Burning Question #27: One, two, three, Sasquatch and Thee.

10544614_web1_180216-POI-T-Sasquatch

There she was just a-walkin’ down the street, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do” Snappin’ her fingers and shufflin’ her feet, singin’ “Do wah diddy diddy dum diddy do” She looked good (looked good), she looked fine (looked fine) She looked good, she looked fine and I nearly lost my mind

Warning: This week’s burning question might be considered by some to be in poor taste. If you have a delicate whatever just wait for Short Story Sunday and I’ll have a nice sweet romance for you instead of this obnoxious post. Otherwise read on.

Call it Bigfoot. Call them Sasquatches. Call them Yeti. Whatever you call them you know what I’m talking about. I’m talking about big hairy folks who live in the woods of Northern California, the Pacific Northwest, Western Canada, Florida, and other places far and wide. They aren’t exactly human, but could be some left over human ancestors. They aren’t apes. They aren’t bears. We don’t know what exactly they are.

To change the subject… I talk a lot about relationships on my blog. I am one of the most popular love letter experts on the Internet (yes I am – that is a fact.) I’m a romantic. But when it comes to relationships I’m also a realist. Relationships aren’t all romance and silly pet names. And there are rules to romance, sort of, maybe. Well not really these days. There were a lot more rules when I was younger, but then again I’m a Vampire so all bets are off…anyway…lets’ get back on track with this thing so you can answer the poll (and be totally grossed out and disturbed.)

When adults date (we’re not talking teens here so don’t get all flipped out) there is what is known as the Third Date Rule. That is where if you make it to the third date THAT is the date where you sleep with each other. Yes, sex, not napping. Napping is good too, but you need to stay awake for this. It is, yes it is, generally accepted that if you make it to the third date you’d better be wearing your matching bra and panty set. You’d better not be wearing your underwear (boxers or briefs guys) that looks like Swiss cheese because of all the holes. It definitely better NOT smell like Swiss cheese either. The third date is the make it or break it night. And seriously, you generally know by a third date if you’re attracted to someone.

Some people also believe that the third date is the big day with those who are abducted by space aliens too. Hey, I’m not making this shit up. I did my research. But that kind of probing is kind of icky so I’m not going to ask you about it. I will NEVER ask you about THAT.

But how about other bipedal types. What about a SASQUATCH. You go out into the woods and see a Squatch. Six months later it comes up to the window in your cabin. You smile at it. It smiles at you. You scream. It runs away. But what if it comes back a few nights later? What if you decide to throw in the towel and get to know each other. What if love is in the air? Does that third date rule apply?

Burning Question #27: Does the third date rule apply to Bigfoot / Sasquatch sightings?

9b930672e6fc1ec7c04a6c1420c304481507823688945

Jason Momoa out in the wild doing his thing.

If you honestly don’t know about the third date rule CLICK HERE. Please.

From Urban Dictionary:
Screenshot 2018-09-07 22.01.51

Are there any cryptozoologists out there? Any Bigfoot/Squatch hunters? Any Sasquatch bloggers? Any Sasquatch Romance writers? (seriously Sasquatch romance is a thing. Don’t judge. OK if you want to judge or laugh that is ok. Look it up.)

Share your thoughts. 

sasquatch-cover

Harry from “Harry and the Hendersons.” The best Bigfoot movie ever. It is sooooo cute.

Here is a related story I wrote a while back: CLICK HERE.

But seriously folks I was going to ask about Lex Luther and Lois Lane but I already know the truth about them.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: I’ll Take Care of You

Tangled Tales

I’ll Take Care of You

The headache was real. He opened his eyes and squinted at the sun coming through the window and tried to remember what had happened the night before.

“Oh you’re up. Look at the sunlight. Tell me how you feel.”

“Like I’ve been hit by a truck.”

“Do you feel alive?”

He looked at her sitting in a navy blue wingback chair wearing nothing but a smile and black silk stockings held up by red garters. He thought of her as a girl, not from her age but by the way she acted. She had been cute for a while but the cuteness became annoying and practiced.

He got out of bed and looked for his robe. She watched him with a smile on her face that was part wonder and part greed. Memories started to come back. Against his better judgement he’d taken her home and to his bed. Then she’d poured something she said was wine, but it obviously wasn’t.

“What did we drink last night?”

“What did you drink Andrew darling. I gave you an elixir to life. I gave you a tonic of love. I gave you light and love?”

He didn’t even respond. The sooner he got her out of his house and made coffee the better. Finding his robe he headed to the kitchen.

“Do you feel different?” She got up and followed him down the stairs.

“Other than feeling like shit?”

