Nosfairytale

© 2015 Derick M. M. Lewis. All rights reserved.

First published © 2012 Derick M. M. Lewis. All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted by any means without the written permission of the author.

Published by AuthorHouse 02/26/2015

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7260-6 (sc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7259-0 (hc)

ISBN: 978-1-4969-7258-3 (e)

Library of Congress Control Number: 2015903089

The author does not recommend many of the actions taken in this book to be taken seriously as they may cause you to incur bodily harm, financial loss, and/or emotional strife to name a few possible outcomes. NosFairytale is meant simply to be a literary work with which the reader may use to pass time.

My appreciation for the assistance in revision and editing to:

Camila Boynton

Kevin Kasher

My gratitude for additional input by:

Aaron Ledbetter

Nyako Cooper

Contents

Attempted Restraint – An Undesired Variable

Bedmates – A Trip to the Clinic

Complaints – The Most Important Meal of the Day

Driving Mr. Meridian – A Show Before Dinner

Entrez Vous – Earthworm Vengance

Family Problems – Free Lunch

Guise – A Second Job

Housework – A New Grudge

Ingress - A New taste

Juxtaposition – Unnatural Order

Keeping Up Appearances

Attempted Restraint – An Undesired Variable

I still remember my first feast. It was as though I had never eaten before, as though I had never known pleasure, or what excitement was and how to hold back. The feast was purely satisfying, delightful in both the physical and mental aspects. And, like a good child, I didn’t let my food go to waste. When I finished I felt like the lion in an old cartoon I had seen who had finished eating and was picking his teeth with the bones of his prey. I laughed to myself in thinking of the lion and sat back to enjoy the nostalgia my heavy stomach brought.

I was told our first attack is always sexual; my maker wasn’t lying. At the start I didn’t know what I wanted to do with her until it happened. It was almost entirely sexual, but nothing like the physical act, just the release felt from it, one great orgasm. I remember the anticipation. Even though it happened quickly I remember it seemed to take forever. My muffling her attempts to cry out only added to the quickening of my heartbeat. The warmth of her body, her smell, the way her clothes and skin of her arms felt as I hugged her to keep her from running. I remember how just before I bit into her neck the roof of my mouth and back of my throat were heated and felt like they were drawn to her. The anticipation of my first meal was excruciating, even more so than I realized the nearer I came to my goal. It was stronger than any craving I had ever felt. The craving for sex was nothing compared to this. As I bit, the taste of her salt exploded in my mouth and when her body reeled from the pain the blood rushed past my teeth and that lovely metallic flavor pervaded my mouth. I let my mouth fill and enjoyed the feeling of the blood coating my teeth and gum and, for a moment, I swear my tongue could sing.

Micro seconds turned into macro seconds and I reveled in every one of them but when time resumed its natural rhythm the rest was nowhere near as romantic. I tore into her as piranha would a kitten. Her intestines were like grandma’s spaghetti, and her brain was as tender as flan, but it all somehow tasted far better. If my grandmother were alive she might have killed me for such blasphemy. Every part of her had a new flavor to add to my memory and each one, believe you me, tastes divine. I had never eaten so greedily and, in my entire existence, I had never eaten over 5 pounds in one sitting; but there I was, enjoying what was a 120-pound woman.

When I finished the bones resembled that of the ones excavated in crime shows. There were a few differences however. The remains were still moist with what was once life and the bones were colored with the blood of her meat and the marrow housed inside. The marrow was the only part that I declined to partake of. I didn’t feel like working hard to have such a small reward, I was never a fan of shelled dishes anyway. The meal was the best I had ever had before that day, the first feast of my new life. I still don’t know where it all goes.

But this is about the word I desired to adhere to: control.

For four years I gorged myself of as much meat as vampirically possible; except, that is, when those working the cases of my leftovers were coming too close for my own comfort. During the latter part of those years I felt as though I was missing something and that my routine was not as pleasurable and exciting as it once was. As time moved on I continued eating whomever I wanted, as often as I had during my first three years, but my mind continued to search for an answer to my lingering feelings of what I can only describe as emptiness.

