I Hate Valentine’s Day

I Hate Valentine’s Day

A Short Vampire Story

“I shouldn’t be alone today,” thought young Randy as he sat brooding on a rock, on the beach at 5:30 a.m. on Valentine’s Day. His heart was broken. The girl, a Vampire girl he knew he was going to fall in love with had given her heart to another and left him in the dreaded friend zone.

And it wasn’t as if she’d left him, or chosen another college student. Sure the guy she’d fallen for looked like he was twenty-one but he was born in freaking 1902. What did girls see in these older guys?

He was jolted from his thoughts by a “Hi. You’re Randy, aren’t you?”

A dark haired girl stood in front of him. “I’m Alexis. I’m in your Organic Chemistry class. I’m a Vampire, but you knew that. I know you are too. Small world.”

“Oh, right. Sure. Hi. Have a seat,” said Randy, glad for the company now.

“I hate Valentine’s Day,” said Alexis.

“Why do you hate it?”

She sat down on rock next to him. “My parents were borderline Shadow Creepers, you know old time Vampires who stayed in the dark most of the time. Nobody knew we were Vampires but everybody including the other school parents thought my parents were weird. I got picked on a lot at school. I was like quiet and small. I didn’t know how to stand up for myself. I didn’t dare try any of my Vampire stuff on anyone. I was afraid if anyone found out they’d kill my family.  Anyway, every Valentine’s Day we’d have to make stupid boxes and bring Valentines. I always made something pretty with roses and flowers and stuff, all pink and nice. I always But I never got any Valentines. Maybe from one of the girls who felt sorry for me. Everyone had full boxes except me. The kids all started to laugh at me. I wanted to rip their throats out but I couldn’t. You know, Vampire code.”

“Sure, don’t show them what you are, no matter what. Did your mom and dad know?”

“I never told them anything. We didn’t talk much at home. But I got my revenge.”


“I told the teacher I had to go the bathroom. Of course the boys started to make jokes about how I’d stink the school up. They were mean like that. Always. It never stopped. So like the teacher said someone had to go with me to make sure I wouldn’t spend too much time in there, cause sometimes I’d just go there to get away from it all. She said that Ashley should go with me. Ashley was the most popular girl.

She started to pout and complain. So a girl called Emma volunteered. Emma was the only kid who gave me a Valentine. She was kind of overweight and sometimes the other kids would say mean things to her too, but she was the smartest kid in the class so they didn’t say too much.

When we got out of the classroom she said she knew I didn’t need to go to the bathroom. We walked around for a bit, then went back to the classroom. But we didn’t go in.

“You can make them pay for what they did. I’ll help you,” said Emma. “I’m a Witch. I know what you are.” Then she smiled in a way that even scared me.

We didn’t go in. The door locked. The room filled with smoke. The other kids started to scream. They couldn’t get out. Everyone started to claw at their faces and arms. That is except the teacher who kept trying to open the door. We ran to the office to get help. You know, we had to keep up appearances.

By the time the fire department go there and knocked down the door, the smoke at gone away, but the smell of sulphur was still in the room. Some of the kids had clawed out their eyes and made huge gashes in their faces and arms.

Then Emma whispered in my ear, “they’ll never call you ugly again.”

Hey, even I was shocked. I never did a thing. It was all her. Both of us ended up going to another school. In high school I made a lot of friends. They all thought my parents were cool Goths. The rest of the kids are still all scarred and screwed up.”

Randy looked at her feeling sort of numb. “Where is Emma now?”

“She got into swimming. Lost a lot of weight. Turned blonde. She’s at UCLA now. So Randy, why don’t you like Valentine’s day?”

“A girl I liked started seeing another guy.”

“Bummer. Sorry to hear that.”

They sat in silence for a while, listening to the waves. Randy didn’t know what to say. He and his best friend had been the two most popular boys at their high school. Their lives had been happy and relatively care free. Their parents were modern Vampire in every way possible.

Alexis bumped her shoulder gently against Randy’s. “I hope you don’t think I’m weird.”

“No. Well, maybe just a little.”

“Looks like the storm is coming in. Wanna get coffee? No pressure. It’s not like I want to be your girlfriend or anything like that. Just you know, like just a couple of Vampire friends.”

“Sure,” said Randy.

As they walked up to the street he put on his sunglasses against the morning sun. Well, stranger things had happened.

