Blood Donor
Chapter 11
About a week later I got a call from one of the bars saying I was hired and needed to work the next night. I accepted, but now I’m having second thoughts. The place is super shady. First of all, it’s called “The Joint” which probably means a bunch of disgusting drug addicts drink here. Second of all, it’s one of those places with a concrete floor and dim lights which reeks of sex. But it is an income source, so I step inside and walk up to the bar.
A guy with long greasy hair is behind it. He grunts when he sees me, “Not open yet. Come back in half an hour.”
“Actually, uh, I’m supposed to work here,” I say, not entirely sure how to present myself.
He squints, “So you’re Gerard? Funny, you don’t look like a Gerard.”
“Well, I am. And who are you?”
“Name’s Bert. I’ll be showing you what to do.”
And he does. I learn how to mix all sorts of drinks that I would have loved consuming as a human. Then he tells me about the regulars and what they usually order. His final instruction is how to properly clean up when the place closes. Apparently they can’t afford janitorial services, and as the new guy I’m responsible for taking care of it. Not that it was well taken care of before I showed up. I can see what looks like dried up puke underneath one table and what I can smell is old urine under another.
“I would tell you not to drink any of the product without paying, but you and I both know you won’t,” Bert winks and nudges my shoulder.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh, come on. You reek of vampiness. At least put on a good cologne if you don’t want recognized. Can’t say I blame you, though. Man’s gotta make a living somehow. Even if he is dead.”
I stiffen. Reek? But that means he can smell it. How? Unless…No, I can’t smell rotted flesh on him anywhere. He’s not dead. Either that or he’s really good at hiding it. Better ask and make sure, “How did you…?”
He shrugs, “Lots of training. Parents wanted me to be a hunter like them. I figured I’d use them for personal gain instead.”
“Personal gain?” I don’t like where this is going…
“I take the blood from filthy whores and sell it. That’s what I thought you were here for, but you seem too innocent for that. Kind of mature, too. How long ago did you change?”
“About a year I think…” he’s scaring me a little. Does he kill the people he gets his blood from? Or is he like a pimp who keeps them housed somewhere? I knew this place smelled weird…
“Only a year? Damn, how are you not ripping into my throat right now? You should still be in the uncontrolled stage."
There were stages? How come I never knew about that? “It goes back to a promise I made to my little brother. Long story. Besides, I just fed this morning and, no offense, you smell gross.”
He laughs, “Probably. Done enough drugs in my lifetime that my blood’s probably shot. What about your food? Clean blood?”
This guy asks weird questions, “Sort of. No STDs or anything. And he doesn’t do drugs. He does smoke and drink a lot of caffeine though.”
“You mean he did.”
“What?”
"He did drink. Can’t speak of him in present tense if he’s dead.”
“But he’s not,” of course he would think that. It’s the logical response. Vampire feeds, human dies.
His jaw drops to the floor, “How? You guys never stop before the heart. How’d you keep control?”
I should have known I wouldn’t get out of this without telling at least some of the story. I tell him about how Frank gives me cups of blood. He looks truly fascinated by the idea. It’s understandable. He was raised as a hunter. He more than likely thought all of us were filthy selfish beasts.
Luckily I’m saved from saying more as the first customer comes in. he gives me an order and I get what he wants. That’s how the rest of the night goes. Humans come in and order from me. Vampires come in and talk to Bert. He leads them into a back room and they come out stumbling and horny. More than once I witness them practically having sex on the tables. One guy comes out and literally just leans against a wall and starts masturbating. It’s disgusting to me, but everyone else either ignores it or acts like it’s normal.
Around four o’ clock Bert finally calls last call. Everyone either scrambles for their last taste of intoxication or hurries to leave. Then the place is empty. Bert approaches me then. He places a hand on my shoulder and looks into my eyes. He’s so weird.
“Great first day, Gerard. I’ll leave you to clean up soon. Do you mind if I ask you one more question, though?”
I shrug, “Shoot.”
“If you’ve only ever fed from this Frank fellow, you’ve never tasted soiled blood. Correct?” I nod, not liking where this is going. “You wanna try?”
I start to shake my head, but he’s already pulling me toward the back room. I could pull away, but I’m mesmerized by the thoughts that are running through my head. I haven’t gotten drunk since I was a sad depressed human. And I have way more problems now. Not really, though. I have a boyfriend and my parents. But there is the issue of Mikey. And the fact that I hate how much I have to feed from Frank. He shouldn’t have to be the one keeping me alive.
We arrive in the room and I see shelves lined with blood. It glistens red and smells really strong. Bert selects a bag and holds it out to me. “Chlamydia. I’ve heard it’s the vamp equivalent to ecstasy.”
My throat feels really dry all of the sudden. My voice when I speak is raspy, “Is the person you got this from…Alive?”
“Of course,” he purrs, “I’m not a murderer. All my girls are willing because I give them a cut. You gonna drink this or not?”
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I’m so thirsty. My fangs are piercing into my lip from the strain of holding back. And it smells so good. And it’s so close. And Frank really doesn’t have to know. What could it hurt, really? The girl’s alive and benefitting from this. I’m still keeping my promise. Without another thought I grab the bag and sink my fangs in.