Sex is my favorite reference for this beginning, so forgive me when I use it to relay my thoughts. I say this because when I was human I felt the same kind of emptiness while I was with a couple of different women, not all mind you. I remember being with each of those women and wondering why I was thrusting, I felt like I had no real reason to be inside of whatever woman I was with at those times. Even though she may have been pleased by my efforts the feeling wasn’t mutual, even if my body erupted at the finale. It was hard to understand how what should have been natural and easy, pleasurable and exciting became like breathing, rarely appreciated.

How often do living things think about breathing? I only cared about breathing at times like when I couldn’t breathe, when the air was bad and was later fresh, and when I was out of breath. Since becoming what I am I don’t care about the quality of my air now; but I remember the feeling and, I hear people talking about how the air in other places is better than in the cities. I remember what it felt like to go without air. I once knew what it felt like to be out of breath.

My meals were as dull as breathing. I ate only because I was used to eating and not because I enjoyed it.

That orgasmic feeling I once craved dwindled to a mere ember from the inferno it once was. I found myself, again, pondering why I was doing what I was doing in the middle of what should have been my own parade. It was a strange feeling and I had to rid myself of it. So I decided to choke myself; I stopped eating in the hopes that I could feel the same sensations an enjoyable meal should bring.

I starved myself for a month. I slept much of the time and when I felt hungry I forced myself to quell the craving, working on sheer will power with no backup plan. After only a few days I felt as though I was going to break but, after while, there were times when the hunger actually felt good. I don’t know why I liked the feeling of being hungry. Maybe it was because I hadn’t felt hunger in such a long time it actually gave me a new feeling. It also helped that I knew I wasn’t going to starve to death.

I was on a no-blood, liquid diet. I had to drink something to keep my body lubricated. No matter what type of being you are, water in almost any form is essential.

While I dieted I realized I loved eating grapes or anything like it including: lychee and muskadines. I found myself playing with these types of foods as I ate them to pass the time. Aside from the urges I had to rip into almost every person I came across, I was feeling quite human. I found I had to carry food at all times so that I could to keep the cravings for blood down. Those grape like foods were to my hunger for human flesh as chewing gum can be to a smoker’s nicotine addiction; it gave a nice distraction, but it didn’t solve the problem by itself. And believe me when I say the pleasure I get from eating, my usual, is far more than an oral fixation, an addiction, a habit or whatever may be an opposing force to quitting or even cutting back.

The hunger, at times, was gut-wrenching. I endured various withdrawal symptoms for different lengths of time. First my stomach visibly twisted and cramped. Soon after the cramps I suffered headaches that caused me to collapse. My blood boiled and felt to be cutting my veins as it flowed. My skin burned and I felt pricks when there was nothing there. My jaw would sometimes lock when I woke. My mouth would dry and my teeth would ache. My body became weak making it hard to travel, work or do daily activities.

My sleep was tormented with dreams fueled by my hunger. I would dream of landscapes composed of bodies. I dreamt of lying in a bed as women willingly served themselves to my need.

I knew I couldn’t stay away from society. I knew that if I was truly going to stay in control of my hunger I had to expose myself to temptation. In the early stages even the smell of a woman, be it her hair, perfume or even makeup, gave me images of seducing her and quickly turning what should have, in her mind, been a liberating encounter into what, in my mind, would have been fine dining. I had to struggle to keep that from happening. If I were to keep myself segregated from human society, I knew that as soon as I reintegrated myself with it I would feast upon every person in my sight whose heart was still beating. A rampage caused by that kind of immersion might have lasted for days, and brought unwanted attention my way. The best way for me to stay in control was to test myself at all times and trust I was strong enough to hold back should my urges surface.

Even though I was sleeping a minimum of 14 hours each time I laid my head down, time seemed to drag on. The third week marked what should have been a coasting period, but I ate more grapes that week than I had the entire time I was trying to change my eating habits. I took time to plan out how I was going to eat once I started eating human again. I decided I would only have one person and afterwards I would go another month without. If I was craving a full meal in the same amount of time as my first attempt, then I would have what I considered a real meal every two weeks or so. If my cravings waited longer than two days then I was going to have to take how long it took for them to start into consideration.

