Thought so…

I was my mail box and overheard two men walking by.

Guy 1: Look at all those chickens.

About a second passes.

Guy 2: Did I hear you say chickens?

Guy 1: Oh. I meant turkeys.

Guy 2: Thought so.



~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman






Vampire Diary: Music To My Ears

Dear Diary,

I continue to be startled, even I, the King of Vampires, with this world in which I have come to be.

I was at a drinking establishment where mostly young people go. Many of the men wear beards, but out of style, not from some religious beliefs. Not all have beards. I do not have a beard. Women there are open and friendly with men. They have beautiful necks that show when they tilt their heads back and laugh.

I was there, drinking Bourbon, scanning the room for possible dinner companions. It is never a problem. I am handsome and I am a Vampire. How do they say, “no problem.”

As I looked over the room my ears caught a conversation.  I, being a Vampire, can hear most conversations, even across a crowded pub.

A woman said, “My mom took me to see deaf leopard when I was a kid. It was great. We had so much fun.”

Then I heard her male companion say something about “the drummer lost his arm.”

“He killed it,” said the woman.

“Absolutely,” said the man.

I have never heard of such a thing in this Modern society in which we live. There must be a secret society where wild animals tear apart musicians. Then the one armed man killed the beast or that is what I assume. What mother brings her child to such things? On the other hand when I was a young child in Transylvania my Baba brought me to see a band of Werewolves disguised as priests burned at the stake. She told me to cover my ears to the howls and look at the sparks that danced high in the night sky like fairies. My Baba could always make everything into a gentle learning experience.

There were always those who would have their hounds rip apart bears, but I would have none of that. My hounds only ripped up men, and usually not musicians. At least not most musicians, though I did hear songs that were so bad that violence would be caused. The names were odd,  McArthur Park  and Thong Song. Playing those songs in public might their cause singers to be burned alive by anyone who could hear them.

No I am not making jests, or kidding as they say now. I overheard one man saying that a band called Jr. Jr. was THAT BAD. It made his ears hurt. His wife almost had an anxiety attack at a live performance waiting for another band to play. In these times music is taken seriously to the point where it is both physical and a religious experience. Often it takes place of the traditional religion. Being a Vampire I have no use for traditional human spiritual experiences unless it can bring a warm beating heart my way. But I digress from the conversations I was overhearing.

People spoke of work and relationships. Mostly of relationships, and violence, such of musicians getting arms ripped off by large African cats who cannot hear.

As I left I heard several women saying they thought I was cute. One said, “super cute.” With violence and food on my mind I tried not to take heed, but the term also used for babies and puppies confuses me.

~ Vlad


Dear Diary,

I am amused to be called a Millennial. I am the ultimate Millennial spanning eight centuries. My drivers license says I am thirty-two. I’ve been told I look younger. I smile at such observations.

Women have told me I am cute when I smile. I ask why and they smile. One said it was a dimple. My cuteness is a trap which brings me blood. I am learning to accept that which I do not understand.

~ Vlad


Dear Diary,

At the mail boxes this evening I asked my neighbor if she has taken her children to see animal spectacles. She told me that she brings her children to the zoo to see the animals. Then she started to talk about endangered species and zoo breeding programs. I asked her if the animals eat people. She said only stupid people. Upon observing the fact that I was serious she told me that the animals in the zoo are not there to eat humans.

She said, these exact words, “What the hell do people do where you come from?”

I told her, “I overheard people in a bar speaking of an African cat tearing an arm off of a man during a show. Mothers would bring their children to see this.”

She said, “That is sick, just like dog fights. Those people need to be locked up forever. They should be eaten by their own dogs.”

Now I am the one who is shocked. People in this place confuse me. They are shocked by violence yet they with to instigate it for their own ideas of justice.As we talked my cats joined us and rubbed their bodies against our legs. She picked up the small black cat and kissed his ears.

I asked her. “You would really feed those who make dogs fight to the dogs?”

“If I was in charge you bet I would,” she said. Then she kissed the cat again.

I like this woman. If I was still Vampire King I’d make her one of my advisors.

~ Vlad


Dear Diary,

It was easy being a Vampire when humans lived simple and uncomplicated lives. Life was hard centuries ago. One worked. One feared God. One had children. One died. Only a few had the luxury of thinking of anything more interesting. There was none of what is called leisure time, or career choices.

When I was small I assumed only Vampires and those of the church could read. I asked my father about it. He laughed and said most humans were nothing more than animals, like cattle. They followed the leader to slaughter as they basked ignorantly in the happy sunshine on a beautiful autumn day. Considering he was their leader I was no surprised by what he said. I did not like him but I found truth in his words.

