When overweight treadmill salesman Reginald Baskin finally meets a co-worker who doesn’t make fun of him, it’s just his own bad luck that tech guy Maurice turns out to be a two thousand-year-old vampire.
And when Maurice turns Reginald to save his life, it’s just Reginald’s further bad luck that he wakes to discover he’s become the slowest, weakest, most out-of-shape vampire ever created … doomed to “heal” to his corpulent self for all of eternity.
But as Reginald struggles with the downsides of being a fat vampire (too slow to catch people to feed on, mocked by those he tries to glamour, assaulted by his intended prey and left for undead), he discovers rare powers in himself that few vampires have … and just in time, because the Vampire Council wants him destroyed as an inferior representative of their race.
Fat Vampire is the story of an unlikely hero who, after having an imperfect eternity shoved into his grease-stained hands, must learn to turn the afterlife’s lemons into tasty lemon danishes.
Okay, so I am reading this book and I’m thinking, no way, a fat vampire? Then I think of Jessica in True Blood who was the virgin. Each time she fed, she healed which made her a virgin all over again. Which brings me to this book.
He is a hearty sized fella which means that every time he feeds and heals, he comes back to his heavy self.
It’s not bad reading.
The first book in there series is only $.99 which isn’t bad for a book of this size.
Yay! Star Trek is back in a big way, but it has left this life long Trekkie with many questions which I assume, will not be answered any time soon. However, i will get started with my questions and you can tell me what are your thoughts.
The Ship. Is this ship similar to the one built by Admiral Marcus in Into Darkness? Does Star Fleet have a whole fleet of warships like the USS Vengeance that explores deeper into space?
This crew, somebody is going to die. You already know it. They can’t let two women be in charge of anything without having to kill one of them.
Whaddya mean she is Spock’s step sister? Secondly, why you stepping on a space ship in the middle of nowhere? It wasn’t bother you. Get your feet off of it. The moment it moved your ass should have been blasting off. Now you have gon’ and killed something in a funny suit. This is going to be bad. really bad. Excuse me. But when did the Prime Directive kick in?
These are the Klingons we remember.
What daphuck is this?
6. It’s even scarier from the front.
Speaking of scary? Who hired this whining little Bitch Boy as the science officer? he is scared of everything.
What is this ish right here, a cry of the single men? A mourning howl? We know nothing of this practice in Klingon customs. Where is Worf?
So many questions, but I think after tonight, many others will understand they are grooming her into the role of Captain to make us like her and develop her skills as a leader. Right now, she is a not very likable.
Everywhere you turn either someone is taking a knee, starting a fight on Facebook or Tweeting like some maniac.
Let’s be honest. Nothing you can post, say or Tweet about is going to change anyone’s opinions because they are already mad. The ironic thing is, what they are mad about has nothing to do with the White House, taking a knee or disrespecting the national anthem.
Did you know that several religious faiths do not stand, salute the flag or recite the national anthem simply because it is a form of idolatry? Oh hush. This is nothing new. Shadrach, Meshack and Abednego didn’t debate how or why the decision to bow down and worship Nebuchadnezzars’ gold statue was made. They simply decided they wouldn’t do it. When the music started playing they weren’t found participating. (Daniel 3:1-12)
Last week, I strolled through my news-feed to find so many distraught to the point of high blood pressure over other’s Facebook posts. The unfriending commenced with words of agony in failing to understand the motives of people. I think I can clarify some of this for you.
We have lost a reason to believe in what is critical and important in our success as humans. Nearly everyone over the age of 15 in this world walks about with a mini computer in their pocket. How do they use it? To snap pictures of themselves at weird angles or to snap shot the yummy food they are eating and you can’t have any. This is done in order to garner likes. These likes are now hearts and thumbs up which reassures everyone that they are special. They are liked. Someone even loves the new photo they have posted. Thus begins the cycle. A vicious, nasty, teeth baring cycle for reassurance that they too are a part of a collective. A collective of like minded people who like what they like.
This week, it is time to hate the knee takers. Next week, the focus is one something new to hate, dislike, disparage or ridicule. The remarks are viewed as racist.
