Short Story Sunday: The Box in Dave’s Basement

The Box in Dave’s Basement

“I was just going out for coffee,” said Austin as he looked at the carnage surrounding him.

Coffee with the crossword puzzle, and a little bit of fresh air sounded good. Then Dave, who lived three houses down called to him as he waked by, “Hey, Austin, there’s something weird in my basement. Take a look.”

Austin was both a history professor and a general contractor specializing in historic restorations, so of course he’d check it out. Dave lived in the oldest house on that street, built in 1888. It was a fantastic small Queen Anne, painted shades of blue and cream.  Dave led the way to the back of the dark space to an oblong box.

“I was measuring the room and moved away some lumber that had been here since I moved in and found this,” said Dave. “It looks like a coffin. Do you think I should call someone?”

“Let me take a look. I’ve found these before,” said Austin, taking out his penknife. He slid the knife around the edges of the box to see if there was a latch or any loose spots.

Then all Hell broke loose. Two men, dressed in long black coats, carrying guns and large knives appeared at the door.

“Hey,” yelled Dave. “Get the fuck outta here. I told you guys to stay away from my house. I’m calling 911. I warned you.” Then he turned to Austin. “The bastards were out last week. I told them…”

The men moved closer. Dave continued, “Out NOW.” Dave was a medium sized silver haired average family guy his mid fifties, with some sort of upper management job with the Department of Water Resources. His wife was wife away on a girl’s weekend. His kids were away at college. He’d been working on making the basement into the ultimate man cave over the past few weekends. He wasn’t in the mood for Vampire Hunters.

“Damn it. I said GET OUT you crazies,” Dave yelled.

“Just let us have the box,” said one of the men, a tall shaggy haired guy with some sort of unidentifiable accent.

Austin took a step forward, getting between Dave and the vampire hunters. “No can do guys. You have to go.”

The other man, a bald guy with huge shoulders pointed a gun at Austin and Dave. “Move aside gentlemen.” He then shoved them out of the way and with a swift kick popped open the box.

Inside was the perfectly preserved body of a woman in an old fashioned lace dress. She looked as though she was made of fine leather. A bunch of dried roses were in her hand.

The shaggy haired man lifted a huge wooden stake. Dave and Austin both yelled, “NO.”

Dave jumped on the back of the bald man. Austin knocked the shaggy haired man out of the way.

Suddenly a blinding flash of light and a blast of cold air knocked them to the wall. Two more men appeared at the door, also in black but without the coats. One carried a knife, and the other a whip. The smiled, showing fangs.

“Holy shit,” whispered Dave.

The vampires grabbed the men in the black coats by the scruff of their necks, like small children, and threw them back out into the sunlight. One of the vampires uttered a string of long strange sounding words, and the vampire hunters ran down the street.

The woman in the coffin sat up, and moved her head around.

“Stiff neck?” Austin asked.

She looked at him, surprised. Then she smiled with a slight show of her own fangs. “Yes, thanks for the concern. How long did I sleep?”

“From the looks of your dress, maybe ninety years,” said Austin.

“I guess I missed that party then,” she said with a slight laugh.

“This is too weird,” said Dave as he got up, and crossed the room. He turned on the overhead shop lights and got a good look at his company. “You mean to tell me you’ve been in that box for ninety years?”

The woman just blinked against the light. The two Vampires stood out of the shadows.

“Hey, Austin,” said one of them. “I thought that was you.”

“Pierce,” said Austin. “I had no idea you were a vampire. Small world. Dave, this is Pierce, he guest lectures for me sometimes on nineteenth California government issues.”

“And this is Max, he…”

“Max,” said Austin as he held out his hand. “Good to see you. Thanks for helping out.”

“Austin,” said Max.

Dave looked at the Vampires then laughed. “Pierce. I know you. You were teaching American History at UC Berkley in the late 70’s. I took a couple of classes from you. You look like you haven’t aged a day. How old are you?”

Pierce smiled and shook Dave’s hand. “I’m 171, but who’s counting.”

“I was just going out for coffee,” said Austin as he looked at the carnage surrounding him. “You’re all welcome to come.”