I made it to the end of the month-long trial with no infractions. I will not feign it was easy to have no blood or flesh of either human or animal. Regardless of what I went through, it was time to eat.

I took my time choosing my prey. I kept my instincts in check and, unlike my first victim, I didn’t let the urges decide when or who I was going to eat. I found her at a mall; I was very patient in letting her leave and followed her back to her neighborhood. I saw her go in to a house and it seemed no one else lived with her. I parked far away and walked back to watch from the tree line behind her house. I could see in a few windows and through some of the gaps in the curtains of others. When I could tell that she was alone, I made my way to the front door.

I knocked.

The woman answered through the door, which meant she was wary of strangers, maybe anyone for that matter. It also meant I had to strategize.

I told her I was looking for my son and that someone had told me he was seen playing by her house. She opened the door and looked around as if to see if there was another person who might have seen the child. Luckily for me no one was outside for her to question why I stopped at her house or to tell me to ask someone else. She told me she had seen no children that afternoon and apologized for not being any help.

I told her it was alright. My son Ruben ran around in our previous neighborhood and since we just moved in, I wasn’t sure he could find his way back home. I added that if she did see a boy dressed in blue jeans and a red, green and black plaid long-sleeve shirt, she could call my cell to let me know. I pulled a receipt from my back pocket and pretended to look for a pen to pass her my number.

After seeing I didn’t have a pen the woman stepped into her house just a couple of feet and pulled a pen from a drawer. I kept conversation going by saying I had a habit of carrying a pen and the one time I needed it I didn’t have one. Since she left the door open, I stepped just inside keeping my distance to make her feel safe as I continued to speak. The step would also give me reason to look for something to bear down on deeper in the house after she handed me the pen.

As I had hoped, she was not upset that I stepped into the house and didn’t feel the need to stop me when I stepped forward to use a table to write on as I wrote a fake number on the receipt.

I turned to give her the number and reminded her that if she saw any boy fitting the description I gave her, she should give me a call. When I reached the door I thanked her again, punched her in the gut, knocking her unconscious and shut the door to the outside world. Since I shut the door slowly I didn’t worry about what the neighbors might think if any of them were to have seen me enter the house. My not giving her any chance to scream raised my feeling of security. Closing the blinds and curtains ensured my privacy.

She was an excellent meal with a wonderful aroma about her; my body seemed to warm as soon as I noticed. She was a clean woman, which made me even more thrilled to be having her. As I enjoyed her I could tell that she had a healthy diet because she was not sour to the taste; in fact, she was almost sweet to the tongue that once again, and to my pleasure, was able to sing.

I was surprised I was capable of taking my time with her, despite my appetite from having gone so long without succumbing to the majority of my earlier desires. I satisfied myself in more than one way that evening, the first was my delight in finding such a noteworthy meal and the second was the feeling of knowing I had such a nice place to rest that night. Aside from the bloodstains and the skeleton on the living room floor, it was nearly perfect. The mess I left in the living room was something like a dirty dish in the kitchen to me; it was an eyesore, but I could deal with it. I knew that I could relax at her house after I walked through it finding no traces of another person who resided there, and her dinner preparations for one, I took it as an indication I wouldn’t be bothered. It was good to relax after the meal.

I made the house show signs of the woman going to bed to include showering up after dinner. Even though I took my time I still made a messy meal of her, but I don’t think there are such things as table manners when eating on the floor. I slept in her room, because it was the only one with a bed, and left in the middle of the night in order to avoid others who may have seen me leaving the house. If someone were to see me in that quaint little neighborhood so late I would be surprised. The neighborhood seemed like the type of place where there was little to no night life.

When I woke from my sleep it was 3:40 in the morning. Since, from the windows and doors, everything outside seemed quiet I made my way out. I went out the front door and made sure it was locked, and then walked to my car. It was a dark night with only a sliver of the moon making its appearance through the eastern tree lines. Thankfully, I didn’t have to worry about fingerprints, they matched hers by the time I took my second bite and, I had been careful not to touch anything in pocketing the pen and paper I used to pass the fake number the night before.