Believe it or not, some of them are not racist. You can’t be a racist and love Prince and Michael Jackson, or Michael Jordan or Jay-Z. Hell most of them like Beyonce and carry hot sauce in their purses and bags. How you gon’ be racist singing tonight you’re going to party like it’s 1999? You aren’t racist. You are angry that you aren’t getting any, your wife left you, and you pay child support for kids you don’t even like. Go ahead and admit it. More people are swiping left on your Tinder profile and the three who call you are unattractive and you already banged. Your options are as limited as your pockets. That’s what you are really upset about Marcus! Stop trying to pretend it’s something else. You are mad because no one wants to touch your pee-pee and you have to resort to self-service. You aren’t racist.
Being upset at the 44th President doesn’t make you a racist. Not liking the 45th President doesn’t mean you hate all white people.
You don’t like that particular President.
So what? I don’t like eggplant and you don’t see me making a fuss about it. Now if I send that emoji to hubby, he’d make a fuss about it.
As a matter of fact, I don’t like a few of my co-workers. It has nothing to do with their race, it’s because they are assholes. There! I said it. I don’t like *********** because he is an asshole.
He just happens to be white.
I didn’t need to qualify my dislike of him via his race, instead I simply focus on the mess he makes in the break room and blames everyone else. See that was easy, but we have allowed our anger to get out of control and to redefine us. We are heating ourselves up over small matters which have occurred for years, that we never knew about and now, you want to get indignant over.
Do you know how that looks to others around you?
Here is a perfect example.
Ridiculous isn’t it?
So is your behavior. Now stop it. Put on your big girl pants and big boy shoes and get out there and play nice. Don’t make me come over there!
Scott and Zelda are back and the healing can begin.
Scott returns from Europe ready to see Zelda, but he is not prepared for Grandma Lula.
In the past three weeks, Michael has wrestled with giving her the diaries and faces the dilemma of being truthful with his sister, not only about their parents, but their less than idyllic childhood.
Grandma Lula has a lot to add as Scott and Zelda face a very real threat to the new found happiness. To combat it all, Scott calls in backup which turns out to be just the perfect thing for Zelda and Michael to aid in the healing process.
After checking into their room, Yuri unpacked her toiletries. There was a window in her shower, and on the other side of the open window was another window. Her neighbors were showering and enjoying themselves by the sound of the woman’s moans.
“Looks like we’re not the only ones who thought a shower would be a good idea.”
Sven chuckled, turning Yuri to face him. “I’d kiss you, but we both have airplane smell on us. I’ll start the water. Grab the towels and meet me inside.”
“Yup, on it.”
Sven and Yuri’s shower lasted longer than their neighbors’, and they may have been louder. All of it magnificent—from Sven washing her hair to washing her. She returned the favor, but after he turned her body, pressed her front to the cold tile wall, and worshiped her body with his own.
Sated and clean, they collapsed on the bed in a tangle of limbs.
“I think we should stay in bed,” Yuri suggested. “Get room service, make love all day. I don’t have anywhere to be until tomorrow.”
“You’re trying to kill me. Or, at least, wound me.” Sven grunted, a grin on his lips as he rubbed circles on her stomach with his hand.
“Nah, but you’d look good with a limp.”
They both laughed.
“Get dressed. I’ll feed you. We’re up on the mountain in the next hour.”
“Bossy.” Yuri smirked, getting up from the bed.
“You like it.” Sven winked before standing and pulling on a pair of shorts and a cotton tee.” Yuri looked in her bag and pulled out a colorful jumper with tropical flowers. She tossed on brown wedge sandals and made sure to wash her face and brush her teeth. Sven watched her through the mirror, and she smiled back at him as she set about putting lotion on her arms and legs.
“What is it?” she asked him.
“Angel, put on some tennis shoes.”
Sven crossed his arms, his shirt shifting with his muscled arms.
“Trust me, the shoes work. I hope I can convince you to wear them and nothing else to bed, but honestly, your feet will be sore from all the walking. Trust me.”
Yuri toed off her shoes and pulled on a pair of tennis shoes.
“I look ridiculous.”
Sven tossed his head back and roared with laughter. He had a great laugh, but not when aimed at her. “Stop laughing, Sven.”
“I can’t help it. You’re adorable.” Sven crossed their small room to stand in front of Yuri. “The shoes are fine. You’re fine. Food first, and then Sugarloaf. Don’t be a sourpuss.”
“Don’t make me get ugly, Sven,” Yuri warned.
