This is so completely random but I had to kinda pull it out of my brain so I could focus. Inspired by Kim! (Yarny Old Kim) and ridiculous.
Basically I was trying to find THE book for my trip to Minnesota but all I was seeing was vampire romance bs. Seriously, I’m so sick of vampire romance I could PUKE. If you love them, I’m sorry and you might want to skip this paragraph because I’ve got myself into rant mode.
Reasons why I hate vampire romance stories:
1. Blood is gross people. It’s not sexy, its not erotic, its gross. It’s not alluring to have someone drink your blood, it’s gross. If you don’t believe me or think it’s all hotness go find yourself some authentic Icelandic Blood Sausage. Now take a bite. Not your bag? It’s not mine either. Wanna know why? It’s like 90% BAKED BLOOD. Yeah. Now stop with the blood licking. Ick.
2. Vampires are dead. Yes they are ‘alive’ dead but they are still dead. And cold. COLD. So um, vampire lovers would be…cold. Have you ever slept on a water-bed that didn’t have the heater on? I have. It sucks all the heat right out of your body. You have never BEEN so cold. Put two and two together. It’s not sexy.
3. Vampires are angsty and that’s just annoying. I don’t want to think about grown men or women acting like bratty teenagers. “Oh wah, I live forever and no one understands me and I’m a monster wah” Yeah. Annoying.
4. No one ever writes anything original about vampires. It’s a tired mule that needs to be shot. Lets put this poor bastard out to pasture for 10 years before we revisit it.
5. Cover art. It makes me see red, literally. It’s all pretty boys and sultry girls peeking out from the darkness of the cover. Some have blood in the corner of their mouth, some on their fangs, some are in the throes of passion in blood. It’s all the same, it’s all teenage deviant art bs that needs not to be a cover.
- end rant-
wow. I feel kinda better. But yeah, back to what I was originally saying. Kim commented on my comment on Facebook about new story ideas and was all “OMG Frankenfine!” and I laughed so hard I snorted coffee (which hurt BTW). Then I was all, “That’s AWESOME” and then it ate my brain. So I vomited up a few paragraphs into word so I can move on with my life.
I ran my fingers through my hair and watched as a clump pulled out. I frowned at the section and sighed as I dropped it into the bathroom trash. Right now my hair was shoulder length and butter blond but it wouldn’t last for long. Nothing ever did.
If you saw me on a dark street or in passing you’d assume I’m quite normal. You’d assume wrong. See I’m not human, or at least not really, I am technically made up of human parts but that’s only because they are easy to come by. Since none of my bits originated with me they tend to wear out and need to be replaced. It’s not as unpleasant as it sounds. Humans die quite frequently and with the right connections I get my pick of the choicest parts. New scalps of fine hair, eyes, ears, sometimes if I have been particularly rough even limbs and faces. The only thing that doesn’t seem to wear out completely is my core structure and my skull. I guess that’s a blessing because if it did it might be easier just to hope into a new body every couple of months.
Now before you start getting all grossed out or think that I’m some asshole I want to get a few things straight. I didn’t choose this existence; I didn’t put myself in a position where I’d be cursed for eternity to need other people’s replacement parts. I was created piece by piece by someone who was a little out of his mind. And by ‘a little’ I really mean he was ape shit crazy pants. But I guess you have to be mad to be a mad scientist right? That’s usually how these things work out. I had my mad scientist and I wasn’t his first ‘creation’ but I am certainly an improvement over that hulking giant that could barely put together a sentence. Yeah, so I didn’t choose this but I make the best of it I can. My name is Kate. Katherine Frankenstein if you want to get all technical, and yes, it is that Frankenstein, I would be his second ‘creature’ though I don’t like to call myself that. I didn’t get a book, I didn’t kill a bunch of people and unless you really looked at me close you’d never know I was different from you, which is exactly how I like it.
I own a grungy bar for people on the fringes like me. It’s a hole by all sense of the word but that usually keeps humans out. Being in this business is good for me because it means I have a lot of night hours and people don’t look too hard at you through the darkness to realize you’ve got a fine line of stitches holding your face on.
It was eight o’clock which was my unofficial time to cruise into the bar. I rolled my Indian into the spot behind the bar next to the dumpster and into the gate – I’d had too many drunk-ass patrons piss or puke or knock over my bike not to keep it gated off. I pulled off my helmet and after locking up the gate I headed into the bar through the back door. The Swarthy Pig had been my bar for the last twenty years and I’d just about gotten it the way I liked it. It was dingy and permanently dirt stained, the bar was dented and chipped and names had been carved into it but was smooth and wouldn’t snag your shirt. The booze I served was simple but I had all variations of it. If you wanted a dollar beer I had it, if you wanted a fifty dollar glass of scotch I had that too. What I provided was a place that no one would get in your face, where no one would look at you too closely or wonder why you were so pale. My patrons were fiercely loyal as they were diverse, even I didn’t know the real story behind half of them.
I dropped my helmet and my backpack in the office before heading up front. I slid behind the bar unnoticed and as I passed the massive bar keeper I slapped his rear with a hard crack. “Looking good tonight Jimmy,” I smiled as I leaned on the old wooden bar next to him. He turned and gave me a narrow eyed smile showing me full fang. A lot of people wouldn’t play rough or even tease a werewolf but I’d known Jimmy for a long time. He was as badass as they came but I’d pulled him off the street at a very bad time in his life and turned him around, for that I’d sort of become his alpha, but I just considered him one of my best friends.
Jimmy stopped growing at about six feet seven inches but that didn’t mean he had stopped filling out. He was broad and heavily muscled as a bear though only his arms showed any real definition. He was fair haired and green eyed with a sharp angular face and a permanently broody face. He was one damn attractive man but he didn’t play well with others which meant he had no pack and made him a constant target for other wolves. I lived in a territory patrolled by a large pack and had made an agreement with their alpha when I had first taken Jimmy in. I’d keep him out of trouble and they wouldn’t look for any. At first their alpha had laughed at me but I have friends in low places, good friends in really dark crazy places and he doesn’t laugh anymore. After a few fights and a few unfortunate deaths he stayed away from the city or called me when he’d be in so there wouldn’t be any surprises. Apparently wolves really hate surprises. That day I’d unofficially become a pack of two and had the full respect of a few key werewolves.
“Looking fine yerself, boss,” he replied as he slid a beer to the guy across who was busy staring down my shirt. “Hey!” he growled in the way only a wolf can, “You don’t want me to make you be respectful.” The man looked up with wide eyes, grabbed his beer and left without a word.
I smiled, I couldn’t have really blamed the guy, I was wearing a pretty revealing shirt tonight but I liked that Jimmy felt the need to say something. Tonight I was wearing my favorite black leather pants with braiding along the sides, a lace camisole over a black bra and a leather vest over that. I’m kind of a biker chick and unlike most of the girls you see on the back of a Harley I can pull it off. It’s not like I really have to work out to keep myself like this but I watch myself and make sure if I need replacement parts they are fine quality. I’m on the shorter side topping off at about five foot five and petite. The doc, I think, was a little bit of a perv though because I’m small waisted but I’ve got the bust of a Victoria’s Secret model and a rear that wouldn’t be out of place in some rappers music video, both of which make finding clothes an issue. I’ve got dark blue eyes that are just on the verge of navy which I think is my favorite thing about myself. My face has changed a lot but the core remains the same, I’ve got high cheek bones, a hard jaw and a pouty mouth that women spend tons of money at the plastic surgeons trying to get.