The Boob of Sarah

Where is everybody? I'm talking now. It's me, wilkravitz. I've been sitting in this Starbucks for two hours waiting for him, Tomas, to take over, but nothing. I feel empty. I feel none of them.  But I'm afraid to go outside. There's a little girl pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. I think it's Annie. She seems nervous. It's funny how nobody pays her any mind. She's about six years old for Christ's sake. Doesn't anyone think it's strange for a tiny, little thing to be parading around this late? But I know different. I know how strong she is, or rather how strong her controller is. I can't afford to lose any toes. I'm not that good a dancer as it is. I don't want to wind up like that nurse. And to be truthful, the idea of being torn to shreds  by frenzied, hell hounds doesn't do much for me either. Maybe she's clouding the perception of people on the street. Maybe that's why no one sees her. But she sees me. Oh God, oh God, please help me. Please get me out of this....... STOP, STOP, STOP, I can't let him suffer like this. It is I, the disembodied spirit. Let that wilkravitz fellow take his fingers off the keyboard. Let him see the allies I have sent him. Look, he does...he does see them. The other humans chattering away over their hot water and bean bullion see nothing. Good, that is how I want it. A little toddler crawls out from behind the counter. I must say that adorable, warm, layered outfit suits him. Sarah has good taste. The chubby, little fellow gurgles with delight. He chugs over to wilkravitz,, who stares tranfixed. Then the smiling, rosy checked cherub (for that is what he is) levitates up from the floor. He stops when he reaches eye level. He stretches out his sweet, little baby hand and caresses wilkravitz' cheek. Our 'typist' gets up and follows the tiny 'angel' as he floats toward a rear exit. They leave the aromatic coffee den and proceed along a narrow alley meant for deliveries, as well as the nocturnal wanderings of selfsufficent cats. Pay attention. Can you see them? There, in the shadows. It's Albion, the 'elf prince,' and his equally comely tootsie, what's her name. The miraculous children surround wilkravitz. Each elf takes an arm, as they rise up into the darkness and spirit him to safety. No one notices. It must be wonderful to be an enchanted, pre-pubescent vampire. It must be wonderful to possess a physical body. I envy them the sensations. Some day I will explore that reality. Annie sees them ascend into the void. She (or her master) is angry. She screams, clenches her fists and stamps her feet.... a real six year old's tantrum. She lashes out, tearing an expensive, stylish weave or extension or whatever the fashionistas call it out by the tight, artificial roots. Her innocent,  twenty-something victim screams.. She hauls back and bitch slaps Annie right across her face.  But you have to know better than to mess with a devil child, because Annie instantly grabs her by the wrist and bites off a couple fingers, rings and all. Serves her right. Look at her bawling and crying. What's she complaing for? She's got eight others. Besides that God damned wig thing didn't do much for her anyway. Look, I'm going over to Jersey. I gotta see what that 'throwing of the bones' thing is...