Vampire Diary: Hot Mess

Dear Diary,

Today I walked to the end of the street to pick up my mail. My cats and Jane the coyote pup followed me.

A group of teenage girls sat on the front porch of the house nearest the mail box. They waved to me.

“Oh my God, Vlad you’re so cute with your cats and the pup,” said one of them.

I smiled minus my fangs. The girls giggled. They find me attractive but I do not know what is cute about a man with board shoulders and almost six feet of height. Cats are cute. Puppies are cute. I have yet to understand what this cute word means. They also call me sexy, but not to my face. They do not call cats or coyotes sexy. That makes more sense to me. My lover Gillian told me not to think about it and to stop being silly. I am not silly.

As I looked through my mail, mostly letters from other vampires, I could hear the girls talk. One said a friend of hers was a hot mess. Hot mess?

So I said, “I could not help but overhear your conversation. What do you mean by hot mess.”

They all laughed out loud. Some laughed with high pitched voices. One had a laugh that was low and rough, but not unpleasing. One laughed like a woman ready to seduce and rule the world.

I repeated myself. “Sweet ladies, you know I am not from here. Please, what is a hot mess? Is it something you eat?”

They laughed again. Then one girl, the one with the low and rough laugh answered. “A hot mess is when someone tries to look good and ends up looking like a disaster. They’re just a hot mess.”

“I see. That is amusing,” I said. “Am I hot mess?”

They giggled. Then one said, “You’re just hot.”

Then they giggled some more and didn’t stop.

They then talked among themselves and I heard one say no sheets Sherlock. I wondered what was meant by that. I did not ask. I told the girls goodbye and winked at them. They giggled some more, and as my pets and I walked away I could hear them talk about me, but not in an unflattering way.

That night I asked my lover Gillian about Sherlock. “Darling, who is Sherlock and why does he not have sheets? Does he sleep on the ground or in a hammock? Why would young girls be speaking of such a person?”

Gillian smiled and kissed me. “I love you Vlad but…”

“Gillian dear, I was sealed in a crypt for three hundred years. I am still learning the strange language and customs of modern life,” I said to her.

“Vlad, Sherlock Holmes is a fictional detective. The first story about him came out in 1887. You were still locked in the crypt. Sherlock’s adventures became extremely popular, and his character, and versions of the character are still popular. The term is No Shit Sherlock.

“Does he not poop like most people?”

“Yes, he poops. I assume he poops. It isn’t covered in the stories. The term No Shit Sherlock is used when somebody says something incredibly obvious.”

“Like I say being locked in a crypt is a bad thing. Then you say No Shit Sherlock.”

“Exactly Vlad.”

“Do not say I am not learning anything.”

Then she kissed me again. And again. And again.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went to a pub where I am known and liked. I do this so that I can get blood with ease. I am not one of those vampires who likes to crawl through windows. I would rather have a glass of wine and talk with my dinner companions a bit.

The bartender is a woman named Cassie. We talked for a while then she noticed my satchel.

“Oh my goodness. You brought your cat tonight. Bring her out,” said Cassie.

I took the purring cat out of the bag. Cassie said we were cute. Always cute. My world is nothing but cute. Yet, I am happy when Cassie and my cat are happy. After many women and men came over to pet the cat and call it cute, the cat crawled back into the bag and fell asleep. I visited with Cassie more. She told me about her graduate studies. She is brilliant.

Then a man sits down next to me. “Vlad. You are Vlad.”

I look at him. He is tall and thin, with dark wavy hair pulled back into a tail like the teenage girls who live on my street. His brown eyes are hidden behind large black framed glasses. The teenage girls might find him attractive. I find him to be what they call a hot mess.

“Yes,” I say. “My name is Vlad. What is your name, and how do you know mine?”

He grins, a wide grin with perfect straight white teeth. “I know you’re a vampire Vlad.”

“Cute maybe,” I say. “A vampire, I do not think so.”

“I was told on good authority that you know where the high counsel of the vampires meet. I hear you used to be their king.”

“You are mad,” I told him.

I walked out to the street. He followed me and called out after me. “Vlad, I’m not a vampire hunter. I’m a scientist. I’m a journalist. I want to know the truth.”

