Martin Van Buren slowly regained consciousness. He struggled to open heavy eyelids. Once he could part them, he was looking at the world through the eye of a needle. When he was able to open them wider, the world appeared normal. The sky was blue velvet, yellow stars twinkled, a bright moon sat impassively. He closed his eyes again and wondered why he was sleeping outside, why he felt like he had the most terrible hangover ever, and why his neck hurt so much. There was a sound nearby that he couldn’t place, sort of like a garbage disposal with something stuck in it. Martin lifted his head, opened his eyes again and squinted in the direction of the noise.
It was her. She was making that noise. The crazy woman who bit my neck.
It was true. Adriana Swanson was on all fours and very loudly vomiting a thick red substance onto the grave marker of one George Krakas, beloved father and husband. For her part, Adriana felt as if the hand of God had reached down her throat and was ripping out her insides. This was definitely not her normal reaction to drinking human blood. She was supposed to get a little rush from it, then have a pleasant, relaxing high while her victim either died, if it was a small animal, or, if it was a human, transformed into a charming and delightful vampire like her. Instead, Adriana’s intestines were trying to escape her body by way of her mouth. Finally, her volcanic eruption slowed to a trickle, then ceased. After a moment of blessed stillness, Adriana sat back on her haunches.
Through bleary eyes she saw Martin lying on the ground. Instantly infuriated by the sight of him, she screamed, “There is something really wrong with you!”
“Me?” he screamed back as he attempted to sit up. “There’s something wrong with me? You bit me on the neck! You actually broke the skin of my neck with your teeth! You bit another human being! And you say there’s something wrong with me?”
She calmed down slightly, and responded icily, “It’s what I do, you moron. I’m a vampire.”
Martin had managed to get himself into a sitting position. “Why am I not surprised the crazy lady thinks she’s a vampire. Apparently you really are a complete nut job.”
Adriana’s eyes flashed a fiery red, but she kept her cool, which wasn’t that difficult as she felt nauseous and chilly. She spoke in an even tone of voice that sounded more formal than normal for her. “I am not a nut job. I am a vampire. I have been drinking the blood of humans for years now and I have never, ever once gotten sick from it. Okay, there was that one time with a guy who looked like Keith Richards. His blood made me a little woozy, but that was the only time.”
Martin attempted to glare at her but he just didn’t have the strength. “You are completely whacked,” he said, sounding despondent. Then he thought a moment. “You don’t have any diseases, do you? If you really do go around biting people, you’re liable to catch something. Have you been tested? You don’t have rabies, do you? Oh God, I don’t want to have to get rabies shots.”
“Of course I don’t have rabies, you idiot!” Then she thought about all the squirrels and other woodland creatures she had bitten. “At least, I don’t think I do. I really should get a checkup. Can you recommend a good doctor? You know, a good family type physician, but not too young, because they always think they know everything. A middle aged guy, or girl, someone who’s got a little wisdom. You know what I mean. Although, I’m not really sure vampires need a checkup. It would have been nice if there had been an instruction manual when I got transformed. All this time I’ve been a vampire and I still have questions.”
Martin looked blankly until her rambling ceased, then spoke in a subdued tone. “You really are a piece of work, you know that?” He was exasperated with Adriana, and drained of energy. “Listen, did you drug me or something? I feel hung over and really, really tired.”
Adriana stood up, placed her hands on her stomach. “I don’t feel so good myself. No, no drugs. I’ve never seen this kind of reaction before. It’s bizarre.”
“Yes, how bizarre that trying to drink someone’s blood would make them sick.”
“Oh Martin, I don’t know how to convince you of the truth and right now, I have to admit I just don’t give a crap about trying. I feel lousy. I need a good stiff drink or something. You don’t have any booze in that knapsack of yours, do you?”
He wordlessly shook his head.
She looked down at the grave marker and gently poked at the bloody vomit with her foot. Thankfully she was wearing closed toe shoes this evening. “Sorry about that Mister Krakas. Maybe it’ll rain and wash away all that goop.”
