“Okay, so let me get this straight, you give eternal life to someone who wants to die and you expect him to be thankful?”
Martin paced to and fro in his room while Adriana, ensconced comfortably on a black leather recliner, tried to get the TV’s remote control to work.
“I think a little gratitude would be nice, yes. A simple thank you for bringing some joy into your life would be sufficient.”
“Joy?” Martin stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m not feeling any joy right now. I feel dread. Even in the best of times I don’t do joy, and I don’t think these are the best of times.”
“Blah blah blah.” Adriana whacked the remote against her thigh a few times, then tried to turn on the TV, with no result. “Maybe you should learn to look at the bright side of life once in a while, then you wouldn’t mope around your room all day and night.” She slapped the remote against the palm of her hand.
“For heaven’s sake, what are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to turn on the freakin’ TV! I want to watch Jeopardy.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not on right now.”
“I recorded it.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “You recorded it? On my DVR?”
“Yeah. Mine’s not working. I gotta call the cable company and get a new one.”
“When did you program my DVR?”
Adriana stopped abusing the remote control long enough to roll her eyes. “I came in the other night when you were sleeping. I figured you’d be less likely to give me grief if you weren’t awak. And I was right. You didn’t say a word, although you do mumble a lot.”
Martin was aghast now. “You watch me when I sleep?”
“What? Eeeuuuwww, no. That would be creepy. What am I, Santa Claus? Besides, you’re not a pretty picture when you sleep. Your arms and legs are splayed all over the place like someone who took a dry dive from a ten story building...”
“Splayed?” Martin interrupted.
“Yes, splayed. It means...”
“I know what it means,” he interrupted again, sounding testy, as if his intelligence had been questioned. “I just don’t hear it used very often.”
“Anyway, you’re spread out all over the place, your mouth is open wide enough for me to see your tonsils, and you’ve got some big ones, let me tell you. Like little crab apples guarding the entrance to your throat. So, no, you are not a pretty picture.”
“Whatever.” Martin sat on the edge of his bed. “Why on earth did you have to transform me anyway? Millions of people out there and you had to choose me.”
“Well, there weren’t millions of people in the cemetery that night. And you seemed like a nice enough guy. I figured you weren’t going to go out and do stupid stuff with your vampire powers.”
“Stupid stuff, like what?”
Adriana became enthused with the idea of being a vampire mentor to someone. “Well, you know, you’re smart enough to not go around turning every Tom, Dick and Harry into a vampire, because, let’s face it, not everyone should have eternal life. There are a lot of assholes out there, and you don’t want to see them around for the next couple of centuries. So, no assholes, that’s rule number one. We in the vampire community call it the Trump Rule.”
Martin nodded. “Makes sense. I didn’t realize there was a vampire community.”
“It’s more of a loose association really, nothing formal. We don’t have any organizers speaking out for vampire rights or anything like that. The existence of vampires is still a well kept secret. Not even the government knows about us. At least I don’t think they do. There’d probably be a tax on blood sucking if they did.”
Martin chuckled, then turned serious again. “Listen, is there any way out of this? I mean, nothing against you and your kind, but I really don’t want to be a vampire. I’m just not cut out for that sort of thing. All that hunting and stalking of humans, grabbing them, biting their necks. I couldn’t do that sort of thing. I don’t even like touching people, to be honest with you.”
“A phobia about human contact? Get a grip. Or do you have a phobia about gripping things? Anyway, don’t worry about it. A lot of us, most of us, really, don’t even hunt humans. We feast on animals. We grab the occasional woodland creature, have our way with them to nourish ourselves, and then we get on with our lives.”
“Are you talking about squirrels and things?”
“Yeah, all of those critters that there’s way too many of.”
Martin looked confused and worried. “So, there’s millions of vampire squirrels out there?”
“Oh, Lord, no. Although that would be kinda cool. Vampire squirrels and racccoons and what not, I could train them to do my bidding. I could have furry little minions all over the place.” Adriana snapped out of her reverie. “ Seriously though, the unfortunate thing about feeding on animals is that they die when we drink their blood. No eternal life for them. That’s why we never dine on some critter that’s going extint or something. Just the ones that there are a ton of.” Her face brightened as she got out of her chair. “Hey! I’ll teach you how to feed on a squirrel.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Martin paled and shook his head. “No, I don’t want to, not right now. The neighbors might see.”
