“I wish I could.”

“Sorry Mr. Hughes, I’ve gotten so used to you riding shotgun that sometimes I forget that you’re…well you know…”

“Dead,” he said finishing my thought as he often does. “Don’t feel bad, I had a good run…It’s amazing how this place keeps growing—slow down for a second.”

I tapped the breaks gently. Howard always asks me to slow down when we’re about to pass City Center—it seems to fascinate him for some reason, but he never says why. I was hoping that he might utter something on this occasion, but just as it seemed like it might happen—the phone rang.

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“What are you doing?” asked Isaac.

“Cruising the strip with Howard.”

“Listen I’ve been living in this town for a year and still haven’t made it to First Friday, you want to go?” he asked.

“Sure, I’ll pick you up in ten.” I hung up and turned to face the ghost of Howard Hughes. “Sorry Mr. Hughes…”

First Friday is a combo art walk and rave in the Downtown Art District of Las Vegas. And as a Los Angeles Downtownster I know something about art walks, as Downtown LA plays host to the biggest art walk in the country on the second Thursday of every month. When the weather is nice a good Downtown LA Art Walk can attract close to thirty thousand revelers. I had no such expectation of such an event in Las Vegas, but I had heard some good things about the up and coming art scene in Sin City so I was more than up for checking it out…And of course when dating a girl that suffers from Zombism there’s not a whole lot of places you can go out as a couple and fit in.

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I picked Isaac up at the swanky Panorama Towers and headed Downtown exiting Charleston and finding a nice dirt lot to park the SL 500 in, just on the other side of Main Street.

“Nice, I just had them shined,” said I, looking down at my dust covered Gucci loafers.

“Car washes and shoe shines don’t last in this town,” commented Isaac who was wearing tennis shoes—he’s thirty. “What the hell is that noise?” asked my freaked out friend at the slamming sound emanating from the trunk.

“Oh that. Better step back—I brought my girlfriend along.” I approached the back of the car with caution.

“You make your girlfriend ride in the trunk. You f*cking guys from Cali really know how to treat women.” His New York accent was heavier than usual as he leveled this damning, yet envious comment.

“Trust me this chick likes it…Now the choker chain, is taking her some getting used to…”

“Choker chain???”

But before I could elaborate for my confused friend the Zombie Chick was out of the trunk and the fight was on. She scratched and bit wildly at me as I defended and went for the chain. Alas, chain in hand I gave it a thunderous tug, which reeled her around so that her back was now exposed and then with full choke on we slammed against the trunk. With possibly the best zombie ass in the world bent over the trunk of my car, her Catholic, schoolgirl mini-skirt akimbo, and no underwear anywhere in sight I decided that First Friday could wait a few minutes—and took the zombie vagina ice plunge. (Refer to Vegas Grand Slam blog for more information regarding cold zombie vagina.)

“Should I leave while you finish raping your girlfriend?” asked Isaac.

“Don’t be silly…And technically it’s necrophilia not rape,” I answered, causing her to growl with pleasure and claw the paint off of my trunk. “Thank goodness I paid my insurance bill.” I laughed. “I’ll tell them I ran into a bear up in Yellow Stone.”

“That’s the zombie chick you f*cked in the bathroom while you were on a date with someone else at Mickie Finns?”

“This is a sexual assault asshole, not a deposition, shut the fu…”screamed my chick at my buddy.

I yanked the choker another notch. “What did I tell you about being rude to my friends!” Our bodies slammed together so hard that her knee broke my right tail light somehow.

And then came the final climax, which sent us both rolling down into the dirt, thankfully just as a Vegas Metro squad car cruised by—a few seconds earlier and I would of have had some explaining to do.

With Zombie Chick on a short leash the three of us ventured into First Friday…Art and bands everywhere and seriously thousands of people walking around—I was blown away.

“So where do you keep her when she’s not in the trunk?”

She spit on Isaac. I kicked her as hard as I could in the ass. She turned and smiled.

“Fat Andy’s house has a nice dark basement—I’ve been letting her stay there.”