Wiping her shoe clean on the grass, she looked over at Martin. His head was in his hands, his eyes closed again. “I’m sorry this stuff happened. I’m going to go now. I’ll see you again some time.”
When he looked up, Adriana was gone. His mind swirled with questions. How did she disappear so quickly? What in the hell is happening to my life?
Martin sat and thought for a while. He came to the conclusion that he was a failure at suicide as well as every other thing in his life. He got his things together and thought about leaving. Instead he scooted along the ground and leaned against a grave marker. Overcome with exhaustion he tilted his back against the marker, shut his eyes and thought he just might sleep the night here. The cemetery finally felt like the restful place it should be. Even the wind was still. Peace had descended upon him. Briefly.
Suddenly, there was the sound of fluttering wings and Martin opened his eyes to see what seemed like every bird in the cemetery quitting the trees and hurriedly leaving the area.
Looking around with groggy eyes he spotted someone approaching. Though some distance away there was no mistaking that it was the curvy figure of a woman or a really hot cross dresser.
The woman drew closer. Martin could see a bright, fierce look in her eyes and feel an intense heat emanating from her. Walking along she slipped easily out of the clingy champagne colored dress she was wearing, revealing her naked body, then flung the shoes from her feet. Moonlight made the rivulets of sweat running along her dark skin glisten and her whole body shimmered like asphalt on a hot summer day. Her pace slowed until she fell back upon the ground, grasped at her head and writhed around soundlessly.
Transfixed as he was by this bizarre sight of a beautiful naked woman rolling around on the grass, Martin was also immobilized by fear. The events of the last twenty-fours had been so strange that he no longer felt as if he were living his own life anymore, but rather watching a foreign film with no subtitles and an absurd plot. At this moment, he had no idea what to do, if he should try to help her or attempt run away.
As Martin pondered his options, the woman’s body became rigid, yet appeared to be changing somehow. Hair sprouted all over, her hands and feet grew large, becoming the paws of a large animal. Then, what had been a petite nose above a full set of lips projected outward, transformed into a muzzle, no longer human, more like that of a giant dog. Or a wolf. Indeed, the hot naked lady was now covered head to toe in beautiful silver-grey fur. Standing on all fours, she hunched back a bit, raised her head at the moon, bared razor sharp teeth and let loose a sustained, loud howl. With that out of her system, she seemed content. Her long, full tail was wagging rapidly.
In his mind, Martin understood that his death may be imminent, but all he could think of now was Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London.”
Fixing her now golden yellow eyes on Martin, the wolf trotted up to him until he could feel her breath on his face. Too close for his comfort, “Werewolves of London” stopped playing in his head and his bladder released a small amount of pee. Thankfully, he hadn’t had much to drink that day.
The she-wolf gazed at him for a short time, sniffed the air, then, with the silky voice of a young woman, spoke: “Hey. What’s up?”
Believing he had finally gone insane, Martin closed his eyes for what felt like an eternity but in reality was only a few seconds, then opened them again.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” the wolf said.
“You...you can talk.”
The wolf rolled her eyes. “You just saw a fine looking woman turn into a wolf and you’re surprised that I can talk?”
“Huh? Sorry. I’ve had a rough night.”
“I’ll bet.” The wolf glanced at Martin’s neck. “Looks you’ve got a nice little hickey there.”
“Yeah, someone thought it would be a good idea to bite me. It wasn’t.”
“Sorry to hear that. My name’s Colette. Nice to meet you. I usually don’t see anyone in the cemetery at this hour. Usually just some chick getting a little too intimate with squirrels, but who am I to judge? I’ve never seen anybody else though.”
Martin looked at her, dumbfounded. Could she be talking about Adriana?
“This is the point in our conversation where you tell me your name,” Colette said.
“You can’t be real. None of this can be real. I must be hallucinating. Adriana must have slipped me a mickey.”
“ ‘Slipped you a mickey’? You know you’re not in a 1930s gangster movie, right?”
Martin turned his head away, talking to himself. “I need to snap out of this. I must be dreaming. Or having a nightmare.”