My body took longer than I expected to build its hunger to the point where I felt I needed to eat another person. I think that I began to look at people as delicacies as opposed to what I once thought should be my usual meal. The taste regained its ranking, again to be deemed orgasmic and, for as rarely as I would partake of mankind, it would remain so in my mind. The frequency of my human feasting became more and more sparse. I progressed from one month to three months by my fifth year, and the flavor became far more exquisite due to how seldom I chose to hunt. Over the year I also improved my diet in the choice to only pursue women who were in good shape and whose diet seemed to be held to a high standard.

With the furthering of time between meals I needed to find more snacks. I spread my choice of fruits to apples, oranges, kiwi and mangos. I rediscovered vegetables and soups. I made French fries and mashed potatoes. I ate noodles and rice. I made a point to not eat any meats because it would spoil the pleasure of my favorite meal, which was then quarterly.

I immersed myself in my temptations every day. Every day I dealt with the suffering from my hunger. I was proud I could go so long without submitting to my cravings. I was happy with my progress. I was also happy with my condition. I somehow felt lighter yet I weighed the same. I became more relaxed as time went on and within another year the random urges to feast on more than my planned intake subsided and conformed to my plan. I could feel the influx of my desires synchronizing with my plan as the sixth year moved on.

Near the end of the sixth year, I contented myself in my decision to continue this course for as long as I could. I made a personal pact to only maintain or extend the time between tasting human, and would only break this trend if I absolutely had to. I honestly couldn’t think of a reason why I would need to break my pact because other foods could fill me and supply energy. But nothing could please me like human meat, and something about the taste of a woman and the taking in of the beauty that lay before me pleased me more than my male meals.

Sadly, I suffered a relapse. I was involved in a car accident and suffered critical injury right in the middle of downtown Atlanta. Thankfully I was in a taxi, so my walking away couldn’t link me to the vehicle; but the damage was done. I hadn’t been buckled and was arguing with the driver when he ran a red light while yelling at me. An SUV t-boned us at 60 miles an hour. The driver probably thought that since it was late at night he could avoid obeying traffic laws, or he was drunk. The impact sent me out the rear passenger window and skidding down the street. On the way my right leg ended up under a car that was coming from our right, breaking it in two places at the thigh and twisting my foot so that it broke at the ankle.

I was glad that it was late at night and there were no other witnesses in the area, so I was able to leave the scene without being followed. I hobbled the rest of the way to my apartment. My head was cut from the glass and scraping the pavement, my arms and legs were burdened with lacerations, bruises and some dirt buried under my skin, which had been picked up while sliding across the road. My core began to swell from internal bleeding because of how I bounced off of the third vehicle. The stinging sensation worsened every time the wind blew at my skin. I somehow made it all the way to my apartment without stopping. I thought for sure my numb legs were going to give way on at least a dozen separate occasions. As soon as I reached home I fell asleep, or at least I thought I did.

I woke the next night in a pool of blood. I thought it was mine at first until I noticed that the hair between my fingers wasn’t mine. When my eyes adjusted I realized I was in a neighboring apartment of a five person family. The entire family had been killed in their sleep without a sign of being warned. My bad, I really hadn’t intended to kill a whole family but, given the circumstances, I can see why it happened. Apparently my body needed the nutrients to recover from the trauma of the accident, and much like in a drunken state, my subconscious mind took control of my body. This body seems to have a mind of its own. I don’t mind, I like it because even though I was, with no surprise, very sore and had a lot of work to do in covering up the mess, my wounds had healed.

I took care in leaving the apartment. I also knew I had to find a new neighborhood; that one was getting too dangerous, I mean, a whole family just disappeared. Fortunately the family wasn’t from the area and no one immediately questioned their disappearance. I had actually been playing in my mind which of my neighbors would have been the safest for me to kill if I needed a quick fix. Ironically, they were the top family on my list. I wondered if I chose them in my subconscious for that reason. Another good thing was that I picked the bones so clean I wasn’t worried about excess odor from the feeding. I took the next few days to clean up the mess and move the bones to another location. I love neighborhoods with little to no night life; no one is around at 3 in the morning to ask why I carry large bags out of an apartment.