I turned around to face him. “You seek the truth do you Kyle Gunner? That is your name. Yes, you seek parlor tricks so I just gave you one. You are excited and thrilled that I have stopped. Let me answer your question. There is no high council of vampires. That is, what do they call it, a plot device, a fictional bit of grandness to try to explain things you do not understand.”

He looked disappointed and puzzled. I continued to speak.

“Be a scientist Kyle Gunner and get the facts, if that is facts that you seek. Not alternate facts, but real facts.” He stood transformed so I continued to speak. “The facts are that if you speak out people will believe you to be insane. I advise you not go that route. Do not make memes of me either. No memes. I know you are recording this on your tiny magic telephone.” I held up my hand. “Now you are not recording me and it has all been deleted. I will tell you another thing Kyle Gunner. The reason we do not always show up in photographs is because we do not want to. It is the same reason paint flakes off of canvas and ink drawn to the likeness of a vampire fades on paper. It is because we do not want to be seen. Good night Kyle Gunner. Be thankful I was generous and charitable to you tonight. I may not be next time. One more word of advice. You are a hot mess. You need to do something about that.”

Then my cat put her head out of the bag and said, “Maaaaoooo.”

“That’s a cat. You have a cat in your man-bag,” said Kyle Gunner.

Then I said, “No shit Sherlock. Of course she is a cat. And this is a satchel, not a man-bag.” Then I snarled at him with my fangs and almost stopped his heart from fear.

I left him standing alone in the dark as other vampires watched, and waited from the shadows.

Then I heard one of the vampire women whisper to her friend, “Oh my God,  Vlad is sooooo cute.”

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I stand outside under the full moon watching the bats play at night. A large owl flies by. I hear a mocking bird call in the night. The wind blows gently and dances through my hair. Gillian comes behind me and puts her arms around me, then rests her head on the back of my shoulder.

For all of the confusion there are constants. I am in love, and I am cute. Those are two things which I am not sure I will ever understand.

~ Vlad

This is the 30th Vampire Diary Post. For more of Vlad’s Vampire Diary (from the beginning) CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Music to My Ears (Broken Record Edition)

Dear Diary,

When one is imprisoned in a crypt for three hundred years one misses out on a lot of things. The past three hundred years went fast and were full of wonders which I missed being hellishly locked in a dark damp coffin inside of an ivy covered crypt. I hate ivy.

There is so much that used to be that I have not seen. Entire centuries and now dead technologies, fashions, and ways of life have vanished before I could know what they were but everyone aside from me knows what these things are, even if they were not born before these things happened.

Two days ago someone said he sounds like a broken record.

What did he mean. Did his numbers not match up? I asked.

I was told that he repeated himself.

“What is this record of,” I asked.

“It could be anything, I don’t know,” said the woman I was speaking with.

“I do not understand. Is it software such as an Excel spreadsheet?” I asked this trying not to sound old fashioned and completely ignorant of popular culture.

“Records. Phonograph records,” she said. “You know, like vinyl?”

“Oh I am sorry. I must have misunderstood you. The noise in this place interferes with my hearing,” I said to her. Then I looked into her eyes and made her forget everything except her desire to have me put my lips upon her neck and sink my teeth into her flesh and drink her blood.

We left and went to her apartment. She was lovely. But I could not help wondering why anyone would be concerned with keeping poor records of something called phonographs and how they would compare to a man who keeps repeating himself. I left her asleep with a smile on her face, and about a pint less blood and no memories of my bite.

Few automobiles were on the road as I drove home. I thought about my car that allows me to play thousands of songs, talk on the phone, and tell me directions from a small woman’s voice. I took the speed up to ninety-five miles per hour. I would talk my way out of a ticket because I am a Vampire and I can do that. Then I slowed down. I understand why people like cars. I understand the power. I listened to opera music in my car and sang along. It made me happy and less confused.

It was 3:34 a.m. when I stopped to obtain gasoline for my car. When I was outside I could hear two women standing by their car. I could hear one saying, “Damn he is one hot looking man.”

I did not feel hot. I am a Vampire. I never feel hot. Putting my hand on my forehead I could feel no sweat. I do not sweat. I do not understand.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I spoke with my Vampire lover Gillian about what is a record. She did not roll her eyes but I knew she had the burning desire to.