Hearing that, Colette made a little leap, set her front paws on Martin’s lap and ran her tongue over the side of his face, leaving it covered in werewolf slobber.
“That real enough for ya, buddy boy?” she said, sitting back down again.
Martin lifted up his shirt to wipe his face. “Uh, yeah, that was pretty real, all right.”
Colette looked at the two small puncture holes on Martin’s neck. “Maybe that’s not a hickey. I think you may be joining the ranks of the undead.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “What?”
“The bite marks. On your neck. Did you forget about those?”
He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as vampires.”
“There’s no such thing as werewolves either, right?”
“You have a point. I think. I’m not really sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”
“Are you sure about your name?”
“Hmm? What? Oh. My name is Martin Van Buren...”
Colette interrupted. “Martin Van Buren? Isn’t that the name of a cartoon character?”
“No, you’re thinking of Milhouse Van Houten on ‘The Simpsons’.”
“I thought Milhouse Van Houten was in the Manson Family.”
“No, that was Leslie Van Houten, and he was a she.”
“A transgender person? In the Manson Family? Are you sure?”
“No, no, the person you’re thinking of was a woman, not a man.” Martin shook his head in exasperation. “Look, it doesn’t matter. All I know for sure is that I’m having a really weird night and my neck hurts.”
“Well, then, you should probably get on home and get some rest. You look like you’ve had it. Me, I’ve got a hot date.”
Again, Martin was incredulous. “Oh, so there’re other werewolves in town?”
“Who said anything about other werewolves? I just said I have a date.” Colette winked at him. “Good to meet you, Martin. You okay getting home by yourself? I could give you an escort if you need me to.”
Touched by the offer of being walked home by a werewolf, Martin softened his attitude. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.”
“All right, well try not to get attacked by zombies on the way home.”
His eyes got wide. “Zombies? Are there really zombies?”
Colette chuckled. “No, I’m just messing with you. Zombies. That’s just crazy talk.” She scampered away and said over her shoulder, “See you around, Martin Van Houten.”
“Van Buren. It’s Van Buren,” he said, not loud enough for her to hear as she faded into the distance. Martin thought about the night he just had. “I really do not have any idea of what is going on anymore.”
It was her. She was making that noise. The crazy woman who bit my neck.
It was true. Adriana Swanson was on all fours and very loudly vomiting a thick red substance onto the grave marker of one George Krakas, beloved father and husband. For her part, Adriana felt as if the hand of God had reached down her throat and was ripping out her insides. This was definitely not her normal reaction to drinking human blood. She was supposed to get a little rush from it, then have a pleasant, relaxing high while her victim either died, if it was a small animal, or, if it was a human, transformed into a charming and delightful vampire like her. Instead, Adriana’s intestines were trying to escape her body by way of her mouth. Finally, her volcanic eruption slowed to a trickle, then ceased. After a moment of blessed stillness, Adriana sat back on her haunches.
Through bleary eyes she saw Martin lying on the ground. Instantly infuriated by the sight of him, she screamed, “There is something really wrong with you!”
“Me?” he screamed back as he attempted to sit up. “There’s something wrong with me? You bit me on the neck! You actually broke the skin of my neck with your teeth! You bit another human being! And you say there’s something wrong with me?”
She calmed down slightly, and responded icily, “It’s what I do, you moron. I’m a vampire.”
Martin had managed to get himself into a sitting position. “Why am I not surprised the crazy lady thinks she’s a vampire. Apparently you really are a complete nut job.”
Adriana’s eyes flashed a fiery red, but she kept her cool, which wasn’t that difficult as she felt nauseous and chilly. She spoke in an even tone of voice that sounded more formal than normal for her. “I am not a nut job. I am a vampire. I have been drinking the blood of humans for years now and I have never, ever once gotten sick from it. Okay, there was that one time with a guy who looked like Keith Richards. His blood made me a little woozy, but that was the only time.”
