You Suck by Christopher Moore Page A

part I’m not clear on. Like a real vampire. A real, blood-drinking, can’t-go-out-in-the-day, live-forever vampire.”
    “We figured he had to be at least six hundred years old,” Troy Lee added, joining in the conversation. “Blue, you wanna skid the buzzard?” He nodded to the end of the aisle, where Jeff was offering his spare Fresh Frozen turkey like a sacrifice.
    “So you guys, who work in a grocery store, have seen a vampire?”
    “Two of them,” Lash said. “Our night-crew leader, Tommy, was living with one of them.”
    “She was hot,” Troy Lee added.
    “Vampire hunters?” Blue couldn’t believe it.
    “Well, not anymore,” Lash said.
    “Yeah,” Troy Lee said. “Clint says that Tommy’s a vampire now. We’re not going to mess with him.”
    “Spawn of Satan!” Clint shouted from the end of the aisle.
    Drew, who Blue had decided to think of as Doc, because he always carried the pot, ran down the aisle and shot-putted a twelve-pound self-basting at Clint’s head. “Shut the fuck up!” Clint ducked and covered. The turkey went over the meat counter and stuck in the drywall by the window at the back of the meat department. To Blue, Drew said, “Sorry, couldn’t be helped.”
    “Well, that’s gonna take all night to patch,” said Clint.
    Lash looked at Troy Lee. “Could you kill him?”
    “On it,” Troy Lee said, falling into a fighting stance, before taking off and chasing Clint around the corner. “Prepare to die, White Devil!”
    “So,” said Blue. “You were saying?”
    “Well, Clint says Tommy is a vampire now, and we should go stake him out or something, but he’s one of us, so we’ve decided to pursue a policy of Buddhist tolerance.”
    Just then Troy Lee dragged Clint back around the corner in a headlock. Despite being six inches shorter and forty pounds lighter than Clint, he’d studied martial arts since he was six and that took size out of the equation.
    “Should I hypnotize the chicken?” Troy asked.
    “Make it so,” said Lash.
    Troy Lee adjusted his chokehold on Clint. The largerman’s eyes bugged out, his mouth moved like a gasping fish out of water, and he went limp in Troy’s arms, who then dropped him in the puddle of diet soda on the floor.
    “He’ll come around in a second or two.” Lash leaned into Blue to explain. “We used to call it choke the chicken, but that sounded kind of gayish.”
    “Of course,” said Blue. That trick would come in handy in her work. She’d have to ask Troy Lee to teach it to her.
    “And you think that your friend and this girl are really vampires.”
    “I suppose. Clint said he heard it from the Emperor, and he was the one that turned us on to the old vampire guy in the first place. Either way, they’re not our problem.”
    “What if I said they were?” Blue said. Her mind was putting it together like a sewing machine on crack. It was insane, but for once she could see a future stretching out before her, welcoming her. “What if I said I wanted you to go after them?”
    Lash blinked at her like she was speaking Klingon. “Huh?” He looked at the other Animals, who had stopped bowling and moved into range of the conversation. They stood there with frosty gobblers steaming in their hands like they were on wet-nurse duty for a group of headless infant snowmen.
    “Flood is our friend,” Lash said.
    “I don’t want you to kill him,” Blue said. “Just catch him.”
    Lash looked to the others, who looked away—at thefloor, at the cabbage and lettuce counter, at the turnips, at their frozen charges.
    “I’ll make it worth your while,” Blue said.
     
    J ody lay on the bed watching Tommy turn slowly, back and forth in the air like a pale white-boy mobile. The loft had twenty-foot ceilings with open, industrial-style beams, and sometime during their lovemaking, they had both ended up hanging from them. Jody dropped to the bed after she came, but Tommy still hung by one hand. The bright side was that with the