>He's a fast talking gay shaman from the 'hood. She's a high-kicking thirtysomething vampire from the wrong side of the tracks. They fight crime!
Ariel chased the man down an alleyway, the moon glistening in the puddles leftover by a recent rainshower. Her black, leather coat trailed behind her, and a black man in a pink cardigan trailed behind even further.
"Stop right there criminal... stud..." Ariel gazed at the man as he turned around. His stubble amplified his manliness, and licked her lips as she imagined his big strong hands on her hips, instead of on an elderly woman's purse.
"Hands off sweetie I saw him first," Roger bumped his hip into hers, pushing her out of the way. He sauntered up to the crook, one hand on his hip, and the other poised confidently in the air. The crook pulled back in a grimace.
"Hey, big guy," Roger said, "Why don't you hand over the purse? Turn yourself in, and maybe you can get off with a light spanking- I mean sentence."
Ariel hissed, and kicked Roger upside the head. He grimaced in pain, and stumbled into the brick wall of the building next to him. Quickly regaining his composure, he stood up straight and fixed his gold, horn rimmed glasses.
"Damn it Ariel, why are you always trying to steal the good men!"
"Good? He's a thief! Guilty of... stealing my heart..."
"Heart? Sounds like he stole your brain!" Roger quickly snapped his fingers in a Z formation, "Mhm."
Looking around, Ariel and Roger noticed that the crook had disappeared.
"Oh, look at that!" Ariel fumed with anger, "Now he's gone!"
"Oh relax," Roger said. He turned to a spectral figure standing across the street. It was grey, and completely see-through, and was just barely holding a human figure.
"You, ghost," Roger yelled, "Which way did he go?"
The ghost held his hands in the air and shrugged.
>The premise actually sounds like the kind of tripe vampire novel my mother would read.