“Impossible, you could never be ugly. Inside or out. Your beautiful glow knows no bounds, Yuri. It’s one of the reasons I love you. People can’t help but gravitate toward you. They get just a hint of your light, and they come from miles around just to be near it.”
“Well, light or not, I can get pretty ugly when pushed into a corner.”
Sven cracked a grin again, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He gripped her face in both hands, his eyes peering into hers. She didn’t know what he was searching for, but he obviously looked for something. The longer they stood there staring, the more his face changed. She hadn’t seen the darkness behind his eyes for days. She’d thought it a figment of her imagination. Wrote it off as her own personal issues rising to put a stop to her happiness. But then it appeared again. As he held her, as he searched for answers, she saw it, peeking out from behind the current of blue.
“There she is,” he whispered moments later, the darkness firmly tucked away. “My beautiful angel, and her brightly shining light. You can pull any man from the darkest of places and bring him back to life.”
“How would you know?”
“Because it’s what you’re doing for me. I shouldn’t want you. Hell, I’m fucked up, and I know you know it; you just haven’t brought it up yet. But that’s okay. We’ll talk about my shit when the time is right. We’ll talk about yours, too. But for now, we’re in Brazil. A city that I love, with a woman that I love, and I plan to make the most of it.”
Midway through her second boiled egg, breakfast was interrupted by a blond woman sporting a too small bikini which made her assets look like two overripe melons covered by a strip of toilet paper. They bounced as she ran over to the table on her tip toes in high heeled red sandals, too much lipstick and matted weave in her hair. The sarong which clung to her fat injected ass, barely covered the thong bikini bottom as she stopped in front of their table, doing a happy girl spin showing DJ all she had to offer.
“Oh hell no,” Naima said, standing up.
Derrick’s eyes were wide as he watched Naima plant her feet, put her hands on her
hips and stand between him and what he knew to be a fan.
“Stop right there,” Naima said. “You see this man dining with me, yet you will be so bold as to interrupt our meal to attempt to lure him into whatever sordid idea has entered your empty head. What is it you want?”
The blond woman opened her mouth to reveal a row of small white teeth. “I’m sorry, I meant no disrespect. I am such a fan. I only wanted a picture with him.”
“Where is your phone?” Naima asked.
To her shock, the woman stepped around her, rubbed her large breast going down the side of her body. “I seem to have nowhere to put one in this suit,” she said winking at Derrick. Naima reached back onto the table, picked up the remainder of her drink and dashed into the woman’s face.
“Back up chick,” she said. “No disrespect my ass. You are going to mess around and have me snatch that raggedy weave right out of your head. That is my man, so bounce your fake titties back where you came from and spread the word. He is off limits and mine.” The woman stood there in shock, her mouth open, covered in Naima’s margarita, which pissed her off more than the woman treating her as if she were replaceable when and if Derrick got bored.
“Why are you still standing here? Be gone,” Naima said, sitting back down. Picking up the butter knife, she looked at the woman, daring her to make a move. Turning in the ridiculously red high heels, she and her fake boodie, bounced away.
“Damn. Now my drink is gone. Wasted,” she said with a frown as she cut into the egg. Derrick only watched her, not sure what just happened. Naima sat eating her breakfast as if nothing unusual had occurred.
He cleared his throat.
“What?” She asked, biting into her toast.
“You don’t have any act right in you, do you?”
“Nope. I do possess a very large ass check book and I can buy some when the need arises,” she said with a wink.
Derrick chuckled at the freshness of her attitude.
Different. Very different.
“Thank you for that intervention. I became a bit of a recluse because of those types of encounters with women who immediately think I am some sort of sex machine always on the ready,” he said, looking at her.
“Aww man! You are not always on the ready? There goes my weekend plans,” she said with a twist of her lip.
The Office Wife, August 5, 2017, Issue 6, Olivia Gaines
Willie Johnson- Manufacturing
A hot mess.
“Girl, I don’t know what’s going on with Willie, but all I can say is that man is a hot, sticky mess. Look at him, his socks don’t even match,” Taneeka James said to Vicki. True, something major was going on in Willie’s life, but it wasn’t her place to get into the man’s business. However, changes in him were really noticeable to the point Kelson, the chairman of the board asked for Vicki’s help.
“Victoria, I am not certain what is going on with Mr. Johnson, but if he is in need of the Employee Assistance Program, let’s see that he gets down to HR,” Kelson said softly.