The woman’s name is Lily. She had a lot of catching up to do so Dave gave her a pair of jeans and a shirt out of his wife’s closet, and they all headed out for coffee.

That’s all.

This is not my bed. I don't sleep in a box.

Alright folks, this is what happens when a writer keeps trying to write a story and every five minutes someone needs something and interrupts. This is what happens when you’re a mom, and a wife, and working a business, and have parents, and neighbors. You get a story but it is more real-life, and a little dull rather than sensational. Just a normal Sunday morning that ends up with everyone meeting for coffee. Coffee is good. Almost everybody likes coffee. Most people like Vampires too but they just won’t admit it.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: You Can’t Go Home Again

Dear Diary,

Going home is no longer an option.

This morning I went to Google Maps. There are cameras in space, up in the sky, in the heavens taking photographs of the Earth. Everything can be seen. I dare say unseen is what I wish today.

This thing called technology, baffles me. It amazes me. What amazes me the most is that all of this, which would have once been considered black magic is now not magic at all, AND it has almost all happened in the past one hundred years. It has happened in the past fifty years.

After being imprisoned in a crypt for three hundred years, I am still overwhelmed. The past four years… I can not even describe them.

This morning at dawn I stood out on my deck and looked at the sun coming up over the dark night sky. I thought about my old home where I was King of Vampires and all I could see. This morning I saw a flock of turkeys. Alas I am not even King of Turkeys now.

So inside I went to my MacBook Pro and to Google Maps and to my castle.

It was gone. My castle was not there. GONE. Not a trace. Just forest and meadows and NOTHING. All traces of my existence was gone. I looked up my name. Nothing but some Russian fool who rides horses and other animals without a shirt, and ridiculous laughable horror movies, and bad fan fiction. There is no trace or memory of me.

I picked up my phone (another unbelievable marvel of technology) and called my friend Randolpho. He said I had to look on the Dark Web to find information about real Vampires. I do not understand. I know that by web he does not mean a spider web but something of course we can not see. This new world and the language is confusing. Everything is called by a name that is indeed a tangled web of language. He said I needed a special server and spoke of other things I do not understand. Who is that special server and where do I find him? Will he serve only me or others as well? I did not risk asking Randolpho and seeing his eyes roll.

Yes, that is something people do now. They roll their eyes around in their heads as if to say, “you are ridiculous and have the mind of a child.” I have recently learned the term, “bless his heart,” means the same thing. Eye rolling. Bah.

I am forgotten. I am lost. I am new. I am frustrated.

I expressed this feeling to my love Gillian.

She said, “You’re so cute Vlad.” Then she kissed me. That is something no amount of technology can improve on.

So apparently I am cute as well. I do not understand this cute, but I will take her word for it. My advice to any male is to take a woman’s word on it, no matter what she says.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I still mourn the loss of my former home and kingdom, but on the other hand I am glad it is gone and nobody else is living there in my place.

Tonight I walked around my new home. It is a 3,500 square foot home with what is called a good sized yard. There is plenty of room for me, the cats, Jane the coyote dog, and Gillian when she is here.

Gillian has claimed her own bathroom (there are four of them. FOUR.) With all of the tools and cosmetics at her disposal there is no need of a maid for her. When I first met her it took two hours for her to get ready in the morning. She had layers and layers of clothing. She had layers of hair. Cosmetics were complex and questionable. Now she jumps in the shower, blows her hair with hot air and lets it flow down her back, then she pulls on six items. Only six. Bra, panties, jeans, shirt, two shoes. That is all. Sometimes she wears a dress, but it is tiny and no slip, corset, underskirts, hoops, or pads are needed. It is just my beautiful Gillian’s natural shape that shows. She sometimes laughs and says it is easier to be a Vampire with fewer clothes.

Gillian also has taught me how to get blood stains out using magical chemicals and a machine that actually washes clothing. In my castle there were five women who washed my clothing, and only my clothing. There were a dozen more to do the job for the rest of the castle.

Yes, I can now wash clothing in secret, with my own private machine, without anyone knowing what I have been doing the night before. That is always a good thing.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I was out tonight at my favorite night spot, where Vampires can sit among the crowd without anyone suspecting they are only there looking for a bit to eat in peace.