“Dear Vlad, it is not an accounting record or ledger. It is a disk that music is recorded on. It is a recording. It is a disk made of vinyl that came out before the digital stuff you listen to now. When a record is scratched it skips, which means it repeats the same part of the song over and over. That my darling is where the expression broken record comes from,” she told me.

“How should I have known? Show me what this record looks like,” I said.

She went to YouTube, one of my sources for information about this confusing modern world, and found a recording of a record playing the Ramones. I know the Ramones. I have a See Dee.

 

Gillian started to explain the Addams Family but then she stopped and just smiled. I am sure sometimes she thinks I am an idiot.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today I took Jane the coyote pup to the dog park. A dog park is a place for dogs to run and play with each other. Jane is wild but not so wild. She has the body of a coyote but the soul of a Werewolf. No matter. She is now a member of my household.

I was told coyotes are not allowed as pets. At the dog park I was asked if Jane was a coyote.

I said, “no, she is a Scottish Squirrel Hound and Moon Shepherd mix.” I almost laughed at my own joke.

One of the women, one with a large black and white dog of mixed lineage looked at Jane and me and said, “you two are so adorable together.”

I smiled and wondered what her blood type was. Adorable. I believe that means cute. I do not understand how a strong Vampire man with broad shoulders and a coyote can be cute. Then again she did not know that I am a Vampire.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight Gillian and I went to dinner at a local pub. It is a place we frequent where people freely mingle and listen to bands that play music that is for folks, called folk music. Sometimes they play punk music, and punk pop, and assorted things I do not understand but strangely like.

Many people were there. Because we are Vampires the people are naturally attracted to Gillian and me. Gillian is also gorgeously beautiful. Heads turned as we walked about. One gets used to it but it is not as it used to be, but I can not explain. I do not have the words for such an expression. People now are forward in expressing their feelings. Also, I am no longer a Vampire King so I am just an ordinary man when I am out. It is in a way a freeing experience not to have people afraid to speak freely around me.

A server slipped at something on the floor as she brought a tray of wine glasses to a table. I suddenly found myself covered with red wine. How odd that I was the one who looked like I was covered in blood. I am so neat. I am getting good at this joke thing.

She said she was so sorry but I told her that I was not mad. I wanted to make sure she was not distressed. Putting my hand on her arm I calmed her with thoughts of, well, of me. The bartender told me to give him my shirt and he’d put something on it to get the stains out before they set in. I can appreciate that. All Vampires appreciate stain removal. As I took off my shirt there was a gasp in the crowd. I ran my hand through my golden hair pushing it out of my eyes, then I put back on my leather jacket, but did not zip it up. The women in the pub, young and old, just smiled and stared.

“He looks like something out of a bodice ripper,” voices whispered. “Oh my God.”

“Bodice ripper?” I whispered to Gillian.

She put her hand on my bare chest. “A romance novel with a strong handsome extremely sexually attractive male. The cover art often shows a well-built man without a shirt on. It is called a bodice ripper because, well, when he makes love to the heroine of the story bodices are often ripped, you know, in the throes of passion.”

I had to smile. It was something like this picture, only it was not because the women were wearing skinny jeans or short skirts.

When I was young, before I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years, many Vampires were of the school of thought that we (Vampires) should terrify people we drank blood from.

They would lurk in the woods, and steal into homes at night with fangs out and dirty claw like finger nails. They walked with hunched shoulders. Their clothes were musty and never washed. They smelled of death with breath like rotting flesh. Sunken eyes frightened their prey. They pallid skin stretched tight over their bones. No wonder. They never got enough blood.

More enlightened Vampires, as with any enlightened being, realized that making one’s self appealing and semi-delightful always attracts more prey. Who would want to eat food that stinks? Who would want to make love to a skeleton? Who would not want to scream when something that looks and smells dead crawls into their bed in the middle of the night?

Bodice ripper. I laugh now.

The bartender gave me my shirt back with the stains washed out. I laughed and told him that it was no problem. We talked and he told me that his band was coming out with a record. They were going to put it on vinyl. I knew what he was talking about. I knew what that was. What is it that is said…small world. Yes, it is a small world.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I sat in the dark under the stars with my cats, Jane the coyote, and Gillian. We talked of how the world has changed, in both good and bad ways.

