Sunday, March 4, 2012

Sample Sunday: Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous

It's Sample Sunday on Twitter. I thought I'd release a small sample from the casino scene in Flesheaters and Bloodsuckers Anonymous.


A sultry seductress wandered by Harold, waving a bag of warm and fresh blood under his
nose. He turned tail to follow her box of edible goodies as she called out to Casino patrons.
Blood, flesh, oranges. Sweets for the little ones. Get your warm blood for the parched throat!


Zork’s harsh call pulled Harold away from the girl and back to the task at hand. There
would be time for food later. He had an eternity to check out this wonderful place. Although,
Harold had to admit as he stepped up to the cage to hand over his small cache of chips he was
beginning to feel a bit like a kid in a candy store. He didn’t know where to go next!


The zombie completed his transaction first, handing chips to another zombie working
inside the cage. He split his chips with the house seventy cents on the dollar. Harold didn’t
know a lot about gambling, but they sure had a racket going. They’d been playing away from
the casino. Maybe there specific rules for games held off casino property. It certainly wasn’t
legal. Instead of cash, the zombie behind the window handed over a small slip of paper.


Harold stepped up to the cage window. He handed over the chips, keeping one for
himself as a souvenir. The blank faced zombie behind the window counted out his chips.
Although, it could be the creature’s facial muscles were frozen in place with various degrees of
decay. According to Harold’s estimates he got a cut of sixty to forty and a slip of paper of his
own.


“I think you miscounted,” Harold started as the zombie looked up at him. He got shouted down before he could get going by Zork and a few other creatures in line. They pushed him aside. Harold looked down at his dinky slip of paper. So far tonight he was hungry and out one hundred twenty bucks. Last time he ever comes to a poker game with Zork.


Harold muttered softly about the cut, pointing it at the slip in his hand and the slip in the
dealer’s hand for emphasis. His dealer zombie scratched its head, causing a dry chunk of scalp
to come out.


Zork oozed over to the two of them with a slip of paper clutched into one eyestalk.


“Never argue with the house,” Zork shrilled at Harold. “A good way to get yourself
kicked out of here with no invitation to return.”


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