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This Monday, my weekly articles for Nerdist News and Tokyo Pop begin to be disseminated (sexy) around the world via a nifty lil newsletter. Do me a huge preemptive favor and subscribe here!

I’ll mostly be talking about Anime, Manga and all things Japanese- but I promise to make it as interesting as possible for “non-fans”… but seriously. Become a fan. Water’s fine.

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ALREADY READ? PROCEED THROUGH THE GATES.

HIGHER BEING by Matt Cohen

CHAPTER 3: That time I accidentally offended a werewolf.

The call from Nester came late, on a Thursday night. And when I say call… I mean text.

“YO U HOLDIN?-NESTOR” 

And sure. I get it. Why would I answer that text, right? By this point I’ve had about a week to mentally digest the events that happened at Le’ Abattoir. Nestor. The fact that he almost ate my face off. All that fun. I’d done some serious soul searching and came away with one conclusion… I was intrigued.

Look… I didn’t exactly have a lot going for myself, life-wise at the time. I had ZERO friends and when I say zero, I mean it. Not even an acquaintance. Any attempts I made at having a social life were quickly squashed by my inability to relate to people my own age. I don’t have a Twitter. I have no clue what a Skrillex is. I still have a Hotmail account. There’s nothing about me that’s cool or interesting, and I am certainly not a guy you want to get trapped into a conversation with at a party.

“Do you like anime?”

“What’s anime?

Pretty much how it goes.  My love-life was a love-stillbirth. I’m not the most unattractive man in the world. That being said… I have a tough time talking to women. It’s gotten a bit better of the past few years but back then- when it all started? My game consisted of making sure my romantic conquests had no idea I existed. I was good at it too.

Oh, and my “writing career”?  I wrote a script and a half in two years. The half is decent.

I found myself home alone, yet again; debating on which dvr’ed public television documentary I was going to spend my evening with- when that text came in. At first, I had to remember who Nestor was. It didn’t take long. Nestor helped me out with that.

“ITZ ME! NESTOR! FROM THE GOTH CLUB- FANG GUY- CALL ME BCK”

Fang Guy. Which I guessed was a polite way of saying vampire. Yup. A fucking vampire. I figured it out pretty much as soon as his giant vampire fangs began to come out of his mouth. Weird semi-european sensibility? Check. Goth Club. Dead give-away. Re-tractable fangs. You’re a fucking vampire, dude. And one would think that would freak me out, or shake up my world-view or something but like I said; I wasn’t the happiest guy on the block. This was… different. It was exciting. More importantly; it wasn’t me smoking bongs and replaying Final Fantasy 9 for the sixth time. So yeah, vampire. I knew right away. A life-time of reading comic books and watching horror movies had pretty much made me a walking monster detector. Nestor was a Drac. Big deal. We all have our little problems.

Color me curious. I bit (no pun intended). I dialed his number and waited.

“Sweetie! Awesome response time”, he said from the other end of the phone-call.

“What can I do for you, Nestor?”, I asked.

“You can do about a half-ounce of whatever that miraculous stuff you were holding the other night was. Right? You did say you could help me out, right?” Nestor asked coyly. 

I paused for a moment. What I said a minute ago about being okay with my new vampire friend’s nightly habits; I lied a little. Life hadn’t been so great for me, yeah; but this… this suddenly seemed like a colossally bad decision in a lifetime of pretty fucking bad decisions. A vampire wanted me to sell him a half-ounce. I thought about it, harder than anything I’ve ever thought about in my life.  

“Ummmm. I can swing that”, I replied nonchalantly as humanly possible.

“Oh my god, you’re a fucking rockstar. I’ll text you the address. Come soon.”

I hung up the phone just in time to receive Nestor’s text.  

“4234 Ackerman Drive, North Hollywood.”