Then Gillian said, “Let’s pretend we’re in a bodice ripper novel.”

And we went inside and did exactly that.

I like these bodice rippers. I like them a lot. What is that expressions. Ahhh yes, music to my ears.

~ Vlad. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Drive Me Nuts

Dear Diary,

As a former Vampire King,  I find myself reflecting on my place in the universe. I understand my unique position to reflect and look back and compare, then and now. I am at a loss for words. After being locked in a crypt for three hundred years, then out for two, this new world still keeps me confused and baffled. It is as if I have been dropped into a mad house.

My neighbors invited me to the PBR Championships. PBR stands for Professional Bull Riding.

I am to understand that we will go to the large arena and watch men ride large angry bulls. While entertainments of my past included bear wrestling and snake dancers there was nothing of this scale and magnitude.

My lover Gillian placed clothing on the bed. “Wear these Vlad.”

I looked at what she had brought. Blue jeans, a brown shirt with an odd collar, boots, and a brown hat.

“What is this?” I asked her.

“Wrangler jeans, a sexy button up shirt, cowboy boots, and a cowboy hat,” she said.

“But we are going to see bull riding, not cow riding. This reeks of  Halloween.”

“Vlad, I’m not going to spend another three hours trying to explain it to you. Just remember Wrangler Butts drive me nuts.”

“Three hours? You jest. You can tell me in a few minutes. What are Wranglers and why do their butts drive you crazy? Why should I remember something you have never told me before, and I do not understand.”

“Vlad, for someone who used to rule a kingdom…” She put her lips to mine, and ran her hands down my back and into the back of my pants. That did not get me into the new clothes, but it did get me out of what I was wearing at the time.

I decided to wear whatever she told me to the Professional Bull Riding event.

~ Vlad

2017-01-28-19-33-47

Dear Diary,

I do not understand the term cowboy. They are neither cows or boys.

I looked up Western and cowboys and bull riding on the Internet. It seems one must have a truck. I do not have a truck. I do not haul large things. I could haul my cats but that would not be wise. Cats do not like to be hauled.

I have a car. It is black. It is fast. I do not haul things. Last night the coyote pup Jane rode with me as I searched out blood and adventure. The adventure part is my attempt at humor. Gillian said I must work on my humor. I told her no and slept alone that day. On the night out with Jane there was no adventure, only blood. Jane, who has the soul of a Werewolf, sat on a blanket on the back seat while I drove. I held her in the crook of my arm while I made my usual rounds at night spots and taverns. Jane is what I believe is called a “chick magnet.” There were no chickens, but all of the women and many of the men were attracted to her cuteness, almost more than they are attracted to my cuteness (which I am still baffled to understand.)

It is said that one should not live with a coyote because it is a wild animal. One should not live with a Vampire either, so I see no problems with Jane.

I would have maybe enjoyed living in the Wild West where coyotes roamed. Then again coyotes roam my neighborhood in what is called suburbia. There are also creatures who wear masks called raccoons. These animals have hands and come to my house at night like thieves. While I researched cowboys I found someone called the Lone Ranger. I am sure he was a raccoon. His side kick must be the thing they call a possum for they both travel at night like Vampires and bats. Now I know. I do live in the Wild West.

When I returned home the cats yelled at me from the front porch, and hissed at Jane. The former Vampire King then fed his subjects who all curled up together and slept while he brooded.

~ Vlad

2017-01-28-19-19-07

Dear Diary,

Tonight I experienced the PBR Event. Professional. Bull. Riding. It was in the new arena called Golden 1 Arena. Why do they call it Golden 1. It is not gold. I saw no gold. Gillian told me to chill. I told her that I was already cold. We are Vampires therefore we are chill. She told me to be quiet. I told her to chill. That made me smile. Gillian was not amused.

As with all events that have to do with sports there is great pageantry. I sat back and could almost feel the wind on my face from days when I would watch the flags fly along the walls of my castle as my subjects cheered at great events I would hold for my citizens. Gillian took my hand and I was back into the present, where I was a cowboy.

