Short Story Sunday: Too Hot To Wear Black

Damn. At 107°F is was way too hot to wear black.

It felt like 250°F inside because the air conditioning had gone out the day before. It was Sunday and nobody could come out and fix it until Tuesday or maybe even Wednesday.

Elizabeth looked in the closet and grabbed a blue and yellow sundress. Screw wearing any kind of bra. It was too hot for that. She slipped on a pair of black flip flops and small diamond posts. It was even too hot for dangling earrings or hoops. Earrings in this weather tended to get hot and burn her neck.

She threw some extra clothes, her laptop, the book she was reading, and whatever else she’d need for the next few days in a backpack.

In the kitchen two dogs were laying on the tile, which was still cooler than anything else in the house. Sage, an extremely large black and tan German Shepard was snoring. Jack, an old yellow Lab mix with a black tail and white feet was wagging his tail as he hoped his cuteness would bring treats.

After packing up dog bowls, toys, treats and kibble she called the dogs out to the car.

When she opened the car door the blast of hit air was like a friggin furnace. The dogs jumped in the backseat. Elizabeth turned on the air conditioner and headed out.

Damn it was hot. The radio played some Fleetwood Mac song. Damn she hated Fleetwood Mac. How could anyone listen to that crap. She flipped through the stations and got an awful live version of Jimmy Buffet singing Boat Drinks in front of an obviously stoned crowd, then she got some whiny girl singing about her boyfriend. She’d had enough with annoying female vocalists. She turned on the classical station but someone had decided it was a good day to play brass band music. It reminded her of Monty Python. Finally she stopped at Oh My My by Blue October. Finally something that she could sing along to and wouldn’t make her want to scream every cuss word she knew.

At a stop light both of the dogs started baking at a car with three barking dogs. All tails were wagging. It was just a hey hey hey we’re all riding today.

The dogs had been fed before they left but Elizabeth’s stomach growled. It was so hot lately that food wasn’t a priority and frankly it was a hassle. She’d eaten the day before when she went to her friend Jax’s house. He’d cut her hair for her and she’d had lunch there. Nine inches off. She shook her head and let the new layered bob swing against her cheeks. She loved it. It had been a long time since she’d had sort hair. This was fun and sort of messy and perfect.

Passing the cemetary Elizabeth glanced over at the crypts under the trees. Even in the shade it would be over 120 inside those things. She could almost hear bones cracking and dried flesh splitting underneath suits and lace dresses. How could anyone think Vampires lived in crypts. Not only was it too hot in the summer but there wouldn’t be anyplace to put your books or clothes, or anything else. There’d be no guarantee of any Internet connections. It would be nasty and uncomfortable even in a large family size crypt. Where did people get the ideas about Vampires living in crypts. The ghosts alone would drive anyone mad.

Arriving at her boyfriend Austin’s house Elizabeth hearded the dogs through the front door. She looked into the large family room where two college aged girls were watching a movie. Since the pandemic Austin were letting them stay there. They’d been kicked out of their campus housing. He was a professor living alone in a rambling old Arts and Crafts style house so he had room for the girls and a male graduate student.

Austin was in the kitchen cutting up vegetables.

“It is soooooo hot,” she said, kissing him. She didn’t bother with social distancing. This was a safe spot.

“Oh wow,” said Austin. “I love your hair like that.” He ran his hands through it and kissed her again.

“Thanks. Damn it is hot today. My air conditioning is out. I’ll be here a few days if you don’t mind.”

She opened the freezer and pulled out an ice tray. Then she filled a tall glass with red frozen cubes and topped it with ginger ale and rum.

“That looks disgusting,” said Austin. He let her keep frozen human blood in his freezer. When a man is in love with a Vampire he’ll let her keep just about anything in his freezer.

“It is lovely. You should try it sometime,” she said.

The dogs danced all around Austin.

“Where’d the dogs come from?”

Elizabeth smiled. “Sage and Jack. Their owner died. They’re Covid Orphans. They would have gone to a shelter so I took them. What? Don’t look at me like that. I’ve had dogs before.”

“When was the last time you had a dog?”

“I don’t know. 1937. It was 1937. I had a beautiful sweet Afghan Hound named Bosco.”

Elizabeth filled a plastic bag with ice. “I’m going up to your room for a nap. I didn’t get any sleep last night. Do you think the girls will mind if the dogs hang out with them?” She didn’t wait for an answer. Austin had said something about waking her when dinner was ready but she hardly heard him. That would be in about three hours.

