Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Man of Steel

Dear Diary,

My friend Randolpho and I decided to watch a movie. After being locked in a crypt for three hundred years I find that movies are one of the more pleasant and entertaining things about modern life.

I looked at the guide on the cable TV to find a movie.

“What is this Man of Steel. Is it about a robot?” I asked Randolpho.

“Robot?” He looked surprised.

“Yes, a man made of steel or metal. A machine man.”

“No.”

“Then it must be a pornography movie?”

“Pornography?”

“Yes, Randolpho, when people take their clothing off in front of the camera and…”

“I know what pornography is,” said Randolpho acting somewhat defensive.

“Explain Man of Steel.”

“No. Jeeze Vlad. It isn’t that. Man of Steel is about Superman.”

“Who is Superman? Wait, I read a book. A man who called himself a philosopher. His name was Nietzsche. He thought about an  Übermensch, a superman.”

“You read that? What did you think?”

“Nietzsche was what you call a dick. Or at least most women I know would have called him a dick. That is the term that women use. Dick. Maybe he should have been a pornography man rather than a philosopher. You know because he was just a big dick.” Then I laughed at my joke. Randolpho was not amused. “Randolpho my friend, I also read a play called Man and Superman by a man called Shaw. It was an extremely sexist view of how a woman should choose a mate, and she of course, in the ways of the time, picked the man old enough to be her father. I found it curious and somewhat amusing but disturbing to think a woman had so few choices. They are obviously not Vampires.”

“You read all of that?”

“I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years. I have been trying to catch up on my reading. So who is this Superman you speak of who is made of steel?”

“Just about the most famous comic book super hero of all time.”

“Why is he so famous? What is his story?”

So Randolpho gave me a pile of old comic books to read. I had some questions. Why Superman pretend to be Clark Kent? Why did nobody recognize him when he put on glasses, changed his hair part, and put on a suit? Why was Lois Lane so obsessed with him? She was not a smart woman as she was unable to tell when Clark was wearing a costume, or was it Superman wearing a costume. It was confusing. Why was Lex Luthor so difficult? Then again, he would have made an ideal politician. The American capitol called DC is full of Lex Luthors. Is that why it is called DC Comics? Why were Superman’s parents so old? Where did they find someone to forge a birth certificate for him?

“So he puts on a leotard, tights, and a cape and rescues women and children from harm by lifting cars and fighting bad men.” I said.

“Yes,” said Randolpho.

“Does he shave his legs before he puts on his tights?”

“Of course not Vlad.”

“It will not look smooth. Why does he not wear pants?”

“Vlad.”

“Why not let the police do their jobs?”

“It isn’t as fun that way.”

“Why should it be fun? I know from experience that finding bad people and disposing of them can be satisfying in a perverse sort of way but it is never truly fun.”

“It is just a story.” Then Randolpho rolled his eyes.

“Why do you roll your eyes? I would never be involved with a woman as silly or stupid as Lois. I should hope you would not be either. Most people do not know I am a Vampire but I do not wear a silly costume when I go out to find blood and engage in other Vampire activities.”

I do not understand this Superhero concept. I have seen the movie Guardians of the Galaxy. Randolpho told me it was a superhero movie. I thought it was about a man and his raccoon and a tree. I found it highly amusing. The green woman was not an idiot. I also liked the music, though I do not know why.

~ Vlad

Dear Diary,

Tonight I turned on the TV, which can be quite addictive, and saw something on the History Channel called The World’s Strongest Man. These were not Super Heroes. They were just large friendly men who lifted and pushed extremely heavy objects. They did not wear tights or capes. They wore flannel jackets and knit caps. Some of them had beards.

Then I wondered why the History Channel is called that. There is little history shown on it. So much for catching up on my lost three centuries.

Tonight I went out into the night alone. As I walked down the city street I could hear women as they sat together on sidewalk seats in front of restaurants and clubs say, oh my God he is so cute.

I am never sure what they mean by cute. I have yet to understand the full meaning of that term. Also, the calling out to God confuses me. Women use that call out a lot when I am around. I am a Vampire, not an angel, or some man wearing the robes of a religious order. They also say oh my God at the most private and inopportune times. I do not understand.

After getting my fill of fresh blood from lovely women who kept saying Oh My God, I walked down the street and took a short cut through a narrow alley. The alley smelled vile but not as vile as the alleys in the 16th and 17th Centuries, and not even close to the vileness of the 14th and 15th centuries.

I was briefly distracted by a mural painting on one of the buildings in the alley. It was of giant flowers and a woman in a flowing yellow dress. When I glanced back up in front of my at the end of the alley were two large men. They were as large as the men on The History Channel, but not wearing flannel. I glanced behind me and saw three more large men behind me.

I am not small at five feet and ten inches tall, but I am not huge either. As the large men approached me I saw the objects in their hands and realized they were Vampire Hunters. It was quite inconvenient. I had no desire to take on a fight after such a lovely evening with women who kept saying oh my God and calling me cute.

Over the centuries I have noticed that Vampire Hunters have not evolved. They are still as ignorant about Vampires as they were back when I was born some 675 years ago.

“Take your last breath Vampire,” one of them yelled at me.

“Dear hunters,” I said. “Can we not settle this like gentlemen, and not as adversaries. I mean you no harm. In fact…”

“Die Vampire die,” they shouted. Now I know enough after staying up late for the past five years that this was the kind of line that was used in dreadfully bad movies about Vampires.

“According to your lore I am already dead, so what is the point?” I said.

As I talked I used a soothing voice. I used a seductive voice of a Vampire King, the king that I am, the Vampire song that slays the foulest of men who wish us harm.

“You need to go now before I do you harm. Forget your mission to do harm to Vampires. We have no ill will towards you.”

I locked my eyes with the leader and he started to howl with pain. As he fell to the ground the other charged me. I would describe the rest of the time in the alley, but I will not. At the end of it all they were all sitting on the ground holding their heads and moaning oh my God.

Oh my God. I do not understand the use of this term. It is said for everything.

Later that night with my Vampire lover Gillian I told her of it all.

“Now who is a super hero?” she said.

I kissed her and said, “Yes, I will show you what it means to be the man of steel.”

And I did.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 To read Vlad’s Vampire Diary from the beginning CLICK HERE.

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Once Bitten, Twice Shy

Dear Diary,

My my my

Why do people say that? It is as if they think that they rule the world in their smug sense of overly obnoxious self worth.

What is it about that like in the movie about the little lost fish and the birds who all yelled mine mine mine. Those were gulls.

I have had people say that to me only to minutes later have their throats ripped out. That was a long time ago, in another life. Such is the world of a Vampire King. I now try to resist the urge to rip into the flesh of those who annoy me.

Today I found myself in an overly bitter mood. Back when I was the King of Vampires living in my castle on the mountain I would go into the tower and let the wind blow through my hair, and view all that was mine. At other times I would take my horse and ride through the woods until we were both exhausted.

Now I have a more modern approach. I get into my car and drive.

After being locked in a crypt for three hundred years I could not have imagined a world with cars and paved roads. I could not imagine not having a horse. Maybe one day I will get a horse, or two, or three again. Until then I am content with my cats, though they resist riding in cars.

In the past five years I have learned much, including cars. I have two cars. One is electric and quiet. It is also expensive, but that does not matter. My advisories might have taken three hundred years from me but they did not take away my fortune.

My my my.

In my car I open the hole in the top of the roof, then I turn up the sound on the radio. A radio is another thing I could not have imagined having three hundred years ago. I was wearing flip flops and I could not have imagined those either.

The radio is an interesting thing. On it is every kind of music one can imagine. There are also those who talk angrily and excessively. I ignore them. Early in the mornings there are those who speak of farming and fishing. Late at night people speak of alien creatures who live in space and visit people at night, in their beds. I believe they have aliens confused with cats, or maybe even Vampires. It is not worth my time to wonder about it.

While I was imprisoned by my enemies in a crypt and thought to be dead I missed out on so much music. I did not know of Bach or Valvadi. I did not know of Mozart, Handle, Haydn, or Pachelbel. I missed Chopin. I missed the invention of the modern piano, which I now play. I missed Beethoven. I missed Verdi, and Greg, and Lizt. I missed Scott Joplin, Lead Belly, and Janice Joplin. I missed Jimi Hendrix. I missed Ravel, Stravinsky, Debussy, and Strauss. I missed the waltz. I am not sad that I missed Disco or Blue Grass. Those two types of music are not, how do I say it, conducive to the Vampire sense of being. I missed smooth jazz. I missed the starting of Rock and Roll. I missed Toto the first time they sang Africa. I missed so much. I did not exactly miss the polka because the villagers who were not Vampires had loud parties and dances that might have well been polkas. They vomited a lot. Then they slept and the Vampires moved in on them but that is a different story for a different day.

That is the beauty of radio. I can hear all of it now. Except Country Western and Rap Music. I do not listen to those kinds of music. I do not understand them or enjoy the sounds. Yes, for an easy meal, I will pretend to like them, or at least tolerate them for a short time.

Now where was I? I heard a song. It was a song about a Vampire. I do not understand it quite. As I drove my car through the countryside a song came on.

My, my, my.
Once bitten twice shy. 

What is this music I thought as I pulled over to the side of the road to hear more closely.

It was a song about a woman who spent a lot of time with men, but the singer was unsure of her. I think she was a Vampire. She bit him. Now he is shy of her. So she sleeps with many many men. He is of an old fashioned view where he finds that unsettling. Then he thinks she is a failure, but she exacts her revenge in a way I have yet to understand, but she comes out better. He is now shy of her because he fears being bitten again.

