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benchilada) wrote2007-01-08 09:31 am
Sir Reginald Has Worse Nights Than You Do
“Sweet Yemaya, but I do love small-town carnivals. Japan’s festivals are amazing, but there’s something refreshing about the garish simplicity of those in America. Here we are, on the edge of a tiny little town, surrounded by excitement!” smiled Amadi.
“I will reluctantly admit that they do carry a certain appeal,” agreed Sir Reginald, taking another bite of his fifth corn dog, “but if you ever tell anybody I’ll have you…well, I’m not really sure. But I’ll have it done nonetheless.”
“If my parents could see this—”
“Your parents died three-hundred years ago.”
“Yes, but the point is that they would think they were in the land of the Gods, surrounded by delicious smells and flashing lights and…” his voice trailed off as he met the stare of a man whose confederate flag t-shirt covered only half of his belly. “Perhaps it is best that they aren’t here after all.”
“Yes, well, we should expect that sort of thing. I’m British and dressed properly, with well-groomed hair and clean skin and you’re…well, you’re an African vampire.”
“I prefer ‘Amadi, Idiok Ekpo with the Power of Ten Moons.’”
"And I prefer 'Sir Reginald, Only Sensible Person on the Planet,' but I don't imagine it will catch on.""At least mine's true."
“I hate you. Oh, candy floss!” Reg exclaimed and rummaged in his pocket for money.
“I’ll be over here, winning prizes for all the children,” Amadi said and walking to a booth where a carny who was showing people how easy it was to throw a ping-pong ball into a tiny fishbowl.
“Nobody wins those!”
“Behold my wicked ways.”
By the time Reginald found Amadi, the thin black man had over a dozen plastic bags stacked in front of him, children gathered around him in a half-circle, all cheering him on.
“Look, Reginald, I am on something of a lucky streak!”
“Is this some sort of…you know?”
“But of course,” he smiled, his white teeth practically shining under the bright lights. He held out another dollar to the booth attendant, who kept his arms crossed.
“Again, please,” asked the African.
“Game’s closed for the night,” said the carny, adjusting his Mopar hat.
“I see,” Amadi nodded, still grinning. “It is getting late. Alright, I hope that there are less than…fifteen of you little ones, for that’s as many fish as I’ve won for you!”
Within seconds, all but one of the little bags were gone, tiny hands clutching them as the children ran back to their parents, telling them about the nice man who won them a prize. Amadi reached for the last fish, but it was gone. He looked up to see the carny putting it back into a cooler with the rest of the fish.
“Excuse me, but I was going to keep that one for myself.”
“Buy your own fish, brownie,” the carny said and turned his back.
“Have a good night, you redneck piece of shit,” grumbled Reginald, flicking a lit cigarette at the man’s back and missing by a few feet.
“Reginald, it’s not worth it. Come, let’s try the Ferris Wheel.”
“Why wouldn’t you let me yell at that bastard?” asked Reginald as they walked.
“Because you would have harshed my buzz.”
“Excuse me?”
“The excitement of the children and the rest of the people watching me win, it’s as good as blood to my kind.”
Reginald looked less than pleased.
“So you just sucked the emotions out of children and their parents? Doesn’t that leave them mentally and emotionally exhausted? What if one of them gets injured on one of the rides due to your hunger.”
“I hardly took any at all, and spread over thirty people like that, the worst they’ll experience is a slightly higher risk of throwing up on the Tilt-A-Whirl. Despite what I am, I’m not a bad man. Remember that among my people sorcerers are worst kind of person, the human equivalent of me.”
“My apologies, then. Hurry up, there’s no line at the egg-cage-thingy ride.”
They ran over and laughed as a group of teenagers arrived just ahead of them, guaranteeing a wait. Reginald lit a cigarette and leaned against the aluminum side of a lemonade shake-up booth.
“You’re right,” he panted between drags, “this is pretty damned—”
Two men interrupted him by pinning Amadi against the booth as a third pulled back a rubber mallet and pounded a shaft of wood into his heart.
“YOU DON SIGN, AKATAS!” shouted Amadi, easily throwing off the two men who held him. Reginald grabbed the mallet from the third, who seemed stunned that the black man hadn’t crumbled into dust, and swung it into the offender’s solar plexus.
“Run!” screamed Reginald, pushing his friend towards a nearby exit from the grounds.
“I’m going to kill them!” Amadi yelled, but only marginally resisted Reginald’s shoves. As they began to run, Reginald threw his jacket at the African, who used it to cover the piece of wood that still stuck out of his chest. They ran across the parking lot to Amadi’s red Saturn, and jumped inside. The African pulled out the stake and spat on it.
“Every time I think I’m getting accepted as a black man in this country, something even more obscene happens to me! And this time it didn’t even have to do with race! I could handle the redneck at the goldfish booth, but this is…it is ridiculous!” he shouted as he drove, heading for the nearest road out of town.
“That was, indeed, rather startling. Most distressing to me is that they even guessed you were a vampire at all. It’s scarcely something you advertise, is it?”
“No, and I’m not even the sort of vampire they’d recognize. For example, I enjoy garlic and a stake through my heart just hurts.”
“How depressing,” Amadi continued as he poked around at the neat little hole in his chest. “Where to now, Reginald? We left all of our things at the motel, and there’s absolutely no way I’m going back to get them.”
“I told you that if we hung out in
“Was that before or after you ate two funnel cakes?”
“They call them elephant ears in this area.”
“I rest my case. We’ve got about a half a tank of gas, so we can easily get to a bigger town without any problems. I say we hit a Wal-Mart, buy some clothes and stay in a hotel where you can only reach the rooms from inside.”