I was at a bar again tonight. People mingled. My lover Gillian was to meet me later. I spoke with the bartender, a man named Jeremy, and scoped out the crowd. A young woman sat next to me. She smiled and brushed her hair out of her eyes in a way as to invite my interest in her. She told me her name was Brooke.

Then she announced that she was a vegan, and added with an intense starring into my eyes, that she was also an atheist.

I acknowledged her with a question. “Why was this the first thing you said to me?”

“This is who I am. It is my morality. I don’t believe in the enslavement of animals or the slavery of an unprovable belief system that is set up to control the masses.”

I would have rather discussed movies but I let her speak of the evils of the eating of flesh. Then I asked, her what she thought of Vampires.

She shook her head and rolled her eyes in her head. “Vampires and other such paranormal beings are an extension of the mythology of religion. They were created to make us fear what we do not understand. For example the sexual nature of Vampires was created to make us fear our own sexuality.”

I looked into her eyes and gently put two fingers on her hand. “What if I was a Vampire?”

She frowned. “You’re insanely cute but that is a stupid pick up line.”

I continued. “If I was a Vampire I would drink your blood.”

“That’s gross,” she said with a raspy squeal of disgust.

“Ahhh, but you are wrong Brooke. I’d first taste your mouth, and your breasts, and take you to my bed and taste all of you, before I would even touch your neck or a drop of blood. I would make you see the God you claim not to believe in. You would cry his name out loud. Then I would sink my teeth into your neck, and as I feasted upon you, I would give you visions of exquisite pleasure that you would never forget. You would be mine, body and soul. Your blood would be mine. Your desires would be mine. I would have you. All of you. And Brooke, you would beg for more.”

I could tell she was under my spell as she swayed in her seat. Her breath grew short.

She gasped and grabbed my arm so she wouldn’t fall off of her chair. “Now what?”

I kissed her, long and deep. “Dear Brooke, sit next to that young man over there, the one with the glasses. Order burgers. Eat bacon. Wear leather and wool. Don’t talk about religion. Take him home with you tonight. Be sinful.”

Maybe she will have faith and maybe this night see God with this young man. Maybe not. My mind had gone to other thoughts. I thought about demons I have seen both human and otherwise. I need something more than gathering food to occupy my time.

Gillian slid on the seat next to me. “Have you eaten yet?”

I smiled and kissed her. “No, just thinking about what I want,” I told her.

Later as I lay in bed with my arms around Gillian’s cool body, I thought about how smooth her skin was, and how flushed she looked with fresh blood in her veins. That was heaven, even for a Vampire. No I was not created to be feared. I was created to inspire. Now I laugh at my own thought, then turn to kiss my love again.

~ Vlad


Kissed by a Vampire















Short Story Sunday: You Gotta Believe

“Where’s that friend of yours, the Welsh Corgi?”


“Yeah Brad, the little guy.”

“He went north to the Pole. Seasonal help with the fat man.”

“No shit. With Santa?”

“His third year. He makes enough money to last the rest of the year. In fact in five years he’ll be able to retire.”

“No shit.”

“I shit you not.”

I was sitting in the booth next to a couple of Werewolves, nursing my coffee until Steve showed up.  I pride myself on the number of conversations I’m able to overhear everyday. Then again, I’m always listening. It is my nature to listen and know everything that everybody is saying and feeling. It has nothing to do with being naughty or nice and everything to do with being a Vampire.

Steve slid into the booth and faced me. I mouthed the words, “Werewolves behind me.”

He smiled then took my hand. “You look sexy tonight.”

If I’d had enough blood in my veins I would have blushed.

After coffee and cherry pie we walked the streets, in and out of art galleries and glancing into bars and restaurants. Christmas lights twinkled in some of the windows. Other windows were painted with holly and Christmas tree designs.

Outside of a trendy club we saw a couple of Vampires we knew talking to a group of attractive young women. They nodded at us. We nodded at them.

I kept thinking about the Werewolves in the cafe. “Steve, do you believe in Santa Clause?”

“Why are you asking?”

“One of the Werewolves was saying a small friend of theirs was going up to the North Pole to work for Santa Clause.”

“I didn’t believe in Vampires until, you know, until I became one.”

He had a point there.

We ducked into a bar full of happy people, all talking and catching up on the last Saturday of the Thanksgiving break. It was warm and collars became undone and scarves were loosened. It was a beautiful sight for a couple of Vampires.

After a moment in a dark corner in a dark corner with a sweet young man named Kyle I glanced up to see the Werewolves at the bar.

For the next half hour I’d be warm so I knew they might not suspect I was different from the rest of the bar patrons. I sat on the bar stool next to them. The large one glanced over at me.

“You were in the diner. You’re a Vampire.”

“Busted,” I said. “Hey, I don’t mean to be rude but while I was waiting for my friend I overheard you talking about your friend going to the North Pole.”