The bartender and owner, a lovely woman named Cassie, has become, shall I say, a friend.

Tonight she leaned against the bar facing me and asked me, “Where are you from Vlad? Originally? I can’t place your accent? Europe? South Africa?”

I smiled and took her hand, “Dear Cassie, where I come from no longer exists. Even if I could go home those who live there would not welcome me. I have found a home here, with those who are like me, in a new home with strangers. But strangers no more. I have you and others friends who are far better people than I knew before.”

“You can’t go home again. Sort of like the Thomas Wolfe novel. Have you read it?”

“No. Write it down. I will read it.”

“You seem sad,” she said.

“No, I am not sad. I am just feeling, what do you say, retrospective.” Then I smiled at her in a way that charms all who have warm blood in their veins. “I come from a place in Europe where the mountains are high and eagles still fly above the towering trees. I do not even know what country it is now. It does not matter. I am here in California. I will learn to ride a board on the waves. What is it called? Smurfing?”

“Surfing. It is surfing. Smurfs are small blue French people. Like annoying little dwarves and there’s only one girl.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. I just smiled and then scanned the room for someone with a nice neck and a healthy pulse.

Later with my veins full of fresh blood and my mind clear I went back to see Cassie. I gave her a kiss on her cheek and a hug. I closed my eyes feeling her heart beat.

“Thank you my dear Cassie for giving comfort to an old man.”

“Love you Vlad. HA! Old man my ass. What are you? Thirty-two, thirty-four?”

“Something like that,” I said as I kissed her cheek again. I would never tell her that I am 675 years old. I would never tell. It always confuses people, more than any technology can confuse an old Vampire like me.

As I left I could hear her tell the other bartender, “Damn, he is cute.”

I do not understand this cute. That I will never understand, but I will take it as a compliment from a friend.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I woke in a cold sweat. I am a Vampire so I only have cold sweat. I had a nightmare about small blue Frenchmen. They smelled of garlic and blueberries. They sang songs in deep throaty voices about ripping out the heart of Vlad the Vampire King.

The door to my bedroom opened. My love Gillian came in. She was wearing an extremely small black dress. The dress fell to the floor, along with her bra and panties. That was three pieces of clothing. She had no shoes. Now she wore nothing but diamond studs in her ears.

She crawled into bed with me, putting her smooth cold arms around me. I put my arms around her and pulled her close as she skimmed her fangs across my neck, then put her lips to mine.

I closed my eyes, and saw blue men, screaming as the large waves covered them while the great white sharks ate them like teenage children eat Hot Cheetos.

Gillian took my face in her hands. “Are you ok Vlad?”

OK. That is another one of those words I do not understand. It means someone  or something is good, or not bad, or it could mean anything, or nothing.

“I am fine,” I said. “Just take my mind off of my mind. Make me forget.”

As always she did. And then some.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

You’ve just read the 40th entry of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To start from the beginning, or read your favorites again click here. 

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Burning Question #22: Hotter than the pavement outside (with a bit of horror)

It is too hot to even think right now – about 107 F outside and the air conditioning isn’t what it should be…so I’m inspired by something even hotter than the pavement in front of my house – Vincent Price.

laura2

Vincent Price is one of my favorite actors. He was wonderful in the dark mystery “Laura.” I saw him live in the early 80’s as Oscar Wilde.

Oh and that voice. He had such a wonderful mesmerizing voice.

The weirdest thing (something I just found out) is that he played Mormon Church founder Joseph Smith in one of his early movies. I kid you not.

Of course anyone who was around in the 1970’s will remember all of the Hammer films and other “creature features” of late night TV along with Peter Cushing and Christopher Lee.

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From Wikipedia:

Vincent Leonard Price Jr. (May 27, 1911 – October 25, 1993) was an American actor, known for his performances in horror films. His career spanned other genres, including film noir, drama, mystery, thriller, and comedy. He appeared on stage, television, radio, and more than one hundred films. 

Price was an art collector and consultant, with a degree in art history, lecturing and writing books on the subject. Additionally, he was the founder of the eponymous Vincent Price Art Museum in California.

