranoid ‘cause you trust Vince and his maniac driving, ‘cause he’s sorta your friend, so y’know just calm down and everything will be just fine. Think about… the lovely people here in London, who as I watched one flicked the finger in Vince’s direction as Vince rudely cut him off, forcing the man to hit the breaks and honk loudly. See, what a lovely man, I bet he still lives with his mother.

Movement flashed from the corner of my eyes and my head quickly snapped to look forward, of course Vincent identified the movement as well and wouldn’t you know it? He violently hit the break in such a manner that I was violently jolted forward and this time my head did smack hard against the dash, with enough force to make the airbags pop, but thank god they didn’t. I wasn’t sure if this was healthy but my vision was all blurry and my thoughts all foggy, a slight pain creeping from the back of my skull to behind my eyeballs and I was forced to blink, only to realize I only made the whole situation worse on myself because now black dots danced in my vision and slowly tried to take over most of my field of vision. I faintly saw Vince go to a very similar situation as me, his head smacking hard against the steering wheel, of course I only caught the bit as he picked himself up and drew his eyes directly in front of the car, I could barely see more as some lovely new dots took my eyesight. I blinked again, trying to clear it only to make it worse, again. Ah, fuck. My head is still resting against the dash, because now pain slowly pulsates from where my forehead hit the rubber and plastic directly in front of me. I close my eyes and groan. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. I can barely think, a horrible headache spreading, its icy claws overpowering my awesome brain power. A horrible sound came from to my ear which was familiar like the sound a turbine would make, not letting me hear anything else beyond, drowning all other sounds but that horrible keening. Slowly it started to fade, being replaced by the faint honking of car horns. Gradually the sounds faded and the honks grew louder and I groaned again. I do believe the previous lovely sound was much better than the continuous honking of horns.

“You alright dere, Damien?”

I heard Vincent say, sounding concerned, but I didn’t care if I felt like talking at all I would have probably said…

No, I’m not alright Vincent, my head just took a horrible bashing and I do believe I have a headache now. To top it all off, my vision is all blurry and even now as I pick myself up from against the dash my vision swirls into a billion colors which I believe is not quite healthy, the feeling of vertigo flooding through me like some sort of wave in the sea. If you know me, you know how much I dislike beaches. No, I’m not alright my dear Vincent because I do believe I can pick up the strong scent of fresh blood nearby and I am not sure, but I can tell you this: It is not my blood because I know what my blood smells like. I am not alright because my hearing is now clearing the sound of honking drowns everything, but I can detect a couple of insults I do not like…

Move it asshole.

Sir, I do not know why you need to yell, butt I’m afraid to tell you I am not the one that’s driving. The one that’s driving is my dear friend Vincent Fromm. But I’m the one that has the headache at the moment so I suggest you shut the fuck up and let me concentrate on my own thoughts.

People can be such maniacs, that poor girl.

I do not know what girl you are talking about nor care, but I must say that you do not have to yell that, because like I mentally said to the kind gentlemen which thinks my name is asshole right at this moment, I have a headache and it smells like blood which is not mine, so the poor girl can go fuck herself for all I care.

I’m calling the cops, those idiots, my little girl.

Ah, people why don’t we quit the screaming shut the fuck up. What about the poor little girl in the car with the headache? Ain’t anyone worrying about him? Who happens to be me at the time? The only one that has expressed any worry for poor Damien in Vincent, you should all be ashamed of yourselves. Vincent is being less selfish than all you lot.

I felt the car being jolted, probably Vince taking it off the middle of the road and I swear I could have just kissed the man for that if my headache wasn’t so horribly bad. But of course, now it was beginning to clear and I felt less like complaining to myself. Of course my thoughts were interrupted by Vince’s prater: I doubted Damien would have Kleenex, and since I didn’t need to smell that blood again, I didn’t bother asking. I casted my gaze downward, and I couldn’t help but notice that my shirt had already been stained with my own blood. What a perfect day to be wearing a white shirt. Actually, now that I mentioned it, wasn’t this the shirt that I accidentally flushed down the toilet? At this, my eyes snapped open and I pinched the bridge of my nose between my fingers in a futile attempt to help the headache cease, of course what jolted me was the bit about the ‘shirt in toilet’ thing. I couldn’t help arching an eyebrow, a puzzled expression as I stared at Vince’s shirt… now if you looked at it with this new knowledge Vince had randomly decided to share with me. Now I wish he wouldn’t really, but he seemed to continue. I had gotten myself especially drunk for some reason—I couldn’t recall that now—but the main point was that I was really drunk and had my head hanging over the toilet bowl, puking my guts out…

