The late seventies Dwayne and myself were just beginning to enjoy our freedom. Santa Carla was home to low lives from all breeds. When we killed we feasted. At first when I killed I felt regret. I shared my victim's misery. I saw the women that they rapped, the people they killed and robbed. My mind would flood with their stories of drug abuse, and broken homes. Feeding was almost painful .
Max as he had once said found us. I will admit I was filled with hatred and distain for him. As was such however, he was my maker and Dwayne's. Against Dwayne's better judgement I allowed myself to learn from Max. He thought us how to block the images and emotions of our victims. We learned to take pleasure from the pain.
In mid July even the night was to hot for mortals. When the parks were closed after 10 pm, the surf Nazi's and street rats into the local taverns. One of my favorite places to visit was Sharky's. There Dwayne and I could drink well into the night without to much worry of on lookers.
Dwayne and myself had been nursing our second round of beers when a certain familiar group of surf Nazi's made there way to our corner of the bar. The leader slopped down in the both just across from us. He wore a beat up green army jacket and a red bandana in his dirty hair. The usually fives surrounded him, faceless and nameless. They seemed to have two new recruits tonight. The smaller of the two blondes wore a tattered white tank and had his hair short with only a small portion in wavy curls. He was the other blonde was taller, his hair long and wild. His personality seemed to match his hair. He took a long drag of his cigarette before he caught sight of me. He noticed Dwayne and my gaze upon him. I could feel him tense up. The other noticed his companion's tenseness and his eyes fell upon us.
"You two got some kind of problem with my boys?" The Nazi leader had worked his drunken self over to us. He reaped of garbage and weed. I would enjoy breaking his neck and draining him.
"From what I see they aren't your boys yet?" I lit my cigarette and pocketed my lighter and smile crossed my lips, one that I shared with Dwayne.
"I'd watch it if I were you man, guys are tending to just disappear these days." One of the surf Nazi's goons popped his knife out. They slowly began to advance at us. Dwayne remained came his eyes fixated on the knife just inches away from his face. I couldn't restrain myself. I laughed my laughter mocking him. I can smell his anger seep from his pores.
I took one more long drag, inhaled and released. I hit the cigarette against the ashtray, a faint burning filled my ears as the smoke dint idled away. "How about we take this outside so you can make me disappear?" Again I laughed, smiling still at the Nazi leader.