I grabbed a bag of weed, a clean’ish hoodie- and I was on my way. To sell weed. To a vampire. In the fucking Valley…

Traffic was basically nonexistent that time of night, so getting to the other side of the hill took no time. In fact- I wish it did take me a little longer. It would’ve given me more time to think… to prepare. When it comes to selling drugs, I don’t care if the customer is human or not- you’ve got to go in with a game-plan. Small Talk? Sure, but keep it to that. The last thing in the world you want to do is get stuck in a conversation with some stoner about his or her “art”, the atrocities in Rwanda or their feelings on the current season of whatever shitty TV show they’re currently obsessing over. Indulging? NEVER. Rule number one of any good pot dealer is don’t smoke with the clients. You’re running a business, not running around town getting high with your buddies. You want to get in and out, no fuss- no mess. Sit down to smoke a bong and the next thing you know… you’ve smoked like 10 of them, and it’s 2am and you’re watching Streets Of Fire with an almost complete stranger. A final subject of note is price; meaning- have one. Don’t do “favors”. Don’t cut deals. I don’t care if you’re slinging to your own mother… she pays full price.

I’m only discussing these rules, because I was about to break all of them.

I got off the freeway and my navigation led me to a small, tree lined residential street. Typical valley; More brown than green. Strip-Malls as far as the eye can see. A seemingly inordinate amount of all night supermarkets. Real fun stuff. I drove down Ackerman Drive looking for the address Nestor had provided for me, and it didn’t take long until I spotted it.  

If you had to take a guess as to what type of house a vampire calls home, I’d bet you’d say Castle. Or… fortress. Or abandoned sewer tunnel or something. What you wouldn’t say is an immaculately landscaped, pretty damn adorable craftsman’s cottage. This thing looked like it was straight out of a fairy tale- and from the beginning of one at that. A sensible mid-sized sedan was parked in the driveway; lights visible through the curtains. This was my spot, and oddly- as I parked my car and started walking towards the house, I felt oddly excited. Terrified a tiny bit, sure… but pretty fucking excited. I can’t tell you the last time I felt that way. It felt… good.

I approached the front door (complete with clever “Hi, I’m Mat!” doormat) and took a deep breathe in. It was go time. I was gonna stick to the plan, sell the vampire some weed and go home with my fleshly throat bits intact. Easy squeezy. I knocked on the door and waited. A loud television playing some sort of reality show blared from inside. After a moment, the volume decreased and I heard footsteps heading towards the door.  

The door slowly creaked open to reveal Nestor. In a t-shirt and pajama pants. A stained t-shirt. Was I at the right house? Lestat was suddenly looking pretty shitty. Nestor smiled when he saw me.

“You beautiful bastard, you. I take it you didn’t hit too much traffic?”, Nestor chimed as he motioned for me to enter. 

“Nah, It was fine-“, I trailed off as I caught my first glimpse of Nestor’s house. 

“Definitely not what I expected” is the first thing to come to mind. “Downright quaint” was my second thought. My third… “What the fuck?”. 

Nestor’s house was… nice. And not like “Oh wow- you’ve got a lifesize Predator statue in your living room! Nice!”. It was… classy and tasteful. Warm, even. These are words I’d never thought would describe an immortal blood sucking creatures domicile. But fuck… this place could easily be featured in an issue of Better Home and Digest (if they still in fact publish it… some of my references are a bit dated). Artwork draped the walls while a deep dark “some kind of fancy wood” floor off-set the delicateness of countless crown moldings and sconces. Look, I’m not interior designer but this place was pretty fucking sweet.

“This place is pretty fucking sweet”, I said on auto-pilot.

Nestor smiled again, and motioned that I should sit down on the rich leather couch; which had so many pillows on it that I thought I wouldn’t even fit. That’s right. Pillows. This vampire loved pillows. I moved cautiously into the living room (which of course, had a roaring flame going in a crazy nice stone fireplace) and sat down on the couch, immediately embraced by the best pillows in the history of pillowdom. I pulled the bag of weed from my jacket pocket and plopped it on the coffee table; which was really nice too, but you get the idea by this point. Nestor seemed almost offended. He rolled his eyes at me and joined me on the couch. 

“Really? You in a big rush or something” he asked in catty tone.

“Pardon me?”, I begged.

“You’re just gonna sit down and throw a big bag of weed on my table. No hello? No, “Hi Nestor, how has your week been? Lovely house you got here”. You’re like a pot selling robot. Calm down. Relax. Do you have anywhere to be?” 