Thankfully years of practice cleaning up my messes helped me hide the fact that there was a quintuple homicide. Because of this I was able to hire a pair of guys to empty their apartment and receive the furniture at a house in South Georgia, cash business of course. Once I received the belongings I had them either donated or recycled. The useless belongings were sent to a dump. It all was signed in the husband’s name; just one of the many times a penmanship class I took a few years before paid off.

When I went back to my apartment I only stayed a couple of days and moved after I felt comfortable that I was in the clear. This time I decided to rent a house. It was a nice little house a short ways out of the city, but not so far that I couldn’t head into Atlanta as I pleased. It was a 2LDK with two full baths, one in the master bedroom, a small yard and a one car garage that could fit two if need be. I was pleased with the new pad. The rooms were large enough for the storage of much clutter and the ceilings were three yards high. The back yard led to the beginning of a wooded area that was not very thick, but it was enough to give me privacy from the houses built behind mine.

I felt the move was going to be good for me. I was going to be able to start a new social circle with my new neighbors. I could entertain more people there than I could at my apartment. My private time could be wilder or more private, depending on the occasion. Another thing was that my work place was closer so my commute was going to be much easier.

The first month came and went much quicker than I thought it would. I was happy to see in the news that the missing family case from my old apartment complex had no clues to be found. I had a couple of cops stop by my new house, who asked a few questions. It was the usual lineup of questions, along the lines of, did you know the family? I really didn’t (but I’m sure they tasted good). Why did you move? Luckily I had a leaky ceiling that every time it rained my bed would sleep like a busted waterbed and the landlord was an obstinate old geezer who didn’t care much for his tenants’ well-being.

Did you notice that the family was missing? I said no mainly because they weren’t in my mind. No one would say that the cookies they ate were missing. With the amount of work I put in to hiding my slip up, I wasn’t going to admit I consumed them any time soon.

And to the question of if I thought it strange that a family would just disappear seemingly overnight without a word, and if I thought that was strange I could only answer no because I honestly had no real knowledge of who they were except a binge eaten meal I had staked out. Luckily the questioning was just a follow-up on the family’s disappearance and no evidence was substantial enough to suspect anyone. That made me happy.

I allowed myself a meal soon after the detective’s visit because I wasn’t sure how well my body was going to heal after the incident. Afterwards, I went back to one meal a month as a precautionary measure for four months until I knew I was going to be comfortable with having more time between my meals. Until then, I upped my snack intake to help offset the cravings.

After I was back on my quarterly dining schedule I made a point to become more social. I had a few people at work that I could call friends, but they were only people that I would see in the work environment. I really didn’t feel like talking about work after leaving for the day. I wanted to find new people to fill my time.

While I wasn’t expecting to, I found a woman who peeked my interest in Little Five Points, an area east of Atlanta that has a collection of artistic and free-spirited people as inhabitants and visitors. We met on a sidewalk as she was walking her dog. She was having some trouble getting her dog to obey her, so I asked if I could lend her a hand. Most people would have been hesitant to allow a stranger to walk their dog, but she was visibly exhausted from being dragged by the Rottweiler she somehow managed to lasso. Her name… Norine Cirmeuse, a name that, when uttered from her lips in her French accent, relinquished me of all defenses.

Norine and I began to walk together towards the heart of Little Five Points. We talked about her dog first. Norine was saying it was strange for her dog to behave so wildly. She said that he was usually better behaved and would listen to her better. I asked if she had taken the dog out much since spring had just begun, she said no and I suggested her dog was probably antsy from having the ability to roam. Norine agreed. We continued on, talking about my work at an animal hospital/research center and hers as a massage therapist, where we both were from, how we each ended up in Georgia, how she hated the inconsistent weather and why she kept a Rottweiler and decided to name him Fluffy. She said he was a rescue.