“Today is your new birthday. You’re mortal again.”

It suddenly occurred that she’d given him some sort of potion. “Jen, I can’t be cured. There was nothing wrong with me.”

“You were a Vampire.”

“I’m still a Vampire.”

“You’re walking in the sunlight. See it comes through the windows and you aren’t burning.”

“I’ve always been able to walk in the sunlight. Whatever you gave me didn’t work. It never works anymore than me giving you something that would turn you into a dog.”

“Give me a chance and I’ll take care of you Andrew,” she said clutching at his arms.

He pried off her hands and whispered under his breath, “Yes, and I’ll make sure to take care of you.”

Escorting her to the door, the Vampire told her to not come back – but he knew she’d try. Jen never took no for an answer. He compared her to a bad rash, that is if he’d ever had a bad rash.

Nobody would believe her tall tales of dating a Vampire. She was a groupie, a fan, a follower who didn’t know how to be an adult or find real love. It wasn’t like he always knew how to find real love, but at least he wasn’t going to let anyone change him for it.

Picking up the phone he made a call. “You know, I really don’t have the stomach for killing her right now. Any suggestions?”

His friend paused on the other end of the line then said, “Don’t worry about it. I’ll take care of her.”

After getting off the phone Andrew made a blood and strawberry smoothie hoping it would clear out some of the toxic effects of whatever the Hell Jen had given him.

Jen told everyone her family had always been around Vampires, kind of sort of, but she’d just discovered her ability to pick them out about 10 years ago. She’d clamped onto Andrew about a year back after seeing him sing with one of her favorite bands at a local club. She’d spotted him and found out all of the details about his life through mutual friends. Her immaturity was charming at first and kind of cute but now it just grated on Andrew. He ran his hands through his hair and wondered why he’d brought her home last night. Oh right, blood and sex. That always does it.

Then again, Jen thought life should be a cross between a Doris Day/Rock Hudson movie and Twilight. Holy crap. The woman was delusional.

Jen sat alone in her San Francisco apartment and thought about her beautiful Vampire lover. Giggling at the thought of his cool skin and hot kisses and wonderful techniques as a lover. He knew all the tricks. She imagined living with him in his beautiful St. Francis Woods home.

Last night she’d offered him not just her body but her blood as well. Last of all she offered her heart. As far as she was concerned that was a sealed deal. She was part of him now. He’d never get rid of her.

A year passed and Andrew had all but forgotten about that night with Jen. Occasionally one of his friends would bring up the story of the toxic brew and laugh about it.

“Don’t laugh, it could have ruined my voice,” Andrew would tell them half serious and half joking.

“What ever happened to her?” They would always ask. Andrew would just shrug.

A hundred miles away, locked in a room with no sharp objects Jen sat rocking on the bed speaking of her Vampire lover and how he’d return for her. Andrew said something under his breath about taking care of her. So she waited not knowing that he already taken care of her, quite nicely.

 

~ End

 

Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: Captain Sandy and the Airship at the End of the World

Captain Sandy and the Airship at the End of the World

(Published as author Marla Todd)

The end of the world had come and gone a long time ago. Of course I wouldn’t dare remind Captain Sandy of that extraordinary fact. He stood in the basket of the airship, hands on the control, the tails of his jacket blowing in the wind.

When the end of the world came the evil and the damned were gathered up and taken down to Hell. The pure and righteous were led up to Heaven in a golden white light.

That left the artists and writers, along with a lot of musicians, wine makers, computer programmers and antiques dealers. Of course there were others, but nobody that lacked a certain amount of creative or innovative spirit. One must have spirit and imagination to survive when the world ends without you.

It worked for me. Well, at least most of the time.

I honestly have to say, the world had become way too serious. I adjusted my goggles and scarf as I looked down on the tire fire that had been burning for the past 100 years. Adjusting the leather hood on my cat, I took him out of his basket to take a look. My five year old son Aaron stood on his toes to get a look as I held tight to the back of his jacket. I must have been a sight, boy in one hand, cat in the other.

Life was an adventure to be savored and enjoyed. It was a destroyed world being built up by those of us with visions of beauty and wonder. Captain Sandy always said this was Heaven. Of course I never told him otherwise. It was Heaven to be in the arms of my husband at night and feel the touch of his skin on mine, that is until I’d run my hand over the deep scars on his back. I called him my fallen angel. He would just laugh and kiss me as only an angel could kiss. Maybe it was Heaven for him since he was now dead, but I will never know unless I die too and find him there.