Remember rule number one?

“Nah… I can hang.” 

Nestor’s dinosaur smile returned. He patted me on the knee. It’s not that I wasn’t comfortable, because clearly- Pillow Town. And I wasn’t really worried about the whole vampire thing either. Things were just going a little too normally. I pictured this guy living in a big derelict mansion somewhere, only emerging to feed on unsuspecting goths. I expected gargoyles and candelabras and blood. What I got was… homey, if anything.

“Can I get you a lemonade or a cocktail or something?” 

Fuck it. If this was reality, I decided to go along for the ride.  

“Uh sure. Thanks, man. And really nice place.”, I said. 

“Thanks a-million. It’s been a lot of work, but then again- I’ve got nothing but time”, he giggled as he walked into the kitchen. I could hear glass clinking. “The neighborhood isn’t anything to brag about, but it’s quiet… and we like it.”  

I got up off the couch to walk around the room a bit; taking things in. I saw framed photographs of Nestor that seemed to cover the breadth of photography. I even think I spied a daguerrotype hung in a corner. I went to Nestor’s bookshelf. If you ever want to know anything about a person, or a vampire- check out what they read. Nestor’s collection was eclectic and impressive. He’s obviously no- dummy. And this house? Dude is a man of taste. Before Nestor came back into the living room, clutching an ice cold glass of freshly squeezed lemonade, I had already made up my mind; I like this guy. And I’m not usually one for liking people. 

Nester met me at the bookshelf, drink in hand. “You a big reader-…. Oh my. Oh my god. I just realized I don’t know your name! I saved in you in my phone as “Cute weed kid”!” 

“I’m Abe. Nice to actually meet you.” I said pleasantly, as I extended my hand.

“Charmed. And now Abe… Shall we get down to business?” Nestor asked as he led me back to the couch, eyeing the bag of weed sitting on the table. 

We both sat and Nestor motioned towards the pot, as if asking “May I?”. I nodded and he scooped up the weed and cracked open the bag. Nestor stuck in face into the weed and took a deep, strong sniff. He sighed happily as he brought his face out of the bag. “Amazing”, he said. “I wonder, does it smoke as heavenly as it smells?”

Rule Number 2. See ya.

“I guess theres only one way to find out” I said, as I was already removing a pack of rolling papers from my wallet. I don’t know if it was the lighting, the lemonade or some kind of vampire voo-doo, but for some reason I had a strong urge to smoke a joint with this guy. Like I said earlier, it’s never a good idea to linger; but any fear had subsided and I started to feel really comfortable in there. Nestor didn’t complain as I rolled us a fat joint to smoke. 

“So how’d you get into growing the stuff?”, he asked?

“Im from New York originally, and pot isn’t quite as readily available as it is out here. It’s also insanely expensive. For a stoner teenager to maintain a healthy habit, he’s either gotta be selling the stuff- or come from a rich family. My family is rich, but they’re also cheap… so I figured I’d sell the stuff” I said, still rolling the join between my fingers. “And honestly- I don’t want to sound cocky or anything… but my shit is like a thousand times better than anything you can get at a dispensary. It’s organic and clean.”

“I can’t wait to try it. Oh, and how much is it gonna run me for the half?” Nestor questioned.

“I usually charge like Four hundy and ounce- so two. But, I  can break you a first time deal- say, one fifty?”  

“Perfect”, Nestor smiled.

Rule Number three? Get the fuck out of here. 

I finished rolling the doob and pulled out a lighter to spark it when Nestor stopped me. “Why don’t we smoke out on the patio? It’s such a nice night out. Full-Moon and all that jazz”, Nestor said. He motioned towards the patio door and the two of us walked outside into the night air. And it was a really nice night; moon looking as bloated and full as possible. I think I smelled Jasmine. He led us to a rocking bench and we sat, silently. I lit the joint, took a deep pull and passed it to Nestor. If my hit could be described as “Aggressive”, Nestor’s was a thing of pure grace and subtlety- as if he was sipping a fine wine.