“Thanks a lot for that f*cker,” snarled Zombie Chick.

I turned to Isaac. “Don’t get me wrong, it would be great if she could sleep in bed with me, rather than a dark, dank basement, but left to her own device she’d rip out my throat with her teeth while I’m sleeping.”

“Well you guys make a nice couple,” said Isaac, with more than a hint of sarcasm in his tone.

“Look it’s not perfect but…”

“He’s with me because he can’t get enough of my cold pussy.”

“Thank you sweetie. I was just about to say that.” I shrugged. “She is right. Once you’ve gone zombie it’s hard to go back. Other than the married midget I’m now forced to have an affair with as an antidote to those pesky little love bites.”

“I’m just into older chicks these days,” said Isaac, slowly adapting to our unusual dynamic as a couple.

“You know there is colder,” said Zombie Chick, snatching at an unattended child in a stroller—thus the short leash.

“Really.” She always knows just the right things to say to keep me interested.

“Yeah, not too far from here.”

So we spent another hour perusing the art scene, grabbed a quick bite to eat at Casa Don Juan’s, some of the best Mexican food in Las Vegas and moved on. I should add here that Isaac and I ate the restaurant food. And unfortunately Zombie Chick did manage to get her hands on someone’s lost Maltese. Of course I feel bad about this, but if I can keep my bitch on a leash—so can everyone else.

Now I’ve been to some wild warehouse parties before, actually they were my parties come to think of it…Anyway, this party was out of control even by my non existent standards. And the prospects for a vagina even colder than Zombie Chick’s were everywhere. I focused in on a brunette and made my way toward her, dragging along my date. But before I could get close enough to start chatting I felt the powerful grip on my shoulder of a blond fellow about twenty-eight—so handsome I might add that if I were a chick…

“A human with a zombie on a leash at my Coven—Interesting.”

I turned to Zombie Chick. “You brought me to a Vampire Coven?”

She began to laugh hysterically. “You’re so f*cked…”

I turned to the handsome Vampire Lord. “Sorry, but when she said there was something colder than her ice box, I must have started thinking with the wrong head.”

“So human of you,” he said with a sinister smile, similar to my own.

“Well we best be on our way,” I said, noticing that Isaac was sitting on a couch with four vampiresses that were looking at him like Thanksgiving dinner was served.

“I don’t think so.” His grip tightened on my shoulder. “I think we’re destined to be friends. I see you want to penetrate my sister, perhaps we can arrange a trade.”

I pulled out a bag of white powder from my pocket. “Maybe a little something like this?”

His blood red eyes almost popped out of his head. “You know how to make Blast?”

“I wrote the book, literally,” I answered, making a shameless reference to my bestselling Kindle ebook “Blast” available at the Amazon Kindle Store. There’s a link on the sidebar dear readers and this is how I pay for all of this craziness, so buy away! And if you can’t find the link just go to Amazon and search for me by name.

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“You’re Stan Lerner!” The whole party came to a dead stop as eight hundred or so vampires hung on their lord’s every word. “I knew you looked familiar. “Blast” is my favorite book of all time. And I’m nine-hundred-years-old!” He grabbed the bag of Blast out of my hand. “You know humans have invented some cool stuff over the years, but Blast, well it’s the coup de grace. You can have my sister and oh so much more.”

Zombie Chick growled and got another swift kick in the ass by both of us this time. We laughed.

I chatted up Berlin’s sister. That’s his name by the way. And she introduced me to her best vampiress friend who had a tongue at least two inches longer than Gene Simmons of the rock band Kiss fame.

“So it’s a vampire custom that whoever brings the “Blast” takes the first hit,” said Berlin the Vampire Lord.

I pulled out a hundred dollar bill. “Pass the mirror my boy.”

They all laughed. Berlin’s sister Sade whispered into my ear as she tugged at my pants. “That’s not the way we do Blast.”  And then with pants around my knees and several vampiresses holding me face down I came to understand that there’s no need for hundred dollar bills when there’s a vampiress with a tongue longer than those rectal thermometers we generation Xers all remember from childhood.