Austin’s bedroom was cool and dark. She dropped her dress to the floor lay on top of the comforter with the ice under her neck.

Oh my my. She closed her eyes and slept dreaming of a good foggy beach and a warm handsome man.

It was summer and way too hot to wear black.

~ end

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Cat Walk

Dear Diary,

With the advent of the pandemic I have had to be creative about my food sources. I must admit that I had become lazy due to the fact that I did not need to be overly resourceful.

Only months ago I could go out in the night and find people everywhere. Now the streets are empty. No long am I allowed to sit at a bar shoulder to shoulder with potential blood donors.

As with everyone else in my neighborhood I have taken to the ritual of the morning walk before the summer heat puts us all into comas. My cats follow me when it is cool, for when it is cool their paws do not burn on what is called Ass Fault. That is something that is somewhat confusing, the dark roads in a climate that turns so hot in the summer months. I would like it if the roads were perhaps a pale blue or maybe a dove gray with just a hint of silver sparkles. I do not know why it was the fault of the ass or whatever fool was building the road or why it is called such a slightly vulgar name.

Back when I was the King of Vampires, before I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years, only to be liberated a few years ago, most roads were dirt, or made of natural stones. Animals need not worry about the pads of their feet being seared off when they needed to travel. But I digress. I am not an expert in road construction and I fear I never shall be. According to my Vampire lover Gillian, the people who are supposed to build and maintain the public roads are also not experts in road construction but that is a story for another time. Ass Fault.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Without much for dinner last night I again went walking in the small hours of the morning. My two cats followed along as the air was still cool as yet not seared by the morning sun. My stomach was growling and my head growing light. I had to find food without being too obvious.

Two women stood talking, one on the sidewalk, the other on the porch of her house. I smiled and waved politely from the other side of the street. I could hear them talking, for I am a Vampire and I can hear quiet conversations from a long distance.

“He has been walking with his cats almost every single day. They’re so cute.”

“Oh my he is hot.”

“Blazing hot.”

I thought that was odd since it was still quite cool outside. I did not feel hot. I did not feel cute either. Cats are cute. Babies are cute. From what I understand, otters are cute. I am a grown man. I do not understand this word “cute”.

As I walked along I came across a younger man attempting to remove large pieces of lumber from the back end of his truck.

“Do you need help?” I called to him from across the street.

“Oh wow, that would be great,” he said. “I don’t have a mask on, but I can get one out of the house.”

“You are fine,” I said. “We will not stand close together.”

I could see that he noticed the muscles on my arms. Yes, I would be of help and not a problem.  The two cats sat under a tree in his front yard and started to groom themselves.

A task that would have taken the man hours alone only took a few minutes with my help. Vampires are always good for such work as we are both strong and fast. When we were finished a woman came out into the yard. She had a cast on her arm which I assumed was broken. Now I know why the man had no help.

“Thank you so much for helping,” she said. “Would you like to join us for breakfast?”

And so I did.

They were quite delicious.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

My Vampire love Gillian and I, in a successful plan to stay out of the heat did was is called binge watching Netflix. We watched many shows in which people attempt to find killers in an entertaining and emotional filled manner filled with conflicts and unimaginable twists. These towns in which these stories take place are incredibly dangerous places. We also saw a show in which people try not to fall into lava.

These are things I could not have imagined in a million years, much less my 676 years.

The cats were sleeping, curled up together in a chair. I leaned towards Gillian and kissed her neck.

“Let us stop binge watching murderers and go upstairs. I wish to binge on you my love.”

Gillian laughed with the voice of an angel, then took me upstairs where she was definitely not an angel.

Sometime staying at home and indoors is not a bad thing. Not at all.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 6oth installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read all of the posts and to start from the beginning of Vlad’s story CLICK HERE.

 

 

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Flip Flop

Dear Diary,

For the past week the days have brought hellish heat. I am a Vampire so I know what hellish is.

For three hundred years I was trapped in a crypt, only to come out five years ago. I had no idea my friends would transport me to such a place where the air is hot enough to cook eggs upon the sidewalk. It is what is called triple digits. This is all new to me. The thermometer was invented a few years after I was locked away. Sometimes it seems as though everything was invented after I was trapped away.

Where I have come to reside is considered paradise except now on the brink of summer. There shall now be months of such blistering and ungodly heat. This is no place for a Vampire.