A guy with long greasy hair is behind it. He grunts when he sees me, “Not open yet. Come back in half an hour.”
“Actually, uh, I’m supposed to work here,” I say, not entirely sure how to present myself.
He squints, “So you’re Gerard? Funny, you don’t look like a Gerard.”
“Well, I am. And who are you?”
“Name’s Bert. I’ll be showing you what to do.”
And he does. I learn how to mix all sorts of drinks that I would have loved consuming as a human. Then he tells me about the regulars and what they usually order. His final instruction is how to properly clean up when the place closes. Apparently they can’t afford janitorial services, and as the new guy I’m responsible for taking care of it. Not that it was well taken care of before I showed up. I can see what looks like dried up puke underneath one table and what I can smell is old urine under another.
“I would tell you not to drink any of the product without paying, but you and I both know you won’t,” Bert winks and nudges my shoulder.
“What?” I ask.
“Oh, come on. You reek of vampiness. At least put on a good cologne if you don’t want recognized. Can’t say I blame you, though. Man’s gotta make a living somehow. Even if he is dead.”
I stiffen. Reek? But that means he can smell it. How? Unless…No, I can’t smell rotted flesh on him anywhere. He’s not dead. Either that or he’s really good at hiding it. Better ask and make sure, “How did you…?”
He shrugs, “Lots of training. Parents wanted me to be a hunter like them. I figured I’d use them for personal gain instead.”
“Personal gain?” I don’t like where this is going…
“I take the blood from filthy whores and sell it. That’s what I thought you were here for, but you seem too innocent for that. Kind of mature, too. How long ago did you change?”
“About a year I think…” he’s scaring me a little. Does he kill the people he gets his blood from? Or is he like a pimp who keeps them housed somewhere? I knew this place smelled weird…
“Only a year? Damn, how are you not ripping into my throat right now? You should still be in the uncontrolled stage."
There were stages? How come I never knew about that? “It goes back to a promise I made to my little brother. Long story. Besides, I just fed this morning and, no offense, you smell gross.”
He laughs, “Probably. Done enough drugs in my lifetime that my blood’s probably shot. What about your food? Clean blood?”
This guy asks weird questions, “Sort of. No STDs or anything. And he doesn’t do drugs. He does smoke and drink a lot of caffeine though.”
“You mean he did.”
“What?”
"He did drink. Can’t speak of him in present tense if he’s dead.”
“But he’s not,” of course he would think that. It’s the logical response. Vampire feeds, human dies.
His jaw drops to the floor, “How? You guys never stop before the heart. How’d you keep control?”
I should have known I wouldn’t get out of this without telling at least some of the story. I tell him about how Frank gives me cups of blood. He looks truly fascinated by the idea. It’s understandable. He was raised as a hunter. He more than likely thought all of us were filthy selfish beasts.
Luckily I’m saved from saying more as the first customer comes in. he gives me an order and I get what he wants. That’s how the rest of the night goes. Humans come in and order from me. Vampires come in and talk to Bert. He leads them into a back room and they come out stumbling and horny. More than once I witness them practically having sex on the tables. One guy comes out and literally just leans against a wall and starts masturbating. It’s disgusting to me, but everyone else either ignores it or acts like it’s normal.
Around four o’ clock Bert finally calls last call. Everyone either scrambles for their last taste of intoxication or hurries to leave. Then the place is empty. Bert approaches me then. He places a hand on my shoulder and looks into my eyes. He’s so weird.
“Great first day, Gerard. I’ll leave you to clean up soon. Do you mind if I ask you one more question, though?”
I shrug, “Shoot.”
“If you’ve only ever fed from this Frank fellow, you’ve never tasted soiled blood. Correct?” I nod, not liking where this is going. “You wanna try?”
I start to shake my head, but he’s already pulling me toward the back room. I could pull away, but I’m mesmerized by the thoughts that are running through my head. I haven’t gotten drunk since I was a sad depressed human. And I have way more problems now. Not really, though. I have a boyfriend and my parents. But there is the issue of Mikey. And the fact that I hate how much I have to feed from Frank. He shouldn’t have to be the one keeping me alive.
We arrive in the room and I see shelves lined with blood. It glistens red and smells really strong. Bert selects a bag and holds it out to me. “Chlamydia. I’ve heard it’s the vamp equivalent to ecstasy.”
My throat feels really dry all of the sudden. My voice when I speak is raspy, “Is the person you got this from…Alive?”
“Of course,” he purrs, “I’m not a murderer. All my girls are willing because I give them a cut. You gonna drink this or not?”
I shouldn’t. I know I shouldn’t. But I’m so thirsty. My fangs are piercing into my lip from the strain of holding back. And it smells so good. And it’s so close. And Frank really doesn’t have to know. What could it hurt, really? The girl’s alive and benefitting from this. I’m still keeping my promise. Without another thought I grab the bag and sink my fangs in.
@MayMayChan
Oh its fine! Sorry it took 6 months for me to reply, this website is messing up for me so much.
4/1/17