An example of his outspoken political action came when he concluded an old-time radio episode of The Saint, entitled “Author of Murder”, which aired on NBC Radio on July 30, 1950. He denounced racial and religious prejudice as a form of poison and claimed Americans must actively fight against it because racial and religious prejudice within the United States fuels support for the nation’s enemies.

Price was supportive of his daughter, who came out and was critical of Anita Bryant‘s anti-gay campaign in the 1970s. He was an honorary board member of PFLAG and among the first celebrities to appear in public service announcements discussing AIDS with the public

Not only was he an amazing actor and dad but he was also an accomplished cook and had his own cooking show in the UK. 

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You might only remember Vincent Price from all of the old Poe related and vampire movies. Watch this and you’ll change your mind (click here).

Warning ladies: You’ll want to watch it over and over and over. You’ll swoon for sure.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bwxtj0ZKgrg&feature=fvwrel

Burning Question #22: Is Vincent Price Smoking Hot or What?!?

Here are just a few more photos. Be inspired. Have fun. Read Poe. Watch a Vincent Price movie.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

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Vincent-Price-1

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Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Bodice Ripping Fight Night

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

Dear Diary,

Today is hot. It is one hundred and ten degrees fahrenheit. I am in Hell. Never before now have I been in such heat. I miss my cold castle. Even today I would deal with rats and damp stone walls rather than feeling I am being strapped to a stake and burned to a a pile of ashes with only my blue eyes looking out of my blackened skull in search of my charred heart.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

It is still hot.

Tonight my friend Randolpho and I went in search for warm blood and cool dark rooms.

In the middle of the city we walked the streets and went into bars with mists of water spraying down upon pretty young women who sat outside in short skirts as they drank cold drinks and talked among each other.

Inside these places it was cold and filled with loud music. People sat and talked. Nobody was dancing. It was too hot.

As Randolpho and I walked among the mortals I could see their eyes upon us. I could hear the women whisper to each other as I walked by he is so cute, he is gorgeous, I would take him home.

I would glance their way and smile. Maybe I would fulfill their desires and go home with them. I could taste their blood in my mouth already. I could feel their warm skin on my cool Vampire body. I started to turn their way.

Then Randolpho grabbem my arm and said, “Come this way.”

Down a hot ugly alley between old brick building we walked, then down narrow stairs into a dark doorway.

I could hear men shouting and cheering. Then I saw there was a fight.

Two men kicked and punched each other in a chain link cage. A final kick brought one down in a bloody heap upon the floor. I could smell his blood. My mouth watered.

Then all eyes turned upon Randolpho and I.

“You got a pretty face. It would be too bad to ruin it,” yelled one of the men in my direction. I looked him in the eyes and his face contorted in pain at my will.

Several other men shouted at us using crass childish profanities.

We do not belong here I thought, but it might be fun. Randolpho was thinking the same thing.

Many of these men were large. They were well over six feet tall with shoulders the size of oxen, and muscles like those of Hercules. We are not built like oxen but more like one would imagine Apollo or Hermes, or more even like those men on the covers of book that  women call Bodice Rippers. Yes, Randolpho and I are Bodice Rippers.

I am not considered large these days. At one time I was taller than most men but now I am not always so tall. I stand at five feet and ten inches. Randolpho is not tiny but he is also not huge at five feet and six inches. People have become larger. I do not understand this trend. By the end of this century I will be the size of an eight year old child. None the less I knew Randolpho and I could take on these petty men who puff out their chests and call us cats.

“Why do they call us cats? Cats know how to fight.” I asked that of Randolpho.

“Vlad, they called us pussies,” said Randolpho.

“That is what I said,” I told Randolpho. I do not understand why I have to repeat myself so much with him.

Randolpho and I faced a dozen men. Not a problem. We are Vampires and I am cute. I find that when one if cute one can do anything. Take for example cats and babies. Cats and babies are cute. They get everything they desire. I looked over at Randolpho. If I were a girl I might consider him cute as well. Maybe. Maybe not.

The men shouted FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT.

I thought that as long as they did not cut of my head or rip out my heart I would be fine. It would be like taking candy from a baby, only I do not know why anyone would do that. None of these men were cute like babies or puppies or me. Yet, I would take from them whatever I could.

