Vampire Diary: Queer Eye for the Vampire Guy

Dear Diary,

Tonight I stood outside in the cool breeze, under the sky with few stars, only the moon and the planet Venus, and occasional airplanes. How different the world is where there is so much light at night that even when it feels dark we can not see the stars.

It was the year before Louis XIV, The Sun King, died. I did not find out that for another three hundred years. I had heard another group of Vampires had left for the New World. I missed the American Revolution. My own country, my own small bit of the world fell into chaos and ruin…

I stood under the night sky with the wind in my long honey colored hair fell to the small of my back. I wore a coat of the finest wine colored fabric trimmed with ribbons with gold thread. My boots were of the finest leather and the color of my jacket. My shirt was trimmed with lace. It would all have been approved of by the Sun King, or any king, because I, Vlad, was King of the Vampires.

Here I take a deep breath and wonder what the Hell happened. I was standing alone in my thoughts enjoying the night air in a Foreign land, returning from a trip to Italy, when the last thing I remember was the sight of a beautiful woman and a sharp pain in my heart. It had nothing to do with romantic thoughts.

My attackers, who are still unknown to me, sealed me in a crypt, and there I remained for the next three hundred years. My location was unknown to my family, friends, or allies. My citizens were without a leader and lost to the winds and ravages of marauding hordes. Those who were not slaughtered went into hiding. My friend Randolpho was one of them.

For three hundred years I lay in a state of trance like sleep, occasionally mixed with consciousness, unable to move, or cry out for help. I was dead, but undead, in a cruel state of hibernation. My heart had been stabbed with a stake but not fully pierced. My throat had been slit but my head not severed. It is rather disgusting now that I think of it.

Of course one can imagine what it was like when Randolpho and my love Gillian found me. First I heard the lock snap, and the gates of the crypt forced open, then the top of the tomb moved off, and then they opened the coffin.

“Oh shit,” was the first words that I heard, coming from the mouth of Randolpho.

Gillian bent over and kissed me. I opened my eyes. “It’s him,” she said in a now unfamiliar accent. “Let’s get him out of here.”

My fine clothing had all but rotted away. My hair was in tangles with years of bugs and mice having their children in my golden locks. When I awoke I found myself not in a coffin but in the softest of beds with sheets so softer than anything I could have imagined.

Everything smelled good. I smelled good like flowers and fresh spring herbs. I wore a soft robe, and drawstring pants. My hair was clean but now short to my collar. I often think of growing it long again but maybe not.

Gillian came in, not as I remembered her, corseted in a long gown and elaborate ringlets, but in a short skirt and a long jacket. Her hair was straight and down her back. The skirt was black leather, the jacket was a pink color I could not describe, her shirt was simple white lace. She smelled like oranges and roses. Later she told me it was grapefruit scented lotion. Her legs were showing. Almost all of her legs.

In all of my centuries I could have never imagined the modern world in which I had awakened into.

Louis XIV was the King of the Sun, and I was the King of the Moon.

Now I wear jeans. I am no longer King. As for Louis, alas he is still dead.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Gillian said, “You could wear a burlap bag and you’d still be cute.”

“What is a burlap bag?” I asked.

She rolled her eyes. The door bell rang and she left me standing, once again wondering what she was talking about.

I quickly looked up burlap bag on the Internet. Why would wearing a brown bag made of rough cloth make me cute? What did she mean by cute? Do I look like an onion or potato or coffee bean? Onions are not cute. I do not understand half of what she says to me.

Friends came to binge watch Netflix. I asked them once what Netflix represented. They told me that movies used to be called flicks because of how the film would flicker. They explained more but I was lost. I smiled and thanked them. Gillian and Randolpho tell me not to be overly concerned about the names of companies. I disagree. One never knows what might be lurking in secondary and secret meanings of names. They laugh at that. I scoff. I was not Vampire King for 306 years by not paying attention. The one time I did not pay attention I ended up in the 21st Century.

Randolpho and friends, Innocenzio D’Antonio, Jackie Rafferty and his girlfriend Willow came over. Gillian’s friend Elizabeth was also in the group. I have no kingdom but I have new Vampire friends.

Tonight we watched something called Queer Eye. In my wildest dreams I never imagined such a thing. We watched for five hours.

Five men go from town to town and fix the lives of other men who need fixing. They also help women, but mostly men. How do I say this… they are what is now called “Queer” or “Gay” which in this language means odd or happy, but also means they choose to be with romantic men.

Back when I was King of the Vampires in my old country and old centuries back world we did not care who anyone spent their time or lives with. It did not matter. We were Vampires and I was their King.

As a youth it did matter. There were men who were afraid of those who loved freely. They were violent against those who were not the same as them. That was my uncle and cousins who were unfortunately eaten by wolves or ended up somehow, mysteriously with their heads on posts.

They would torture me when I was young because they said I looked like a pretty girl rather than a boy. They also tried to take advantage of my sister and harm her. They were not the kind of Vampires who would binge watch Netflix. But they are no longer here and I look around my home and have decided that I need to how do I say, step up my game.

Alas clothing for men is so plain now. Everything looks good on me but it would be good to know what would look best on me.

Among the seven Vampires watching we used two entire boxes of what is called Kleenex while watching the shows. We might be Vampires but we are what do they call it, suckers for sentimentality and turning lives around. After all, that is what Vampires do. We turn lives around as well.

Antoni, Karamo, Tan, Bobby, and Jonathan made me laugh and think about style. I believe my hair would look good if it was styled the same as Tan’s. I do not like angels, as most Vampires do not, but in this case I believe Bobby is the human form of one.

When the sun came up and we decided to sleep, I wondered if Bobby would help an old Vampire design his guest chambers?

I almost stayed up to watch the rest of Season 2 without the others.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

In my bed, with Gillian asleep in my arms, I wondered how out of touch I am with the modern world. Maybe it is not that I am so out of touch as… I do not know. I seem to adapt.

It is a full moon. I wonder if I will hear the Werewolves howl tonight. I wonder if they will have their sinks clogged with fur. I wonder where they keep their clothing when they run as wolves. I wonder why even now Werewolves still dress in such tacky and distasteful clothing. I wonder if I get measured and order some new suits tomorrow how long it will take for me to get them. I wonder if ribbons and lace will ever be popular again for men to wear openly without shame?

Gillian runs her hand across my chest and up my neck. She never asks what I am thinking. She knows. Her cool touch to my face brings me out of my own thoughts.

“Do you think I need a Queer Eye?” I ask.

She smiles with a hint of fang. “No, just a few history books.”

Then she kisses me, and puts her naked leg over mine, and this is where I stop writing.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 39th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To start from the beginning (or randomly read them) 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: The Heavens Above

Cat on Mars

Cat on Mars

 

Dear Diary,

Satellite radio. I did not know it was from the sky, from space, from out in moon and stars. I was under the impression that the name was like all other product names – just something that sounds unrelated and like only a simple-minded fool would pretend to know what it was. Today I find out that satellites, small machines circle the earth and send down music. What magic is this? Now I feel like the dimple minded fool, only I am not a simple-minded fool. Just a fool from another time. When one is locked in a crypt for three hundred years … no, it is not just the three hundred years, it is the last hundred and fifty years that have completely confused me.

I only within the last year understood the concept of telephone, television, and the Internet. I do not even try to understand cable television or the pricing on that.

After being asleep for three hundred years, entombed against my will, I forced myself to accept the things I can not see in this world of today. That is things such as electricity. I can understand electricity because of lightning or static in my hair.

Today I found out that people go to space. They have a building in space, a place to study science, they call The International Space Station.

I did not know it was in the sky. I thought it was an observatory or a, what do they say, a research station in a remote location. An island maybe. But they are living in the sky, in a large research building.

“Do they have weapons in this Space Station?” I asked my lover Gillian.

“Of course not,” she said as if I were a child.

“What if they are attacked?”

“They won’t be attacked. Who would attack them? Aliens?”

“Maybe the Fat Boy in North Korea,” I said. The strange man-child came to mind with his threats and tantrums. Another man-child came to mind as well. “There are followers of men who now rule, or wish to rule, foolish men, men who use fear and diversion to gain power would use space to terrorize the people down below. Perhaps this could be who will attack them up in the International Space Station.”

“Vlad, please, that is nonsense. You need to stop listening to the news and all of the conspiracy theory nonsense. Nobody in politics has cared about Space since the last man left the moon.”

Last man left the moon? I looked out the window. The moon hung as a crescent in the sky. It was so far away. It was so beautiful and mysterious.

I turned back to Gillian, still trying to understand what she had said. “Men have been to the moon?” I asked her.

“Yes.”

“When?”

“1968 – 1972.”

“How many men?”

“Twelve.”

“That is all? Are they still up there?”

“No, they all came back, safe and sound.”

“They went up and did not go back up again? How did they get up there?”

“Rockets. Space ships.” Gillian went on to explain about rockets named after ancient gods Apollo and Mercury.

“Did they bring cats with them?”

“Don’t be ridiculous Vlad.”

“How do they keep mice off of their ships?”

My head was spinning. I could not even think of such rockets and ships. When I was a child once an odd man from the Orient came to our castle with rockets and fireworks. It was like magic. We had cannons as well, but that seems positively primitive now.

I went out into my back yard. I could not stop looking at the night sky. Men and women flew around the Earth in SPACE. Men walked on the moon. They went up to the moon and walked around.

I imagined Vampires in the International Space Station or on the Moon. Then Gillian mentioned Mars. Mars! We would starve.

The first time I saw an airplane I could not believe my eyes. I have now even been on an airplane that is flying. But this space thing is almost too fantastic to believe.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Gillian and I did what is called binge watching. We watched movies about Space.

We watched Apollo 13. We watched Star Trek. We watched a Trip to the Moon. We watched Gravity. We watched The Martian. We watched Guardians of the Galaxy. We watched Star Wars. 

I asked her about the first man Neil Armstrong. She pointed to the Moon and told me that was where his spirit was. She showed me the film of him walking on the Moon. The real film was not good like the movies but it was real. Then she told me about the Mars Rover. A self driven car on Mars. There is so much I need to learn. But I have time. I am a Vampire. I have a lot of time.

My head spins. I still cannot believe that I did not know about this space travel and science fiction.

Gillian my Vampire love looked at me and asked, “Did you notice one thing about the lead actors in the movies? Chris Pine, Chris Pratt, Harrison Ford, Matt Dillon?”

“What is that?” I was not feeling like playing guessing games.

“They are all cute, like you. That is cute.”

“But you said the raccoon was cute. Kittens are cute as well. I am not like a kitten or a gun carrying raccoon.”

“You are exceptionally cute my darling.”

I still do not understand this cute. I never will. But I will one day understand Space, the Final Frontier.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I heard of an event where teams from cities throw balls and run in a game for the honor of their cities. The champions fight to the end in what they call The World Series of Baseball.

This time a team called Cubs and a team called Indians went against each other in seven games. Bears and indigenous people both tough and still around after centuries of encroachments upon their territories. If they lived long ago the Cubs and Indians would have beaten each other to death with their clubs, and thrown balls at high speeds in order to kill each other. Now they run and we all sing songs together to celebrate. Everyone drinks beer. Everyone but small children.

I have come to appreciate Baseball. It is a sport which appeals to Vampires because of the elegance of the game, and the skill involved. And it can be played at night. Gillian said the players were cute.

Play ball. Take me out to the ball game. Buy me peanuts and Cracker Jack. Who is Cracker Jack? I will find out.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I remember once walking down a city street feeling hidden, stalking, so stealth, the Vampire King, hunting, then someone dumped the contents of a chamber pot from a second story window onto my head. I had forgotten about that moment. Later I burned down the building.

A fortnight ago I was walking down the city street, late at night. I was not thinking about Space or Baseball. I was thinking about blood.

Before me was a group of young women standing outside of a local drinking establishment. I stopped, as if to pretend to look in and see what entertainments were inside. The four young women smiled, giggled (they always giggle), and spoke to me. I could tell they were each deciding which one of them I would choose for my attentions.

The one with blonde hair with dark roots, and pretty brown eyes whispered to her friend, “damn he is cute.”

Now I am both damned and cute. I continued to charm the ladies with my cuteness and genuine seductive flattery. Then I stopped and bid them goodnight and moved on. I continued to walk the streets past businesses and public houses with my mind on the world in which I live.

I thought about when I was Vampire King and faced with many difficult decisions. Difficult decisions were never a problem. It was all of the difficult personalities. It was the ignorance of humans I had to deal with.

One day my Baba came to visit. Even in her ancient age she was beautiful and wise, with raven hair and deep eyes the color of a stormy sea. We stood in one of the towers of my castle dining on goblets of fresh blood mixed with wine. She looked at the sky with all of the stars then gave me a smile with her impressive fangs.

“Vlad,” she said. “You are the King of the Vampires, a title which carries great responsibilities. I am proud of how well you have handled yourself. The Vampires rejoice at your wisdom and courage.” Then she lifted her hand to the heavens and said, “the angels live among the stars. And down below, live the demons and their king. Men fear both angels and demons, but you fear them not, for you belong not to their indenturement, but to yourself. You fear nothing and that makes all above and below respect you. They will not try to be your friend or ally. Better than that, they will leave you alone.”

Then Baba kissed my cheeks and told me to find myself a wife. I was still young. A wife was the last thing on my mind. Women of course were always on my mind, but it would take a strong-minded Vampire woman to be my wife.

Years later I would meet the one who would be my wife at a Witch burning. She looked on bravely as her friends roasted. I took her away from that place, back to my castle where Vampires ruled. It was a place where she would be safe. It was I have no idea where my wife is now. Maybe gone off with some other cute Vampire. Who knows? Maybe she is on the International Space Station studying stars and the effects of zero gravity on heartless blood sucking predators.

Gillian came in and asked me what was on my mind, for to her, I looked annoyed. What not cute? I made a joke. She made a polite smile. I took her in my arms and showed her how cute I can be. That made her smile. It always does.

~ Vlad

 

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