Alan Johnson
Image via Luis Junior — On A Dream (Gabe Spiritual Mix)

He was both flirting with the waitress and visualizing Alicia Keys in her video “You Don’t Know My Name” which made eating his meal just as pleasant. After eating his meal, Africula got up from his table and left the waitress a hefty $1 tip.

Africula came in often but this was her first time waiting on him, although she caught him staring at her more than once on a few other occasions. But today she was sort of disappointed because he had been so nice and polite whenever she brought him his meal, more coffee or asking if everything was fine. And he was fine, though she lied to herself that the extra attention he received from her was not only because he was fine. Anyhow, she and the other waitresses had conversations before about how the pretty ones were sometimes the cheapest.

That was not the case here. Each time the waitress picked up a bill from the table another bill was somehow magically underneath it; yet there was no pile of bills just seemingly one bill. Still there was always the next larger denomination underneath. A $1 bill revealed a $5, a $5 a $10, a $10 a $20 and right on up to a $100 bill. It was there that it kept right on being a $100 bill.

Africula was looking at her through the restaurant window with his arms crossed. It was one of those new Soul food joints in Detroit. New because the revival of Black entrepreneur-ship coupled with multi-cultural and gender fluid gentrification was causing all types of businesses to pop up.

The waitress was snatching up the money now, looking back at him through the window, torn between that and making sure that no one intercepted her snatching of the bills as a crowd grew in amazement at stripper envy like pile of cash she was gathering from the seemingly single bill on the table.
Between all of that she kept pulling bills and was smiling, while also trying to find a place or pocket that wasn’t already over stuffed since her hands and arms were full of money

She mouthed through the window, “How did you do this?”
Africula shrugged, “I don’t know?”

He actually didn’t know. He had many powers that he could not explain the mechanics of, it was just instinctive like he just knew he ought to know and did things because he was meant to do them. Nor did he know why it stopped once she got to $50,000. Which was probably good because the two plastic garbage bags someone had brought her were full and the manager was looking pissed for she was one of his best and most dependable workers. He knew she might not be coming in to work the next day or maybe even week, if ever again at all. Nor did it help that she was just handing out bills to her co-workers.

She was fortunate in another way, too. The waitress was on her period but Africula was not hungry. He had been feeding on Frick’s daughter for three days, he was full to the hilt. Still the waitress had the appeal of desert but he was not a greedy man and she was not usually a needy woman.

Africula is a XXX story about a non-biting vampire who lives in Detroit. Finally starting to get my abs back, the older I get the longer it takes. Oh, well

Africula is a XXX story about a non-biting vampire who lives in Detroit. Finally starting to get my abs back, the older I get the longer it takes. Oh, well