Randolpho tipped the ridiculous top hat he always wears, even in the 21st Century, and smiled.

“Gentlemen,” said Randolpho. “We will take up your challenge and top it. Two of us will take on all of you who wish to go home lesser men.”

Randolpho set his hat aside and went into the cage. I followed.

Ten minutes later a dozen large men sat crying like babies. These were not cute babies. They are large, bad smelling, hairy babies with mothers who would be ashamed of them. We received a prize of a great deal of money, then we left before the remaining men tried to kill us. HA! They could have tried but never would they have success. They are but spineless worms. They are lesser men.

There was not a scratch between Randolpho and me. Not one scratch. I brushed my golden hair back with my hand. I am not cat. I am a Vampire.

The sound of sirens of Police cars came close as we walked away. Nobody in the basement where the fight took place would remember the faces of the two young men who beat them senseless. They would only remember that we were cold to the touch and exceptionally good looking. I laughed at the idea of us being young. I am 675 years old and Randolpho is a scant year older than I.

I do not know how to make one of those little yellow faces with a smile. There is a number code. Little face with smile. There. I put it in italics so it is so. The Vampire King has spoken.

The women we had passed earlier did remember us. They got their wish. We got our blood. It was, what is the expression, a Win-Win situation.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

When one is imprisoned in a cold dark crypt for three hundred years one has time to think. Then one stops thinking. Then one wakes and starts to plan as if the night will come when the crypt will break open and you will escape.

Then one day you find yourself awakened with a shake of a shoulder and look into the face of friends. The world has changed into a place that even Jonathan Swift or Jules Verne, or Nostradamus (the hack) would never have imagined. It is a world world, I Vlad, the Vampire King, could never have imagined.

Yet things do not change. Men still fight. Women still turn their heads and smile when I walk by. Randolpho still wears his ridiculous hats.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Ice. Whenever I want it. I love this century.

My Vampire love Gillian lay with me on my bed. We had turned on the thing called air conditioning that makes the summer air turn to winter inside of my home. It is like magic.

I kissed Gillian’s hand, then her shoulder, then her cheek, then her beautiful lips.

“Do you think I am more of a Greek God or a Bodice Ripper?” I asked her.

She gave me an odd look. “Vlad, I’m not even going to answer that.”

“But I am serious,” I said.

“So am I,” she said.

Gillian took her hand and pushed me down on the pillow and straddled me. I did not stop her.

“You’re a magnificent pagan beast,” she said.

“A pagan beast?” I asked, but even I had to laugh.

“Maybe not, but what you are is cute. You’re so cute,” then she pulled her shirt over her head, and kissed me, and I will say no more.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

This has been the 39th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. For the entire series, including more Vlad cuteness CLICK HERE, or go to the sidebar for the Vampire Diary page.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

Burning Question #17: What Would a Werewolf Do?

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Looking cute now guys but wait until midnight!

It is time for Burning Question #17.

PLEASE if you land on this page answer the question. It is just a quick no or yes. Oh come on, it will be fun.

Each week we ask and answer one of life’s BURNING QUESTIONS. I know you all have been waiting for this one. 

I’ve written a lot about Werewolves. They’re out there, in our lives, running around under the full moon, keeping us up with their howling, and generally trying to stay out of trouble (believe it or not.)

But even Werewolves have a sense of humor. They can also be obnoxious.

Think about this: when they turn into wolves what happens to their clothing? And when they turn back, well, they’re not dressed.

Burning Question #17: Will a Werewolf moon you on a full moon night?

No wolf here

Lon Chaney looking hot in a suit! Let me know if you decide to drop your drawers.

Famous Monsters of Filmland

Now if this ugly mug doesn’t creep you out… imagine him mooning you! Holy crap. That would make me turn and run.

