By Louis-Ferdinand Celine
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Additional resources for Death on Credit
I think, bloodsucker, that since I’m the one with the stake, I get to call you whatever I want. ” My captor moved around in front where I could get a good look at him. I knew him, of course. It’s never the new guy in town who ties you to a chair; it’s always that creepy guy who you’ve seen lurking around the cemetery for a couple weeks. The one that you’re not sure if he was there to mourn, or for some other reason. And of course, it was always some other reason. I’d seen this guy hanging around one of the big oak trees in my cemetery, near the freshest grave in the joint, for a couple of weeks.
It’s hot, with that metallic and salty taste that’s like nothing else in the world. We can live on blood bank supplies, but it’s the difference between a really good rare filet mignon and a frozen hamburger patty. I drank for a couple of minutes, just a couple of pints, and then leaned back next to the yuppie, who was still out like a light. ” I asked my sleeping dinner. He was as silent as I had expected him to be, which was good for both of us. I probably would have flipped out had he woken up at that exact moment, and it’s usually not a good idea to be the human in the back seat of a car with a freaked-out vamp.
I don’t know, Jimmy-boy. I just don’t know what’s worse. ” Greg looked at me disapprovingly. ” Tommy exclaimed. “I’m eighteen, you know. I’m no kid. After all, how old are you guys? ” Tommy looked back and forth between the two of us, confused. “Remember, kid? Vampires? Creatures of the night? We don’t age, moron. We were turned in 1996, and we were both twenty-two then. ” Greg explained, reclaiming his perch on the trunk of the car. ” I said, pulling over a stack of pallets and taking a seat.