I was walking home from my latest kill when I saw a very odd-looking fight. The bartender, a little person, was charging over the counter at a guy. I could hear a woman’s voice say, “Vinny, he touched me. Beat him up!” I crept further so that I could see and hear better through the gigantic window. The bartender had the other man (of normal weight and height) in a headlock. I had to laugh at the scene. The guy grunted out, “She’s just a tramp, man. I bought her a drink.” Vinny didn’t like that much and slammed the guy’s face into the concrete floor. Vinny yelled, “Well, she’s my tramp now. My damn pussy.” I rolled my eyes at the reason for the fight: a frizzy-haired blonde woman with a short skirt…who, I just noticed, had her skirt lifted and was rubbing her clit over Vinny’s half-conscious victim. She was definitely jacking-off; and, when she was cumming, she released what I think was urine on the unconscious man. The bartender drug the man out into the street gutter and I disappeared in the shadows. Without so much as a “Thank you,” the woman left; and, the bartender who had so fiercely fought for the woman sat at the bar and drank a beer. I stared curiously at his bloody nose and wounds, badges of honor that he’d wear just for pussy. I shook my head and continued home; and, people think it’s weird that I eat them?! Hell, I think I’m doing some of them a service! The fun part was already done or i would’ve brought the trash home…and tortured him. And, as for Vinny, he needs to be out there somewhere.
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