A man dressed as a clown in red, white, and blue, danced and said funny things. A “kiss cam” forced Gillian and me to kiss. Then the bull riding began.

The bulls are huge. A rope made of cloth is tied around the waist of the bull, like a belt. A man then sits on the bull. Then the bull, an animal who weighs 2,000 pounds, jumps and kicks until the man falls off, or until about 8 seconds have passed. I imagine the bull is like my cats and gets a treat when he goes back into the pen after the ride.

I wondered if these magnificent animals were killed, but they are not.  I was glad.  The men who ride bulls are from all over the Earth but most tonight were from the USA. I could not take my eyes off of these bull riders. We sat in an arena which is what from what I understand is like something out of a science fiction story, something I could have never imagined before now, in my old life – and now I am here and watching men ride bulls. Bulls. Animals. Large fierce animals. Not cars. Not machines. It is a game of skill between animal and man.

Then the clown told everyone to sing the song. Everyone sings that song here. Don’t Stop Believing. I heard the man sitting behind me saying it has to be with Steve Perry, not the current imposter. They sing this song everywhere and at every single event around here. Even I know the words now. Yes, Vlad the once feared Vampire can sing every single word. The blood of the Twenty First Century is now in my veins.

At a break Gillian took my hand and said she wanted a beer. Out we went into the main hall.

I hear the giggles and muffled squeals, and the gasps as I walk by. I tipped my hat as instructed by Gillian, winked, and gave a smile without my fangs. I will be well fed tonight. I say, “ladies” in a low voice, and they giggle and run into each other.

I hear one woman say to her friend she would like to ride me like a wild bull. I couldn’t imagine jumping around trying to get rid of her, then I thought for a moment, then it occurred to me what sort of ride she was speaking of. Oh.

Then I heard a woman say, “Wrangler butts, drive me nuts.” Now I understand.

Gillian and I arrived home just as the sun came up. I did not sleep with my boots on.

~ Vlad

2017-01-28-19-23-02

 

 

~ End

 

Cowboy

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

Kissed by a Vampire

 

 

Vampire Diary: Fangs Giving

Dear Diary,
I was sitting at a night club bar and a woman sat down next to me. She asked if I was spending the Thanksgiving day with my family.

“I do not know where my family is,” I said.

Then she asked, because people are always curious, “How about your parents?”

“My father is dead,” I told her.

Then she said, “I am so sorry. What about your mom?”

“I have my mother’s heart,” I told her.

I do have my mother’s heart in a box in an upstairs closet. It is now dried up with a silver bladed knife running through it.

I did not tell her that. I told her, “I have a sister, and maybe a cousin I could find. They might be dead. They might be alive. Who can tell?”

She gently put her warm hand on my arm, “What about grandparents Vlad?”

“My Baba. I am sure she is still alive. My Baba is a fighter. I had a wife once too but it has been centuries since I’ve seen her.”

HA HA HA. For my friend, she thinks centuries means a few years. I have not seen my former wife for five hundred years. That is a lot of centuries.

~ Vlad

;

Dear Diary,

Tonight I saw my young friends Brittany and Kate. I can say they are friends. I am happy in their company. I drink their blood. They are happy in their ignorance.

We met at a place with loud music. It was too loud like something out of a nightmare. I offered to take the women home in my car because of the rain. As we drove along dark city streets suddenly the women screamed. I stopped. In front of us a car had hit an animal. It continued on. The women got out of the car and grabbed up a small body and brought it into the car. I wrapped it in my coat.

“It is just a puppy,” cried Kate with rain water and tears running down her face.

“It died,” cried Brittany.

I could not let the women be in so much distress. I am a Vampire and my heart is cold, but it is not made of stone and dirt. “I will bury the beast,” I told them.

When I arrived home, after dropping off the women, I put the small gray body in a box. It was still warm. I suddenly thought of my mother who loved all dogs. I went to the closet and took out the jeweled box that contained her heart.

When I was a young man of only thirteen, my mother vanished. Some said she left with a lover. Some said she was killed by the Vampire Hunter Guillaume Morte. Then one night a box was left at the door of the castle with my name on a tag. Young Vlad. It was written in blood. Not my mother’s, I knew the blood was not hers, but the heart, I knew the heart was hers. My father locked himself in his room for a week in great mourning and refused to look at the heart. He told me to put it away, and say her name only in the dead of night.