My Vampire love Gillian and my friend from my childhood Randolpho were at my home today with gifts. Gillian presented me with shoes. She said they were shoes. I had my doubts.

“You expect me to wear these things?” I asked her that as I reluctantly took the objects from her hands.

“It’s too hot for closed toes shoes,” she said.

“But then do those in charge, politicians as you call them, wear flip flops?”

“No. At least not while they’re working,” said Randolpho.

I put the odd looking shoes on the table. “Then why do people say they flip flop. Are they on the ground like a fish out of water? Do they have medical conditions to be addressed?”

“Flip flop also means someone is changing their mind. The shoes are called flip flops because of the sound they make when you walk in them,” said Randolpho.

“Like a fish out of water,” I said.

“Sort of,” said Randolpho.

I could not imagine putting something between my toes and expecting it to stay on my feet. Then Gillian took out a pair of shoes made of straps and something that looked like leather but was not leather.

“What is this?” I asked. “You want me to wear sandals like a Roman or those people you who were once called beatniks. I know what a beatnik is.”

“These are Tevas. They’re waterproof and comfortable. You can walk in water with them,” said Gillian.

“Why would I want to do that?” I asked.

“I don’t know. If we go to the lake and you don’t want to step on rocks…” Gillian started to say.

“I do not go into the water out of doors,” I reminded her.

“If it’s hot we can for for night swims,” she said.

“I do not go into the water,” I said again.

“Why? It’s not like you’re going to shrink,” said Randolpho.

“I do not understand. Why would I shrink?”

“It’s a joke,” said Randolpho. Everything with him is a joke.

I said nothing. I would not ask the to explain it to me. It is frustrating to be thrust into fashions and ideas about entertainment that are completely foreign to me.

“Why don’t you like the water?” Gillian asked.

“I never learned to swim,” I said.

Both of my friends stood in silence as if I’d told them that I never learned to ride a horse.

“I will wear the flip flops today if that will make you happy.”

“You can’t swim?” Randolph said with a strange look on his face as if in pain.

“No,” I said.

“Vlad, you’re a Vampire. You’re the Vampire King,” said Randolpho

“I am aware of that fact,” I said.

Gillian put a pretty hand on my shoulder. “In 676 years you never learned to swim?”

“No, I never learned to swim. There was no reason for me to ever swim. Do either of you ever remember me swimming?”

Randolpho smiled. “Wait, you’re telling me that with your body, and your face you never had the inclination to come out of the water, with your gorgeous well muscled body wet, glistening in the moonlight, your golden hair slicked back, your blue eyes shining, and just a hint of fang in your come hither smile, while your admirers swooned at the sight of you?”

“That never once crossed my mind Randolpho. Never once,” I said.

For the rest of the day I wore the flip flops. I did not fall or trip as I expected to. I would rather go barefoot but I did not.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Randolpho told me today that if I wear flip flops on my feet nobody will suspect I am a Vampire. I told him that I appreciated the sage information. He told me not to be sarcastic.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

My cats do not like to swim. They are reasonable creatures. Why should I be expected to swim for I am also a reasonable creature.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today it was hotter than Hell, or so I was told. Gillian complained that she did not like this weather because necks would be hot and sweaty and taste like dirty salt. She pulled a packet of some sort out of her purse. She said they were called wipes.

“Take these to wipe off necks next time you go out to feed,” she told me. I appreciate her concern.

That night the air continued to be hot. Gillian led me up to the bathroom with the large shower and undressed me. Then we both stood under the cold water.

“You remind me of Randolpho’s description the other day,” she said as she ran her hands over my wet body.

In this new modern world there are things which will always confuse me, but then again there are things which will always come naturally without effort.

I said nothing as I kissed her, and banished the thoughts of Randolpho from my mind.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

This has been the 59th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read Vlad’s story from the confusing and cute beginning CLICK HERE.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

In the Distance on a Hot Day – Random Thoughts from Vampire Maman

In the distance

From my street

I can see snow

On the mountains

It was a hundred degrees today

I think of creatures

In their dens

In their trees

The hummingbirds

At the feeder.

 

Then you have to wonder about the Vampires under the floorboards drying up only to be found later by someone like me because my brother Aaron said I’m the best at finding them. I remind him that we’re not like them. Then he smiles at me with a flash of fang, and I wonder why I ever helped him in the first place.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Vampire Maman

Stay safe, wear your mask, wash your hands, avoid large gatherings, don’t be fucking stupid.

