"Denzel!!"
"hunh?"
"DENZEL!!"
"huh.. what..WHAT?!" Denzel shot up,
"you cant black out like that."
"what do you want Mark?"
"you ask me to come all the way from New-York with you to be there for your Grandfather.. and i find you blacked out on the floor of his house with the most rank smell i have EVER smelt coming from upstairs.. I'm too scared to even go up there."
"Shut up Mark."
"no Denzel, YOU shut up and call the undertaker."
"i didnt do it before i passed out?"
"No Denzel. You didn't. Cant you smell that?!"
"uhh" now that I thought about it.. "oh shit.. yeah i can."
"call him RIGHT NOW!" Mark stormed over towards the kitchen.
shit. i thought. i got up and rubbed my temples, feeling a killer hangover-headache coming on. Mark had opened the damned curtains, and it made everything seem just too bright and dusty. i picked up the ancient phone and dialed the undertaker, squinting at each number on the card he'd given me. when he finally picked up, i struggled to hear his old crinkled voice on the other end,
"hello?"
"hi.. uh.. Mr.Shepard?" ironic name. i remembered,
"yes?"
"It's Denzel."
"oh dear.. I see.. I'll be right over."
"yeah thanks"
"my condolences."
"uhhuh."
and before he could say another word, I hung up.
stumbling over to the kitchen, i found Mark looking in the fridge,
"hey did your old man have ANY food or drinks?" he was obviously jet lagged,
"yeah.. no.. i dont know.."
"okay well, leave the key in the door, we are going to get you a soda to sober up."
"what? uh.. yeah ok." my thought process lagged.
doing just as Mark said, i left the key in the door. i followed him down the wet sidewalk, towards the super market, shielding my eyes from the sun that so happily glared down at me now that i had a killer headache. we entered the small supermarket with a cheerful tingling welcome from the door bells, followed almost immediatly by an onslaught of condoling old-folks ready to hold my hand and offer a shoulder to cry on for my Grandfather's death. after about a hundred offers, i was appreciative of Mark stepping grumpily in the way to tell them i would need a soda first. they all looked bitterly at him, then returned to their buisness with a loving look towards me.
"why do they love you so much." said Mark, looking at the butcher who gave him the two-fingers,
"i grew up here, cant exactly blame them for caring."
"but they could be a little nicer to your best friend." he joked,
"ha, yeah like they could be anything but killer to Americans."
"don't they know about you trading sides? you know, becoming one of .. us?" he emphasised the 'us' as if he were on the dark side,
"i guess, but i think their more convinced i became italian."
"because of Angeline?" we started moving towards the fridges,
"yeah because of Angeline.." i sighed, thinking of my long-deceased wife, coming closer to the chilled alcohol,
"that was over five years ago man, but i guess living in the middle of nowhere with nothing but radios and psotcards would put them outta the loop.."
"uhhuh just a little." i sighed, reaching for the chilled beer cans,
"no." he scolded me like i was a dog, "bad boy, here SO-DA can, ge SO-B-ER"
i glared at him, but took the soda can anyways. Dr.Pepper, just what i needed (and could never turn down)
"you know me too well."
"i know" he smirked.
I noticed a few of the local girls, teenagers ofcourse--else they would have escaped this town years ago--gawking at Mark. i saw in the reflective glass that i looked so terrible that even an old decriped desprate woman wouldnt even talk to me, while mark looked rugged with some stubble and care-free mussed up dark-brown hair and great body building. if only they knew he was a hot-shot doctor too.
i smirked at Mark, "you have some new fans"
he looked over to them and winked, "more the merrier"
we laughed and walked over to the checkout counter, i got out a bill to pay when the clerk women insisted that i 'take it for free', i assured her i didnt need to but the woman was firm in her descision. i resigned, opening the can and leaving with Mark.
Mark swore, i came out behind him and felt the few drops rain hit my shoulders, shit. this day only got better and better.
YOU ARE READING
Bloody Conviction (discontinued)
Terror'Turn off the television -- in fact, why don't you turn off all the lights except for the one over your favorite chair? -- and we'll talk about vampires here in the dim. I think i can make you believe in them.' Clementine Salem Castlehold takes afte...