“You approve?” I asked

Nestor passed the joint and smirked. “I think me and you are gonna be fast friends, Abraham”.

As I took a pull of the joint, I looked around Nestor’s backyard- which of course was immaculate. Lush trees and flowers everywhere. And… oddly enough,  a pile of bones. In my newly stoned state, I forgot about manners and wandered over to the bone pile, smoking away. Nestor’s eyes followed. I leaned down to examine the skeletal detritus. These were big fucking bones. Like- horse bones? Pig? I wasn’t sure. I took another drag off my joint and passed it to Nestor, who seemed amused by my sudden curiosity.

“What do you have a dog? Like a Puggle or something? I asked, now high as a kite.

Nestor giggled and a new voice rang out in the otherwise silent night.

“A fucking Puggle? Hey Nes, tell your new friend over here to be polite or I’m going to show him how bad my bite actually is”, this mystery man said.

Startled, I turned to see a man standing by the open patio door. By man, I mean eight foot tall bi-pedal wolf covered in downy fur. Bones. Check. Full Moon? Oh yeah. 

This was Tank; Nestor’s roommate and best friend.

And… the first Were-Wolf I ever met.

STAY TUNED FOR CHAPTER 4: That time I went to Disneyland with a Mummy.

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Thought I’d update ya’ll (it means you all, in the American South) on what I’m currently up to.

BAGGED & BOARDED: Is back (ish)! Myself and Misti have some fun guests lined up this month and are hoping to return the show to weekly normalcy at some point in the very near future/and or already have!

G.E.E.K: Axel is chugging along, art-wise; about halfway through the book. Big updates coming soon but believe me, G.E.E.K is on it’s way!

HIGHER BEING: Every week on this very website, I’m publishing a new chapter of my “Inter-Novel” Higher Being! Check it out at the top of the page.

TEAM JACK: Is on its way back, starting with episode 50 and special guest KEVIN SMITH!!!!

SECRET WEB-SERIES I’M DOING: Is a secret. But it’s awesome. But… still a secret.

TOKYOPOP/NERDIST NEWS:  Happy to announce that starting in March, I’ll be writing three weekly newsletters for Nerdist under the TokyoPop brand; dealing with all things Manga, Anime and Japan in general! Subscribe here!

plus, I write screenplays everday and nap a lot too.

LET’S GO MARCH!

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Law and Order: SUV- The New York City police department; against the advise of both public  concern and common logic, decide to open up a task force to deal exclusively with crimes relating to the use of Sports Utility Vehicles.

Sample Episode: Detectives Sanders (Ethan Embry) and Reynault (Paul “Triple H” Levesque) are called into the scene of a crime at a local supermarket parking lot when a 1998 Jeep Grand Cherokee collides with a 2004 Nissan Murano; and no one is safe. Guest starring Harry Dead Stanon as “Smitty- The Stock Boy”

Law and Order: PGA- A special hand selected branch of officers who’s task is to patrol the links of the PGA Golf Tour and try to keep the peace in a crazy world full of 9 Irons and fuzzy hats and 2pm cocktails.

Sample Episode: Detective Space-Suit (rapper 2 Chainz) and Special D.A  Montrose (Natasha Kinski) are in the bunker on this one, when pro golfer Skanky Tudro (special guest William Baldwin) winds up missing the day before the Augusta National.

Law and Order: Petty Crimes- The Tulsa Oklahoma police department is busier than ever- stopping unwanted skateboarding, reprimanding people who wear their pants too low and generally policing the “kind of” safety of Tulsa and it’s outlying areas.

Sample Episode: When local menace Timmy (Freddy Highmore) is caught shoplifting a comb, Detective’s Frik (Tyrese Gibbons) and Frak (Tim Blake Nelson) must delve to the bottom of a comb-snatching ring that could extend the entire breadth of Tulsa. With an original song by 3-6-Mafia.

Law and Order: Hogsmeade- Hogsmeade may seem like an idyllic retreat for any hard working Hogwarts student, but lurking behind the narrow corners and alleyways lies a crime ridden, butter beer serving hamlet. These are the stories of the wizards and muggles who patrol that hamlet.