“It’s the middle of the night. No one’s out there.” She stretched out her hand to him. “Come on. You’ve got to do this sometime, and I’m here to guide you through it.”
“No, I really...”
“Martin!” she vehemently whispered his name, just as his mother did when she was exasperated with his reluctance to perform some simple chore. It was always effective.
He jumped up. “Okay, okay!”
They made their way downstairs, then stood silently in the center of the back yard. For almost a minute they neither moved nor spoke, until Martin leaned closer to Adriana and said in a quiet tone, “This is how we hunt?”
Without looking at him Adriana replied, “Yes. Be still and they will come to you.”
Sure enough, a squirrel zigged and zagged over the lawn until it came to rest within a foot of Adriana. In a quick, effortless motion, she bent over and snatched it up. It squirmed for a few seconds, but as she rubbed the animals stomach it became still.
She turned to Martin. “Your mind should be quiet when you do this, then the animal will be quiet as well. You want them to be relaxed, not fighting you. Send out peaceful thoughts, give them a little massage, then ram your fangs in and have yourself a meal.”
A look of quesy disgust came over Martin’s face. “Yeah, that’s impressive. Why don’t we let this guy go? He doesn’t look like he’s ready to meet his maker.”
Adriana spoke in a quiet but firm way to him. “Martin, you’re going to need nourishment at some point. We’ll take it slow. I’ll pierce his neck, and you can sip a few drops of blood, just so you get an idea of what it tastes like.”
In the dark of night, even with her heightened visual acuity, she didn’t notice Martin had gone from being pale to a sickening shade of light blue.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, stifling the urge to throw up.
Adriana wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. With a razor sharp fingernail she made a small slit in the squirrel’s neck, put a droplet of it’s blood on her forefinger and offered it up to Martin.
He glanced at the crimson spot in front of his face for less than a second, then his eyes rolled heavenward and he crumpled into a heap on the grass.
She looked at the squirrel and said, “I’ve never seen that happen before.” Putting him down on the ground, she told the critter, “All right, off you go, I’ve got other things to deal with right now.” For a few seconds, the squirrel was motionless, then he came to life and chirped angrily at Adriana before running like the devil.
Adriana leaned over Martin. “Hey! Hey! Wake up, buddy. Are you okay?” There was no response. She slapped him lightly. Still nothing. This calls for something a little more drastic, she thought.
Making sure the faucet was turned all the way on, and the garden hose was on the jet setting, Adriana hit Martin in the face with a strong stream of cold water. Sputtering, he jumped to his feet, begging Adriana to knock it off.
“What?” she shouted. “I can’t hear you!”
“Would you stop that?”
She released her grip on the nozzle. “What? Oh, this? Sure. You feel better now, Martin?”
“No. I feel like shit, quite frankly, if you’ll pardon my language.”
“Don’t sweat it.” She put the hose away while Martin attempted to shake off some water. “You fainted, big boy. What’s with that?”
“If you must know, I have hemophobia.”
Her face went blank. “Oh.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“Uhm, no.”
“It means I have a phobia.”
“Another phobia? What a surprise.”
He sighed then continued, “Yes, another phobia. I have a fear of blood. I faint at the very sight of it.”
She looked at him for a moment, then broke into laughter. “You have a fear of blood? You’re gonna need to get over that or else you are not going to make a good vampire, that’s for sure.”
“You think this is funny?” Martin was now wet, quesy and angry. “Because I don’t think this is funny at all.” Glaring at her, he began to walk in circles around Adriana. “How am I supposed to get along as a blood sucking fiend if I can’t even stand the sight of a single drop of blood. Just thinking about blood makes me nauseous.”
“We are not blood sucking fiends, Martin. We’re just average people who occasionally need to drink the blood of another person or animal in order to stay alive. But that does not make us fiends. We simply have alternative dietary habits.”
He stopped circling and stood directly in front of her. “This is all one big joke for you, isn’t it? Bite the fat loser and turn him into a vampire. What a brilliant idea. You didn’t live up to your own standards with me, did you? Am I really someone you want to see walking around for eternity, a big, fat mope like me?”
It was Adriana’s turn to be angry now. “This is all your freakin’ fault!”
Martin was astonished at what he heard. He cocked his head slightly and his eyes narrowed. “What? What did you say? You think this is my fault, that I’m a vampire now, a vampire who can’t stand the sight of blood? This is my fault? Really, is that the way you look at this situation?”