“You mean you didn’t like the motel back in Cletusland?”
“Well, there was always—”
The first truck hit the rear passenger side of the car so hard that the Saturn spun three times before hitting the ditch. By the time it came to a stop, four men had leapt out of the back of the second truck.
Inside Amadi’s car, Reginald was struggling to open his door, pausing occasionally to wipe the blood that kept dripping into his left eye. Amadi took a deep breath, and with three punches had knocked his door off the hinges.
“Three punches…” coughed Sir Reginald, “Where’s this…oh, hell…where’s this ‘strength of ten moons’ at?”
“It’s a new moon tonight Reginald. That means I can’t do this for both of us.”
“I can hold my own, my friend.”
Amadi crawled out, grabbed the car door, and overhanded it at the man nearest to the wreck. The redneck hit the ground with a horrible noise, but the man behind him was unfazed. He lowered his shotgun and pumped several slugs into the vampire’s chest.
“Graaaaagh!” the black man screamed.
Meanwhile, Reginald had finally opened his door, bringing him face to face with a massive revolver.
“Don’t talk, magician.”
Reginald nodded affirmatively—under the firing line—and punched his assailant in the balls. After grabbing the gun, Reginald shot him.
“AMADI! They were ready for us!”
“I know that now!”
Amadi didn’t give his man time to reload. He ran forward, grabbed the shotgun, and—swinging it like a baseball bat—broke the man’s sunburned neck.
“Was that a neck?” shouted Reginald, staring at an enormous man in loose overalls with a tire iron in each hand.
“Yes! How many are over there?”
“One down, one…well, one fat and creepy and holding crowbars. You?”
“Two down, one…” There was a sickening ripping sound as Amadi tore deep into a neck.
“Three down!” he shouted through a mouthful of blood.
“I’ll see if I can handle SHIT!” shouted Reginald as Crowbar sprinted at him. He instinctively raised his arm defensively, so the first blow broke Reginald’s left forearm. The second sank deep into his gut and he fell to the ground. He rolled in the gravel and tried to catch his breath so he could scream.
“Reginald!” shouted Amadi. “I’m coming!”
“Hang on jest a sec’ now, colored man.”
To his right, Amadi heard something being poured on the ground. To his left, Crowbar started walking towards him.
“Leave him be, Bobby. I got him from here. I have quenched your thirst, A’mrina, with nothing but the finest of spirits! Come forth and bring me, Reverend Tom Streator, your strength!”
Amadi looked and saw a sharply-dressed man pouring out the last of a bottle of Johnnie Walker blue into the dirt.
“Sorcerer!” shouted Amadi and leapt at the man, but it was too late. With the strength of twenty moons, Tom backhanded the African, sending him flying into the rear of the Saturn.
Reginald turned his head and reached out his arm, but he still couldn’t speak. He could see Bobby’s whole frame shake as he chuckled loudly.
“Well, shoot, you ain’t left much for me, Tom.”
“Bein’ as what you’re the only one left alive, there’s plenty for you. Would you like a few hits before I get to business?”
“Naw, I’m gonna work over the
“Get me the gas can first,” said Tom as he clenched his fists. Amadi rose to his feet just in time to have his skull shattered by a single punch.
“Aargh! Why do you do this? I have done nothing wrong!” the African cried out as his fingers attempted to hold in his brain.
“Hell, boy, being a nigger bloodsucker ain’t enough reason for you? Now you just hang about there for a second,” Tom grinned as he started pouring fuel across Amadi, who was trying to get his broken bones to lift him upright. After a few gallons, Tom passed the can back to Bobby.
“Reginald!” screamed Amadi.
“I’m here!”
“Do not be afraid!”
“They’re going to kill you, Amadi!”
“Amadi,” said Tom. “With your name I bind thee here on this piece of road.”
“BURN!” shouted Reginald, barely able to raise his right hand high enough to direct the gout of fire that erupted at Bobby. The gas can ignited and he ran screaming back to his truck. His hands clawed at the door handle before he collapsed on the ground and continued to burn.
“Limey, don’t you go tryin’ to do that to me. I’m awful close to your friend and he’s awful flammable right now,” grinned Tom, holding a Zippo in one hand.
“Reginald! Do not let them steal your light!” shouted Amadi as he swung blindly at his tormentor.
“Uppity little negro, ain’t ya?” Tom asked as he dropped his lighter.
“No!” cried Reginald. “You bastard! You fucking inbred piece of shit put him out, put him out, you son of a bitch!”
“Hell, if I put him out, he ain’t gonna burn down to ashes, and then he ain’t gonna be dead, is he?”
“BURN!” shouted Reginald, another gout of flame erupting from his right hand. Tom leapt backwards, barely avoiding the fire.
“Hey now! You got other worries, right? If you ain’t got no rainmaking magic you can shoot one-handed, yer buddy’s up shit creek.”
“BURN!” Reginald shouted again. This time Tom easily dodged the flames. Reginald’s hand was blistering, but he did not acknowledge it.
“BURN! BURN! BURN!” The blisters began to burst and his skin started blackening.
“Tell you what, I’ll leave you and Armani here to your fires. Looks like it’ll give you something to talk about.”
Reginald’s throat was dry and the skin on his right hand was sticking to the road when Tom's truck pulled up, its engine rattling hard under its smashed exterior.
“Hey,
“Just ‘cause I didn’t go to no fancy goddamned college doesn’t mean I ain’t smart, and just ‘cause we live in the sticks don’t mean we can’t take care of a pair a’magical shitheads. Y’all have a good night, now.”
As the truck rumbled off into the distance, Reginald stared at the flames that had been his friend. He watched through tears until the light blinded him and he fell unconscious on the warm road.
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