It is 11:39 PM on a Friday night after a totally blasé day and I still don't have a girlfriend. As a matter of fact, I look around and all my friends are either ghosts or characters out of paranormal romance novels. In other words, I have no human friends. This is not new. I have been alone for a long time. As a Muscogee shaman, people tend to want to keep their distance. Some are afraid of me. Oyohusa Adanvdo is my name. In English it means "death spirit", but those who dare to speak to me call me Oyo. By now you are asking yourself "why would a spirit want a girlfriend?" Well, now we have a tale to tell. As I said, I have been alone for a very, very long time. I am one of the sons of the great mother and the father of all spirits. I have a brother who is the spirit of life, Ganodu Adanvdo. My domain is the underworld, but I do like to roam the human realm because I wonder how the souls that come my way become headed in my direction. My true form is kind of frightening to humans since I am seventeen feet tall, with scaly blue-green skin with twenty-seven foot black wings, eighteen inch claws, twenty inch talons, and fourteen inch upper and lower razor-sharp pointed teeth. I am longer than any dinosaur shark and fifty times more deadly, and I look every bit the predator that I am.
Tonight, however, I have assumed the form of a human male, six feet seven inches tall, long black hair in a braid to my waist, eyes the color of honey, fifty-four inch chest, twenty-six inch biceps, thirty-five inch waist, and {hopefully) pleasant enough looking facial features. I have tried to appear a slightly larger than normal man of about twenty-eight years old who spent some time in the gymnasium. I would like to catch the eye of a human female, maybe even engage in some physical interaction of a sexual nature. Who knows? perhaps I might "get lucky" as the humans are so fond of saying. I can enter a drinking establishment, and since alcohol has no effect on me, I might even have some fun. At least that's what I tell myself. I've done this before, with mixed results. After living for several millennia, I have to get my fun where I can find it.
I materialize slightly down the street in an alley off Metropolitan Street near an establishment called "The Gold Rush". The sign in English says they have some girls that are models or something, and they are supposed to get naked for entertainment. I walk out of the alley and up to the door, where I hand over the "cover charge" in local currency, and am shown to a table inside. The air is quite cool, and the stage is vibrating with a nude dancer doing her thing to some local tribal music. Only the décor changes, but the actions remind me of tribal get-togethers of centuries ago. Makes me glad that no one in here can see who I am. I'm sure they would all be screaming all the way out the door otherwise. A sweet little number sashays over to my table to take my order in an outfit that meets the "bare-minimum" of coverage. "Hi, my name is Sandy. What would you like to drink?"
I hold back my laughter, thinking about her blood, and reply "I'll have a tequila sunrise".
She says "You're an Indian aren't you?"
I give her a big white toothed grin and say "Does it show?"
She looks a little embarrassed and says "I'm sorry, I didn't mean any offense. Please don't tell my boss I said that. We're not supposed to make any kind of racial remarks. I'll be right back with your drink sir." She looks at the floor with red creeping up her ears and cheeks and slinks away toward the bar.
This kind of touched me in a strange way, so I took another look at her as she walked away. I noticed she had brown eyes, honey colored hair to her butt, and indeed looked enough like a starlet to pass muster on the red carpet were she wearing a more appropriate outfit. She had perky breasts a little on the small side, a heart-shaped bottom, long legs, slim figure and a sweet face that could easily grace a garden statue of some Greek goddess. She stood about five foot eight in six-inch heels, which should put her at about five-two or three. As I watched her walk, I began to realize that she had gotten my attention and I was not looking at the dancers anymore. Hmmmm. Interesting. Was I actually feeling something? That's new. This bears further investigation. I decide to add a little charm (magic) to the mix just to see where it might lead.
She returned in a couple of minutes with her little round tray and my cocktail sitting on it with a little bar coaster and a napkin. She reached over to set the drink down and I deftly reached up and touched her arm sending a little charm jolt up to her shoulder. She looks at me and smiles. I plop down a fifty and say "Keep the change. And by the way, yes I am native American and people call me Oyo, so it's nice to meet you Sandy. I am not offended, as a matter of fact, I think you are quite charming."
She looks shocked for a second and says "Wow. Thank you. That's the biggest tip I ever got. Can I get you anything else?"
"We'll see. I plan on being here for a little while, so if you stop by every now and then, it might make me keep a smile on my face." I say.
"You better believe I'll back to this table to see you. You are a sweetheart."
If she only knew. Sometimes it hits me how different it would be to just be a human being like everyone else. All of a sudden I am overwhelmed with a conscience that I didn't know I still had. It's not easy being green as Kermit says. It is what it is.
I try to distract myself with looking at the show and speculating on which of the patrons around me will soon be joining me in my "home". Seems like there will soon be a bumper crop of stupid drunk humans coming to see me soon. I also have a strange thought that I hope Sandy is not one of these. I find myself having feelings toward her and this is really strange. If I had anyone to speak to about this, such as a friend or family, but, there is no one out there to help me with this. I am alone. I almost feel like giving her a glimpse of the real me just to steer her away from that death they all come to for just a little longer. Why am I getting these feelings and thinking these thoughts? I am thinking I should leave, but I can't seem to tear myself away.