~ End


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


A Month of Love and Romance

February is such a lovely month for love and romance. Here in the land of sun and calm… I know that isn’t really Vampireish, but that is where I am. So anyway, love and romance…

When I started this blog way back when, my children were in Middle School and High School. Now they’re young adults. They’re in college. They’re working. One is living six hours from home in an apartment with friends. They are also both in love.

This makes my husband (their dad) nervous. He is waiting for the crash and burn of broken hearts to come crashing and burning down.

I’m not waiting for anything. Both of my kids are with nice young Vampires. They could all break up tomorrow, or they could all stay together forever.

So what about Valentine’s Day? Clara and I went to the used record store where she picked out some vinyl records for her beau. She likes jazz. He likes jazz. Great jazz records are cheap. I thought it was romantic, thoughtful and appropriate.

My son on the other hand tends to go overboard. I suggested he skip spending his savings and go for a nice romantic evening on the beach with a nice bottle of Poet’s Blood. He could go to someplace like Target, or even the local thrift store and pick up some fun glasses or goblets. A small token like a pair of cute dangling earrings, beaded gloves from a vintage clothing store, or something small and personal. Bath and Body Works is always a great place to shop for Valentine’s Day.

Young adults, who are mostly on tight budgets, shouldn’t be expected to fork out large amount of money on gifts for a way too commercial day of love. If your kid is with someone who DOES expect your young adult to spend too much money, time, or emotional energy them, it is time to have a talk. At that point it isn’t romance. It is a clear sign of being with the wrong person.

Love doesn’t need flash. Love doesn’t need billboards. Love doesn’t need constant attention. The instant gratification monster can drain the fun and romance out of any relationship. Being too needy or demanding is the kiss of death for romance.

I guess this is why I love this song by Saint Motel:

Yes, the video is sort of silly but listen to the words. I love this band. If you ever get to see them live DO IT.

So February is here. I’ll be publishing new posts about love and romance, as well as old favorites.

So hug, kiss, write love letters, dance, sing, and be smart. No broken hearts this month.

And if you’re single… you’re off the hook.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

true love with heart small

And why yes, you can get this true love photo on a shirt. Go to my swag page. Click Here.

Short Story Sunday: College Daze

Ninety percent of my time as an undergrad was spent in weird Dr. Harrison’s biochemistry lab. The other ten percent of my time was living vicariously through my roommate Tony, who partied and got laid enough for an entire frat house full of horny guys.

Mavis stood up and stepped away from the keyboard. Earlier in the week she’d dropped her eighteen year old son Axel off at college – the same college she’d gone to. Now she was starting notes for her seventeenth novel in the popular Detective Star Landers Mystery Series.

She didn’t want her son to be like either one of the characters in her novel. She knew he wouldn’t be like Tony, but then again you never really knew what your kids were up to when they weren’t with you.

Axel was the youngest of her three kids. Jared and Zoe were also in college at opposite ends of the state. Axel was in the middle. She went outside with her coffee cup and looked at the backyard the kids had played in for years. Two dogs of unknown breeds were sleeping under the shade of the trees. Both animals were from the county shelter. The kids were helped pick them out. A lot of memories were in that yard and with those dogs.

After making more coffee Mavis sat down at her laptop again. She looked outside through the window and thought of her own college days. She didn’t think about it much. She didn’t keep in touch with anyone. After taking a sip of coffee she started to write again.

He did make time for Darcie. All he had to do was show up at her door and she’d screw him silly. She never expected love. Just friendship and sex. He was always up for that. One night he’d shown up at the little house she’d rented behind a bigger house. It was really more of a shed with a kitchen and bathroom added on to it. Anyway, it was 2:00 a.m. and Darcie was wearing a robe. Her face was red and swollen. It looked like her hands were covered in blood. 

She told him that she’d been attacked by a guy named Clayton Jones. Sure everyone knew Clay. He thought he was God’s gift to women, but slutty Darcie would never sleep with him. Clay called her a whore. She shrugged. 

Darcie had been to a party that night. Clay had tried to get her to fuck him. As always she said no. About twenty minutes after she got home Clay came to call. He beat her up and raped her. When he was done she hit him on the head with a lamp. 

Mavis looked up and rubbed her eyes. Then she started in on her notes again.