Sample Episode: P.C Wiggans (Colin Firth) and Detectiveress ThistleCrumb (Emma Stone) find themselves working the case of a career when a young wizard is drugged polyjuice potion at a christmas party- A wizard with far reaching political ties. Guest starring Dom Deluise as ShookCranks.

Law and Order: lawww end Ord Her- New York City’s special unit made up of “bright” toddlers, who just might be the only thing between the good guys and bad guys of the Big Apple. That is; if they’ve had their naps.

Sample Episode: A bunch of babies play with an onion.

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Click here to get your read on and all that sexy fun.

TO READ CHAPTER 1, CLICK HERE

HIGHER BEING: by Matt Cohen

Chapter 2: That time I met a vampire at a goth club

“I fucking hate goth clubs”; I said to no one in particular as I exited through a set of rusty graffiti covered metal doors and into the poorly lit and even more poorly swept smoking patio. I’m 23, it’s 2 am on a Friday night in February- and I, along with a couple of my friends have: for some odd reason, wound up at L.A’s biggest underground Goth Club- “Le’ Abattoir”. Classy.

Here’s my take on the “Goth” culture.

This is what the world would be like if we all lived inside the Matrix. And no; I don’t mean the “concept of the Matrix- I mean the movie. From 1996. A distant land where the epitome of cool was how much leather one could drape themselves in while still be mobile enough to dance like a Nazi on ecstasy. Most likely while on ecstasy. Now I’m certainly not one to judge anyone for life-style choices, as I spend most of my nights hanging with either the dead, the undead or the never should have-been. That didn’t happen yet though. I digress.

Goths…

For people that cultivate a look that seems to be predicated on horror films and techo-rave nightmares, Goth’s are anything but intimidating- which I didn’t always realize. As a youngin’, I assumed the kid in my school who wore a cape and had fangs and loved The Cure was a dark dude. While I wasn’t scared of him per-say, I’d definitely make an effort to cross the hallway that much quicker if I noticed his top hat and cloak slinking around a corner. Don’t know why. I guess chalk it up to fear of different, which- is pretty much what high school is all about. Therein lies my current stance of Goth culture, though. It just seem’s very high school. And, this is coming from a guy who reads about 20 comic books a week and still watches television intended for pre-schoolers. Trends change over time. There’s a natural ebb and flow to these things. Hippies today don’t look like the hippies of the 60’s. Hip-Hop style was all about the street and being a gangsta’- whereas todays top rap starts sip top shelf champagne on private jets and look like Jean Paul Gautier dressed them before they left the house. But Goth’s… Goth’s all look like they stepped out of a time machine from the mid 90’s; freaky contact lenses, spikey vests and green hair. And again… I’m no one to judge.

But- I can’t help not being intimidated by these people. In fact- If anything, I’d say I kinda felt bad for them. The forefront idea behind the Goth “movement” is isolation; not belonging. Shunning society because society shuns them. Cool idea. However- dressing like an army of bad guys from the beginning of Demolition Man and dancing to un-danceable songs twenty years past their prime, a rebel does not make. This doesn’t come out of any kind of hatred or even dislike of the people themselves- I just wish I could walk up to them and put a consoling hand on their shoulder and say “Hey buddy- We’re not in high school anymore. You can be weird. Just… be YOUR kind of weird. Also… get a haircut”. The way too loud music is just not my thing at all and it’s too dark to make out what gender your dance-mate is. In the scheme of ideal way’s of spending my Friday night, going to a goth club ranks somewhere right between attending a religious function and repeatedly hitting myself in the chest with a meat tenderizer.

I know I probably sound like a judgmental dick, but fuck it; and no offense, but this is my story. I earned this. So bare with the infrequent rants and raves. I’m a man of discerning taste. Also- I get what’s coming to me in the end, so no worries.

