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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1164996-The-Catacombs
Rated: 13+ · Short Story · Comedy · #1164996
A meeting with Viscount Dantes...and a possible harem.

Written for the: "The Dialogue 500
Prompt: A conversation between you and the walking dead.
*Gift1*Winning Entry
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“Whoa, nice make up there, buddy. You must be the new extra for the bloodsucking shot, eh? The name’s Eric. Eric Banner.”

“Viscount Dantes. Pleasure.”

“Sweet! You’ve even got the accent down, man. Dude, I swear with that makeup and…between you and me…you kinda have this rancid stink, ya know? Like you’ve been stuck in the garbage for a long time….but hey, it works, man. Gotta have the whole effects, right?”

“I once had a home here—"

“Dude, I know exactly what you mean. I used to sleep around the parking lot too. You know, hoping I’d get me a gig in this lousy Studio. But they’re bastards. All of them. Even the director. I mean look at the guy. Who does he think he is?”

“My castle was as big as—"

“His ego is big, that’s what. Here, wanna swig? It’s the best whiskey around, man. Just don’t let them sniff it on your breath. You might lose your gig. Ha ha!”

“Such foul liquor, a cheap imitation of the very brew I cultivated in my vineyards!”

“Whatever man. Say, check out the babe in the red. She’s my co-star and a bitch to boot.”

“A most beautiful woman. She will be perfect for my harem.”

“Dude! A harem?! You rock! Where can I get some of the action? Oh, come on, you’ve gotta spill. But just don’t invite her though. I heard she’s a prude. Know what I mean? She won’t spread her legs for anyone. Not even you.”

“No one can resist me, dear peasant. However, I must have her. Her blood boils beneath her porcelain skin, throbbing with life, begging for release! It’s been so long since I’ve had nourishment. My spirit weakens with each passing day. As the dark hours become longer, so does my craving for the warmth of a human. The catacombs I have been confined to, hold no relief for a creature like me. I must have her!”

“Whoa. Dude. I mean…that could be like Shakespeare or something. Bravo.”

“You applaud. Why? I do not say this in jest, Commoner.”

“Commoner. Good one. But hey, listen. Why don’t you and I go hit the harem, eh? No one has to know, whaddaya say?”

“I do not welcome men into my harem.”

“At least lemme see this place, eh? We’ll be back in time for the first shoot. The way I see it, Mr. Big Shot Director’s gonna be too busy preening around for a while before he’s ready. Come on…damn! Your hands are pretty cold.”

“I crave warmth.”

“Or possibly a heater at your place.”

“Are you sure about this, Commoner? You might not like what you see.”

“Dude, I’ve seen worse. I grew up in Brooklyn. Bring on the babes!”

__


“Anyone seen, Eric?

“Saw him leaving earlier.”

“Leaving? With who?”

“No one. Guy was drinking himself blind and talking to himself, and then left through that door.”

“But where does it lead to?”

“Nowhere, sir. It’s just an empty closet.”



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Word Count: 500





© Copyright 2006 iKïyå§ama-House Targaryen (satet at Writing.Com). All rights reserved.
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