“Dear Mother, how I miss you,” I whispered as I pulled the blade out of the dried out heart.

The heart vanished with a wisp of red black smoke. Before me stood an apparition of a woman, not my mother, but a ghost of a young woman I had never seen before.

“Who are you?” I asked.

She glared at me. “Who are you?”

“I am Vlad, King of Vampires. Former Kings of Vampires.”

“My name is Jane. I’ve heard of you. You got locked in that crypt for three hundred years. Bummer.”

“How did you know? You’ve been in this box for centuries.”

“I hear things,” she said. “You know, you’ve been carrying me around forever.”

“I thought that was my mother’s heart,” I exclaimed. I did think it was my mother’s heart. How could I have been so mistaken.

“I’m a Werewolf. You know, silver blade, and all that BS. I swear, I’m still pissed off at those guys for stabbing me and cutting out my heart. Damn it. What the Hell is wrong with people?”

I suddenly had a thought. “I have a dog. It is dead but the body is still warm. You could take that body.”

Jane went over to the small body still wrapped in my coat. “That is no dog.” Then she kissed the pup.

“I do not understand,” I said to the ghost.

The pup stood up and walked to me. Then I realized that this was no dog. It was no wolf. It is an animal I have only seen in North America – a coyote.

“She will be your companion, and your familiar,” said Jane. “Her wild soul has left her body so I left her with a piece of Werewolf soul. Hey Vlad, I normally don’t keep company with Vampires, or even like you guys, but thanks for getting me out of that box and freeing my heart. I gotta go. Have fun.” Then Jane vanished into a burst of opalescent light.

The cats walked in large circles around the pup. “I will call her Jane,” I said to them.

The small pup then squatted and peed on my floor.

~ Vlad

__________________

Dear Diary,

The blood of small children and virgins is highly over rated. It lacks in character and depth.

The great feast of Thanksgiving will be here this week. I must prepare. I know almost nothing of this feast. I watch wild turkeys walk in flocks up my street, but these are not the turkeys who will be consumed along with blood red cranberries, bread soaked with broth and cooked until it is dry, and great quantities of root vegetables, and pies.

I will have the blood of poets. I will have the blood of football players. I will have the blood of strong middle-aged women who rule their homes and make the feasts. Then I will sleep it off.

My neighbors asked my Vampire lover Gillian and me to join them in their feast. Gillian asked what we could bring. Blood of course, but Gillian said no. She is bringing roasted yams with garlic and thyme, and a few bottles of Cabernet. She said we must eat a small quantity of food, then have our blood at home. I told her that I know my manners. I am not uncouth or without cultural sensitivity. It makes me angry that sometimes she treats me as if I am a soul-less Vampire of the shadows who is driven by nothing but blood lust.

I even made a joke, the kind that makes one laugh, but Gillian was not amused. I said we would bring blood pudding and blood sausage to the Thanksgiving feast. She said I was disgusting. I made a joke. It was funny. I told her we could bake black birds in a pie. She rolled her eyes at me. I do not understand women and their lack of humor.

When I go out at night among the humans I hear men speaking to each other about their women. Their women treat them like children, questioning their actions, and telling them to behave and use their manners. They are told not to speak of politics, and sports, and automobiles. They talk of building man-caves to escape. This must be a bad situation if they wish to leave the comfort of their homes to live in caves away from women. I wonder about these caves and what motivates the women to drive their men away.

When I return home Gillian greets me with cold passionate kisses and leads me up to our bed. I think I will not have a man-cave.

~ Vlad

________________

Dear Diary,

Today, during the day, I walked the wee Were Souled Coyote pup named Jane to the park in my neighborhood. My two cats followed me with their tails up high.

When I arrived I found myself surrounded by the women who were out walking. There are always women out walking at this park. It is what Modern women do. They walk in serious ways alone or in groups. And they surrounded me.

They said Jane the Were Souled Coyote pup and I were so cute. They said the cats were so cute. I am a grown man, almost six feet tall, how I can be considered cute as a six week old pup or cats I still do not understand. The logic of these women is beyond me. What is this cute. I have yet to find an answer that will satisfy me.