He was bleeding. He called her a bitch. She said she’d take him to the hospital. Down the road, behind a warehouse, she covered his car with lighter fluid and dropped a match on it. Poof. It with up in flames with Clay in the passenger seat. She walked home, and that is where I found her, sitting in her robe, covered in blood. 

Mavis saved the file. Then she deleted it.

She sipped her coffee again. Earlier in the week Axel had asked her about her college years. She’d told him it was sort of boring. She liked the classes but didn’t get into the social life part. Then her youngest son asked her if she knew that guy Clay who’d been murdered. She told him no. She didn’t know anything about it.

“You met dad in college. Did he know that guy Clay?” Axel had asked.

“He might have,” said Mavis, then she changed the subject.

She started a new page.

I never told anyone what Mavis did. 

Then she erased that line, and called her husband. Not for any reason. Just to tell him that she loved him. That was all


~ end




Art, Cats, and Charming Boys

Oscar and Art

Yesterday I was sorting out old art and reorganizing portfolios. I came across pieces I’d completely forgotten about. Dozens of finely drawn pen and ink drawings filled my brain with memories of another time.

More than anything, the experience brought up memories of another me, back when I was the same age as my children or not much older.

What surprised me the most is how good much of the artwork was. I’d forgotten myself over the years. I’d forgotten who I was. Maybe who I was meant to be.

But we keep moving forward. The key is only to take things of value with us. I don’t just mean physical things, but our passions as well. Those core things that make us who and what we are.

So while I was musing and pondering the cat decided I’d made him a new bed. For it you are a cat the world is your bed. No, not the world, but the entire universe is your bed. Oscar was quite comfortable to explore the artwork, rub his face on it, bat at it with his paw, then take a nap on it. Cats know who they are. No need to muse or ponder or think in any way shape or form.

Later that night I noticed a strange jumble of dishes in the dishwasher. It was as if Picasso had come to the house and loaded it up.

I questioned the loader of dishes. “Garrett you need to learn how to load a dishwasher.”

He smiled, “don’t hate on me Mom.”

Eye roll from Mom.

“Your roommates will hate you next year. You know they will each and every time they have to rearrange the dishes.”

“I’m a Vampire. I don’t eat that much.”

“That was not my point.”

“I’ll do other things so they can clean up the kitchen.”

“You have that all worked out?”

“Of course I do.”

“Charm and good looks will only get you so far dear boy.”

Then the cat came down and Garrett scooped the furry beast into his arms. “I don’t know mom. Charm and good looks seems to work for this guy.”

He had a point.

Have a good weekend everyone and keep cool. Hug your kids. Laugh with them. Talk with them. And hug your cat too. 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Oscar the cat enjoying my art

Ponderings on dog faced boys, my son’s Werewolf roommate, medical weirdness, art, and an update on my own dog.

When I dropped my daughter off at school this morning she mentioned that today there will be a rally to say farewell to all of the graduating seniors. Seniors were all wearing red – the main school color. Graduation is next week. The last day of school for everyone else is June 4th.

My son Garrett ends his first year of college on June 12. After that he’ll be home for the summer (happy dance for mom time.)

This year he and his best buddy Randy (he of the orange plaid pants) lived in the dorms. They’ve found a small house to live in next year. It is sort of a cottage divided up into a rabbit warren of four bedrooms, a living area, a kitchen and a bathroom. It is cute and old and perfect for college kids. They’re excited to have two new roommates. One is a girl named Layla who lived in the dorms with them. Yes, her parents are Clapton fans. And yes, like Garrett and Randy she is a Vampire. And no romantic interest is there at all with any of the three.

So, being the mom I am, I asked about the fourth roommate.

“Bailey,” said my son.  “She is transferring in from a community college in the bay area. She’s nineteen, like us. She is really cool and wants to learn how to surf.”

Girls. Surfing. College. Boys. OK, I trust my son. I’ve raised him right. He is a sweet kid.

“What’s her major?” I had to ask. It is college so I have to ask.

“Music Composition with a minor in literature.”

“She sounds smart,” I say.

“She is really smart. Hey Mom?”

“Hey Garrett.”

“Bailey is a Werewolf.”

I have no problems with diversity. I have no problem with most Werewolves. But I don’t think my son realizes the problems that he could have living with a Werewolf.

“Garrett, are any of Bailey’s litter mates going to school with you?” Needless to say most Werewolves are multiple births like twins and triplets. Their families are tight and protective.

“Mom, mom, mom. She wasn’t born that way.”