Conversation flowed for an hour as we walked then stopped for coffee at Java Lords, a coffee house and bar within walking distance from the Vortex, the home of my favorite local burger. Our conversation ended in an exchanging of numbers. She seemed like an interesting enough individual and I couldn’t see any major flaws that would make me worried about her social habits. Plus, she was cute. I needed some cute in my life. Her movements entertained me and the way she struggled with her dog was comical. I figured if nothing else, she would be fun to laugh at.

The next day, Norine gave me a call and asked if I wanted to go to a concert. Supposedly her friend backed out and gave her the extra ticket. The show was for what was actually one of my favorite bands, Dawn of Endings, who played some of the most head banging, melodious, intricate music rock has been graced with. Naturally, I accepted.

We met two nights later at the Tabernacle, a church that had been converted into a concert venue. She was wearing a short dress that hugged her body, with a pair of heels. I asked her in the parking lot we met at if she was really going to wear that outfit. She said that she would be fine and seemed a little pissed at my bringing up her choice in style, though, my concern was functionality. She turned from me and started for the door waving the tickets over her shoulder asking if I was coming or not. She pissed me off a little, but I knew she would get hers soon.

The smell of so many people in one room made me hungry when I first walked in. I was glad that I ate beforehand because if I hadn’t I might have missed a good show while disemboweling someone down the road from there.

For an all ages show the drinks were great, Long Islands that were sweet as Georgia tea, mojitos that were excellent and I was introduced to a new drink called the Cassie Special, a blend of shaken Malibu, pineapple, orange juice, and whip cream. The Cassie Specials tasted like the orange cream sickles that I used to eat as a kid. I loved the drink so much I had five. Norine was keeping up with me drink for drink all night. She was still walking strait after four shots, two beers and three mixed drinks. I was beginning to think that maybe she knew what she was doing when she came to the concert in heels.

After three of the opening bands finished, the Brunettes took the stage, a band comprised of four of the best female artists in the business.

I wanted to get closer to the front so that I could be up front when Dawn of Endings took the stage. I was glad that Norine was a fan of the Brunettes and she wanted to get closer as well. We ordered one more round and headed toward the stage.

Our way to the stage was guarded by what seemed to be the thickest, dumbest, sweatiest crowd of teenagers the world had to offer. There were three mosh pits on the way to the front stage and we somehow were sucked into each of them. The first one was easy to get through, just a bunch of guys who seemed to be friends fooling around and pushing each other. The second was a bit tougher, with guys who were bigger and more aggressive. I got hit in the back by one of the smaller ones as he was falling down. I was pushed back in by the crowd when we did reach the other side, getting separated from Norine for a moment. I had to hold back from decking the guy who pushed me back into the pit, the little snot-nosed freak probably wasn’t old enough to buy the air he was breathing anyway. I hate all age’s shows.

When we got to the next pit we saw that it spread across a large section of the floor. There was absolutely no way to avoid it. The people in this thing were brutal. There must have been an entire football team in the mix; some of the guys in the pit were so massive. I looked at Norine and she gave me a look like she still wanted to get to the front. Her look wasn’t as solid as I would have liked it to be, but both of us wanted to get to the stage and I wasn’t going to miss the opportunity to see Dawn of Endings up close and personal if at all possible.

We started through the pit and were instantly bumped and rammed into by the people moshing. People were falling into us and being pushed into us as we tried pushing our way to the front of the crowd. One guy fell backwards and elbowed me in the gut. I caught him and he apologized before he went back to getting tossed around, I’m sure. Norine was groped by a couple of the horny teens on the way, reason number two for me asking if she was sure she wanted to wear that outfit. She took the first two because they were quick grazes, but slapped the third guy because he went for her crotch and made a face that screamed his skewed desires to bed her. I was glad that he just raised his hands and left.

We continued on and soon ran into two jerks who were denying anyone to pass. I guess too many people had passed through the pit doing exactly what Norine and I were attempting and they were tired of losing their ground for viewing the next band. They were both pretty big guys who seemed to think they had a place in this world, not only were they big but they were stubborn.