Martin attempted to glare at her but he just didn’t have the strength. “You are completely whacked,” he said, sounding despondent. Then he thought a moment. “You don’t have any diseases, do you? If you really do go around biting people, you’re liable to catch something. Have you been tested? You don’t have rabies, do you? Oh God, I don’t want to have to get rabies shots.”
“Of course I don’t have rabies, you idiot!” Then she thought about all the squirrels and other woodland creatures she had bitten. “At least, I don’t think I do. I really should get a checkup. Can you recommend a good doctor? You know, a good family type physician, but not too young, because they always think they know everything. A middle aged guy, or girl, someone who’s got a little wisdom. You know what I mean. Although, I’m not really sure vampires need a checkup. It would have been nice if there had been an instruction manual when I got transformed. All this time I’ve been a vampire and I still have questions.”
Martin looked blankly until her rambling ceased, then spoke in a subdued tone. “You really are a piece of work, you know that?” He was exasperated with Adriana, and drained of energy. “Listen, did you drug me or something? I feel hung over and really, really tired.”
Adriana stood up, placed her hands on her stomach. “I don’t feel so good myself. No, no drugs. I’ve never seen this kind of reaction before. It’s bizarre.”
“Yes, how bizarre that trying to drink someone’s blood would make them sick.”
“Oh Martin, I don’t know how to convince you of the truth and right now, I have to admit I just don’t give a crap about trying. I feel lousy. I need a good stiff drink or something. You don’t have any booze in that knapsack of yours, do you?”
He wordlessly shook his head.
She looked down at the grave marker and gently poked at the bloody vomit with her foot. Thankfully she was wearing closed toe shoes this evening. “Sorry about that Mister Krakas. Maybe it’ll rain and wash away all that goop.”
Wiping her shoe clean on the grass, she looked over at Martin. His head was in his hands, his eyes closed again. “I’m sorry this stuff happened. I’m going to go now. I’ll see you again some time.”
When he looked up, Adriana was gone. His mind swirled with questions. How did she disappear so quickly? What in the hell is happening to my life?
Martin sat and thought for a while. He came to the conclusion that he was a failure at suicide as well as every other thing in his life. He got his things together and thought about leaving. Instead he scooted along the ground and leaned against a grave marker. Overcome with exhaustion he tilted his back against the marker, shut his eyes and thought he just might sleep the night here. The cemetery finally felt like the restful place it should be. Even the wind was still. Peace had descended upon him. Briefly.
Suddenly, there was the sound of fluttering wings and Martin opened his eyes to see what seemed like every bird in the cemetery quitting the trees and hurriedly leaving the area.
Looking around with groggy eyes he spotted someone approaching. Though some distance away there was no mistaking that it was the curvy figure of a woman or a really hot cross dresser.
The woman drew closer. Martin could see a bright, fierce look in her eyes and feel an intense heat emanating from her. Walking along she slipped easily out of the clingy champagne colored dress she was wearing, revealing her naked body, then flung the shoes from her feet. Moonlight made the rivulets of sweat running along her dark skin glisten and her whole body shimmered like asphalt on a hot summer day. Her pace slowed until she fell back upon the ground, grasped at her head and writhed around soundlessly.
Transfixed as he was by this bizarre sight of a beautiful naked woman rolling around on the grass, Martin was also immobilized by fear. The events of the last twenty-fours had been so strange that he no longer felt as if he were living his own life anymore, but rather watching a foreign film with no subtitles and an absurd plot. At this moment, he had no idea what to do, if he should try to help her or attempt run away.
As Martin pondered his options, the woman’s body became rigid, yet appeared to be changing somehow. Hair sprouted all over, her hands and feet grew large, becoming the paws of a large animal. Then, what had been a petite nose above a full set of lips projected outward, transformed into a muzzle, no longer human, more like that of a giant dog. Or a wolf. Indeed, the hot naked lady was now covered head to toe in beautiful silver-grey fur. Standing on all fours, she hunched back a bit, raised her head at the moon, bared razor sharp teeth and let loose a sustained, loud howl. With that out of her system, she seemed content. Her long, full tail was wagging rapidly.