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. 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

You Don’t Tug on Superman’s Cape

images-1

It is almost 5:30 p.m. and 107 degrees Farenheight outside. I’m going to piss someone off with this post but maybe not. It is just too hot to care. Just like old people and tiny children who just say whatever they want.

This morning I took Eleora to the art museum. It was lovely. She made rude comments about the modern art. She made a racist remark about someone walking along outside of the museum. She is old. She forgets things. I said nothing this time. I just changed the subject. When one is with a 2000+ year old Vampire one learns to change the subject quite frequently.

Then we had lunch (a lovely cold type A blood soup with heirloom tomatoes) with my husband who was on a political roll. By then it was over a hundred degrees outside. I thought about our daughter who’d gone up north with her boyfriend to spend time in a cabin. It is only 102F there today. The poor kids are going to swelter. At least I know they’ll wear their sunscreen.

And now I’m home in my quiet house waiting for the cool dark night and Vampire things.   But that got me thinking about mysteries and strange heated things like the mystery surrounding George Reeves, and Christopher Reeve and coincidences and other strange things like Superman. I never think of Superman, except… maybe it is the heat. Maybe it has something to do with no spitting in the wind…

I’ve never been a big fan of the Superman franchise. Except for Christopher Reeve, and of course George Reeves, all of the other movie depictions have made him seem like some sort of weird overly pretty sissy. I love pretty men, but … come on you know what I’m talking about. These guys aren’t Supermen. They’re fashion models. No offense to fashion models – fuck it – I can’t say anything these days without offending someone.

But in defense of the not so masculine and memorable Supermen, they should consider themselves lucky.

Christopher Reeve, who was insanely talented in so many ways, and was also a heart-throb in the romantic movie “Somewhere in Time,” was in a riding accident. Tragically he became a paraplegic. But that didn’t stop him. It showed that he WAS Superman in body and soul. You know what happened. It was tragic, but he kept going. Damn.

George Reeves was murdered. The case has not been solved. Any thought on this would be interesting to hear.

The guy who originally illustrated Superman also drew S&M comics. The guy who drew Donald Duck also drew beautiful racy women (I have one of his original nudes in my own bedroom.) OK enough of these fun facts some of you might not have known.

barks2

By Carl Barks who later created Donald Duck. I wonder which illustrations he had more fun drawing. I have the original sketch of this in my bedroom. I think he enjoyed this one more than any duck.

I found a box of old comics including a large lot of Lois Lane, Superman’s Girlfriend. These are the weirdest comic books in the known universe. These were from the late 50’s and early 60’s, before the influence of Marlo Thomas and Mary Tyler Moore. Holy shit Lois made a fool of herself over Superman and Clark Kent. Seriously Lois, if you can’t recognize a guy when he changes his part and takes off his glasses then you need to get your eyes checked. Lois was smart, sexy, but always gave off the vibe that she really wanted to be a bad girl. She wanted to be a modern girl who was a woman with equal standing with men AND equal pay. She wanted to be the one wearing the tights.

It is 107 degrees farenheit outside (I already said that but I’ll say it again) and my brain is fried, but not enough to stop me from thinking about Lois.

 

The Bomb

A Lois Lane Story from Juliette aka Vampire Maman

“What the hell Clark? Tights?”

“I wear them to yoga, and palates.”

He was fantastic, but then again as soon as he opened his mouth to talk I was ready to fall asleep.

But my god the man was good in bed.

The next day I was still investigating a murder, and I stopped for coffee at a place called Krypto Coffee. I’m sitting there taking notes and sipping my iced vanilla latte when some bald guy sits down and tries to sweet talk me. He tells me how rich he is and treats me like I’m some dumb bimbo ready to fawn all over him.

I just picked up my drink and left. Fuck I hate when that happens. What is it with guys around here?

No sooner had I walked out there was an explosion in the building across the street. I could hear the sirens. I ran across and tried to help the injured people coming out of the building. Then I get body slammed and something picks me up and I’m all the sudden up in the sky.

I had the breath knocked out of me, and then I realized that I was in the arms of a flying man.

“I’m Superman,” he said.

“Please put me down,” I told him.

“I’m here to save you,” he said.

Then I looked at his face. “What the fuck Clark? Jesus Christ on a bicycle put me down.”

“How’d you know it was me?”

Lois_Lane_009

That is all I have right now. I’ll add my own illustrations to the story later. Maybe.

Anyway, that’s all I’ve got. Stay cool. Have fun. And don’t mess around with Jim.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman