An American poet once wrote Seattle, Emerald city that shines like a jewel through the gloom of winter to the fortnight of sunshine it guarantees.The calendars span remaining ,a roll of the weatherman's dice.
“A Shit poem, but accurate.” Thought Grigori as he took shelter from the sudden downpour in the tent selling some strange kind of paintings with bugs .The one currently occupying his attention of Praying mantis, Lady bugs and grasshoppers playing cards ,America didn’t make sense half the time.
Nikolai had sent him to keep eye on the Sheriffs at the festival .They’d heard the rumor about robberies also ,they should they started it.
Grigori was angry had to miss out on the fun to babysit bitch sheriffs.
But it was all part of Nikolai’s” big plan “to set up operations on the west coast. First they needed cash as much as possible.Already they had a foot hold with the club in San Francisco and the Czars two chapters were a good beginning according to Nikolai.
Now to distract as many police as possible tonight.” They won’t know what hit them and we’ll clean up as they say.”Blah Blah Blah.
Grigori didn’t care as long as he got to sate his appetites when he wished.Which he hadn’t been able to for some time now.
The stress of withdrawal was starting to show.Talk talk talk that’s all they did Nikolai and his lackey Bogden. Ask someone else to get their hands dirty ,while they sit on their ass and count money.
Grigori felt clean and in control most times then like a rabid dirty dog on the prowl ,ready for anything.Dirty ,Grigori smiled at the idea.
He like to get dirty, oh yes, yes he did very much, the idea getting him aroused.Making him dream a little dark dream; his favorite with a straight razor and a bucket.
Fate ,Destiny he wasn’t sure or cared when the tall blonde walked past all ripe and ready.
The scent ,she had the scent how could he resist. She looked and smelled just too delicious!Forgetting the sheriffs he followed his dark hearts desire.