There I was, smoking a cigarette and generally being miserable. My friend drove so I really had no escape, as we were somewhere in the out-skirts of Silverlake and frankly; I’m way too cheap for cabs. I leaned against a mural covered wall and puffed away, trying to both calm myself down and excite myself for the late night video game session I would soon indulge in. Also weed. I would indulge in that. A lot. In fact, I would’ve loved to indulge in it right then and there but Goth’s are notorious smokers and I was surrounded by both pierced revelers and not so pierced security guards. I really didn’t feel like getting caught and thrown out so I could wait by myself on the sidewalk for two hours, so- I wasn’t smoking weed that night. Much to my chagrin.

“Well you just look fucking thrilled to be alive”, a high pitched and slightly lispy voice said out of the darkness.

Ugh, was one of these things trying to engage me? Can’t he or she (it was pretty loud out there and I wasn’t really paying attention to anything but my own unhappiness) see that I want to smoke my cigarette in peace? I turned to source the unwanted interruption but couldn’t tell which leather jacketed twenty something it was that spoke to me.

“Lemme guess. You’re more of a rap guy”.

I scanned the nearby crowd again. Who the fuck was talking to me? I wasn’t that drunk. Also… I’m not really that huge into rap.”

Suddenly… a hand grabbed my shoulder; and not the aforementioned consoling type. I spun around defensively and saw… him. In front of me was a man in what I could only guess to be his early 40’s- dressed in a long flowing black cloak; the same black as his long and thick mane of hair. He too smoked a cigarette, but mine did not have an ornate holder like him; nor did I exhale my smoke in strange plumes of oddly shaped smoke. In a sea of people I rolled my eyes at, this dude got my attention. Something was off.

“Sorry, did I spook you?”, he asked playfully.

“Nah, I’m good man. Just had a few to drink”, I responded in a tone which I prayed read as “Please leave me the fuck alone right now weird european looking guy”

“This really doesn’t look like your scene. Lemme guess, your friends dragged you here and now you’re trapped here amongt us heathens.”

All I wanted in the world was for this guy to leave me alone. Why he chose me, I had no idea but his intense stare and the fact that his hand was still on my shoulder did nothing to ease my already tensed nerves. “Nailed it. Hopefully taking off soon”.

“Yeah, you don’t like to dance- do you? Too much… Too much. I can read people. That’s what I do. Life-Long student of the beast known as human; and you my friend, are not a night-club kind of fella. You’d rather be home right now with some Muppet Movie Dvd thing and a beer or five. Am I wrong?”

I said, “You’re not wrong… guy.”- still hoping he’d catch my very cold drift and wander over to some other poor shmuck. This guy was staring. Hard; and I started to feel more and more like bed and bong was now just a distant dream- my reality being an involuntary conversation with this guy.

He extended his pale, ringed hand. “Nester”, he chimed. “An absolute pleasure to meet you”. I shook his hand and tried to think of an excuse to leave. “Look, I actually think my friends are probably waiting for me by now. I should get going, Nester. Have a nice night, man.” I said glibly. Nester was still all smiles, his cigarette and mine now smoked down to the butt. One of us had to make a move to leave or this was going to get extremely awkward.

Nester looked towards the door leading into the club. He shook his head with dismay. “It’ll take you twenty minutes to get through the crowd in there. Is this your first time at Le’ Abbatoir? On second thought, you don’t seem like you’d make a repeat visit. If you go up the stairs around the corner, it’ll take you right back to the front lobby of the club.”

Nester looked around the corner and back at me. He said, “You know what- I’m gonna grab another drink anyway. Here- follow me.” Nester took me by the arm and before I could protest or make a scene or react in a way that is a natural human response to an odd stranger pulling them into a dark alleyway, I followed.

In the years since, I have often laid awake at night and wondered why it was I went with Nester. Now with a bit more information into the nature of my friend, I understand it wasn’t entirely up to me. That being said-… I didn’t fight it. In my defense, we were at an incredibly crowded night club with security everywhere, so the risk of anything “untoward” was probably minimal. However, I didn’t trust him and I certainly didn’t want to go anywhere with him; but you couldn’t tell my brain that. It happened quicker then I’ve ever experienced time to work in my life. It’s as if the universe began to float. One second I was trying to ditch out and find my friends and the next… well I don’t even really know what happened. The next thing I knew, I was alone with Nester in a dark alleyway; which I quickly realized wasn’t the “short-cut” back into the club he’d made it out to be.

