It was a beautiful Monday morning. The sun was just beginning to leave the horizon. The air was still cool enough to freeze a person's breath but there were signs of it warming up.

Boccali walked up Elm Street. He didn't care what the weather was he still hated the day. The smell of perfumes, pollution, and sweat assualted his sensitive nose. He was wearing his usual dark clothes mostly covered by a black trenchcoat. His pointed ears visible beside his short, dark hair. He didn't care what humans thought of his ears or the way he dress, in fact he didn't care what a human thinks about, period.

He casually walked into the first flower shop he saw. It was empty except for the shop clerk and of course the flowers. Boccali walked straight for the cash. "Are you alone?" Boccali asked.

The clerk gave him a strange look before asking. "Am I what?"

Boccali sighed and stuck his stiletto in the clerk's eye. The clerk died without making another sound. Boccali hid him behind the counter...

"No- No! I said no! Fuck, pay attention or you're so fucking fired you'll have to sit on ice for a month." Was the angry female voice that accompanied the small bell that rang as one opened the flower shop's door. Parker Maitland strode in, wearing a black designer skirt suit and a cell phone glue to her ear. Her perfectly rouged lips were straight and angry, and her brown eyes, behind thick black curled lashes, were flashing angrily. "No I said make a deal for the second, the second! Just call me back when you've cleaned up your own fucking mess." She hung up and cursed under her breath as she absent-mindedly walked up to the counter.

She put the phone back in her black shoulder purse and looked up at Boccali. "Where the hell is Mark? He said he'd have my order ready." She said, referring to the already dead clerk safely hidden behind the counter. "Whatever, I don't care. I have an order for a vase full of roses, Mark probably put them somewhere; find it." She began searching back in her purse, looking for her credit card. Her long platinum blonde hair was in soft thick curls, and she immeditately took out her pack of cigarettes before finding the card.

The stiletto was still in Mark's eye as the woman entered the store. The bell startled Boccali and he straightened up and tried to look like nothing has happened. He was replused at the thing that entered the door. A very pathetic human covered in powders to mask her ugliness. The worst of it all was that she was ordering him around.

He didn't want to end up in a human court, so he did the only logical thing, he looked for the vase. It wasn't under the desk, or on a shelf and there didn't seem to be a back room. He didn't find any filled vases, apparently this 'Mark' was a very incompitant human. "I'm sorry but your order hasn't been filled yet. Mark was a bit... Under the weather." He finished this with a fairly fake smile.

Parker watched the strange smile with obvious puzzlement. She casually placed a cigarette on her lip and lit it before putting the pack back in her purse. She took a longdraw on the cigarette before leaning against the counter and blowing the smoke in Boccali's face.

"Listen, Schizo, I need those goddam flowers right fucking now. If you don't give them to me, you'll have worse things to worry about than getting fired. I can bury you in paperwork and lawyers until hell freezes over and becomes an ice cream shop, got it?" Her brown eyes glared at him openly for a moment, totally fearless, though if she had leaned but a bit further on that counter, she would've been very frightened indeed. She took another drag and blew the smoke out of the side of her mouth. "Why don't you go take a look in the back or something? Isn't there a back to this crappy independent florist hole?" She sighed heavilly and looked at her expensive watch. She could never be late, as she was the boss of her own company, but anyone arriving after her automatically was. She still had the credit card in her hand and stared at the guy behind the counter. "What's your name?"

Was she blowing smoke at him? Was she yelling at him? Anger took away any sanity that allowed Boccali to play shopkeeper. "Listen you shit-faced bitch! Why don't you march your plastic filled ass out of this shit-house before I cut off everyone of your manicured fingers!" His teeth were bared and his eyes cried murder.

Parker began laughing in deep-throated manner, her perfect teeth gleaming white. "Do you know who the fuck you're talking to? Where the hell is Mark? I like that fucking push-over, where the hell is he? You call him in here." She was done laughing now, and being insulted as such was only a once in a lifetime thing. Once her second assistant had called her a bitch, and she had been fired on the spot, and in some strange coincidence she had lost her apartment at the same time. Parker had more conncections than the phone wires in all of this stinking city, and she never hesitated to pull any strings.

She took her cigarette from her lips and crushed it out on the counter-top, staring daggers at the guy behind the counter. She had to admit some primal fear in her had been awakened. He looked a bit unnatural...Unnatural, that reminded her. "Oh-And the only plastic thing in this whole store, would be those cheap trekkie ears you're wearing." She smiled pleasantly at him and immediately regretted crushing out her cigarette.

Trekkie ears?! Boccali loathed this woman to no end. "You want to talk to Mark? Here let me get him for you..." He said this calmly as he did something under the counter (Pulling out a stiletto from Mark's eye). He lifted Mark up by the hair and pulled the corpse up. Red and grey guts oozed from Mark eye socket.

Boccali turned Mark to face the woman. "Seems that Mark doesn't give a fuck about your flowers either. Do you Marky? Looks like he's speechless. Maybe it's because he has the hots for you. Isn't that right Mark? Do you want to fuck her?" Boccali pushed the corpse towards the woman, blood spilled out over the counter.

Even the strongest of makeups could not have hid the fact that all blood in Parker's face had drained. She stood speechless as the body oozed, and yet with that morbid human instinct, she couldn't look away. Her lips were parted as her jaw had droped. She didn't even hear the crude comments Boccali had said, and when the body was set back down, the blood had spilled over the counter, it splashed on her work suit and white silk blouse. A few dots of red blood were on her face. All she could think was, how much blood could there be in one body? How much? She was in complete shock.

More of the blood spilled over the counter and she jumped back, thinking of her satin shoes. This was her way of dealing with trauma...Blood? As long as it didn't stain. She looked back up at Boccali. "You fucking psycho...You're a fucking freak..." She walked stumblingly towards the door and opened it, the fresh air of the day hitting her but to no avail. She stepped on to the sidewalk, her brown eyes looking downwards. She had taken only two steps out the shop door when she quickly opened her purse and fumbled for her cell phone.

Boccali hoped the bitch would cry in her sleep after this. Unfortunately escape from the flower shop will be a bit harder now that he blown his weak cover. Where the hell was the backroom. He couldn't go out the front, the woman could just cough and hundreds of lustful men would be at her bek and call. Not to mention she had a portable phone, in which she call those pigs who say they uphold the "law".

Boccali started knocking over pots and bouquets. A door or a window would do. And then he saw it, a doorknob. To the backroom, no doubt. Covered by some boxes. Boccali shoved the boxes out of the way, muffled shattering sounds came from the inside of them. Boccali turned the knob, the door was unlocked. He entered the room and surveyed the area before finding the shipping doorway. He saw a vase of roses and smiled. Looks like good ol' Mark was not so incompetent, shame, he thought. He laughed at his joke as he exited into the daylight.