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Let me make this perfectly clear, I do not advocate the rectal use of Blast or any other drug…But WOW!!! BANG!!!KPOW!!! I’ve never been so high in my life. I think I actually scared a room full of vamps and even Zombie Chick was cowering under the coffee table—the top of which I broke just to get a grip on her hair. And so on…

As I chilled with Berlin on the couch, after an orgy of epoch proportions, I couldn’t help but to feel bad for my new pack of soulless friends—not because they’re one step above the devil on the damnation chain, but because they were forced to party in such a second class way in a city that has some of the best nightclubs in the world.

“You’re one crazy f*cking human,” said Berlin, giving my juggler some sex eyes.

“You’re not so bad yourself…You know after watching those crappy “Twilight” movies I was beginning to think vampires were a bunch of sexually repressed faggots, but you know how to party, my boy. And your sister…I’ll give you a pound of Blast a month to keep tapping that…”

Berlin extended his hand. “Deal!!!” He looked deep, deep, deep, into my eyes. “Okay, what else?”

“Bro, if you and the gang are going to start partying with the Stan, you’ve got to let me hook up the venue—I feel like I’m a teenager in this place. And even though I like sleeping with them, I don’t want to be them, if you know what I mean?”

His throat rumbled like a tiger on the loose at a Siegfried & Roy show back in the day. “I really like you…From now on you’re in charge of the drugs and the venue…”

“And DJ,” I added.

He patted me lovingly on the head then pointed at Isaac. “What about him?”

“He’s an executive at The Venetian…Tell the girls to unchain him…He knows all of the club owners in town…”

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Roxy wanted to go to dinner—and I was confident that I could squeeze it in, drop her back off, she lives way the hell out there, and still meet Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson at Prive by 10:30. And that’s how good a time I had the night before—I was going back to the same club two nights in a row—unheard of in Sin City. Oh, and then I planned on going to Toa and Noir…I call this a Las Vegas Grand Slam…I know Alec Silverman is out there somewhere waiting to correct me factually given I’ve only named three places, but a Las Vegas Grand Slam has nothing to do with places, so not going to happen old sport.

What I hadn’t planned on was a sexual encounter with a zombie. See, I decided to take Roxy to Freemont Street and enjoy some fish tacos outside at Mickie Finnz…Out of the gutter boys I really wanted fish tacos. Anyway, it turns out unbeknownst to either Roxy or myself that there was a dance of the dead going on upstairs—and a good dance of the dead is always preceded by a march of the dead, in this particular instance down Freemont Street. So there I was in the bathroom minding my own business taking care of business…

“Excuse me this is the men’s bathroom,” I said to the extremely attractive, mutilated, Catholic schoolgirl.

“I’m a zombie…I can use either men’s or women’s, because I’m dead—stupid. Nice package by the way.”

I smiled. “Thanks. I mean I’m here with someone…I mean we’re just friends.”

“I’m dead it doesn’t matter. Having sex with a zombie isn’t cheating.” She sat on the sink revealing that zombies apparently don’t wear underwear when they go out dancing.

“Did you follow me in here on purpose?”

“I’m cold…Are you going to warm me up or what?”

I sighed. “What the hell I’m in Vegas.” The problem of course being that I’m a blogger and nothing I do stays anywhere and I might decide to run for political office one day. Well at least I have no skeletons in the closet—maybe a zombie or two.

Now this is where it gets weird, weirder—she was cold and I mean like really dead cold.

“You’re the coldest person I’ve ever had sex with,” I whispered to her romantically as we had sex in the bathroom, which you could actually get in trouble for these days in uptight California.

“Because I’m a zombie…”

“Whatever,” I responded.

“It’s a medical condition in my case—I’m no wanna be…My heart only beats twenty times a minute and my blood pressure is ninety over fifty on a good day.”

I don’t know why, but this really turned me on.

More about the zombie girl later. When I got back to the table Roxy was not hearing any of my stomach ach-story.

“Really, does your lip always bleed when you have an upset stomach?”

“Spider bite…It got me while I was sitting there.”