We rounded a corner and headed down into a narrow and trash strewn alley behind the club. The noise of smokers faded as we walked further and further. My fairly muted protests were shushed by Nester- as he’d repeat “Shh… Just a little further”. We walked about 50 feet into this alleyway, when I had a realization. Finally, I snapped to it. I knew EXACTLY what was going on. I stopped dead in my tracks and tried to assume my most “non threatening but at the same time pretty damn threatening” voice.

“Ummm.. Wait, dude. I don’t know what you think… and no offense. But I’m not gay.

Nester stopped in his tracks, turned to me and smiled as wide as a human being has ever smiled.

“That’s okay, sweetie. I’m not human.”

With the force of what I can only imagine to be a freight train, Nester grabbed me by the shoulders and threw me down onto the concrete. I’m talking instant stars. My brain couldn’t even register the trauma before Nester was kneeling down over my completely unresponsive body; his face contorted into one of pure hunger and darkness and centuries of predation. All sound left the world. All color drained from my sight. Here I was, unable to move; a thing from the darkest, deepest reaches of terror poised on top of me- glaring. Gnashing. It’s as if my brain decided that instead of making choices, it’d rather just kick back and watch the movie that was my imminent death (and possibly consumption). Paralyzed with fear is an understatement. I was paralyzed with life. Or rather, the ever more certain end of mine.

My brain seemed to pick the most inopportune moment to suddenly rage back to life, as my panicked senses flooded and overwhelmed me. Nester look at me, or rather- looked me up and down. I tried to mutter out a cry of help but my body was still catching up to my severely skittish mind. Nester stretched his neck and sighed. A brief moment of respite in what was a hurricane of violence. Nester looked at my frightened eyes and smiled. Wide. Wider. Wider. Until… his lower jaw seemed to unhinge, making way for a newly protruding row of sharp fangs, adoring the top of his hellish maw.

Great. This Goth was a vampire. Perfect.

Nester started sniffing the air madly, like a wild dog who is on the trail of a fresh kill. Finally, I found my voice. “W-…W… Why me?”, I bleated out sheepishly. Nester gave me a concerned look, almost as if he was disappointed.

“Oh, no no no. Don’t. Sweetie… don’t make this all personal. I was hungry, you were alone- and no offense… kind of a dick. So- better luck next time?”

With a flash, Nester was on top of me; fangs descending further and further the closer who got to my pulsating neck. I’ve never given birth, never been to war. I’d led a fairly domesticated life up to that point and didn’t truly know what “Problems” were. I was suburban, at best and at worst- another thoughtless upper middle class denizen of the social media age. I never hurt people but I didn’t do fuck-all to help them either. I was semi selfish, semi scared and semi-alive. All that being said, when a strange vampire is about to sink his teeth into your fleshy throat parts- you start to appreciate the little things in life. Friends, family… Weed.

At the very last moment of my life, when a vampire was inches from draining my blood, when all hope was lost- a funny thing happened.

Nester became confused.

“What is that smell?”, he asked.

“f.f.f.-fear?”, I tried to emote.

Nester looks annoyed. He leaned back a bit, fangs descending correspondingly in his mouth. “No… that smell. Oh my god, that smells absolutely amazing!”, he sang.

I frantically searched my mind for what he could be referring to. If it wasn’t the scent of a animal facing it’s own death, and I wasn’t wearing any cologne or anything… What could he be talking about? And then it hit me.

“It’s pot.”

“What kind of pot?”, Nester asked intrigued, still sitting on my life-less body.

“W-w.- what?”, I managed to choke out confusingly.

“What kind of weed is it?

“I-… It’s home-grown. I grow it myself… sir.”

Nester’s eyes lit up. He leaned back even further, giving me some much needed breathing room; as breathing was an activity I hadn’t engaged in much in the last few moments. “Lemme see.”, he said. I wasn’t going to say no. I motioned with my chin to my coat pocket. Nester reached his hands in and pulled out a chunk of weed, wrapped in the cellophane from a pack of cigarettes. Nester examined the weed like it was the worlds finest object de’ art. He gently caressed the bag in his hands, before gingerly removing a nug of weed to examine further.