 

I’ll see you next Saturday for another intellectually challenging Burning Question. Now let’s all sing along with Warren Zevon.

xoxox

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Vampire Diary: Bicycle Rides and Other Journeys

Dear Diary,

Tonight I discovered something called an artichoke. It is a vegetable with a heart but it has no blood. I usually have no blood in my heart not unlike an artichoke. I find that extremely amusing.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today I learned how to ride a bicycle. A bicycle is a machine with two large thin wheels, a small seat, pedals, and handle bars. One sits upon this contraption and puts one’s feet upon the two pedals. Then one moves his feet as if running in a circle. The bicycle then propels forward. Balance is not an issue with me because I am a Vampire. That is not completely true about the balance. It took an hour for me to learn. I was out in front of my home at 2:00 a.m. so that there would be no witnesses if I should fall. I like these bicycles. I can ride. I understand I will never forget how.

At dawn I rode my bicycle down to the bicycle trail which runs along the length of the river. I stopped to watch an otter catching fish. As a cool breeze fluttered across me I took off my helmet and shook out my golden hair. Then I took off my shirt and let the breeze surround me like a sweet caress. Then I heard a shout, a scream, and bicycles crashing. Behind me three female bicyclist had run into each other and were now in a pile of bicycles on the ground. I quickly put back on my shirt and went to assist them. There was blood. I could smell it. Alas this was no time to think of food.

I kissed their wounds to make the bleeding stop, as only a Vampire can do. Seriously that is something only a Vampire can do. As I helped the women up and tended to their bicycles I asked them why they had all crashed into each other.

They all said at once, “you happened.”

“I was standing at least ten feet from you on the edge of the water,” I said to them.

“You shook out your hair,” said one woman.

“Then you took off your shirt,” said another one of the women.

“Then the light hit you just right,” said the third woman. “You were too cute.”

“You’re magnificent,” said the first woman.

Then they all made high pitched sighing noises. Together. Every one of them.

I blinked a few times in an attempt to process this information. Of course they were distracted. I am magnificent. I am not sure about cute. Kittens are cute. Ducklings are cute. Babies are cute. I am a Vampire King which is not something to be considered cute. I still do not understand this cute.

After taking many group selfies with me the ladies went on their way. I offered to help but they only blushed and giggled despite their scrapes.

I shall reconsider removing my shirt the next time I stop for a bicycle break.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

The weather is now getting warm. It is much warmer than what I have been used to over the past 675 years. Sometimes I wonder how I got so old. Lucky for me I do not show my age. That would not be cute.

But I digress. The warm air and bicycling made me ravenous. Tonight I had two hipsters with waxed mustaches, three vegans, a middle-aged mom who was more than happy to have me bite her neck, a couple of high school teacher who were out for drinks after work, and a State Senator who was walking through the park trying to sort things out. I am sorry but when Vampires are around there is not time to sort things out.

They are all fine. I never drink to kill.

I feel like, what does my neighbor say, like I just had Thanksgiving Dinner, twice.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After being held captive, locked in a crypt for three hundred years, then out in this time they call the modern Twenty First Century for four and a half years I still find myself at a loss. I lost three centuries of culture and technology. I might have well have found myself on Mars. Only there is no one on Mars so I would have starved, at least until the first human colony showed up, but that is neither here nor there.

I am in awe of many things but not so naive as to become enslaved by modern technology and culture, or by those who would try to take advantage of me.

But there are others… This modern world is strange indeed, especially for Vampires who have no direction.

Last night a bat flew through my bedroom window and dropped a note on my bed.

“What the fuck,” hissed my love Gillian. She was not amused. We were busy in other activities.

I opened the note and read:

Dear Vampire King,

 Come and honor us in our coven of blood lust and darkness. We honor your reputation as the most powerful Vampire of all. We wish you to share your knowledge and wisdom with us. We want to learn. We follow the tradition of the Vampire.

Gillian grabbed the note. “Freaks. Don’t even bother with them. These guys don’t know the difference between their ass an a hole in the ground.”

My beautiful and gentle love was quite agitated. I am not sure what she meant by asses and holes in the ground but I am sure it was not a compliment.

“What would be the harm with me meeting with these Vampires?”

“They’re idiots Vlad,” she said, getting up and pulling on her pajama pants and a tee shirt.

“Where are you going?” I asked. Where was she going?

“Downstairs. I’m going to watch Narcos,” she said as she grabbed her pillow and left the room.

So much for a passionate romantic evening.