The normally, smiling, happy board member who covered the manufacturing arm of American Conglomerate, lately didn’t seem so happy. The 1,000-watt grin which preceded him into every room he entered, was left outside in the cold and rain. The man walking around the board room offices, couldn’t find a smile if one were left on his desk wiggling under a wet nap.
Vicki found him on Wednesday morning in the break room, leaning against a wall. His chin in his hand as he stared at the floor. The round face appeared sunken in as dark circles encased his eyes. Willie looked like he’d slept in his clothes if, in fact, he had slept at all.
“I know right,” she quipped. “This tile is truly ugly. I am not certain if they company got a deal on it from a congress of out of work baboons, or what.”
Willie didn’t respond. Vicki tried another approach. One she hoped would grab his attention.
“I think one of the baboons is coming to replace you in your job since you don’t seem to want it anymore,” Vicki chided.
“They can have it. They can have all of this,” he said, pushing his body from the wall. “I’m tired of it.”
“I get that way sometimes too. My job can be really tough dealing with so many people. I have the be the eyes and ears of what only is not seen, but also what is not said. Glue,” she said.
Vicki had his attention now and a dialogue was started. It wasn’t as if she were expecting him to open up about his life, but at least if she could get him talking, it would lessen the risk of him coming into the office and shooting up the place. Or worse, taking a wrong turn and possibly shooting himself. The darkness around his eyes was small in comparison to the darkness surrounding his spirit. A blackness which engulfed could almost be felt as she stood by him.
“Yes, Mr. Johnson. I am the glue which holds the team together. I can see you are in a personal crisis. There are options available to you at no cost to help you through the darkness to find the light which use to burn so brightly in you,” she said to him.
“Well, my light has been extinguished. This job takes everything from me and by the time I get home, or fly to this state, or that region, I have missed soccer games, dance recitals, and everything else. My wife is filing for divorce,” he told her.
“Mr. Johnson, I don’t mean to pry so I won’t. The Employee Assistance Plan offers five free counseling sessions, for you, your wife, and family if need be. You don’t have to go through this alone,” she told him.
“My wife ain’t gonna go for no counseling,” he said, angrily.
“If she is not open to it, then she truly has no interest in saving your marriage, however, if you bring this option to her and she declines, then you will know, this is much deeper than you missing a few soccer games,” she said. “Divorcing you isn’t going to change your schedule or the time you spend with your kids.”
“You don’t know Keisha,” he said frowning.
“No, but what I know of you is that you work hard at every task you are given. You treat everyone around you with courtesy, respect, and as if they matter. You matter to us, Mr. Johnson.”
“I’m torn Vicki. In some ways, divorcing her would be an end of all the arguments and stupid fights over socks, the unwrapped butter in the fridge, and me being late for dinner. Some nights, I am late getting home just because I pray she’d taken her ass to bed. Of course, I walk in and she pops up in the bed like a mole ready to attack. I’m tired of all of it,” he told her.
“If been married was easy, everyone would have a spouse,” she told him.
Willie looked up at her. For the first time since Vicki started, he took a good look at the woman. Although her face was young, the words had been generated by an old soul who had been through a storm. “Free counseling you say?”
“Yes. It may not save your marriage, but it may well save your sanity,” she added with a smile. Vicki pulled a brochure from the rack display on the counter handing him the card. “Take the afternoon off, start here and I will let Kelson know you took some personal time today.”
“Thank you,” he mumbled.
“Get better Mr. Jonson,” she said, heading back to her desk.
Manigault was waiting for her by the office doors. He gave her a smile and a small box of what looked like high-end chocolates.
“You give me a gym membership, yet to take me out for exclusive lunches, now this decadent box of chocolates. This is a mixed message; are you trying to fatten me up for the slaughter?” She asked him.
“No, that treat is because you are special to all of us Vicki,” he said to her, walking away.
The monthly luncheons as Manigault’s beard were fun, plus she got to dine in swanky places she wouldn’t be able to afford. If he was using her, she didn’t care. It felt nice to be taken care of for once. He was good at that – taking care of people.
She returned to her desk only to have Kelson popped his head out of his office.
“Did you take care of Mr. Johnson?” He wanted to know.
“I don’t know if I took care of him per se, but I pointed him in towards the employee counseling service. He is going to take the afternoon off, Sir,” she said.