Note: boys if you decide to have sex with zombie girls they bite, and I mean really hard. So don’t even think about doing this kind of thing when you’re on a date with someone else.

Anyway, I took Roxy all the way home. And it doesn’t appear that we will be hanging out anymore. But come on, who could pass on anything so random. I should get a get out of jail free card for helping the living dead in need.

Prive was off the hook. Not as off the hook as Friday, but JD spinning had brought a lot of people out for a Friday as mentioned one blog and a zombie ago. The table, the bottles and Miles, Bill, and Isaiah and a bunch of girls. Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson and the party was on. I of course talked blogging with the boys and smoked a Don Vicente Cigar. But I couldn’t talk to any of the girls due to the memory of that cold, hot zombie flesh.

“Let’s go to Tao,” said Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson.

“I need to do something,” I responded.

“What?”

“Nothing.”

And then at the exit Jessie ran into someone he needed to talk to. A girl grabbed me by the arm.

“You’re coming with me…Nobody ignores me all night.”

“What? Who are you?”

“That’s what I mean. I’ve been trying to get your attention all night long.”

“Why?”

“I’ve always wanted to be with a man older than my father. And we’re in Vegas.”

“Oh, in that case sorry to have ignored you, but I just had sex in a bathroom with a dead girl.”

She laughed. “You’re funny…That’s almost as big a turn on as old and bald.”

“I’m out of shape as well.” This closed the deal.

So we went up to her room…I’ll spare you the details, suffice it to say she was warm and normal and before zombie girl this would be every mid life crisis guy’s dream.

With a very drunk Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson in my car I headed for Tao. Tao like Prive was going off and as I followed Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson around the room shaking hands and absconding with drinks from each and every bottle table I noticed that I had begun to emulate Jessie’s unusual style of navigating through crowds. At some point we were visiting the DJ booth and I was drumming away on the ledge that surrounds it and grooving a little to the music.

“You’re the “Night Tribe” guy,” said the brunette that had magically appeared by my side.

“You were twelve when I was the “Night Tribe” guy. Who put you up to this?” I looked around the room for whatever friend was not aware that I had just slept with a zombie and a very hot girl in the same night.

“I’m twenty-six, I was at “Night Tribe” for my twenty-first birthday. You bought me and my friends drinks, you were so nice. And it’s so great when you go up and drum.”

“I only did that every now and then. Did I sleep with you?”

“No, I was too shy.”

I laughed. “Trust me you did the right thing. I’m no fan of my own promiscuity.”

Now she laughed. “Shut the f*ck up.”

Smiling at the absurdity. “I’m serious. I actually believe in getting married and being faithful and all that…”

“I’ve been waiting five years to run into you…” putting her arm around me, “I have a limo downstairs. Let’s take a ride.”

And even though I plan to give all this up soon and get married and have a family—I said yes. It’s not like I was on my best behavior all night anyway.

And for all my friends / readers who have never driven up and down the Strip and had sex in the back of a stretch limo, you really don’t know what you’re missing.

“Where have you been?” asked Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson, as I reappeared at the club.

“Limo ride with an old friend.”

He shook his head. “You’re going to run out of places to…Never mind. I thought you wanted to go see your boy Carlos “Pure” Harper over at Noir?”

I nodded. “Let’s go.”

Carlos “Pure” Harper had a bunch of tables going at LAX so he couldn’t really hang, but I had been wanting to introduce him and Jessie “James Super VIP Host” Gibson for a while, so I’m glad they got a chance to vibe.

“Hey,” said the girl at the bar next to me. My boys were vibing so why not?

“Do you have a room here,” I asked.

She nodded.

“Want to just skip the conversation and go upstairs?” I asked. “Not that I don’t love to talk…”

She grabbed my hand and we left the boys to their conversation.

And yes every now and then my behavior gives me pause, but I really liked all of these girls—especially the dead one. I keep thinking one day I’ll just be too old for this…I guess this just wasn’t that day. I love this city! Oh, and to my boy Alec—that’s a Las Vegas Grand Slam!!!

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