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Nick's Luck
by Andrea Dennin

When the hot vampire chick walked into the bar and asked Nick if he wanted to live forever, he thought he’d hit it big time.

If she’d told him eternal life meant playing suck-toy to some greedy, overweight vampire, Nick might have reconsidered.

Apparently he wasn’t the only horny dupe hoping for eternal sex-slave action. Guys from all age groups jammed in every dusty corner to watch the bloody ceremony.

Nick wondered how many were dying like him.

He moved to the front of the line when two robed vamps carried out the freshly-sucked unconscious old guy in front of him.

“Guess some people can’t hack the sight of blood,” Fat Vamp said, spraying some of his meal as he talked.

Six months to live, Nick reminded himself. No choice.

Old and fresh blood splattered the stone steps leading to Fat Vamp’s chair. The smell made Nick want to puke.

He looked around, hoping hot vamp chick would whisk him away and keep good on her naughty promises.

“Next.” Fat Vamp called.

Nick and Fat Vamp eyed each other.

“So, what happened to the chick from the bar? She said she’d turn me.” Nick said.

Fat Vamp squished up his hairy face and sighed. “You got two choices, kid. Me or death. And death’s right out that door.”

The vampires in the group parted to light the way, mocking Nick.

They smelled death on him. The weakening muscles. The breakdown of tissue. It’d been why the hot vamp chick had come to him. She’d sensed it.

Nature had screwed him now luck spat in his face.

Nick bowed his head and extended his wrist.

Fat Vamp pushed him to his knees and bit him.

“This shit’s tainted. You’re a friggin’ werewolf.”

Every undead eye glared at Nick.

“So? You discriminate against werewolves?”

Fat Vamp scratched himself. “My wife is a werewolf. Worst mistake I made extending her life span to eternity. Talk about eternal hell.”

“Come on, man. I’m dying.” Nick said, sweating desperation.

Fat vamp must have smelled it. “Well, then it’s lucky you found me.” He smiled with all his sharp, blood-stained teeth.

“I wouldn’t call it luck.” Nick shot him a wary look. “What’s eternal life gonna cost me?”

Fat Vamp belched, then said, “Hundred-fifty years servitude. And promise you won’t marry a vampire. I don’t want any werewolf-vampire hybrids running around. Got enough of those at home.”

Nick considered the deal.

“Take it or leave it, kid.”

Nick asked the burning question on his mind. “So, I’m not a sex slave?”

Fat vamp rolled his eyes. “Only if you wanna be. Talk to Chad and Jack over there about it later.”

Nick looked over as the two vampires waved and smiled.

Fat Vamp farted.

“Today, kid." He said. "I got a long line to get through. You think I like gorging on blood all day six days a week?”

Nick looked at the bunched fat trying and failing to escape the tight belt around Fat Vamp’s waist. He didn’t answer.

“Hey,” Fat Vamp yelled as Nick extended his wrist again, “Somebody get me a heart - Oh ha ha wiseass - hurry up! Werewolf blood gives me wicked shits!”