He danced across the foyer, shuffling a terrifying inch above the ground. He moved with the uncanny grace of the undead, but it still made me uncomfortable to watch.
“Do you wanna go to like, a Tapas bar?”
Gazing into his soulless blue eyes, I doubted Tapas was all that was on the menu.
“NO White Blacula, NO! This shit ain’t COOL!” I screamed, hoping to take advantage of his liberal guilt.
He raised his nasally voice an octave.
“Can you blame me? I was cursed by Regular Blacula to walk this earth a dark creature, hungering for blood, for eternity.”
“Dark?!”, I intoned warningly, raising my eyebrows to indicate that a black guy was behind him. “HaHaHaHa” he laughed nervously, “I was being ironic.”
I could see that this friendship was never going to work out. If everything had gone according to plan, I’d be teaching him how to be less uptight by listening to Motown, but this honkie motherfucker was cocking it all up.