I smiled at them, minus my fangs, with a small wink, and show of my dimples. I have found, even centuries back, that my special smile with a wink makes women weak at the knees and in my power.

Chuck who lives around the corner told me that puppies are “chick magnets.” Chicks are women. I did not know that until recently.

The grown women giggled like girls and all wanted to hold the small coyote pup. When they asked what kind of dog she is I told them a German Shepard, Queensland Healer, Husky mix. I know one, in this modern age is not supposed to keep wild animals, even if one is a Vampire, but this pup is no longer all coyote. She has the soul of a Werewolf, and no longer has her wild coyote pack soul. She only has her lone soul. The full moon has just passed, but I will be ready for the next full moon. I wonder what will happen, if anything. Time will tell.

In the meantime I will continue to earn my dinner with a wink and a smile.

And if cute helps I will do that too, whatever cute may be.

~ Vlad

;

Kissed by a Vampire

Click here for all of Vlad’s Vampire Diary Adventures.

;

;

;

Random Public Service Announcements (for Vampires and Regular Humans)

Random Public Service Announcements

Cats

Flat Cat (Oscar)

Flat Cat (Oscar)

I used to let my cats go out at night. I mean, they’re nocturnal, I’m more or less nocturnal so it made sense. Unfortunately there seems to be more urban and suburban wild life around in the past few years. We’ve always had a lot of possums, skunks and raccoons around but lately there have also been coyotes. They’re everywhere and thrive among people. But with people come pets. Coyotes eat cats and sometimes dogs. So if you hear of coyotes in your area please keep those kitties inside at night so they don’t end up being midnight snacks. If you have rabbits, chickens or other critters in outdoor hutches make sure they’re safe and secure.

Writing

 Vampires write love letters tooWhile I am not doing NaNoWriMo this year I encourage any budding writers to give it a try. That is National Novel Writing Month. The goal is to write a novel in a month. Ready – Set – Write!  It is a lot of fun plus you can interact and meet other writers with the same like-minds as yours.

http://nanowrimo.org/

Guys

I have enough talent for you baby

November is also Movember. Guys grow some hair on your face in support of prostrate health and Prostrate Cancer Research.

http://us.movember.com/

Thanksgiving

Thanksgiving is coming the last week of the month (for my American readers).  And why yes, Vampires DO celebrate Thanksgiving. Thank you for asking. I’ll have more on that in the coming weeks, including recipes (I kid you not.)

20121021-164752.jpg

Romance

Everyone needs a little romance! You’ll find it in Passion’s Prisms!

As the weather grows colder and the days grow longer (for my Northern Hemisphere friends, for those to the south think beach books) we spend more time inside with a pot of tea (or mulled blood) and curl up with a good book. For a short time the short story anthology Passion’s Prisms. I love this book. And good news – for a limited time it is available on Amazon and Goodreads for only $0.99. Can’t beat that price. Plus, not only will you feel good reading this book but you’ll know that part of the proceeds go towards MS Research.

1375035_559416020797852_910199205_n

A collection of romantic stories and poetry by various authors. Love can be many things. For some, it’s sweet and sensual. For others, it’s tragic and painful. There are as many sides to love and romance as there are souls to experience them. Just as a prism transforms a beam of light into all colors of the rainbow, love blooms to its full potential, taking on a different shade with every heart through which it passes. The stories and poetry in this book are as diverse as their composers. You will find a bit of everything in here, from tenderness, sensuality and magic to the inevitable darker sides of romance – pain, tragedy and deceit. We are WPaD (Writers, Poets and Deviants), a group of writers from all over the world who have come together to collaborate on a series of themed charity anthologies. A portion of royalties will be donated to Multiple Sclerosis research in support of a fellow writer who lives with MS. Passion’s Prisms is our salute to romance, presented for your enjoyment.

A class act at a cheap thrills price!

Find it on Amazon: http://www.amazon.com/s/ref=nb_sb_noss/177-8471928-6875604?url=search-alias%3Daps&field-keywords=Passion%27s%20Prisms%20WPaD

Fantasy – Free for the next 4 days

Exceptionally fun fantasy stories!  If you have a Kindle you can download for FREE “Dragons and Dreams: A Fantasy Anthology.” If you haven’t yet it will be free the next few days
http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00EK5T3XQ

This books is a lot of fun!

If you don’t have a Kindle you can download the Amazon Reader (Kindle for PC) for FREE – YES FREE.

912jXCZFVyL._SL1500_

Vampires

Halloween is over but we’re still here. If you hear any reports of Vampire Hunters or rogue Vampires please call your local Circle so they can take care of it. Please educate your kids, especially your Vampire teens of the risks. Also make sure all new Vampires and those Vampires who are out of touch get the same education. It is now time for outreach folks.

redvdrinksCraig from Vamp Blood and Liquor wanted me to let you know that he is having a sale on Poet’s Blood – 20% off per 12 bottle case. AB Blends are also on sale through Thanksgiving. And all RED California wine is on sale this month.

Vampire Maman

Have a fun weekend everyone,

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Preditors that pass in the night – or – You can’t leave a note for a coyote

Coyotes were out last night. From my front yard I could hear a pack of them singing over the roofs of the houses on the next street. In the wee hours of the morning a lone Coyote padded across the dry grass behind my house.

Oscar the cat had spent the night out and worried me sick.

I’ve never heard so many coyotes – ever. This year it was dry so they have easy targets in the homes that invade their territories. Dog food, cat food, cats and dogs supplement their usual mice, rabbits, birds and snakes. Plus homes are a water source for coyotes who just don’t feel like making the trek down to the nearby creeks and lake. And a few people within walking distance of my home have decided to become urban chicken farmers – a boon for coyotes. They might have well put us a neon sign saying “EAT HERE. CHICKEN DINNERS.”

Don’t get me wrong, I adore the happy sounds of chickens when the sun comes up (and no roosters).  Chickens are cute. Chickens are fun. Chickens make eggs. Chickens are coyote magnets.

And unlike dogs, coyotes don’t belong to anyone. Had it been dogs all these nights I could have left a note.

note

As you can see, there is a reason my husband tells me not to leave notes. Maybe it is the sloppy handwriting or the shabby stationary. There have been some discussions about my un-lady-like use of language… Well…back to the point of this essay…

I can’t leave a note for a coyote. A coyote who is on her own turf.  A coyote who, as long as she stays out of my yard, has every right to go to work and support her family and take care of her children, just like I do. A coyote who can’t read (there lies the problem.)

And no, I can’t do anything about these animals except watch them in the dark and keep my screaming cats inside. The dog knows better. She won’t go outside after dark if coyotes are around. Good dog.

I lock eyes with two glowing orbs in the tall grass behind the oaks. Two more come into view. I have plenty of sway with some creatures of the night, but coyotes listen to no one. The eyes turn out to be a possum who runs away perhaps to avoid being invited to dinner by the coyotes.

It sort of makes me wonder about the whole Vampire thing. Who is the predator and who is not? OK I just wrote that to sound deep. It’s a bunch of BS. I never wondered about that sort of thing. It is what it is.

Oh look, Adam is here.

Oh look, Adam is here.

This morning I saw Adam my Werewolf friend. We’re doing a photo shoot together in a few weeks (another story, just work stuff).

“Hey, Adam,” I said “I have a coyotes behind my house. Can you help me…”

Adam cut me off and gave me the look. “Really? I know what you’re going to ask and the answer is no. I don’t deal with coyotes. Wolves, yes. Coyotes, absolutely not. I can’t believe you even asked me that.”

I wanted to remind Adam that I can’t believe he almost ripped out my throat a year ago, but I kept it to myself.

When I see a coyote they won’t look at me directly but they’ll turn and trot the other way. Or they’ll ignore me as if I’m a shadow, for to them I am nothing but a shadow in their coyote lives.

I have to wonder if coyotes have souls, or if they visit the souls of dogs at night and create nightmares.

Do they come back as ghosts and haunt the woods they share with the bobcats and deer? I doubt that. Only humans are foolish enough to let their souls slip into the realm of ghosts.

So I guess at night I’ll hear their parties and songs and just be glad it is coyotes and not my teens out there making all the noise.

And I suppose everyone else should be glad it is just coyotes and not Vampires (just had to throw that in.)

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Coyotes that pass in the night

Coyotes that pass in the night