In his mind, Martin understood that his death may be imminent, but all he could think of now was Warren Zevon’s “Werewolves of London.”
Fixing her now golden yellow eyes on Martin, the wolf trotted up to him until he could feel her breath on his face. Too close for his comfort, “Werewolves of London” stopped playing in his head and his bladder released a small amount of pee. Thankfully, he hadn’t had much to drink that day.
The she-wolf gazed at him for a short time, sniffed the air, then, with the silky voice of a young woman, spoke: “Hey. What’s up?”
Believing he had finally gone insane, Martin closed his eyes for what felt like an eternity but in reality was only a few seconds, then opened them again.
“Yeah, I’m still here,” the wolf said.
“You...you can talk.”
The wolf rolled her eyes. “You just saw a fine looking woman turn into a wolf and you’re surprised that I can talk?”
“Huh? Sorry. I’ve had a rough night.”
“I’ll bet.” The wolf glanced at Martin’s neck. “Looks you’ve got a nice little hickey there.”
“Yeah, someone thought it would be a good idea to bite me. It wasn’t.”
“Sorry to hear that. My name’s Colette. Nice to meet you. I usually don’t see anyone in the cemetery at this hour. Usually just some chick getting a little too intimate with squirrels, but who am I to judge? I’ve never seen anybody else though.”
Martin looked at her, dumbfounded. Could she be talking about Adriana?
“This is the point in our conversation where you tell me your name,” Colette said.
“You can’t be real. None of this can be real. I must be hallucinating. Adriana must have slipped me a mickey.”
“ ‘Slipped you a mickey’? You know you’re not in a 1930s gangster movie, right?”
Martin turned his head away, talking to himself. “I need to snap out of this. I must be dreaming. Or having a nightmare.”
Hearing that, Colette made a little leap, set her front paws on Martin’s lap and ran her tongue over the side of his face, leaving it covered in werewolf slobber.
“That real enough for ya, buddy boy?” she said, sitting back down again.
Martin lifted up his shirt to wipe his face. “Uh, yeah, that was pretty real, all right.”
Colette looked at the two small puncture holes on Martin’s neck. “Maybe that’s not a hickey. I think you may be joining the ranks of the undead.”
He gave her an incredulous look. “What?”
“The bite marks. On your neck. Did you forget about those?”
He shook his head. “There’s no such thing as vampires.”
“There’s no such thing as werewolves either, right?”
“You have a point. I think. I’m not really sure. I’m not sure about anything anymore.”
“Are you sure about your name?”
“Hmm? What? Oh. My name is Martin Van Buren...”
Colette interrupted. “Martin Van Buren? Isn’t that the name of a cartoon character?”
“No, you’re thinking of Milhouse Van Houten on ‘The Simpsons’.”
“I thought Milhouse Van Houten was in the Manson Family.”
“No, that was Leslie Van Houten, and he was a she.”
“A transgender person? In the Manson Family? Are you sure?”
“No, no, the person you’re thinking of was a woman, not a man.” Martin shook his head in exasperation. “Look, it doesn’t matter. All I know for sure is that I’m having a really weird night and my neck hurts.”
“Well, then, you should probably get on home and get some rest. You look like you’ve had it. Me, I’ve got a hot date.”
Again, Martin was incredulous. “Oh, so there’re other werewolves in town?”
“Who said anything about other werewolves? I just said I have a date.” Colette winked at him. “Good to meet you, Martin. You okay getting home by yourself? I could give you an escort if you need me to.”
Touched by the offer of being walked home by a werewolf, Martin softened his attitude. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay.”
“All right, well try not to get attacked by zombies on the way home.”
His eyes got wide. “Zombies? Are there really zombies?”
Colette chuckled. “No, I’m just messing with you. Zombies. That’s just crazy talk.” She scampered away and said over her shoulder, “See you around, Martin Van Houten.”
“Van Buren. It’s Van Buren,” he said, not loud enough for her to hear as she faded into the distance. Martin thought about the night he just had. “I really do not have any idea of what is going on anymore.”
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