by quicksylver
This is a lil' story i wrote after watching the movie
'Modern Vampires' with Casper Van Dien and some other no name girl
and the blonde woman from 'Sex in the City'
Crappy Movie, interesting idea.
enjoy!
He could almost hear his wife Cloretta's raspy nag every night, as he would get ready. Do you want to throw yer back out? What would we do without yer pay ya big oaf! He always bit back a smart-ass response, more out of listlessness than of cowardice. He didn't want to listen to anymore yap than he had to, besides she was right. She almost always was... and she took care of him and loved him.
She was a maid for one of them rich uptown families that lived in them big houses on the hill and he was... well... the pay was good, real good. The soothing strains of Barry Maniloe wafted from the warmth of the cab of the truck into the crisp night air. He wished he was sitting in there now, eating the sandwich his wife had packed just for him.
Suddenly he stubbed his toe on a pried up grate and stumbled. By a miracle he was able to right himself but his load went sprawling clumsily across the damp asphalt. The light tarmac flipped open and a decomposing arm with the mangled hand barely attached fell out with an audible smack.
He looked down and cringed, now he would have to pack this mess back into the wrap.
"Oi!" a voice echoed down the dismal alleyway.
It was the supervisor... that fat bastard.
"Pack that up and get it out of sight boy... I don't pay you to fuck up y'know!"
"Yessir" Clyde replied, adding a few choice words under his breath.
Making a face he nudged the ravaged limb back into the wrap and, bending at the knees, hefted the body over his shoulder once more. With a mighty heave he dumped the corpse unto the bed of the truck and slammed the heavy doors shut.
Once in the heated cab he switched off the old eight-track player and leaned back against the worn genuine artificial leather seat cover with a sigh. That was the last pickup for the night. If he was lucky he would get off early, then he would be able to catch some much needed winks.
The sup heaved himself unto the seat with great effort; his large, pot bellied frame squeezing into the space between the seat and the steering wheel. He belched loudly and, with much procrastination, started the old ford. The ancient diesel engine sputtered and groaned before growling to life.
The short wave radio perched on the dashboard cackled and screeched. Clyde frowned, not now.
"zzzt Charlie wan come in Charlie wan... this is dispatch, over zzzt" the voice drawled.
'Go ahead Dispatch, over" the sup puffed, his cheap cigar piping smoke into the cab of the truck
"zzzt Report of a 219 at the corner of Sunrose and Vine Avenue, request immediate pickup... over zzzt"
"Roger that dispatch... we're on our way, over." The old man replied
.Clyde sighed, another pick up?
"Those bloodsuckers are gettin' real thirsty these days eh?" the sup smirked.
Clyde agreed. It was true. The word was spreading like wild fire. It had only been in existence a few months and already almost all of the city's vampires were making use of the S.W.M.D, the Solid Waste Management Division, as they were known. These days they were working overtime. The one-week period of La Luna Sangria was when all the vamps had their extra feasting because of the blood moon.
The vamps would suck 'em dry and the S.W.M.D. would clean 'em up. Of course other than great pay and benefits, there was also job security. The market was tight for 'special' jobs like these and employees were well cared for. The clients could not kill or attack any of the help or they would risk being discontinued as customers. It was a pretty good deal even though the punishment seemed kinda lenient but as it was mentioned before, the pay was really good.
The truck came to a rumbling halt in front of a classy apartment building and Clyde hopped out. Fortunately the vamp had already packaged the load into a wooden trunk. He shook his head, what a waste of a good trunk. It looked like the kind that girls kept their dowry in, all carved and varnished.
A shuffle made him look up. The supervisor had been arguing price with the dark lady who had called, being his usual haughty jerk self.But what he didn't know was that she was none other than the wife of the vampire who had started the S.W.M.D.
Clyde could only watch as her husband came up from behind to grab the old bastard, ripping open his chubby neck with razor sharp fangs. Blood gushed heavily from the open vein as they fed in turns. With a bloody face, the owner looked at Clyde and threw the limp body into the back of the truck.
Clyde trembled as he clapped him on the back and said.
"Looks like you've been promoted my boy."
Clyde shrugged, "Never did like the guy anyway."
It's all in a night's work.
i wanna know!
if you have the time Tell me
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