Oh. He went on to explain that she’d been bitten and infected when she was sixteen. It was traumatic to say the least. She is getting along fine with the help of her uncle. I asked if he was also a Werewolf.

“Mom, Bailey’s uncle is a Vampire. He’s her Dad’s brother. His name is Jeff Hayes. Do you know him? He’s been a Vampire for about twenty years. They’re cool mom. Don’t worry.”

“Garrett are you sure she is really a Werewolf and doesn’t just have hypertrichosis?”

“What is hypertrichosis Mom?”

“You know, Jo Jo the Dog Faced boy.”

So I got out my old medical book and texted him a picture.

medical book

My old medical text book. It is full of all sorts of amazing and disgusting and scary things.



Jo Jo the Dog Faced Boy, aka Fedor Jeftichew.  The most famous example of someone with Hypertrichosis.

Jo Jo the Dog Faced Boy, aka Fedor Jeftichew. The most famous example of someone with Hypertrichosis.

The entire Jo Jo page.

The entire Jo Jo page.




As I was looking for the article about hairy boys I came across all sorts of interesting things. There were pages and pages on gunshot wounds.

gun shots




There are full color pages (if you have a weak stomach you might want to skip these.)

This adds new meaning to the expression "I just wanted to gnaw my leg off."

This adds new meaning to the expression “I just wanted to gnaw my leg off.”



And this. The woman with the goiter. For those who don’t know, a goiter is an abnormal enlargement of the thyroid gland. It is usually caused by the lack of iodine. That is why a lot of salt you buy in the grocery store contains iodine.


A woman with a large goiter. This is so sad.

A woman with a large goiter. This is so sad.






Then I thought about a painting. Stay with me here…

The first time I saw Bartomlomeo Vivarini’s painting of the Madonna with a Goiter I thought “WTF.” It must have been painted for a patron of the artist in the likeness of his wife or mistress. Why else would someone paint a portrait of the Madonna with a goiter?


Madonna with Goiter.

Madonna with Goiter.



Then I started thinking about all of the other weird and random sort of ugly and disturbing Madonna and Child paintings out there. In so many baby Jesus looks like a middle aged man. Come on guys, you don’t use Karl Malden as a model for a new born baby. Guys, please, do it right next time or think about another profession. Maybe painting babies or women isn’t your thing.


Mary with a mini body builder. I mean, dude, yes, you the artist. What were you thinking?

Mary with a mini body builder. I mean, dude, yes, you the artist. What were you thinking?


Here's looking at you kid.

Here’s looking at you kid.


This is wrong on so many levels.

This is wrong on so many levels.


I have no words for this one.

I have no words for this one.


The artist used his brothers Jake and Harold as models for this one.

The artist used his brothers Jake and Harold as models for this one.


And my favorite - Torpedo Baby!

And my favorite – Torpedo Baby!




 Raphael did it right.

Raphael could paint both women and babies.

Raphael could paint both women and babies.



Bernardino Lunie did it right.


This is so sweet. Oh my goodness. Thank you Mr. Luini for getting it right.

This is so sweet. Oh my goodness. Thank you Mr. Luini for getting it right.



Then I thought of how both art and medicine have changed, but some things stay the same. There will always be quackery and bad art.

I have a funny little medical contraption my husband Teddy brought home a few years ago. It was just for kicks and grins. Yes, thousands of these things were sold.



Plug me in and charge me up baby!



So back to my son.

“No Mom, Bailey isn’t like Jo Jo. She is a real Werewolf. We’re going to help her out. We can handle it.”


But there are always those disturbing  images you just can't get out of your head.

But there are always those disturbing images you just can’t get out of your head.



I know it will be ok. I hope. We’ll talk about it more this summer. I hope he is prepared for full moons this fall.



Thank you to everyone who read my post about my old dog Jasmine. She is doing better these days. One day she’ll stay in one spot for twelve hours. The next day she will be jumping around like a puppy.

Juliette, I'm fine. You worry too much about me. Um, do you have any treats?

Juliette, I’m fine. You worry too much about me. Um, do you have any treats?



For all of us in my household and circle this is a time of change. I hope for good change and growth. I have a feeling summer will bring good things. Very good things.

So now… after all of that fun, I have a short story to write and some artwork I need to finish up.

Have a good weekend everyone. And stay away from the medical books.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman


Note: I’m having problems with the formatting on this post. Ugh.