I looked this up on my Smart Phone, which three hundred years ago would have been considered magic to the point where if you had one you would be burned as a witch. If you were a Vampire it would have been alright, but regular normal warm blooded people are often ignorant fools who embrace that ignorance and the fear of new things. Vampires must always adapt and accept what is new and what is true.

The band that sang my my my was called Great White. Like a shark, not a racist name. I know now about racists. Great White an odd name but I have long since (for about four years) stopped questioning band names because that would be all that I would do all day every single day.

The men had long hair. I used to have long hair as they did. My golden blonde locks at one point came down to the middle of my back. Maybe my hair was a little longer.

That night after I arrived home I could not stop thinking about that song. Once Bitten Twice Shy.  

My beautiful Vampire lover Gillian came over to see me. I told her I was thinking of growing my hair long again like the men in Great White.

She told me no.

I told her the band Great White would be playing in Reno next month. “We could drive up there and stay for the weekend. It would be fun,” I told her just like a regular 21st Century man would ask his woman for a good time.

She said, “we’ll see,” just like women of every century since the dawn of time.

I may be a 675 year old Vampire but even after all this time, and so many women, I still will never completely understand them. Calling them them the fair sex is quite the misnomer. Women are never fair.

~ Vald

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

You have just read the 49th entry of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read Vlad’s diary from the start CLICK HERE.

Vampire Diary: Mysteries

Dear Diary,

He said his name was Kit. We talked about things I do not understand such as cars, and shopping at REI, and Game of Thrones.

I locked my eyes on his then I put him into a trance. I did not feel like being scratched by the stubble of his beard so I went for the crook of his arm. I closed his hand into a fist.

“Hold this tight,” I whispered in his ear. Then I sank my teeth into his veins.

His blood was warm with that tasted that always brought back memories of warm summer nights and…

Women. Yet, there was something male. Quite male…looking. Kit had short hair, no face paint, a loose shirt in a mulch color, and cargo shorts. Kit was also tall. Kit was as tall as I am. Kit had a voice as deep as mine.

I finished and said, “wake my friend.”

Kit opened bright blue eyes and smiled. “I feel tired all of the sudden. Sorry, a little light headed. I haven’t even been drinking.”

“Is Kit for Katherine?” I asked softly.

“Not this again. Oh my God to I always have to explain myself. Kit is for Kit. I don’t have anything to hide.”

“As well you shouldn’t. You wear a wedding ring.”

“I do. My husband will be here any minute.”

“You’re pregnant.”

“Whoa, wait, what did you say? How did you know that? I just found out today. I haven’t even told my hubby.”

“I am also different. I also do not, what do you say, fit the Normans.”

“Fit the norms. It’s norms,” said Kit. “How are you different, aside from being incredibly cute.”

“You would not understand,” I said. I do not understand why Kit had to call me cute.

“Try me.”

I said nothing. I do not understand but I suppose it is not something for me to try to understand. I also do not have to explain myself.

Then Kit smiled. “You’re prettier than most women, but you’re definitely a guy. What’s your story?”

“Where I come from my community, where I was the leader, we accepted everyone as they were. Unfortunately when many left outside of our protection they were persecuted and often put to death in horrible ways. I do not care about what is underneath your clothing. Congratulations by the way. You’re having a girl, and a boy. There are two babies in there.”

Kit’s mouth fell open. “How. Did. You. Know.”

“I’m a Vampire,” I whispered into Kit’s ear. “I will make sure you and your children, and your husband are kept safe, forever.”

I winked at Kit then gave them a kiss on their cheek. I know it was a strange encounter for Kit. It was certainly a strange encounter for me. Yet, it is my duty as a Vampire to keep those who befriend me safe. I also like Kit.

Kit looked confused and said, “I sort of believe you Vlad.”

“You have nothing to fear,” I said, and blew Kit a kiss and went home.

I will ask Kit to send me baby pictures when the time comes. With any luck the babies will be as cute as I am. I say that with a large dose of sarcasm.

It is a mixed-up, muddled-up, shook-up world indeed.

What a strange world I have awakened in after being locked in a crypt for three hundred years. For a Vampire King I have become quite, how do you say, soft. That is not a bad thing. Usually.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

This morning I arrived home to see my neighbor, a woman named Zoe, digging in her yard with a pick ax. She is not a large woman. She is fairly short and fairly round. Zoe looked at me with her bright eyes and a smile came upon her pretty face as she waved at me, then bent over and tossed a skull sized rock to the side.

I admired the explosion of flowers in her yard.

“What is the hole for?” I asked her.

Zoe brushed her hair out of her face and scowled. “I have been digging this thing for almost a half hour, just for one rose. River rocks. Our entire neighborhood is built on ROCKS. And damned if I’m going to have dirt hauled in.”

“I will help you if you wish,” I told her.

“No, I’m about done. I swear to God if I dig anymore I’ll find the Oak Island Treasure,” she said.

Oak Island. That is a place in Canada where there is said to be a treasure buried underneath the ground among tunnels. Two brothers and their friends did without luck finding small bits of information, mostly unrelated, in hopes of solving the mystery. Their progress is shown on the TV each week.

“Zoe do you know of Rick and Marty and their Oak Island Treasure hunting?”

“You watch that too? My dad told me about Oak Island when I was a kid. I expected someone would find the damn treasure by now if there is a treasure. I think it was some sort of waystation, or maybe a cache of banned books.”

“That sounds reasonable to me,” I said.

“I don’t think they’ll every find anything. What I’d love to do is go there and just plant a bunch of random shit. Like a couple of old Roman coins, some pre-Columbian pottery, something from the Middle Ages, maybe a few match box cars, plant a copy of Hitchhikers Guide to the Galaxy at 150 feet. That would mix things up.”

We talked some more and Zoe told me of the flowers and her passion for growing them. As we spoke a car pulled in front my house. It was a large black car.”

“Do you know who that is in the SVU?” I asked.

“You mean SUV? I don’t know, but if they keep hanging around I’m going to go tell them to leave.”

She wiped her hand across her brow and left a streak of dirt. I rubbed the dirt off with my hand. As I was doing that four men came out of the car. They were all dressed in black with black masks over their faces. Cowards I thought.

As they approached us I could see knives, a gun, and a sharpened stake in their hands. Vampire Hunters. What were they doing here. If I had been back in my old country when I was King of Vampires I would have killed them all and put their heads upon tall poles as warnings to all who entered my lands. Unfortunately I have been told that I can not do that now. Yet, I have to protect my lands and my people. That includes Zoe and everyone who lives on my street.

One of the men yelled, “Vlad, Vampire Lord, we have come for you. Prepare to die.”

“What is this? Princess Bride?” said Zoe. She hefted her pick ax up and held it like a baseball bat.

The men charged us. Two grabbed my arms. I pushed forward and flung them off as if they were rats. One approached Zoe. She swung the as and hit the man with the side of the tool, rendering him unconscious. The others came at us using their full force as obviously trained assassins.

From out of the house across the street ran nineteen year old Kylee, yelling like a Banshee. She picked up a garden shovel and started to pound on one of the men.

I was knocked to the ground. I felt a sharp pain then noticed the pointed wooden stake in my chest, more by my shoulder, but missing my heart. Not again I thought. This exact same thing is how I ended up locked in a crypt for three hundred years.

Barring my fangs I pushed the men off of me. They fell to the ground. Zoe came at them with the high pressure nozzle of the garden hose, while Kylee hit them again and again with the shovel.

I saw the flash of a blade and felt it go through my face. If this kept up I would lose all of my blood. We heard sirens and all three of us know the sheriff would be here soon.

Then men picked up their fallen comrade and drove away in the black SUV.

“What the Hell was that?” Zoe looked at me, then sat on the ground next to me and held my wounds.

“Your face,” gasped Kylee. “Oh Vlad, they cut your face.”

“Chicks dig scars,” said Zoe.

“I will heal,” I said and then passed out.

When I awoke I was at home in my own bed.

“Impressive room,” said Kylee, who was looking around at the large bed and black coverings. Of course a bed is important to a Vampire.

“The paramedics wanted to take you to the hospital but your friend Randolpho showed up and talked them out of it,” said Zoe.

I noticed Randolpho, my oldest and dearest Vampire friend sitting on the foot of my bed. He was not wearing one of his ridiculous hats. “Vlad, this is not good. They know where you live.”

“They must have followed me home,” I whispered, weak with blood loss.

“What if they come back? Think about that Vlad,” said Randolpho.

Zoe scowled, then took my hand. “Our boy won’t be moving anytime soon. If anyone comes by again we’ll chase them off.”

“We have tools and we know how to use them,” said Kylee.

“Next time I’ll bring out the chainsaw,” said Zoe. And I believe she would.

“You don’t know what we’re dealing with,” said Randolpho.

“Sure we do,” said Zoe. “You guys are Vampires. Oh don’t look so surprised. We’ve known that for a couple of years. You can’t live on a small narrow dead end street like this and not know what your neighbors are up to.”

“If you weren’t Vampires,” said Kylee, “we’d think you were really weird. You’re pretty cool for Vampires. Cute too.”

I noticed my cats were curled up by my side. My cats are cute. I was not feeling cute at all.

Then my Vampire love Gillian came in. She was as always a beautiful sight.

“Vlad my love,” she said. Then she kissed my stitched face cut. I could feel it starting to heal.

“No more crypts for you Vlad,” said Kaylee.

“You’re home Vlad, and like it or not you’re one of us,” said Zoe.

My cold still Vampire heart started to flutter a bit. I almost felt warm, for just a bit.

I looked at Gillian. “I should have killed them. I am losing my touch.”

“We don’t do that anymore love.” Then she kissed me again.

Then I fell asleep trying to recover from the poison tipped stake and the evil knife cut, and had dreams of hunting down Vampire Hunters. I also dream of standing on the top of the tower in my castle, the wind in my hair, and knowing I rule all that I see.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I do not understand, still after five years in this time, this century, how to adapt. I have adapted well. I can drive. I can use a computer. I have mastered a keyboard. I have cats who do not depend on catching vermin to survive.

Yet, sometimes I wonder that there is no place on this planet for me.

Then I think of Zoe and Kaylee who have taken me, like a war orphan into their embrace. They are Amazons who showed me the power and might of garden tools. Do not underestimate a woman with a pick ax or a shovel.

I reached out and felt the cold shoulder of my love Gillian. She is a Vampire so she is cold. I find that intensely attractive.

“Would you like it if I gave you garden tools my love?”

She looked at me as if I was insane, curled into my side and fell asleep again.

I grabbed my phone, for I am a modern man. The local news establishment reported that a girl of nineteen, a man of thirty four years, and a woman of sixty years, were attacked by three unknown masked men.

Zoe is sixty? She looks and acts like someone much younger. I am 675 years old but I can pass for thirty four because I am a Vampire. Zoe is not a Vampire. Back when I was a Vampire King a woman as old as Zoe would have been considered a crone. She would have been ancient. I have seen Zoe in a dress. She is vibrant. Oh how things have changed. An old woman with a pick ax can fight off Vampire Hunters then go dance the night away with her friends. I am in awe.

I touch my face. The wound is healing. Gillian took away the pain and there will be no great scar.

I do not understand so much, yet I am finding there is a place in the universe for me. I just do not know where it is yet. I am a Vampire, so I have time.

And for the first time a community which does not accept me out of fear and awe, but out of love. I do not understand but I will accept that which I do not yet…understand.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 48th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read from the beginning CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: April’s Fool

Dear Diary,

After being locked in a crypt for three hundred years my friends have told me many things to watch out for.

  • Do not talk to anyone who says they are tax men.
  • Nigerian banks are not real.
  • Do not take up smoking.
  • Do not listen to those who say the Earth is flat, and that men never walked on the moon.

The list goes on and it is ridiculous that obvious absurdities are not legitimate business or true. I was away for a while but I did not come back with the mind of a child.

I do not understand many things but I am not an idiot.

So this morning my friend Randolpho, whom I have known for over six hundred years  came to my house and said, “I have to show you something.”

“Then show me,” I said.

He put out his hand and there on his palm were two fangs.

“What is this?” I asked.

“I am no longer a Vampire,” Randolpho said.

I asked him how such a thing could have happened. He told me that he went to meet friends the night before and while walking down the street was pulled into a basement and injected with a powerful drug. It burned through his body. He thought was on fire. The he passed out. When he awoke in the morning his skin was warm, and his fangs had fallen out. He was hungry for real food, like bagels, and cake, and things Vampires do not eat. He said he felt suddenly vulnerable and fragile.

“The drug I was given turned me into a normal person. Vlad I am no longer a Vampire.”

“Do you wish me turn you back into a Vampire?” I asked.

“Are you not curious about the drug?” Asked Randolpho.

“Of course I am,” I said, “but I am more concerned by your well being.”

Then he laughed and yelled, “April Fool.”

I looked around and did not see anyone. “Why are you laughing Randolpho?”

“It is April 1st. April Fools Day! It is a day for jokes.”

“Not being a Vampire is no joke,” I said.

“I fooled you didn’t I?” Randolpho laughed again.

“Stop laughing'” I said, “or I will find a Witch to turn you into a baboon.”

“I can’t believe you fell for that Vlad,” he said, still laughing.

“I am serious,” I told him, “I will have you turned into a baboon.”

I wonder if Witches have Yelp pages.

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

The morning has passed and I long for the night. Afternoon rain is coming down and making me feel calm after Randolpho’s incessant joking.

My love Gillian came to my house.

As I let her through the door I said, “Please, Gillian, no fooling around today. I have had enough of that.”

“Fine,” she said then turned to walk out the door.

“What?” I asked.

“What do you mean what? What is up your ass today?”

“April Fool Day,” I told her, then I told her that nothing was up my ass. Then I told her about Randolpho’s prank.

“So I can stay?”

“Of course,” I said. Then I kissed her. No fooling. I am dead serious. No pun intended.

I will leave the rest to your imagination.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 47th entry of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. Click Here to read Vlad’s diary from the beginning.

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Culture

Dear Diary,

Tonight I cut myself while shaving my face. I did not bleed as I had not eaten yet. I realized that if I did eat I would start to bleed. That would be a problem as I had put on a white shirt. I had rolled up the sleeves to right below my elbow. Modern women find that “hot.” I am not sure what they mean by “hot” except maybe they are so excited that they age a dozen years in their excitement and stop having children but I know that is not what hot means. I also know that my lover Gillian would slap me if she knew such a thought had come into my mind. What do they call it? Hot flash? A hot flash. I would cause a hot flash. I do not think that is what women mean by hot when they see my sleeves rolled up.

I am a Vampire. Hot is not a good description for me. I once heard a woman say I was smoking hot. I went into the restroom to find a mirror. There was no smoke coming out of me or my clothing. I was going to ask her to explain but ended up going to her house and drinking her blood instead. If a woman wants me to be hot then I shall be hot.

In order to make my cut go away I put my finger on the wound and said a few ancient Vampire words in order to heal myself. Then I left my house. As I drove I wondered if a hot flash was anything like a flash mob, then I thought of something else.

After going out to a local club for a quick bite I noticed a spot on my shirt. I was bleeding. I covered my cut with a paper napkin until the bleeding stopped. I hate it when I leak. It has been what some call one of those days.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today I met my friend Constantine at the art museum. When I was Vampire King of my own Vampire Kingdom there were no museums. I had paintings, and sculpture, and skulls, tapestries, and strange bones on shelves. I would let people into my castle to see the objects. We did not have churches in the Vampire Kingdom so I displayed interesting things people brought me from far away places.

While I was locked in a crypt for the 18th – 20th Centuries museums came into vogue. Constantine told me that museum comes from the word muse, or as a shrine of the muses. This museum phenomenon is all new to me. I do not think I have a muse. I only have an um.

Constantine was late. I walked into the vast building, connected to an older vast building. Herds of children followed old people called docents out of the lobby, up stairwells, and elevators. I walked the halls alone finding myself surrounded by strange things.

I find almost all things strange in the 21st Century but the museum seemed to be a repository of strangeness. The strange galleries were filling up with children who seemed to love the random splashes of color, and disturbing sculptures. I could hear someone asking the children about the purpose of the horizontal lines. I had to leave before I was caught up in the frantic excitement.

Down a hall I found myself alone, surrounded by paintings of mostly outdoor places. I stood in front of a painting of singular beauty. The scene was that of a marsh, or field on a foggy morning, with a group of trees in the background. It was simple, yet drew me in unlike any other piece I had seen.

A hand settled on my shoulder and a voice spoke quietly next to me. “I knew the artist well. He painted that right before he left California. It was because of a woman. She was cheating on him. I miss him.”

“That is a sad story my friend,” I said. “What happened to him?”

“I was going to go back to the East Coast where he’d set up a studio, but he’d died. I should have changed him into a Vampire when I had the opportunity, while he was still here. I think he would have done well as one of us,” said Constantine.

Constantine spends a lot of time at the art museum. He is there on Thursday nights and other adult events. He said there were lectures and films to see. He says it is his favorite place to dine because he likes the crowd of art lovers. He says art makes their blood sweeter.

As we walked around, he told me stories about the artists and the artworks. He explained the different art movements, even with art that does not move. Yes indeed, there is art that moves.

At one point two lovely young women stood near us. All young women are lovely are they not?

I glanced over at them and smiled. Constantine did the same.

“Are you two models? Actors maybe?” One asked while the other just smiled.

We told them no. They smiled and walked on, talking to each other about how handsome and cute we were.

“What do those charming women mean by cute? Is it different in a museum setting? Either way I have yet to understand exactly what they mean. A kitten is cute. A baby is cute. We are not kittens or babies.” I said to my friend.

Constantine just laughed but failed to answer my questions.

I asked him if any of his art was in the museum. “Not yet,” he said. “Maybe I’ll donate one of my 17th Century pieces, but I have to admit my early 20th Century landscapes are more popular.”

Constantine has always been an artist. He has also always been sly and quick to take advantage of easy situations. He is an extremely successful Vampire.

I will come back to the art museum. Maybe I will get a membership.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Five years ago I was rescued from my entombment. Trapped in a crypt for three hundred years left me completely in the dark. Maybe that is not the correct expression to use since I am a Vampire and being in the dark is not that bad of a thing.

I am 675 years year old yet my points of reference and my appearance is that of a Millennial.

I have experience but my technology is too old.

Once I even told someone that I was raised in a religious cult in an isolated mountain town and home schooled by coyotes and squirrels. I could not tell them that my isolation was due to being locked in a crypt with five dead bodies, and with a wooden stake through my heart.

I know that my style is such that my friends need not call the five Queer Eye men to make me over.

I know that my hesitation and naivety can charm both men and women. I know my good looks can do the same.

But when someone asks me if I am straight and I check my posture that is embarrassing. It was two years before someone told me that “straight” was someone who is attracted to the opposite sex. I do not know these new words.

I do not want to act like an old man. On the other hand I have met old men who would be considered “exceptionally cool” by a Mellinnial, or anyone else who is alive and not a Vampire.