She was defiant. “Yes!”
“Unbelievable.”
“Yes, I did let my standards down when I turned you. And yes, that is your fault. And you know why? Because you smelled like chocolate, that’s why! Sweet, warm, gooey chocolate. Mix that with your sweat, and you smelled like salty chocolatey goodness. There! That’s why I turned you, because I have a weakness for salty, chocolatey things! How is a girl supposed to resist that? Especially at this time of the month.”
Surprised, Martin asked, “Vampire women still have...that?”
“Oh, yeah. I told you, we’re human, more or less.”
“I’m sorry...about...you know...the monthly thing.”
“You’re sorry. How do you think I feel?”
Martin had calmed down. “I have some toffee upstairs. It’s covered in Belgian chocolate and topped with sea salt.”
“I know. I found your stash. I didn’t eat it all though.”
“I appreciate that. Let’s go inside so I can dry off.”
“Okay. I noticed you still have some Christmas fruitcake in your mini-fridge. I love fruitcake.”
“You spend a lot time snooping around my room, don’t you?”
“Only when I’m hungry, or when I want to watch Jeopardy.”
As the very moment they went inside to dine on Belgian chocolates, Colette, was attempting to nap in a park just a few blocks downwind from Martin’s house. In her werewolf form she lay under the outstretched arms of a stand of stately old Norwegian pines. The lids of her eyes were slowly coming together when she saw the squirrel run past her and out of sight. Then he returned, stopping to glare at her. He chirped foul oaths.
Colette’s eyes sprang open. “What’s eatin’ you?” Then she saw the nick by his jugular. “Oh. One of those animal only vampies, huh? You should be happy you got away.”
The squirrel let out another torrent of profanity laden chirps.
“Don’t take it out on me, little fella, unless you want to be my midnight snack.”
Indignant, the squirrel turned his back on her, then ran up a tree.
“Now how am I going to get to sleep?” Colette murmurred to herself. “Damn squirrel’s got me all riled up.” Her eyes began to close again. “The air smells like chocolate. Salt too. That’s a good mixture,” she murmured as she drifted off.
Martin paced to and fro in his room while Adriana, ensconced comfortably on a black leather recliner, tried to get the TV’s remote control to work.
“I think a little gratitude would be nice, yes. A simple thank you for bringing some joy into your life would be sufficient.”
“Joy?” Martin stopped dead in his tracks. “I’m not feeling any joy right now. I feel dread. Even in the best of times I don’t do joy, and I don’t think these are the best of times.”
“Blah blah blah.” Adriana whacked the remote against her thigh a few times, then tried to turn on the TV, with no result. “Maybe you should learn to look at the bright side of life once in a while, then you wouldn’t mope around your room all day and night.” She slapped the remote against the palm of her hand.
“For heaven’s sake, what are you trying to do?”
“I’m trying to turn on the freakin’ TV! I want to watch Jeopardy.”
“I’m pretty sure that’s not on right now.”
“I recorded it.”
He gave her a quizzical look. “You recorded it? On my DVR?”
“Yeah. Mine’s not working. I gotta call the cable company and get a new one.”
“When did you program my DVR?”
Adriana stopped abusing the remote control long enough to roll her eyes. “I came in the other night when you were sleeping. I figured you’d be less likely to give me grief if you weren’t awak. And I was right. You didn’t say a word, although you do mumble a lot.”
Martin was aghast now. “You watch me when I sleep?”
“What? Eeeuuuwww, no. That would be creepy. What am I, Santa Claus? Besides, you’re not a pretty picture when you sleep. Your arms and legs are splayed all over the place like someone who took a dry dive from a ten story building...”
“Splayed?” Martin interrupted.
“Yes, splayed. It means...”
“I know what it means,” he interrupted again, sounding testy, as if his intelligence had been questioned. “I just don’t hear it used very often.”
“Anyway, you’re spread out all over the place, your mouth is open wide enough for me to see your tonsils, and you’ve got some big ones, let me tell you. Like little crab apples guarding the entrance to your throat. So, no, you are not a pretty picture.”
“Whatever.” Martin sat on the edge of his bed. “Why on earth did you have to transform me anyway? Millions of people out there and you had to choose me.”
“Well, there weren’t millions of people in the cemetery that night. And you seemed like a nice enough guy. I figured you weren’t going to go out and do stupid stuff with your vampire powers.”
