It has been a while since I picked up my
quill pen keyboard and wrote anything at all.
I believe it was November when I last wrote. Since then I have been in the shadows
like a common Vampire. I was once King of the Vampires.
I wondered if the very fabric of society would collapse
and send up into chaos allowing me to rise and save the people as I had before so many centuries ago. Even now I think about when I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years and missed the 18th – 20thCenturies. I lost everything. Yet despite all of this I still have my looks. Heads turn in amazement when I walk into a room, even when I wear a mask. Even now I think about when I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years and missed the 18th– 20th Centuries. I lost everything. My friends keep telling me to stop feeling sorry for myself. But I must now feed my cats. They rule me now.
Sometimes I believe my friends are intentionally leading me down a path of foolishness.
“Vlad,” they say, “you don’t understand any cultural cues when we talk. You will catch up.” There is three hundred years of clues to catch up on. I will never understand all of these cultural references. I find myself in an age with so much information that I feel as if my head will explode.
“It is only the first week of May 2021, but it is Hellishly HOT outside,” I said to my friends today. “This is no weather for Vampires like us.”
My best Vampire friend Randolpho was at my house, as was my Vampire lover Gillian.
“Why don’t you wear shorts? Seriously Vlad. Every summer since you’ve been here you complain for months how hot it is while you wear long pants.” said Randolpho.
“You usually wear black pants or jeans all summer long. I don’t know how you can stand it,” said Gillian.
“I wear cotton draw string pants. Do not look at me like that. They are not pajama pants,” I said.
“You look quite sexy in those draw string pants too, but you need some nice shorts,” said Gillian.
“I have a pair of the kind called board shorts for swimming but I will not wear those out into the public eye,” I said.
“Just get some regular shorts then. You know like a kaki color. You can even get black if you want,” said Randolpho.
“My legs are too pale. I will blind everyone who sees me,” I said.
“Of course, your legs are pale. You’ve had them covered up for 760 years,” said Randolpho.
“We’re not suggesting you dress like Angus Young,” said Gillian.
“Who? Angus the Young? Who is that?” I asked.
“Angus Young is a guitarist and one of the founders of AC/DC,” said Gillian.
“Angus Young invented the way electrical current is carried?” I asked.
“AC/DC is a band Vlad,” said Gillian.
“Their first album was called High Voltage,” said Randolpho. “Awww man it was a shame about Bon Scott. But Brian Johnson surprised everyone.”
“Did he ever. I saw them in 1981 or 82. Wow it was electric just like their name,” said Gillian.
“Lucky you. Then Malcolm Young got dementia,” said Randolpho.
“So sad,” said Gillian.
“It broke my heart,” said Randolpho.
“What does this have to do with wearing short pants?” I said to my friends who seemed to have forgotten my discomfort in the heat.
“Angus always wears shorts, like a schoolboy uniform,” said Gillian.
“Why?” I asked.
“I don’t know. I guess to stand out,” said Gillian.
“It was his sister’s idea. She gave him her son’s uniform. He still wears shorts on stage,” said Randolpho.
“With a jacket,” said Gillian. “But you don’t need a jacket. Just shorts.”
“My sister would have never suggested such an idea if I had a band,” I said.
“Don’t kid yourself Vlad. I bet your sister would have loved to see you on stage in a schoolboy uniform,” said Randolpho.
I ignored Randolpho’s comment. “What shoes should I wear with short pants. Boots would look ridiculous.”
“If anyone could pull it off….” Randolpho started but Gillian cut him off.
“Just your regular sneakers. Maybe get some deck shoes or flip flops,” she said.
“Deck shoes? Like rubber boots that fishermen wear?” I asked.
“No. Topsiders,” said Gillian.
“Topsiders are always good. You don’t have to wear socks,” said Randolpho.
Randolpho spoke. “Slip on shoes. I’m wearing Topsiders.”
I looked at Randolpho’s shoes and saw no difference between the top or the bottom. I do not know why these shoes are called topsiders or boat shoes. I must admit those shoes looked comfortable.
“Or huaraches,” said Gillian. Those would be cute.”
“Cute? Why do you say cute? Do they have bows? I will not wear bows with short pants. What in the world are huaraches?” I asked, ready to tell my friends to leave.