“Sure, no problem. Seriously I love the dude, we’ve been friends forever, but I’m worried he’ll end up being part of some sled team or eaten by bears on the way up.”

“Is there really a Santa Clause?”

He smiled. “We’re here aren’t we? I mean, it isn’t so much as him making toys and all. It is more of a fairy dust sort of thing if you know what I mean.”

I never thought I’d hear a Werewolf talking about fairy dust and Santa, but I’ve come not to be too surprised by anything. It was sort of nice.

A warm hand slid into mine. Steve was next to me, also warm for a short time. We spent the rest of the evening talking with the Werewolves about living like Santa Clause. You know, living in a world where everyone says they believe in you but you know they don’t.

As we went back out into the street I saw a couple walking a tan and white Corgi dog. I looked up into the sky and saw a shining star above the light of the city. Maybe Brad made it to the North Pole. You have to believe. After all, it is beginning to look like Christmas. You gotta believe.




Please Santa bring me some fangs...

Please Santa bring me some fangs…


I’m going to write to you…

Excuse me while I kiss this guy. What is that about?” I heard Cody’s voice.

I could hear my husband Teddy laughing. “No, Excuse me while I kiss the sky.

He was in the living room with my brother Val and our friend Cody talking about, what else, misunderstood lyrics.

Now Teddy had to show off, “Juliette thought Bryan Adams was singing I’m going to write to you.

I had to defend my reputation, “Hey, it was 1984. People still wrote letters.” Until a few months to ago I thought the lyrics I’m going to run to you were I’m going to write to you. 

I’ve been overhearing and slipping into a lot of conversations lately that seem like I’m just sitting on the edge waiting to slip off and slip away.

Yesterday while at my daughter’s skating practice I overheard some of the spectators talking about how good it was to see all of the children there. We’ve had a lack of kids lately.  One of them said something to me about the boys. It was the the Uber Type A Aggressive mom. Every club of any sort involving children has one of those. I mentioned to her  that it was good to see so many boys in the club now. She mentioned that the thirteen year old male was rude to her girls. I said that all of the little girls pester the jeebers out of the poor kid. That is what little girls do – if there is a boy around. I didn’t blame him for being rude all things considering. I’ve overheard the girls complaining about the said boy, but honestly look at what your daughters say to the kid. Besides that they won’t leave him alone. What is the poor boy to do? No matter what he does they do their best to bother him.

Then Aggressive Mom says, “Which little girls?”

I wanted to tell her, “Why, madam, your bratty little tattle tale princesses pester the crap out of that poor young man.” But instead I said, “All of the girls do it. That is what little girls do.”

Yes, I’m always glad to keep them wondering, least I didn’t spew out vulgar language, as much as I’d love to. And I mean I’d really love to.

I thought now that my daughter is a teenager and my son in college that I would be done with annoying parents. God knows elementary school was full of psycho parents from Hell. You know who I’m talking about. Unfortunately I can’t show my fangs.

This morning some guys were out working on my house and I overheard them talking. I wasn’t really listening in but then my ears alerted me to “I’m tired of being a sugar daddy. Now I have a sugar mama.”

So back to my men.

Clara was upstairs doing homework (her nightly 3-4 hours) so I took a glass of wine and the bottle into the living room with the guys.

Val was talking about a couple he just met. He wants to be their Vampire, which means he wants to add them to his regular donor list. They’re youngish, in their thirties, with hipster style and a taste for microbrews, Beat Poets, and act as though they’ve single handily discovered vinyl records. They’re really sweet people, so says my brother. Both are type A+ blood, Val’s favorite (mine too.)

He had another interesting fact about them. They both want to go Big Foot hunting. Yes, Sasquatch hunting. Searching for the giant people of the old woods and mountains. I should have laughed but even I got the chills and could feel the hair stand up on my arms.

I’ll admit, that being a Vampire, I shouldn’t have this reaction. Sure I heard the stories going way back to when I was a child in the 1860’s. But back when I was a kid anything that moved was likely to be shot, so if the Sasquatch family was around they were shaved and wearing suits and hats, that is if they wanted to stay alive.

I can imagine if there are Big Foots they’d be masters of ease dropping and Tom Foolery.

Then Val mentioned that they would talk about their passion as if it were a huge secret but they’d tell everyone they met about it. That might have been their vetting system. I don’t know. I couldn’t imagine a guy in a waxed mustache and man bun out in the woods chasing around large hairy humanoids. I couldn’t imagine him chasing anything except a round of Brie that had fallen off the kitchen counter and rolled across the floor. But I might be wrong. I have to remember to assume nothing about everything.

“Did you ask them if they’d ever consider hunting Vampires?” I had to ask.

They all laughed.

Then I thought of another song…There’s a Bad Moon on the Rise.

You know, you know, YOU KNOW what everyone thinks THAT sounds like.


~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman