Now that my children are older, adults really (16 and 20) I am happy that I am out of that period where we have to deal with those awful parents from Hell that seem to litter elementary school, middle school, and kids sports. You know the kind who act as if they are their precious children are perfect and without fault. They constantly complain about teachers and coaches. They go so far as to get people fired because their little darlings are soooo unhappy. They usually say “God bless” to all they see. At the same time they lie, backstab, and their children tend to be bullies. On social media they act like victims, when in fact they are the predators. They move from school to school, from sport to sport, from club to club, spreading their brand of poison. You know the type.
Then I thought about writing about our state’s two university systems (California) and how HORRIBLE the administration is (Click here for just one example.) I could rant about how the leadership is unqualified and grossly overpaid for their jobs. Hey Jerry Brown give me the job. I’d do it right. Anyway, I am beyond disgust and my heart goes out to the students, professors, instructors, and parents.
Then my brother Max dropped by and I was off the hook, because I was distracted by his shit-holery.
Max is one of those alpha Vampire guys who is so full of testosterone that he can hardly function. OK that isn’t totally true. He is in full control of everything he does, or at least gives that impression. Of all of us kids (there are five of us) Max is the least likely to hang out with “normal people.” With women, and sometimes men, he acts as if he is in control, which means he is either making a fool out of himself over someone nobody else likes, or it means he is being an asshole to someone he ought to be treating with respect.
I know, I have an attitude today. Just a teeny tiny bit of attitude. Anyway…
Max is also part of our (Vampires) enforcement group, our version of the US Marshalls, who keep the world safe for everyone.
So he shows up last night with one of his newest guys. From time to time, when he is in town I let them stay at my house. I have a huge attic I’ve converted to a suite for visitors. Most of the folks he works with are friends of mine. Max is also my husband’s best friend.
Max introduced us to Charles the newest member of his crew. Charles is charming with movie star good looks (he looks sort of like Chris Pine.)
Charles is one of those good-looking guys who knows he is good-looking, but at the same time is charming, yet so full of himself. His life has always been charmed. He can do no wrong, even when he is doing wrong. Charles is what my daughter and her high school friends call an F-boy – short for Fuck Boy (look it up on urban dictionary.)
All Vampires have that power of attractions, but he is such an alpha like my brother. Charles has Max’s favorite protégé. Vampires have an old expression “sleeping in the same coffin.” They are like that. Not lovers, but too close for the comfort of others – a little too much favoritism. I hate the way he has always showed blatant favoritism in every aspect of his existence. He would have been a horrible teacher.
Max loves his new puppies. But as someone living with a real puppy, I know that the new puppy gets old, and bites, and craps all over the carpet, and chews up everything. Yes, you still love the puppy, and adore it, but it is nice when your husband brings the puppy to work with him, so you can get some work done. So, yes, it was like the new puppy deal, in a way…anyway…
I’ve always worried about Max and his tendency to show favoritism to one staff member over the others. His group is tight. Most of them have known each other since the 19th Century, but when he is training someone it is like, well, a teacher with a pet. A new puppy. I just want to yell get a room, but I don’t.
The women who work with Max give him crap about everything. I’m glad they do.
To be honest Charles was lovely and polite to a fault. He really was. But there was something about him that was too glossy, too shiny, too perfect to completely trust.
Max was in good humor too. My brother even smiled a lot, which is a rare thing. He has such a beautiful smile too, especially when his fangs are out.
Maybe it was just a bad time. I’m trying to potty train a four-month old German Shepard who is always hungry, always chewing, always active, and poops and pees three on my carpet times her weight every single day. Did I mention she seems to double her weight almost every week? She is also exceptionally sweet, but a lot of work.
A lot of other stuff is going on as well and I can’t seem to dig myself out of my hole of stuff that never gets done so I wasn’t really feeling the hostess thing. That is why you haven’t seen may blog posts lately.
Thank goodness my husband Teddy was home, along with my teenager Clara to be social.
At one point I went to the kitchen for a break, and a glass of water, and maybe open a bottle of wine.
Leaning against the counter was Nigel, the ghost. Vampires and Ghosts, as a rule, don’t get along. Vampires are undead, but Ghosts are really dead. They covet what we have to the point of seething hate and loathing. They’re so insecure.
“I see Max is here with his new boy toy,” said Nigel with a smirk. Today his black hair was styled like Steve Perry’s in the height of Journey’s popularity. He wore the black suit he was buried in.
“Charles isn’t Max’s boy toy.”
Nigel rolled his eyes.
“So what is this tonight? Are they planning on going out and taking down a bunch of crazy Vampire Hunters, or are they just lurking about?”
“I don’t know what their business is Nigel. I hear a clutch of Shadow Creepers was found earlier this week, so he might be there for that. I didn’t ask.”
“Why not? Don’t you care? Aren’t you curious? Don’t you wonder what two leather clad alpha Vampires are up to?”
“No really Nigel. I have a headache, and I’m tired, and I just want to go to bed.”
I looked up from the wine bottle I was opening and saw Charles standing there.
He looked horrified. Of course he did. I had a Ghost in my kitchen.
Nigel stepped towards Charles. “You were such a weasel.”
“You’re alive,” said Charles. “I thought you were dead.”
“No, Chuck, I’m dead. I’m a fucking Ghost.” Then Nigel faded in and out of transparency.
“You were murdered.”
“No shit Sherlock. When did you become one of the blood sucking undead?”
“1988. When did you die? 1987?”
They knew each other from way back when. They were teens and young men running in the same circles. Small world. One was now a Ghost who would have been 56 years old. The other was a 58-year-old Vampire who looked like he was twenty-nine. Don’t try to do the math and say I’m wrong. They were both born in October.
I sat there as they caught up. It was exceptionally weird. Nigel had been my Ghost. He’d been my annoying Ghost friend. Now there was some F-boy in my kitchen talking to him. I didn’t stay annoyed too long. It was sort of nice to see two old friends now in lives that most people would consider exceptionally weird catching up.
I wished I had some moral to this story. I wish I had an allegorical message. I don’t. It was just nice to see two old friends catch up, even if I found both of them exceptionally annoying. I was happy for them. Plus it was interesting to listen to them.
Leaving them alone I went back into the other room and put my arm around my brother’s waist. Max put his arm around my shoulder and kissed the top of my head. He was telling Teddy about a Vampire woman he has been on and off with for years. She’d been dealing with keeping Demons in line.
I thought of mentioning that my kids were out of Middle School so I didn’t have any demons to deal with but I kept the thoughts to myself. Then a glossy dark shape with a long think tail curled up on my feet and closed her precious puppy eyes.
That could segue into a story about how creatures who are so different can get along and live together, but that is for another day.
Now I’ll just say, have a wonderful night, and I wish you all well. I’m feeling a lot better now, and not pissy whatsoever.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman
And as usual this post was written in under 30 minutes…I think about 15. Whew. The cats were not good editors.