I dressed in jeans and a black shirt then I drove to the address on the bat delivered note. Yes I can drive. I own a car. I was born in the 14th century but I now live in the 21st.

In a storage building, I believe it is called a warehouse but I do not see any Werewolves so that confuses me, I find the Vampires.

I stood in the doorway and said, “I Vlad, King of Vampires have come. I received your invitation.”

They stand there, three men and two women, then jump on the floor and bow with their heads to the ground like bad novices in an ill run convent.

“Stand up,” I tell them.

As they stand I notice their clothing. One is dressed in a black suit and wears a black cape with a red lining. Another is all in black leather with many zippers. I wonder if he has trouble getting dressed. The third man was in black jeans and a black shirt with glitter all over his skin. The sleeves had flaps on the bottom that look like bat wings. One of the women has long black hair down to her waist, and wears a tight low cut black dress. She could hardly walk or keep her breasts inside of the dress. I wonder if I should loan her my knife so she can pick out the side seam. The other woman wears what looks like a giant red rubber band that barely covers her body.

“Oh my God,” said one of the women, “He is sooooo cute.” I did not catch which one said it.

“We are honored and in awe of your presence oh great King of Vampires, Lord of Darkness, we quiver in your sight,” said the man in leather.

“If you pee on the ground like dogs I will leave,” I said to him. My neighbor has a dog who pees when she gets excited to see someone. These Vampires reminded me of that dog. I looked again at their odd clothing. “You did write in the note that this was to be a costume party.”

“We are dressed as proper Vampires,” said the man in the red cape. “I take my inspiration from Dracula. Wasn’t Dracula modeled after you of King of Vampires?”

“No,” I said. “I have read the book. It is fantasy.”

“We take our inspiration from the great Hammer films. Peter Cushing, Christopher Lee, Vincent Price,” said the man in the red cape.

“Who are those men?” I asked.

“Great horror actors,” said the woman in the red rubber band.

“Who are you fashioned after my dear?” I asked her.

“Vampirella.”

I do not know who this Vampirella is but she has extremely bad and impractical taste in clothing.

“You are all like silly children,” I said. “Let me tell you how to act as a real Vampire least you starve to death or be killed by Vampire Hunters.”

“Van Helsings,” they all whispered.

“He is but a fantasy character in an old book. The real Vampire Hunters can and will kill you. Now gather around and listen,” I told them.

“Are you Vlad the Impaler or related to him?” asked the one in the tight black dress.

I found myself almost rolling my eyes at them. “Have you seen a painting of him? The man is quite unattractive. The man you speak of, who was not a Vampire, was born more than one hundred years after I was. I am not him, nor did he base his life and personal philosophy on me. I do not think he knew I existed and if he had he would have peed all over himself.” I was amused at my joke but the new Vampires just stared at me in awe.

To make them even more impresses, because they are of simple minds, I take out my iPhone and show them pictures.

“See,” I say, “this is Vlad the Impaler. He looks nothing like me. He is what is called rather goofy looking is he not? In the end he was vanquished by his enemies. He was an idiot.”

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“And look at this one,” I continued. “It is an actor playing a Vampire. Do not tell me you think this is attractive or will get you more blood. If you use these imposters as role models it will only set you up to fail. Nobody want that in their face.”

These new Vampires were unfit to be Vampires but as my friend Randolpho says shit happens. In the old days they would have starved and turned to dust.

For the next three hours I told these Vampires what they should do to be successful. The first item was to change out of their silly clothes. The second was to stop basing their existence off of silly movies. The third was to wipe the blood off of their chins so that they did not look like silly children.

Then I went home. They exhausted me with their questions. I promised to meet with them at a later date. I hope they survive. On the other hand maybe I don’t.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Gillian and Randolpho laughed when I told them about my new followers.

“They will learn and grow and one day be embarrassing to me,” I said.

I think about the old days when I lived in a castle high on a mountain surrounded by wild forests filled with Werewolves, Ghosts, and dangerous creatures.

But then again I think about now. It is strange. Life is always strange when one is undead – when one is a Vampire. Even if one is a cute Vampire who likes to ride his bicycle, among other things.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

This is the 38th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. Click here to read them all.