“Woven shoes,” said Gillian.
“Fine, I will wear baskets on my feet. Do not tell me crazy things like that,” I said.
“You have great legs Vlad. You need to show them off,” said Gillian.
“You could be a foot model too,” said Randolpho.
I do not know what a foot model is but I did not feel up to asking. I know I have great legs.
“Just make sure your shorts aren’t too short,” said Randolpho.
“Remember in the 80’s when guys would sit down in short shorts and let their balls fall out? I saw everybody’s balls,” Gillian said.
“Balls? Falling out? What do you mean?” I asked. What sort of madness was this?
“When guys would sit down the sorts would hike up just enough for their balls to peek out,” said Randolpho.
“Or fall out,” said Gillian. “I think half of them did it on purpose. It didn’t matter if they were warm blooded guys or Vampires.”
“Vampire balls would stick to surfaces because they were so cold,” said Randolpho. Then he laughed with a snort.
“That I know is not true,” I said, tired of Randolpho’s silly talk. “I will make sure my short pants are long enough so that my balls will be contained,” I said. That is something I never in all my years I never thought I would hear myself say.
“Big Balls! That was a fun song,” Randolpho said.
“A song about big balls?” I asked.
“AC/DC. You have to listen to some of their albums Vlad,” said Randolpho.
I said nothing. I do not wish to listen to songs about balls – big or otherwise.
This fashion and music talk wears me out. I know how to dress. I always look good, despite the heat.
Tonight was cooler.
My friend Cassie has opened her bar up after being closed for almost a year.
I helped her, as did all of the Vampires, with building an outside seating area. Cassie is not a Vampire but she is ours.
A band was playing when I arrived. They were not singing about big balls.
A good size group was in the courtyard we had set up.
I went into the bar to find Cassie. At the end of the dark bar I saw her in a somewhat passionate embrace with my good friend Randolpho. He had taken off his ridiculous hat and put it on the bar. Cassie’s hands were in his hair.
Randolpho was born in the year 1343, the same year as I was born. In all of the centuries I have known him, which is many since our mothers introduced us as small cold blood hungry infants, I have never seen Randolpho so smitten with a woman.
He has had queens and princesses and countesses begging for his attention. He has been wooed by the rich, and beautiful, and powerful. He could have his pick of any woman be it a Vampire or a warm blooded mortal woman. Randolpho had fun. My friend has his feelings hurt. He made choices both good and bad. The one thing Randolpho never did was give away his cold un-beating heart. I heard his heart beating tonight as he held Cassie in his arms and kissed her under the bottles of vodka and gin.
A cool arm came around my waist and I could feel cold lips on the back of my neck. I turned around and kissed my love Gillian.
“When did you get here?” I asked.
“A while ago. I’ve been listening to the band. Randolpho asked me to request a song,” she said.
Gillian then waved to Randolpho. He took Cassie’s hand and pulled her outside. We followed and joined our friends.
Randolpho jumped on the small stage, wearing his hat, and started to sing.
The music was loud. Randolpho belted out the words to Cassie, “YOU SHOOK ME ALL NIGHT LONG.”
“AC/DC,” said Gillian.
“I know,” I told her. Then I kissed her again.
Just at that time a white and black cat without a tail came up to me and rubbed around my legs. I scratched his head, that had scabs on it from fighting.
“His name is Angus,” said Gillian. “His owner died about six months ago. He hangs out in the neighborhood now. Everyone feeds him, but he needs a home, poor old guy.”
I picked up the cat called Angus. He put one paw over my shoulder and put the other paw on my chest. Then he started to purr, a low raspy grumbling purr. Angus the cat looked at me with bright green eyes and touched my cold dark Vampire soul.
“I will take you home Mr. Angus. My other two cats are female, but they will love you,” I softly told the cat. “I will protect you and they will love you.”
“They’ll love him the more because he has no balls,” said Gillian.
I laughed. “I am sure you are happy that I still have mine.”
Later that night I stroked Gillian’s hair as she lay close to me in my big bed. The three cats were downstairs sleeping on the couch as if they’d always been a family.
I had, what do they call it? When a song will not leave. An earworm. I had an earworm. You Shook Me All Night Long. It was a promise and a lovely reality.
Until the sun comes up …