Warning: Dark adult content ahead.
Diana is still talking. Just jabbering away non-stop. Blah, blah, blah, drooling words and boredom.
"So, you know," she says, "I'm thinking I could get, like, a vampire dolphin on my shoulder."
Diana tends to brainstorm new tattoos when she's bored. I don't know why. She only has, like, one tattoo and it's ugly as shit—a lopsided rose on her calf—so it's not like she's an ink junkie. "It would be so ironic to get a vampire dolphin, wouldn't it? You know, because I'm a vampire and dolphin tattoos are so contrived."
"That's not ironic," I snap. "Dolphins don't have anything to do with vampires. Where's the connection?"
"Who put you in charge of deciding what's ironic?" Diana shoots back.
"The dictionary," I say. "There's a definition for ironic, you know."
"Well I don't care what you or the dictionary says. I can still get it if I want to."
"I didn't say you couldn't get it. I just said it isn't ironic."
"Why are you such an asshole?" It's hard to believe Diana started this whole vampire craze. She's just so off point. I mean, don't get me wrong, she's pretty hot — huge blue eyes and piles of black hair. She reminds me vaguely of Linda Carter. She's loaded, too. Back when she was, like, 15, she developed a website called CraftSwap that allows craftsy moms to trade DIY supplies. It's been a huge hit, and as the moms piled on to trade their leftover scrapbook pages and glue sticks, the money piled up until Diana didn't know what to do with all of it.
So what did she decide to do with all these newly acquired piles of cash? Invest in real estate? Launch new startups? No, she became some kind of thrift-store connoisseur. Turns out, the chick contemplating bloodsucker dolphin tattoos across the table from me has a bit of a nose for antiques. Bitch even landed on Antiques Roadshow. Some butter dish worth fifty grand or something.
It was during one of her thrift shopping trips that Diana came across the goblet (which she insists is the Holy Grail, even though it isn't), and it was through the goblet that she provided us the power to become vampires. Take a sip from that cup and BAM, you're sprouting fangs. Yet I wouldn't exactly describe Diana as a cultivator of new trends.
Case in point: We're eating at Tuck.
"I think you're ironic," Vince says to Diana as he slides into a chair. Hannah sits next to him. Hannah Blazes – now that's one sexy fucking bitch. I am so utterly jealous of Vince. He's got the best girl, got the best name ... he goes by Vince Legend. Vince fucking Legend! What a great name! That asshole. I hate to admit how much I want to be him. Just look at him, his hair perfectly mussed, his jacket perfectly distressed, his chin perfectly stubbled and his smile perfectly dimpled.
And totally the rebel! He pulls a cigarette out, strikes his lighter to life, and, BAM!, he's shooting smoke rings at the ceiling, oblivious to the NO SMOKING signs plastered on every surface.
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