“Stupid stuff, like what?”
Adriana became enthused with the idea of being a vampire mentor to someone. “Well, you know, you’re smart enough to not go around turning every Tom, Dick and Harry into a vampire, because, let’s face it, not everyone should have eternal life. There are a lot of assholes out there, and you don’t want to see them around for the next couple of centuries. So, no assholes, that’s rule number one. We in the vampire community call it the Trump Rule.”
Martin nodded. “Makes sense. I didn’t realize there was a vampire community.”
“It’s more of a loose association really, nothing formal. We don’t have any organizers speaking out for vampire rights or anything like that. The existence of vampires is still a well kept secret. Not even the government knows about us. At least I don’t think they do. There’d probably be a tax on blood sucking if they did.”
Martin chuckled, then turned serious again. “Listen, is there any way out of this? I mean, nothing against you and your kind, but I really don’t want to be a vampire. I’m just not cut out for that sort of thing. All that hunting and stalking of humans, grabbing them, biting their necks. I couldn’t do that sort of thing. I don’t even like touching people, to be honest with you.”
“A phobia about human contact? Get a grip. Or do you have a phobia about gripping things? Anyway, don’t worry about it. A lot of us, most of us, really, don’t even hunt humans. We feast on animals. We grab the occasional woodland creature, have our way with them to nourish ourselves, and then we get on with our lives.”
“Are you talking about squirrels and things?”
“Yeah, all of those critters that there’s way too many of.”
Martin looked confused and worried. “So, there’s millions of vampire squirrels out there?”
“Oh, Lord, no. Although that would be kinda cool. Vampire squirrels and racccoons and what not, I could train them to do my bidding. I could have furry little minions all over the place.” Adriana snapped out of her reverie. “ Seriously though, the unfortunate thing about feeding on animals is that they die when we drink their blood. No eternal life for them. That’s why we never dine on some critter that’s going extint or something. Just the ones that there are a ton of.” Her face brightened as she got out of her chair. “Hey! I’ll teach you how to feed on a squirrel.”
“Right now?”
“Yes, right now.”
Martin paled and shook his head. “No, I don’t want to, not right now. The neighbors might see.”
“It’s the middle of the night. No one’s out there.” She stretched out her hand to him. “Come on. You’ve got to do this sometime, and I’m here to guide you through it.”
“No, I really...”
“Martin!” she vehemently whispered his name, just as his mother did when she was exasperated with his reluctance to perform some simple chore. It was always effective.
He jumped up. “Okay, okay!”
They made their way downstairs, then stood silently in the center of the back yard. For almost a minute they neither moved nor spoke, until Martin leaned closer to Adriana and said in a quiet tone, “This is how we hunt?”
Without looking at him Adriana replied, “Yes. Be still and they will come to you.”
Sure enough, a squirrel zigged and zagged over the lawn until it came to rest within a foot of Adriana. In a quick, effortless motion, she bent over and snatched it up. It squirmed for a few seconds, but as she rubbed the animals stomach it became still.
She turned to Martin. “Your mind should be quiet when you do this, then the animal will be quiet as well. You want them to be relaxed, not fighting you. Send out peaceful thoughts, give them a little massage, then ram your fangs in and have yourself a meal.”
A look of quesy disgust came over Martin’s face. “Yeah, that’s impressive. Why don’t we let this guy go? He doesn’t look like he’s ready to meet his maker.”
Adriana spoke in a quiet but firm way to him. “Martin, you’re going to need nourishment at some point. We’ll take it slow. I’ll pierce his neck, and you can sip a few drops of blood, just so you get an idea of what it tastes like.”
In the dark of night, even with her heightened visual acuity, she didn’t notice Martin had gone from being pale to a sickening shade of light blue.
“I really don’t think this is a good idea,” he said, stifling the urge to throw up.
Adriana wasn’t paying attention to him anymore. With a razor sharp fingernail she made a small slit in the squirrel’s neck, put a droplet of it’s blood on her forefinger and offered it up to Martin.
He glanced at the crimson spot in front of his face for less than a second, then his eyes rolled heavenward and he crumpled into a heap on the grass.
She looked at the squirrel and said, “I’ve never seen that happen before.” Putting him down on the ground, she told the critter, “All right, off you go, I’ve got other things to deal with right now.” For a few seconds, the squirrel was motionless, then he came to life and chirped angrily at Adriana before running like the devil.
