Tonight my friend Randolpho came over to help make merry and bright, whatever that is supposed to mean.
Back when I was Vampire King, before I was locked inside of a cold damp crypt for three hundred years, we celebrated Yule. It was easy. We would have parties around large bonfires. We would sing songs about the night sky, snow, and living our best Vampire lives. We did not use the living our best lives term back then. That is an expression I like and recently have been using.
Randolpho turned on the radio and Christmas music began to play. It always is the same songs. The same six songs are played hundreds of times over. Most are confusing to me, especially one gruesome tune called Last Christmas.
“How could he give her is heart when he still lives?” I asked Randolpho.
“He is alive,” said Randolpho.
“Then how could this lover he gave his heart to give it to someone else? Explain that to me.”
“He gave her is love, not his physical heart.”
“How can she give his love away? Is that not her love to give. It is not a, what do they call it, transferrable gift,” I said.
“She took his love but loved someone else better.”
“What if I took a knife and carved my heart out of my chest and slapped it right in front of a woman? What would she do? Would she scream? Would she put in a jar? Would she give it to her secret lover wrapped in a box so he could feed it to his dogs?”
“Holy shit Vlad, what is with you tonight?” Randolpho put his eyebrows together like he does when he might be ready to become angry. I ignored the look. I have known Randolpho since the 14th Century so there is no risk of him physically attacking me.
“Was she a Vampire? He said he was once bitten twice shy? Wait, that is another band. Did he steal their lyrics?”
“No, it is a common term.”
“Why would she not recognize him? Has he grown a large flowing beard like a man who lives wild in the forest. Did he have a doctor change his nose?”
“I don’t know Vlad. I didn’t write the song.”
“Why are people who write Christmas songs so insecure about their romantic prowess and attractiveness?”
“I guess if you put it that way…” Randolpho started to say, but I jumped in.
“Why in God’s name do they play those songs so often on the radio?”
“I don’t know Vlad,” said Randolpho. That surprised me. Randolpho usually has answers for most things that confuse me.
“Why does someone sing about wanting a sheep for Christmas?”
“All I want for Christmas is Ewe.”
“That is not a sheep Vlad,” said Randolpho putting his hands over his face.
“Then what is it? A cat?”
“I give up.”
“As well you should. I do not understand. How can a man made out of snow dance? Why does a boy wish to play a drum around a woman with a newborn child? That drummer boy is putting his life in danger. Have you ever been around a tired woman with a newborn infant?”
“Vlad, please stop. I’m opening a bottle of wine. Would you like some.”
“That would be wonderful Randolpho.”
“Let’s watch Elf.”
I smiled. That is a movie I will never understand but for some odd reason I like it.
Merry Christmas. Happy Yule. And a Happy New Year from Vlad, Randolpho, Vlad’s cats, and everyone from Vampire Diary!
Reblogged this on DysFictional and commented:
This has got to be one of my favorite Vampire Diary posts so far! I love it! Can’t stop laughing!
I love it… My old friend Vlad has some difficulties adjusting to our new way of love and Christmas, right? *grin*