HIS EYES rolled over the heavy set black woman on the television. Interesting, him thought, the cops are setting traps? It certainly wasn't he in that alley, as the plump female witness suggested.
He was out doing the deed, doing what he was born to do, doing what now came natural. And, surely, if it wasn't he, it was probably as the scruffy man told Aunt Jemima—it was a cop.
Him cringed and jerked his neck at the thought of cops. Him hated cops because they were trying to stop his fun, trying to stop Him from what he liked to do. Play with the pretty ladies.
Jeremy said they will never get caught. Jeremy taught Him a lot of things, but most important was how not to get caught. Him did not always think and talk right. Sometimes Him got confused. No matter, Jeremy will come again next month and they will get to play again.
The urgent need to cut and taste the juice was overwhelming. The creamy red liquid drove Him, called his name, beckoned for another savory drop. It was fascinating. It danced in the light. His reflection showed in a pool of it. And there was nothing better than the taste.
It tasted better than pizza, and pizza was his favorite. It was smeared with red paste. Watching one made at the shop around the corner was one of the things Him liked to do. The sweet nectar of life is what they called it on a show once. It was sweet alright, but mostly bitter. The sweetness of it was the blood itself. Thinking about it like he was doing was going to lead to cutting, and having a drop or two.
Jeremy didn’t like it when he did that. He said it made people take notice of the marks and ask questions. But Jeremy wasn't always around, and If Him did it soon after Jeremy left, and it wasn't too deep, Jeremy would never know.
At first the thought was that Jeremy knew everything, even when he wasn't around. Him knew better now. Jeremy could not see all, and that allowed for small pleasures until his return. Watching the pie man around the corner making a pizza was one. Another was playing with his life-sized, red painted latex doll.
It wasn't only the blood Him liked, but also the caressing of the smooth skin. The look of terror in the eyes of the pretty ladies was exciting too. When his fancy from the touching and glee from the dismay were met, it was time to cut. It was also time to think about something else. If not, the night would end with pulling up his sleeve and reaching for his blade.
Besides, hadn't he just finished drinking? Wasn't there enough power juice in his stomach already? Yes, power juice! Him swore the blood had special powers. There was always the feeling of strength afterward. It was like nothing could hurt Him, not even ...
Him changed the path of his thoughts and quickly centered on the power juice again. How would it feel to be covered in it head to toe? Probably like God, he decided, as the image lingered in his brain. Nothing would ever hurt Him, nothing ever again.