The next thing I know, some stupid redneck walks up with his attitude. "Hey Injun. We don't like your kind around our women!" This immediately puts his IQ in the double digits. This guy is like five-nine and so skinny that I could flick him across the room with my finger. I guess the alcohol has made him believe that he is now ten feet tall and bullet proof. I give him the icy stare, but say nothing.
"Hey! I'm talkin' to you!" At this he reaches over and tries to grab my shoulder, but he misses and almost falls on his face. I catch him and stand up, letting him get a gander at my size and muscles hoping he might sober up enough to stop the stupid course he seems to be headed towards at an accelerated pace. "Let go of me Cochise!" I gladly oblige the stupid little man and he immediately becomes intimately acquainted with the floor. I guess he did not realize I was holding him up. Blood starts seeping from the head wound he received during his introduction to Mr. Hard Floor. Naturally, here comes his three buddies with angry attitudes all around. I am surprised that this has not drawn the attention of the bouncers, but as soon as the thought entered my mind, I look and here come three big guys in black sleeveless muscle shirts. This is not new to me, but it is one of my father's rules that even though I am the spirit of death, it's not for me to cause it. Therefore, anytime there is an altercation with me involved, I have to hold back power to keep from breaking that rule.
Reminds me of a quote from a cheesy human movie: "Great power requires great responsibility" or something to that effect. I almost feel like laughing except this is becoming so not funny at light speed. Two bouncers usher us outside, while the other carries Mr. Unconscious out the door. They leave us there, where I promptly get them to follow me to the freeway underpass, and give each a slight "tap" to make them lose consciousness for a couple of hours. Hopefully they will all have sobered up when they wake in a few hours to drive home with their stupid friend. I turn around and head back to the club. I am hassled at the door of course, but Sandy (who saw the whole incident) comes over with her boss and they persuade the man on the door to let me back in. I hope this is not on the news or in the paper, since the guy they see doesn't actually exist. I have not even wrinkled my clothes. When I return to my table, I see that my ice has melted in my drink, so I order a fresh one.
I decide to actually look at my surroundings. The club is a little brick building, one story with about 30,000 square feet and it looks bigger on the inside because mirrors are everywhere. Tonight, there seem to be a good hundred and twenty male patrons, twenty or so female patrons, four bartenders, two managers, a door man, and about twenty-five or so dancers and fifteen waitresses. The room is square, about 75 by 75 with two stages, two DJ booths, and two bars. There seem to be about fifty tables, most of which are occupied. There looks to be a kitchen and storage area on one side and dancer's dressing room on the other. The rest rooms are at the back. Most of the floor is carpeted in a brown pile carpet (which hides blood pretty well), but nearer the stages the floor is hardwood with tongue and groove planking. Never having to visit the rest rooms, I have no idea what they look like on the inside nor do I know what is in the kitchen, dressing room, or storage areas. My curiosity doesn't go there. The music is loud, the lights are dim except on the stages, and the food, well if I actually needed to eat, I could tell you, but the other patrons seem to be enjoying the expensive finger foods, but they could be too drunk to taste it for all I know. I did not see people throwing anything up in the club area, but the restrooms... no idea.
Sandy came back over with a fresh drink on her little tray and a sly look in her eyes. "Hey Oyo, you don't even seem to be any worse for wear. I was worried. There were three of them."
"Just a typical Friday for me. I get that all the time. Something to do with my hair, skin color and maybe my size. Some fellows are just plain stupid, and I have a third degree black belt in Tae Kwon Do. Don't worry, they are still alive and sleeping under the bridge to the overpass, I think. Unless of course some n'er do wells came along after I left them. You never know."
She set my drink down and handed me a note. I opened it and found a phone number. "Call me. I'd really like to see you sometime. Maybe we could have a drink or something."
"What about after your shift tonight?" I said.
She smiles and says "I get off at 2. Meet me in the parking lot."
I suddenly remembered I materialized in the alley, so I hurriedly added "I'll get us a cab, unless you have a car. I don't need to talk to the police down the road, even though I never get drunk and have never been in my entire life."
She looks a little surprised, but replies I am in the green 68 mustang GT fastback with the hood scoop at the back of the lot. I'll meet you out there when we close up."
"I'll be there." I say, and lay another fifty on her tray. She looks at me and says "You don't need to do that you know, you had me at your smile." Wow. Suddenly I feel a little tingling sensation in my stomach that seems to be extending to my groin. These feelings are totally foreign to me, although not altogether unpleasant, so I just decide to go with it.
I sat there and attempted to enjoy the show, but all my thoughts seemed to go to what was happening between Sandy and I. Seems like I am exploring a new territory here. I decide that I like this new feeling.
My cell phone starts vibrating in my shirt pocket, and I take it out wondering who knows this number since the cell is part of my assumed persona. The display says 'Mom'. I push the answer button and say "Hello" wondering whose mother could be calling me at this time late at night (or early in the morning for some folks.)
"Oyohusa. What are you doing son? I'm watching you." Surprise. It's actually my own dear estranged mother.
"Well hello to you too. I haven't heard from you in what three, no, is it four millennia?" It's so funny to be having this conversation that there are actually tears in my eyes. "I haven't killed anyone tonight, why are you calling me?"
"I saw you setting up that date with that human waitress and wanted to warn you about something." she says. "I'm coming down to you."
