Prompt Ramblings - 8. Prompt 251 - They're real

I don't care how long it's been since I've gotten laid. There will be no more blind dates in my future. And I sure as hell will never let her plan one for me ever again.

A secluded, candlelit romantic Italian dinner complete with violin playing waiter should have been a perfect setting. Well maybe for a second or third date, maybe. Or even an anniversary date. But for a first meeting, getting to know you kind of date? Not so much.

Where did my mother find that idiot?

I'm pretty sure he showed up stoned. Making small talk with a man desperately scarfing down dinner bread before our meals were served might have been the first sign. His erratic inability to speak in linear sentences might have been the next. Or the projectile vomiting. I'm not sure right now.

I can't believe I had to pay the check, but what else do you do when the paramedics airlift your date away?

At least in the dark no one could see me. Mostly. I felt like a fool walking down the street with my arms out in front of me so I didn't accidentally touch the regurgitated veal parmigiana splashed across my torso. At this point, I just wanted to go home and bathe in rubbing alcohol. The parking structure seemed so far away right now. I knew I should have sprung for valet.

The street was pretty quiet and I hadn't run into any other pedestrians since I escaped the restaurant. I suppose I could thank someone for small favors, but somewhere in the distance I could hear what sounded like an argument. Given how great my night had gone so far, I decided to follow the angry voices in the adjacent alley. What could possibly go wrong?

I can't say I was expecting the two flamboyant twinks bitching at each other over an unconscious guy on the ground. They both had dark hair, were far too pretty and wore tight fitting, expensive clothing. I swear to god, one of them was covered in glitter. No fake.

“Bitch, that one was supposed to be mine! I'm hungry!” one whined. It was annoying how affected his voice was.

“Oh, please. Blonds are so not your type,” the other snarled. I actually caught a glimpse of fangs between his overly red lips. What the hell was up with that?

The first gave a push to the other with one hand on his hip. “What the hell, Ramie? I didn't decide to hunt with you because I wanted you to steal them all like the gutter trash you are.”

“Get over yourself, Topher. If you knew what to do with a man like this I wouldn't have to share.”

Topher crossed his arms over his chest and looked ready to throw a hissy fit. “I am so not taking your sloppy seconds. Lord knows what you've let behind.”

“Fine. Let him bleed out and starve, you picky skank.” Ramie put a hand up between the pair as he began to kneel down before the man on the ground. Topher stamped his foot on the ground in total petulance. Twitching like a meth-head, he finally relented and began to kneel, his mouth opening wide to reveal a set of fangs likes Ramie's and bent his head down to the prone fool below.

I gasped as I realized what was happening before me. Then they both turned their ruby red eyes in my direction.

“Oh, bitch! This one's mine!” Topher cried out. The lisping twink leapt forward only to be snatched backwards, Ramie's fist deep in his hair. The shriek he let out would have made me laugh if this wasn't so fucked up.

“Dibs, glitter whore,” Ramie said as he pushed ahead of his partner. He hadn't made one step before Topher pounced on his back and bit his ear. The girliest slap I'd ever seen was used to jolt Topher away. He recovered immediately and shoved Ramie into the brick wall only to have him rebound and tackle Topher at the ankles.

“It's my turn to suck one!” Topher protested as Ramie crawled over him. With a squealing scream, the glittered one rolled and began slapping at Ramie who defended himself by thrashing and slapping in return.

Now I understood the fact that the phrases, “It's my turn to suck” and “Eat me” right now were literal and not the euphemisms one would hope for. Two blood thirsty creatures were fighting over the chance to eat me, again literally, and I could only stand there in the dark alley and watch this cat fight play out. I should have been scared. Considering the size of the guy still lying on the ground, I should have been wetting myself. Instead I watched these creatures of the night compete for me in the way you watch a train wreck. You know what I mean. The way you shouldn't really be watching, but you do anyways because there might be dead bodies involved.

Except the idea that I would be the dead body refused to register.

They slapped, bit and sissy fought as they inched they're way closer and closer and I stood mesmerized. When they finally got within arms reach, they both leaped forward at me and suddenly stopped short. The look on both of their faces was nothing short of revulsion.

“Ewwww...,” Topher shouted. His face twisted at the nose like a bad smell took up permanent residence. Ramie wasn't much better.

“Garlic! Fucking garlic!” he ranted. “You can have him, glitter whore.”

“Oh, now you're too good for him?” Topher reached up and grabbed a handful of Ramie's hair. A new slap fight broke out and the two tumbled back pathetically on the floor.

I was confused. I looked down at my chest. Veal parmigiana. Lots of garlic.

I finally turned around and headed by to my car. It was time to go home. Fucking vampires.