Nester held the pot up to his nose, as I prayed for ANYONE to break up this tête-à-tête. Security, a homeless guy, someone looking for a place to pee. How could we be so alone with so many people so few feet away? Nester held the nug to his nostril and sniffed in like a fine wine. A smile came across his face and his eyes went somewhere distant and dreamy and happy. He came back to reality and looked me dead in the eyes, which was easy as he was still pinning me to the concrete below.

“You grew this?”, he asked.

“Yes, sir.”

“And you can grow more of it?”, Nester questioned.

“Yeah. Like… as much I want I guess”.

Nester considered this, put the bag of weed into his pocket and helped me up to my feet. He brushed the dirt of my coat and gave me a playful little tap on the chin. He shook his head and giggled.

“You looking to get rid of any of this stuff?, Nester asked- eyes wide and hopeful.

When a vampire; who moments ago was about to chomp down on your vital bits, asks you if you can sell him weed. You say yes. Wanna sell the weed? Great. Don’t wanna sell it? Tough fucking luck. You say yes. Every time. And if you’re lucky, that’s when things get interesting.

“Sure… man.”, I responded; as cool as someone with a pair of freshly piss stained underwear can be.

Nester reached into his cloak pocket, and I felt a moment of fear again. Maybe he was just fucking with me. Maybe he likes to play with his food. Maybe. Nester removes something and reaches towards me. I open my palm, not knowing what was coming but knowing I had to take it.

Nester puts his cellphone into my waiting hand.

“Gimme your number dude. We should talk”.

And that is how I got my first customer, in the business of selling weed to monsters. It’s also how I got my best friend, but that all comes later.

First… I get my feet wet.

TO BE CONTINUED NEXT WEEK WITH Chapter  3: That time I accidentally offended a werewolf”

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Check out who I chose by clicking here

My favorite Anime/Manga/Thing to waste my money on of all time. One Piece. A simple story about a boy who eats a rare fruit and then gets magical rubber powers and then becomes a pirate. Age-Old stuff. There have been like 12 animated feature films in Japan, but never a Live-Action.

What if….

     MONKEY D. LUFFY                             EZRA MILLER

            RORONOA ZORO                              CM PUNK

                     NAMI                                             EMMA STONE

                  USOPP                                         JAY BARUCHEL

                 SANJI                                            RYAN GOSLING

          CHOPPER                                     VOICED BY mc chris

           NICO ROBIN                                   ZOOEY DESCHANEL

                  FRANKY                               DWAYNE JOHNSON

              BROOK                                    VOICED BY BILL HADER

      BUGGY THE CLOWN                           DANNY MCBRIDE

        TRAFALGAR LAW                            JOSEPH GORDON LEVITT

                 SMOKER                                                LIAM NEESON

                    VIVI                                               BRIE LARSON

          BON CLAY                                        JIM CARREY

     PORTGAZ D. ACE                           DAVE FRANCO

      BOA HANCOCK                         MEGAN FOX

  BLACKBEARD                                        GERARD BUTLER

            TASHIGI                                          AUBREY PLAZA

           AKAINU                                     TAKESHI KITANO

             AOKIJI                                 LEE BYUNG HUN

           ARLONG                             VINNIE JONES

BARTHOLOMEW KUMA       BROCK LESNAR

     CROCODILE                                   JAVIER BARDEM

    DRACULE MIHAWK                        JOSEPH FIENNES

DONQUIXOTE DOFLAMINGO         LEONARDO DICAPRIO

                 MR. 3                                   CLIVE OWEN

          GECKO MORIA                              JACK BLACK

            GOL D. ROGER                                IAN MCSHANE

        MONKEY D GARP                        RON PERLMAN

  SILVERS RAYLEIGH                             BILLY CONNELLY

                SHANKS                                  ALEXANDER SKARSGARD

                 JIMBEI                                                    RAY STEVENSON

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