My head is spinning. It is time to sleep. Good night Diary. Close up. Go to sleep. The cats are waiting on the foot of the bed and wish for me to join them.

~Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

Click HERE to see all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary entries. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: A Squirrel Walked Into A Bar (and it was cute)

A short tale about a night at a bar made even longer and more rambling by Vlad, King of Vampires.

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: A Squirrel Walked Into A Bar

Dear Diary,

My friend Randolpho suggested we go up to the mountains to a place called Donner Lake. 

“James invited us to his cabin,” he said. “We can even go skiing. The snow will be amazing.”

“Donner Lake was where a group of people were trapped for the winter and turned to cannibalism,” I said.

Randolpho scowled at me as he always does. “That was in 1846. It was also probably one of the most poorly planned trips in the history of anywhere. A few years later came the California Gold Rush, and San Francisco, and art movements, the Transcontinental Railway, and Hollywood, and University of California, and Silicone Valley, and Squaw Valley.”

“The highway might be closed,” I said.

“Come on Vlad, we’re Vampires. Being stuck in the snow for a few days isn’t going to hurt us. Besides, the roads are plowed and I have chains for my tires.”

“Fine,” I said, “but make sure you bring a cooler with blood in it. I do not want to have to eat you if we get stuck in the snow.”

I used to be fearless, but after being locked up in a crypt for 300 years the modern world can wear me out. Having no point of reference to anything cultural or historical is like being blind in an art museum with no docent.

So I agreed to go. Lord have mercy on my cold dark Vampire soul.

~ Vlad

Dear Diary,

Randolpho and I left in the morning with a trunk full of blood, blankets, something he calls beef jerky, hot coffee from Badfish, and his vast collection of New Wave music.

It took us six hours to get to James’s cabin. By then it was dark, the highway had been closed, and I was starving.

At the cabin James had left a note saying I will be right back, meet you at Bernard’s. James explained to me that Bernard’s is a bar. I wondered where James could have gone. The storm had turned into a blizzard. There was nowhere to go.

Randolpho handed me a pair of snow shoes and we walked snowblind to the bar. My friend kept on his ridiculous tall hat, as always. I do not know how he kept it on in the storm.

Big Hat

Randolpho and his tall hat which he rarely takes off.

We arrived at lone building surrounded by trees. A large front deck was festooned with white twinkle lights that looked like fairies in the snow filled air. As we opened the doors and walked in we were greeted by a tall man with red hair and a sharp nose. Randolpho introduced him to me as Bernard.

“What will you have to drink?” asked Bernard. “I can make you an Irish Coffee with a blood chaser. Of course the beer is cold.” Then he laughed. “Don’t be surprised Vlad. I know you’re Vampires. We get a lot of your kind in here.”

I scanned the room. All female heads turned to look at me. I smiled a bit in a friendly way without my fangs. I am used to it.

I sat at the bar. Next to me sat two men. One introduced himself to me with a rough hand with fingers ending in dirty nails. He was sharp nosed with pointy teeth. His small black eyes showed no fear. His name was Buster. His small friend sat next to him sleeping with an ocassional snort.

“I come here for the ladies,” he said with a snorting laugh. “They’re trapped with me now that the blizzard is coming down. Nobody leaves this place tonight. That means more TLC for me.”

My stomach was growling by now and I looked towards Buster and his sleeping friend.  Randolpho nudged me and whispered, “Don’t even think about it Vlad. Biting into Buster would be like eating week old room temperature sushi you purchased at a gas station in the Mojave Desert.”

A beautiful red headed woman sat down next to me, and next to her sat her beautiful white blonde friend. Buster leaned over me and winked at the ladies. They looked at him in disgust.

“You smell like you are carrying a dead animal under your shirt,” I said to Buster.

“You never know. There MIGHT BE a dead animal under there. And guess what pretty boy, those ladies might like someone who doesn’t smell like a fucking flower farm. They might like a guy with a little meat on him.”

He slid off of his chair and blew a kiss at the women, “Hey ladies, I gotta take a leak but when I’ll let you rub my hairy belly, and even more if you’re good.” He left with a blast of loud gas and a skip in his step. Even as a Vampire I have my limits of what amounts of disgusting things I can take in.

The women looked away from Buster and scooted closer to me. Randolpho and I were ready to settle down with them for the night when the doors flew open and a gust of wind and snow blew into the bar along with a SQUIRREL.

A squirrel walked into the bar.

It was a large gray squirrel who weighed maybe 2 pounds. He jumped on the bar and shook off his fur, then pounded his tail and chattered out a shrill demanding call.

Bernard the bartender put bowl of mixed nuts and a shot of Bourbon in front of the squirrel. The little animal sat on the bar and ate nuts while sipping the drink.

The Squirrel looked at me then spelled out a work with nuts.

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CUTE

“Yes, I know you are cute my dear Squirrel, I said.