I pulled Norine behind me before I tried to talk to the guys to let us by. After asking by pointing to the stage and yelling to ask if we could get through, the mule on the left pushed me back. He pushed me into Norine and she fell over. I turned to help her up and as I grabbed the hand she held out for me to help her up her other hand was stepped on by some kid who was tossed and trying to regain his balance. The kid saw what he did after she let out a yell from the pain and he helped in getting her up. He apologized and made his way back to battle.

When Norine got to her feet she yelled in my ear and said that we should find another way. We turned left and started to get closer to the stage when I, all of a sudden, realized that I was looking at the ceiling and that my feet were off the ground. As soon as I realized that the guy who pushed me had speared me, I got pissed. He got off of me and was grabbing Norine’s wrist to throw her back into the crowd and I think he would have done it literally if I hadn’t yelled for him to let her go. He pushed her away and quickly turned towards me. I looked at her and somehow that calmed me down. I realized that I had to hold back if I was going to finish the night right. How was I going to see Dawn of Endings if I was running from the cops for killing a guy? Plus, I was just getting used to hanging out with Norine.

The mule was considerably larger than I was but I had the advantage. His friend, the ox, came and stood next to the mule and I still held the advantage even though the two of them probably weighed 500 pounds together and I weigh about 180. They thought that their size and angry faces were going to scare me away.

I took Norine’s hand and pretended to not care about the two mountains trying to block my way to the stage. The two made their way to me with their fists cocked back in preparation to punch at me. I pushed Norine through some of the people to the right as I slipped through the people behind us. The two behemoths came after me and began pushing people out of their way to get to me. We soon came to a more open part of the pit where I stopped and waited for my two victims to catch up. Somehow the pit knew there was a vendetta in progress and most people around stopped coming between us.

There was little time wasted in starting the fight. I kept in mind that I was letting them win so I let them get the first hit. Mule hit me strait in the stomach then the ox took a shot at my face. Both were pretty good hits, but I had taken worse and these hardly hurt at all. I was able to gauge how hard I was going to retaliate from those two punches, to keep it fair.

I went to the floor to let them think I was down but I just wanted some room. They saw me fall and laughed, then turned to walk away. As soon as they turned away I stood up. The crowd gave the ooh that sounds like a crowd of people after hearing good insult. I have to admit, I felt good.

The ox turned around after hearing the crowd and surged towards me before his friend realized what was going on. He tried to punch me in the face again but I stepped down and to the outside of his punch and grabbed his shirt as I drove my knee into his sternum. He stopped cold in his tracks and his eyes grew to the size of golf balls after feeling my knee in his torso. He fell to the ground, unconscious.

By the time the ox hit the ground the mule was on his way to where I stood. He pushed the few people who were in his way to the side as he plowed his way to his friend’s side. I made my way to the right, away from the motionless ox and his confused friend.

After the mule regained his focus he searched the crowd for me. I was standing right above him as he looked up. As soon as I saw his snarling face I stuck him one right in his temple. As his body fell, it half twisted and bounced as it hit the floor. I watched him start to convulse after hitting the floor, but he didn’t hold my interest after his second convulsion. I saw security coming into the pit as I was leaving and the crowd blamed the whole thing on the ox and mule.

I made my way towards Norine who was looking on at the edge of the crowd. I pointed to the stage asking if she still wanted to go to the front and she had to break the stare she was giving me to give her answer. We headed to the front and still had some trouble getting to the stage. At least the first few feet were easy to manage because of people having seen how I handled the ox and mule. The rest of the time was just as it was before, us having to wedge ourselves through the crowd little by little.

By the time we got to the front the Brunettes were halfway done with their set. I was surprised what their music did for the mosh pit. I hadn’t really thought about it before but those girls really could inspire havoc.

The rest of the show was great. Norine and I got closer as the night went on, mainly because the crowd was thick and swaying, rocking and dancing to the music. Because of that, we were being moved with the crowd, so much so that there were times when I almost fell from the excited fans pushing and moving during the show. There were beach balls