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What the hell? Or maybe I should say … What the purgatory?

So I was alive back in the 1930’s. Then I got dead. Then I woke as a vampire and managed somehow to survive for almost eighty years and lucky me, I finally get finally dead. At least that’s what I thought. Instead, I wake up here and have to live out some time trying to earn brownie points and get my sorry ass into heaven. Impossible? Possible? Who knows? Once I believed there were no vampires, now I discover that not only are there vampires, but twice-baked vampires and I’m one of them. Damn.

Life here in the West Hollywood warehouse  is kinda strange but no stranger than life has been for a long time. It’s just different from what I’m used to. Shirley, the dead pixie, is sitting on a raggedy overstuffed chair combing her long silky golden hair. All round her, like little kids at a library story-telling session, sit the dead, grinning leprechauns. Pixies and leprechauns. Now those two races are sexually insatiable and I’m guessing things might get real weird, real soon. In the kitchen, Mumbu, a voodoo fairy, is having a cup of coffee with Pete Maloney. He’s a dead werewolf. Thinks he can save the world. I hate talking with him, he’s always pontificating about the value of a man and what gets him into heaven. I’m not sure I even like the subject. After all, I assumed I’d never get there, so I just kinda ignored the heaven thing. Granted, I wasn’t all that thrilled about hell, but at least I figured I deserved it. Some powers-that-be figured otherwise, so here I sit. And I’m wondering, what do those two have to talk about anyway?

At the back of the warehouse, Stick Man, an ancient Native American supernatural giant, is dusting the high hanging lights. He’s a strange one. When he’s not keeping the upper levels of the place neat and clean, he’s making granola and sharing it with everyone. Personally, I don’t like the stuff, it tastes like twigs and bugs to me.  And from the office, Crudo Cushman, the troll in charge, is watching me like a hawk.

I need diversion.

There’s a computer off to the side of the warehouse for us. I think we’re supposed to job shop or find things to do on it, but I kinda like watching the porn. I’m still just learning how to use the thing but surfing the web is a fun distraction … and Cushman can’t see me from his office.

I check my favorite websites, look around for something interesting on YouTube and then I find this … Cold in California

Holy shit! So I go here … Cold in California and now my newly pumping blood is boiling.

My story’s out! My whole story! How did this happen? Before I put a fist through a wall, I think about this a minute. I mean, seriously. What’s all the fuss about? Nobody will believe it, right? It’s fiction. Vampires aren’t real. And if they are, they can’t get twice dead and live in West Hollywood. Right? Right?

I need to talk to the author, this Deborah Riley-Magnus and find out why she’d do this to me. Why she’d out me like this! I found an old address right here in Los Angeles, but oh hell yeah, of course she’s moved east.

Maybe I’ll just track her down. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. In the meantime, if you buy this book, remember one thing, okay.

IT’S FICTION.

Don’t forget or I may be knocking on your door too.

Cold in California, COMING SOON!