Adriana leaned over Martin. “Hey! Hey! Wake up, buddy. Are you okay?” There was no response. She slapped him lightly. Still nothing. This calls for something a little more drastic, she thought.
Making sure the faucet was turned all the way on, and the garden hose was on the jet setting, Adriana hit Martin in the face with a strong stream of cold water. Sputtering, he jumped to his feet, begging Adriana to knock it off.
“What?” she shouted. “I can’t hear you!”
“Would you stop that?”
She released her grip on the nozzle. “What? Oh, this? Sure. You feel better now, Martin?”
“No. I feel like shit, quite frankly, if you’ll pardon my language.”
“Don’t sweat it.” She put the hose away while Martin attempted to shake off some water. “You fainted, big boy. What’s with that?”
“If you must know, I have hemophobia.”
Her face went blank. “Oh.”
“Do you know what that means?”
“Uhm, no.”
“It means I have a phobia.”
“Another phobia? What a surprise.”
He sighed then continued, “Yes, another phobia. I have a fear of blood. I faint at the very sight of it.”
She looked at him for a moment, then broke into laughter. “You have a fear of blood? You’re gonna need to get over that or else you are not going to make a good vampire, that’s for sure.”
“You think this is funny?” Martin was now wet, quesy and angry. “Because I don’t think this is funny at all.” Glaring at her, he began to walk in circles around Adriana. “How am I supposed to get along as a blood sucking fiend if I can’t even stand the sight of a single drop of blood. Just thinking about blood makes me nauseous.”
“We are not blood sucking fiends, Martin. We’re just average people who occasionally need to drink the blood of another person or animal in order to stay alive. But that does not make us fiends. We simply have alternative dietary habits.”
He stopped circling and stood directly in front of her. “This is all one big joke for you, isn’t it? Bite the fat loser and turn him into a vampire. What a brilliant idea. You didn’t live up to your own standards with me, did you? Am I really someone you want to see walking around for eternity, a big, fat mope like me?”
It was Adriana’s turn to be angry now. “This is all your freakin’ fault!”
Martin was astonished at what he heard. He cocked his head slightly and his eyes narrowed. “What? What did you say? You think this is my fault, that I’m a vampire now, a vampire who can’t stand the sight of blood? This is my fault? Really, is that the way you look at this situation?”
She was defiant. “Yes!”
“Unbelievable.”
“Yes, I did let my standards down when I turned you. And yes, that is your fault. And you know why? Because you smelled like chocolate, that’s why! Sweet, warm, gooey chocolate. Mix that with your sweat, and you smelled like salty chocolatey goodness. There! That’s why I turned you, because I have a weakness for salty, chocolatey things! How is a girl supposed to resist that? Especially at this time of the month.”
Surprised, Martin asked, “Vampire women still have...that?”
“Oh, yeah. I told you, we’re human, more or less.”
“I’m sorry...about...you know...the monthly thing.”
“You’re sorry. How do you think I feel?”
Martin had calmed down. “I have some toffee upstairs. It’s covered in Belgian chocolate and topped with sea salt.”
“I know. I found your stash. I didn’t eat it all though.”
“I appreciate that. Let’s go inside so I can dry off.”
“Okay. I noticed you still have some Christmas fruitcake in your mini-fridge. I love fruitcake.”
“You spend a lot time snooping around my room, don’t you?”
“Only when I’m hungry, or when I want to watch Jeopardy.”
As the very moment they went inside to dine on Belgian chocolates, Colette, was attempting to nap in a park just a few blocks downwind from Martin’s house. In her werewolf form she lay under the outstretched arms of a stand of stately old Norwegian pines. The lids of her eyes were slowly coming together when she saw the squirrel run past her and out of sight. Then he returned, stopping to glare at her. He chirped foul oaths.
Colette’s eyes sprang open. “What’s eatin’ you?” Then she saw the nick by his jugular. “Oh. One of those animal only vampies, huh? You should be happy you got away.”
The squirrel let out another torrent of profanity laden chirps.
“Don’t take it out on me, little fella, unless you want to be my midnight snack.”
Indignant, the squirrel turned his back on her, then ran up a tree.
“Now how am I going to get to sleep?” Colette murmurred to herself. “Damn squirrel’s got me all riled up.” Her eyes began to close again. “The air smells like chocolate. Salt too. That’s a good mixture,” she murmured as she drifted off.
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