The Squirrel shook it’s small gray head, thumped it’s tail and then pointed a tiny finger at me. Then it barked at me and pointed at the nuts.

Cute. Oh how this plagues me. I do not understand this cute. Squirrels and kittens are cute. I am the Vampire King. How can I be cute?

The two women giggled. “You are so cute,” they said in unison.

I thought to myself, there is my dinner right there.

But no, the door opened again and our friend James came into the bar with a gust of wind and snow. In his arms was his baby unicorn. Then out from behind the bar came a woman with rainbow colored hair.

“Awwwwww, what a sweet baby unicorn,” she said holding out her arms. The unicorn went straight to her. James winked at us and went off to a back table with the woman. James is such a, what do they say, a dog. James is such a dog, even for a Vampire.

Right on behind James came a man with two huge wolves with glowing red eyes.

The man took a back table with the wolves. I soon realized he was another Vampire who came with two Werewolves.

“We take all kinds in here,” said Bernard. “A blizzard doesn’t discriminate and neither do we.”

It is a good attitude to have. Believe me, I am a 675 year old Vampire so I know a thing or two.

The last person to arrive was a tall dark haired man with an Australian accent. “Clem!”  all the ladies called out.

I was shocked. He was as handsome as I am. Maybe more so. It was no problem. It took some of the pressure off of me.

The night went on and the twenty-five guest of Bernard’s Bar drank, danced, ate, and talked until Bernard said last call at around 2:00 a.m.

But not before I spent some quality time with the pale blonde named Angel, but that story can wait for another time.

~ Vlad

Dear Diary,

This morning James, Randolpho, and I walked down to Bernard’s for coffee. Yes, even Vampires need coffee after a long confusing night.

A dead possum lay in the road in front of the bar.

“Do you think we should bury it?” Asked James.

“The snow is too deep. Just let the vultures or coyotes get it,” said Randolpho.

On the front deck a small armadillo with an odd nose was curled up in a chair, half covered by an old plaid blanket.

“Wow,” said Randolpho. “That’s a Pigladillo. I haven’t seen one of those in years.”

As we opened the door we could see two pretty little squirrels, one red, and one white, sitting on the bar eating nuts. Nearby a fox was eating dog food out of a bowl. A large black and brown kangaroo sat at a back table eating a salad. A unicorn who looked like a Rainbow Donkey ran up to us.

James put his tiny unicorn down to play with his new friend. Now THAT is cute.

A tall handsome man with a bushy head of gray hair stood behind the bar.

“Where is Bernard? Sleeping in?” asked James.

The man at the bar smiled. “Bernard is right there eating breakfast,” he said as her gestured at the fox. The women, Angel and Red are at the bar. Clem is the kangaroo in the back having a salad. Buster and his friend are out front. Don’t worry about Buster, the snow plow will scoop him up. I put a blanket over his friend.”

He looked at our confused faces and laughed. “I’m surprised at you guys. You’re Vampires. You should know this stuff. Full moon. Yes, it was a full moon last night. They’re Werepeople. You know, animals except when the moon is full then they turn into people. It was a full moon last night. They all turned into people.”

No wonder the woman called Angel tasted a little gamey.

The fox looked up at me and winked, as if he could read my mind.

The man behind the bar said, “I’m Bill, but everyone calls me Evil.”

“You’re…” Randolpho started to say.

“Evil Squirrel. Yep, I’m a Weresquirrel. That was me at the bar last night.”

We sat down and had coffee with Evil, and talked about the weather, the animals, and the strange world in which we live.

I do not know how long we will have to stay up at Donner Lake, but I will let you know when I return home.

~ Vlad

~ end

IMG_1121

This is what Vampires use to grind nuts. CUTE CUTE CUTE

Juliette is now on the blog.

Well now (clears throat), this was my silly submission to the 2019 Evil Squirrel’s Nest Contest of Whatever. The prompt was A Squirrel Walked Into A Bar.

If you’re a fan of Evil Squirrel’s Nest, which you should be, you’ll understand all of the inside jokes and character references.

This is such a fun contest. If you haven’t entered it you still have a few days. This is the link https://evilsquirrelsnest.com/2019/01/27/the-sixth-annual-contest-of-whatever/. (or just CLICK HERE.) Check out the other fabulous and fun entries from the comments section and ping backs. These will make you LAUGH OUT LOUD. As an added bonus all of the other entries are a lot shorter than my rambling tale.

The Sixth Annual Contest Of Whatever!

Below are links to my past entries, including the 2017 WINNER of the CONTEST OF WHATEVER.

By the way, Game Day is still a Vlad’s Vampire Diary fan favorite.

For all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary entries CLICK HERE.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

IMG_1122
Not quite a Pigladillo but close enough.
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My cats Oscar and Gloria because they’re cute.

Here are some photos of my squirrel at the Bird Feeder Bar.

https://evilsquirrelsnest.com/2019/01/27/the-sixth-annual-contest-of-whatever/