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Fangs and Mango's
I strode out of the local Weis, two plump bags filled with mangos swinging at my sides. I sighed, lifting one of the bags up and biting onto one of the large, ripe mango with the most vibrant colors I’d seen on one yet. I swam with bursting yellows, deep oranges, fiery reds, and exotic greens. Holding onto the fruit, I walked a ways on the sidewalk until my eyes caught sight of a bench and I plopped myself onto it, sinking into the warm wood of its structure.
It was a hot summer day, the sun glowing like a giant orb of fire in the bright powdery blue of the sky. In Philly, the northern part of the huge bustling city, people crowded everywhere, shopping bags in tow. I guess it was a new tradition for humans to waste their money on Saturdays. Who knows?
Delightfully, I dug my teeth further into the mango, until a sweet creamy juice spilled out. I grinned as it was halfway in my mouth, tearing off a chunk of the delicious fruit and rolling it in my tongue like some expensive candy. The sweet, organic sugar splashed against my teeth, as I pushed the rest of the mango into my mouth and clamped down with my fangs. It exploded into a barrage of pleasant lusciousness. Contently, I chewed slowly on the soft pieces in my mouth and swallowed with full satisfaction.
Mangos were my favorite fruit. They always had been, even in my long past mortal days. Oh, how I waited every long, harsh winter to taste my beloved mango again in the blessed sun of summer! I hated drinking blood, especially the bitter blood of humans. That’s why I constantly occupied myself with other variety of food, fruits in particular. I could pierce the flesh of the fruit with my fangs and suck the juice like blood. So damn good!
It was a while after I finished reminiscing that I noticed the girl staring at me from the sidewalk.
I stopped everything: eating, thinking, breathing, moving. Everything.
She stepped closer to me, long dirty-blond hair scrunched up into a high ponytail. Her eyes, like pools of liquid sapphire, swirled with golden specks and a lighter, more submissive blue. I’d say she was seven or nine, give or take. She wore the strange attire of a normal school girl: belled-out jeans, a plain black t-shirt with some weird design on the front, and pink and white sneakers caked with dry mud. Anything special? Probably not.
“Stwanger.” she chirped again.
I growled irritably and fished into my bag for another mango.
“Hey, stwanger.” she repeated with a toothy grin.
I groaned. “What?”
“Why do you have two pointy tooths? You look likes a vampire!” at that, she giggled, hissing mockingly.
At least to me, it was a mock.
“Wanna know why?” I asked.
“To eat cute little girls like you!” I stood up, flashing my fangs.
She laughed outrageously, slapping her knee with a giddy smile. “You’re kinda scawy, stwanger.”
I blinked in surprise. Why wasn’t she afraid? Wasn’t she a little innocent girl? Weren’t little innocent girls suppose to be afraid of strangers? Hell, I was a guy! That was even scarier more!
“What do you want?” I asked blandly.
“I wants to touch your tooths!”
My eyes widened. “What! Little girl, I’m a stranger! A stranger! You don’t talk to strangers, and you most definitely don’t touch strangers!”
She stepped closer, so close I could feel her breath, hear her heart beating causally in that small, small chest.
I leaned to her, bending my back so she could reach me. “Fine, you brave little thing.” I inclined my mouth, stretching my jaw as far as I could.
She took one of those skinny little finger and touched the length of my fangs, sliding her fingers across the smooth, pearly texture of them. The girl giggle again, withdrawing her hand and stepping back.
She held out her palms. “Mango, pwease.”
I grumbled. “You want one?”
“Ugh! Fine.” I grabbed onto the smallest mango I could find and placed it in her hands.
“Thank you!” she said in a high yell, then scurried off, clutching the mango to her chest as if it were the most precious thing.
I relaxed into the bench again and scooped out another mango. With contentment, I plunged my fangs into it, happy.
Life sucked being a bloodsucker. Especially one who ate fruit all the time.
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When life gives you lemons, make grape juice. Then sit back and wonder how the heck you did it.