I blinked, noticing that Vince was smirking like an idiot looking down at his shirt but his lips weren’t moving. Now this puzzled me more, I looked at him with something between confusion and horror, begging him to stop the tale before I learned more about that shirt. Anyway, as I reached for the handle that flushes the toilet, I didn’t realize that my shirt, which had the buttons undone for some reason that I can’t recall, had sort of draped into the puke toilet water, and when I flushed it, of course my shirt had nearly went down with the puke. I didn’t realize it until then, but that was a damn powerful toilet. I blinked again, eyeing the shirt dangerously, like it would suddenly tentacles would rise from the white fabric and drape around my face. I couldn’t help but be slightly amused, but I guess confusion, puzzlement, disgust and the feeling of throwing up in your mouth a little got mixed with the amusement and I just ended up more confused, just blankly starring at Vincent. Through much time and effort, though, I had somehow managed to salvage the shirt, and when I washed it, it didn’t look all that bad… and I thought it would be a waste of a shirt if I threw it away... Finally it hit me like a ten ton boulder that I was hearing Vince’s thoughts, that would explain all the other cacophony of sounds I was hearing. I blinked as the realization flooded through me and blinked, not knowing what else to do.

After those somewhat disturbing mental images I heard something about stopping the blood flow and the shirt being useless when Vincent did the unthinkable. He actually ripped some of the puke shirt and stuffed it up his nose at this I couldn’t help but almost cry out (well cry out compared to my normal seriousness) “You put that shirt in your nose after it was halfway inside London’s sewer system?!”[/b] I heard my own indignation and slight disgust at the thought of that. “It’s like shoving shit up your nose man, the whole world’s shit just went up your nostrils, man.”[/b] I added to that lovely thought.

See what I mean kids, some things are better left unsaid, or unthought for that matter…
[/blockquote]

[DODES]

My head ached.

Actually, no. It didn’t ache—it throbbed. It felt something like what a toy drum would feel after a devious little boy has thoroughly pounded it with its mallet. I had the urge to mutter ow every few seconds as the pulsating of my skull commenced, but resisted simply because of the company I had in the car. I instead veered the vehicle to the curb, allowing the impatient commuters to pass just so their car horns would finally quit blaring. Once safely out of the road, I began to assess the damage. My nose was definitely broken—I knew that much now as blood seeped from the injury. Now thoroughly annoyed, I ripped off two pieces of my now crimson stained shirt and shoved each piece up one nostril so as to at least stop the bleeding. At that point, I was feeling a bit light-headed, as I hadn’t eaten in awhile… But then, a more amusing thought occurred to me—the shirt I had just ripped was that dearly beloved one I had flushed down the toilet… well, nearly, at least. My mouth twitched upward a bit at the memory, resembling some sort of amused smirk as I allowed my annoyance to ebb. I continued to think of that shirt in a feeble attempt in not letting this whole ordeal get to me. But the truth was that I was annoyed, annoyed, annoyed… and the fact that my company had groaned just now annoyed me even further. I had asked him if he was alright, though he had given me no response, which was yet another annoyance. Eventually he had at least lifted his head from the dashboard, though this wasn’t nearly as reassuring as I thought it would be because he didn’t look well. In fact, at that moment, he looked about ready to lose his dinner, though as time passed, to my—and I’m sure his—relief, nothing happened. At least, not that I could tell. He was still giving me basically nothing to go on, so I simply sat back and contemplated what the hell would happen to my nose now that I knew it was broken—or at least thought it was… All I knew, really, was that it stung like a bitch.

So now I’m sure you’re wondering how this whole catastrophe happened, and well, it’s quite simple, really. Myself and Damien here were having a nice old chat in this nice new car, though this ‘chat’ mainly consisted of him pulling my leg and me attempting my best to defend myself, but mind you, this was the normal Vincent-Damien chat. He had said to me, “I hope it hurt you, ass’ole. That’s exactly what you did to our friendship… ripped it out of your stomach,” while acting mock hurt by the fact that I had taken out that tremendously gay belly button piercing, which he had somehow managed to get into me. I’d returned his mockery with an exaggerated roll of my eyes. “Ohhh, don’t be such a baby,” I bantered, smirking a tad to present my amusement. I had been in a half-decent mood at the time, and therefore Damien’s usual teasing hardly bothered me. “If you’re so sad, vhy don’t you get yerself a piercing that can ‘symbolize our friendship’?” I grinned a bit larger as I considered this, and after a few moments, I added, “I suggest a She'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes! piercing.” The entire concept of Damien with a She'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes! piercing was simply too amusing to envision, and I had laughed aloud at the mental image my mind had fathomed. Too bad there wasn’t much of a chance of him willingly getting one… He could be such a party-pooper sometimes, couldn’t he?

As my voice ebbed to silence, I returned my focus to my rather high-speed driving. The rain had eased a little, I noticed, making manoeuvring between slow-moving vehicles a bit easier for me. Mind you, the windshield wipers continued to squeal every few seconds as they scrapped across the glass and water continued to spray against the undercarriage, but not with as much aggression as before—that was the point I was trying to get at. I was probably making the driving look quite easy, though in reality, it was a different matter entirely. The downpour had made it particularly hard to see much more than ten feet in front of me, and with the velocity I was going, the whole situation was completely risky. I had to be prepared to brake at any moment, and if I braked too sharply, both me and Damien would go woosh—right through the windshield. So yes, driving took a great deal of concentration, and as I was then discovering, so did replying to Damien’s offhand remarks… “Oh… that was your face? Oh sorry, they are just so… similar,” he replied, his toned laced with a mocking sarcasm. I offered a slight smirk, allowing my eyes to glance at him instead of the road for a moment, which was, really, my first mistake because as soon as my gaze flicked back to street before me, the vehicle’s headlights had caught the movement of a humanoid figure that I was about to, at a tremendously high speed, bulldoze over. Since I really did not need blood and guts all over Damien’s nice car, in one swift movement, my foot shifted to the brake, and a few moments later, we had lurched to stop, each of us taking a good bang to the head on either the dashboard or steering wheel and thus bringing us to our current predicament. Me with a ripped shirt stuffed up my nose to keep from bleeding everywhere, and Damien, silent as usual, and giving me this… odd look. I returned it, raising a brow in confusion. “Vhat…?” I asked him, the annoyance easing out of my tone slightly, replaced with the perplexity I was currently feeling. I mean, he was really staring at me as though I had grown a second head or something… but yet he said nothing—simply blinked, and I blinked as well, wondering if the pain in my face wasn’t because my nose was only broken, but had been removed completely—it would certainly explain why he was staring at me for so long. I panicked for a moment, but upon placing a hand upon my tender nose, realized that it was, indeed, still there. Oh, that was a relief… yet he was still staring… though finally he spoke, although his voice was not that normal emotionless monotone that was particularly easy on the ears—no, he actually sounded appalled and disgusted, which was oddly grating to hear with my newly acquired headache. “You put that shirt in your nose after it was halfway inside London’s sewer system?!” and well, now it was my turn to stare dumbly. I couldn’t recall saying that story aloud just now… that would be especially stupid of me because it would really just be asking for ridicule—as you can see. “It’s like shoving shit up your nose, man. The whole world’s shit just went up your nostrils, man.”


“But… I washed it,” I replied pathetically, not knowing what else to say. Ah, all this confusion was making my head throb. Perhaps it slipped out once while I was drunk and I simply couldn’t remember now. Yeah, that seemed… logical. ‘Not like he could read my mind or anything,’ I thought with a bit of amusement—that only happened in movies. “So vhen the hell did I tell you about this shirt?” I asked, gesturing toward it and still a bit puzzled, but it all seemed a bit clearer now—my mind was already convinced of what had taken place. I was drunk, so drunk I can’t even recall the event, told him about the shirt for some… odd reason… and he remembered the story for some other… odd reason. Yes, it was all very odd, but to my throbbing head, it made perfect sense. Then again, I’m sure I could have convinced myself of a green sky making sense at the moment… ‘Head pain,’ my mind complained, and I vouched for simply leaving it at that, thinking it easier if I awaited Damien’s answer instead of attempting to think through it myself in my current state—but oh, how wrong I was…

THANK SATAN. I FINALLY POSTED. WHOO. Srsly sorry for this taking so long, man... though I got it to ya just in time? rofl. And I dunno whatcha wanna use for the reading thoughts thing... Anything there is fine. I tried to get his thoughts into nice little sentence things, but in the end only managed to get two, so y'know... rofl anything there, really. I'll stfu now. ...Though rofl, look at how much smaller my posts are without all that rambling... AHAHAH. Quality, not quantity, my friend.. at least I think... rofl.

[AKREE]

This day had started out fine. It was the normal Vince and Damien hanging out day. Y’know getting in trouble, cracking lame jokes and stuff, I mean, that’s what friends are for, right? In my case, my friend was the equal of a rag doll you could punch and kick and laugh at, a very… special punching bag rag doll at that. I mean, sure I could always punch and kick and kill and stuff all I wanted everyday for the rest of my life, but Vince was different, he was the special type of rag doll you could depend on. Yes, that’s it; human emotions make sense to me now. The world is a happier place. I know the true meaning of happiness. So my heart grew four times its own size, kind of like that lame Christmas movie with that green furry character called the Grinch. Not that I was anything like him, mind you, I was much better than that inferior being. Yes, I was. Like I was saying I know the true meaning of happiness and all the like.

Of course I’m only kidding with you.

Anyway, that’s not what really was happening. Well only partly. This was the usual hanging-out-with-Vince day. He was driving my car and I was sitting in the passenger seat, I was pulling his leg and he was defending himself from it. See, very usual. Anyway, we were just remembering the day where Vincent had made a comment on how he should get a belly button ring to symbolize our friendship, of course he had denied this, he wasn’t about to get a belly button ring, I would never be able to make him get anything of the kind. Of course that was his first mistake, a bid my time, waiting like any patient predator. Then when I was sure he had completely forgotten out of him I had bet against him in a drinking contest, sure he wouldn’t be able to possibly turn me down; after all he had no reason to. I had been right, he hadn’t turned down the bet and when he was properly drunk and down for the count I had taken him to get a belly button piercing. This piercing was a very gay looking one, I might add, the gayest I could find. Then I had simply dumped him in his house where he had woken up to see his brand new belly button piercing, which he then ripped out of his stomach. Now I wasn’t aware of this, it was only now that he had told me of these news so I had acted hurt, saying how he ripped our friendship out of his stomach and that it was hurtful, oh so very hurtful. Of course I was joking. After I had directed this remark in his direction he had responded with a dramatic roll of his eyes. “Ohhh, don’t be such a baby,” he said, smirking in his a-ha-you’re-not-bothering-me way, If you’re so sad, vhy don’t you get yerself a piercing that can ‘symbolize our friendship’?” he challenged. I put on my best incredulous expression, fairly believable I might add, but to Vincent, who knew me very well, it would be clear that I was joking. There were only two reasons my face would present anything similar to emotion, I was joking or I was acting out against you. Since the latter one was not only completely unnecessary but absurd, Vince and I were friends after all, it was clear that I was just joking. “I suggest a She'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes! piercing.” he added, bursting into a short bout of laughter as he did so. I couldn’t help but offer a small smile of my own and shaking my head. Obviously I wasn’t about to get a She'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes! piercing, but as obvious and clear as this would be to Vince I felt like I must give a reasonable excuse for not getting a She'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes! piercing.

“But alas, I cannot. When you have the same line of work as I,” I said, referring to my job in the little organization we both ran as an assassin “piercings can be dangerous, captured and desperate victims tend to pull and yank at the first thing they can get their hands on.” I replied, with a serious nod. Waiting a few seconds before breaking into a small smirk. “Though I am sure the ladies would like it.” I finished. Sure I wasn’t about to get a She'll be coming 'round the mountain when she comes! piercing any day for more reasons than that, but at least this way I had some excuse not to get our friendship piercing… thing.

After this we had gone through a little accident. Right now I don’t remember what happened except one day I was looking out the windows bored out of my mind, then the next I had directed some smart-ass remark at Vince and the next there was this humanoid figure catching the shine of the headlights then my head was giving an appropriate smack against the dashboard which literally made stars dance before my eyes. I had a mean headache, but at least nothing serious what happened and a glance at Vince had showed blood dribbling from his nose which was more than a reason to worry. Then the people started screaming at the top of their lungs just making my headache worse, this made me groan, begging the people to shut up! Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! I wanted to yell. Then for some unknown reason Vince started telling me this lovely story about the shirt he was wearing and how it had been sucked into a toilet and how he had pulled it out and wore it again. Now let me assure you I had no fucking idea why he had just told me that, but if anything, it just made this little sharing time all the more disturbing and I found myself blinking, to which Vince responded by blinking in confusion. For some reason he seemed confused by my staring, which I might add he should not be confused since even someone like my good friend Vincent Fromm should know that was more than enough reason to stare at him in slight disgust. I responded with a few lovely remarks, which he seemed to take in with even more confusion than he initially had, to my chagrin.

“But… I washed it,” he said, a rather pathetic excuse I might add. Not like he could read my mind or anything, he added for some insane reason. I just blinked, noticing, I mean really noticing how his lips didn’t move as he said that. It was said in a very Vince-like voice but for some reason the sound wasn’t coming from his mouth. This made me feel tempted to force his jaws open and peer down inside his throat to see if he had found some reason to not talk yet talk, ok that made more sense in my head but we get the idea. Anyway, I was confused; he was confused, we were confused. “So vhen the hell did I tell you about this shirt?”

“Just now, you were rambling like a maniac about it,” I said, some of my own disbelief leaking into my voice, sure that he could catch that note. However, the comment seemed fairly relaxed when compared to my headache/confusion I was feeling. Head pain, he said again, which was quite obvious by his expression and I had no idea why he was telling me this. “Maybe we should get ourselves something to eat…” I replied in my usual monotone, regaining myself and sure I wasn’t about to let my confusion and desperation show. Besides, food is a very good idea, regardless of the time blood can always help. Besides Vince was bleeding there, for the second time this day and I’m quite sure he was capable of healing quickly just like any other vampire, but he was bound to start feeling that lovely thirst that came hand in hand with the vampirism.

Tis crap, I know, but i was getting tired of staring at it so yeaaaaaahhhhhh.