“Good. Good,” Kelson said. “I don’t know what we would do without you, Vicki.”
“You would hire someone else Mr. Herman and life would go on,” she said softly.
“It may go on, Victoria, but it wouldn’t be the same life,” he added going back to his office, closing the door.
Monday arrived without much flair as the day got underway. The hustling, bustling, building came to life as worker bees piled into the combs, vomiting up honeyed words to tired consumers. Each step was taken, bringing them closer to a collective of serving a hungry public with food, products, and services most of them didn’t really need.
Taneeka found her in the break room making coffee.
“Girl, I don’t know what you said to Willie, but it must have worked, his socks match today and he is smiling,” Taneeka added.
“Glad to hear he is finding his way back,” Vicki said.
“What did he say was the issue? That wife of his I’d bet,” Taneeka said to her, eyeballing her for a reaction to the ploy for information.
Vicki gave her no response other than, “I didn’t ask what the problem was.”
“You are good,” Taneeka said, arching her brow.
“You have no idea,” Vicki said with a wink.
She left Taneeka in the kitchen to make her way to the mail room to pick up the daily mail, sort through the massive pile, placing envelopes and packages into mail slots. It was her habit to have it all sorted and distributed by 8:30, in case there were actionable items.
“Good morning,” a deep voice said to her.
Vicki jumped, turning around to see Willie Johnson standing there. The trademark smile back on his face. A yellow hard hat was in his hand which meant he was on his way out to a manufacturing facility.
“And a good morning to you as well Mr. Jonson. I see you have located your smile,” she told him.
“I went to the session on Wednesday afternoon,” he said. “I left feeling a whole heap better after talking it out with someone.”
Vicki adjusted her stance to face him, providing him her undivided attention. Everything about him seemed different. The dark circles were gone and he looked rejuvenated.
“I am glad to hear everything went well,” she said.
“Ms. Vicki, it went so well, I made an appointment for Thursday and saw the counselor again,” he added with a huge grin.
“So, is Keisha going to go to a session with you as well?”
“No, she declined,” he said pausing. “I did, however, take my kids on Friday and they spoke with the counselor as well. I set up some additional sessions for them individually. They are going to need it as we go through this process.”
Vicki wanted to know what process he was talking about, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask the question. Instead, she offered a soft, reassuring smile. It was her hopes that he would divulge the answer without her having to pry it out of him.
“I decided that my children deserved better than a woman who refused to face her anger and her own unhappiness. There is no reason for all of us to suffer because she is miserable. I make a good living and we have a nice home. Each year she gets angrier and angrier at me without a solid reason she can voice. I’m tired of it, so I put her out,” he said.
“Yep, I put her ass out. If she wants to be miserable, she can go and share her whining and misery with her whining and miserable Mother,” he said.
“What about your children?’
“My children are at home where they should be. I am stepping down from the board seat, going back to my regular job so I can have normal hours. I will be home to get them off to school and there in the evenings to do homework, cook dinner and whatever else they need. My sister is moving in to lend me a hand until I get everything smoothed out through my attorney and I am going to be happy. More importantly, so will my children without days and nights of a harpy snapping at them and making them feel small. No child should have to deal with that every day nor any man,” he said. “I just came to say thanks for giving me a push.”
That wasn’t the push she had given.
“As long as you are happy,” she said.
“I am at peace. Peace outweighs happiness any damned day of the week,” he said, patting her arm.
Whistling, she watched him walk out the door, his back rigid, the steps aimed with purpose. The Employee Assistance Program really helped her after she lost her mother, and the counselors were top notched. She was pleased that Willie found a path so quickly, but a selfish moment, grazed her thigh, asking for attention. His departure meant a new board member had to be appointed before the scheduled changing of the guard.
“Lint balls,” she mumbled. Now she would have to deal with a new personality on the team. She’d barely gotten accustomed to the current thirteen, now a new cog would be added to the wheel housing. Completing the mail sorting, she returned to her desk, checking her calendar to find the best days to set up interviews for Kelson to find Willie Johnson’s replacement.
It was all in a day’s work. Today was a work day and she had loads to handle, both big and small. Vicki saw no need to put any of it off as she set the timer, and tackled the piles on her desk. Finding happiness was difficult, but at the end of the day what mattered most, was having peace. Willie as right, peace outweighed happiness any damned day of the week.