Once when I was younger my brother and I found some old movies in where everyone at the end of the world were driving big trucks and dune buggies as they shot anyone they came across. There were zombies and crazy fucks of all sorts fighting for the last clean water. It seemed they had unlimited amounts of fuel and bullets. No word of steam, solar and silent airships.

My brother and I laughed at the stupidity of it all. That was not our world. Ours was a world to create without hesitation or critical review. Our poets were considered as important as our politicians. Our sense of style always outweighed our sense of practicality. At least we kept telling ourselves that – all of us did as we banded together trying to give off an air of hope and strength. We created our own world going back to a time that didn’t really exist, where all things were possible and the modern world was still a beautiful dream.

Captain Sandy asked me what I was thinking that could have me looking so serious.

I told him and he just shook his head.

“Life isn’t a theater play like you make it out to be my dear. There are dangerous things out in dark areas of stench and smoke that would enslave us and make us into meals if they could. You’ve been protected in your leather and velvet bustle dresses and fanciful thoughts. It’s a good thing to be ignorant of the world but it is dangerous in ways you can’t imagine.”

“Captain,” I said, “you forget that the shadows took my husband. I take flights of fancy so I won’t fall out of the sky and die of sorrow.”

He turned and gave me a quick smile. Despite the dark pattern of scars on the left side of his face the Captain was still a handsome man with a dazzling smile. All the women were quick to notice him.

“Why are you alone Captain?”

“I’m not.”

“No wife or children?”

“I had a wife. She vanished when the world ended. I never knew if she went up or down or just vanished to dust. Who knows. The bitch could still be around somewhere.”

“So you’re alone,” I said.

“Just free of my wife.” He said nothing else then took off his hat and tied his long prematurely silver hair back with a ribbon he’d pulled from his coat pocket. “So, did you like movies back in the time before?”

I nodded. Of course I liked movies. Most of them were gone now. Rare stashes of films could be found and if we were lucky we’d find something to play them on.

Captain Sandy smiled a rare smile at me. “Sometimes I’m floating along above this all, all of this and I start thinking about Blade Runner and then my mind goes to Casablanca or off to Princess Bride then to In the Heat of the Night. I can run them all in my head, every line, every scene, every music score.”

I told him I did the same. We tend not to talk a lot about the time before the end of the world, but occasionally it comes out. We can’t deny our past. We just can’t help it.

“What did you do before, you know, the end of the world?” I asked the Captain point blank.

“I was a high school physics teacher. Physics and engineering to be exact. What did you do?”

“I produced reality TV shows. The last one was for MTV. Did you ever see Love Bytes?”

He laughed. “That was you? All of my students watched that show. Geeks and romance. A lot of them wanted to be on the show.”

The sky gradually started to turn dark. In the distance we could see lightning strike and the silhouettes of other airships.

I hugged my child and put a blanket around his shoulders. Aaron put his head on my lap and fell asleep. Captain Sandy sang softly a song that we both knew so long ago.

It seemed we’d been here for centuries, only the children aging and growing up.

As a rule we didn’t speak much of what we missed or how much. It was always there in the back of our minds. I missed skinny jeans and sweaters. I missed short tight dresses and yoga at the gym. I missed the music. I missed my friends and family. I missed my job. I even missed the orange trees in my back yard and the sound of the garbage truck at 6:45 am on Thursday mornings. I missed it all.

Captain Sandy turned suddenly and looked at me as if he could read my mind. “Don’t think of how things used to be. Don’t think of why we’re here.”

We both knew why we were here. Nobody wanted us. There was no place for us in Heaven but nobody in Hell wanted us either.

“You’ve got to admit,” the Captain continued, “we’re in a unique position. No matter how bad it looks, this is our world. I spent 18 years teaching kids to understand the building blocks of the universe. I thought I was contributing to the future of our young people so that they would make the world a better place.”

“Now it doesn’t matter,” I said in a rare show of depression over the events that brought us here.

“No. Now it matters more than ever. This is our world. Despite the shadows and ghouls, this is our world now, free and clear. We can still use the building blocks of science and art to make it the place we want it to be. Finally we can do it right.”

“You’re always such an optimist Captain Sandy but do you really believe that?”

“Of course I do. What other choice do I have?”

“You have a point,” I said, noticing the spark in his eyes.

He noticed that I’d noticed. “Look at this as the ultimate reality TV show.”

“If that is the case then who, Captain Sandy, gets the hot girl at the end?”

He smiled. “That depends on you.” Then he turned his face away from me to where I could only see the moon lit reflection of the scars that traced his jawline.

The crew of the airship came up on deck to view the stars and take in the night air. It was good to see them laugh and talk freely of the destination ahead. My son raised his sleepy head and laughed too. Maybe it wasn’t that bad after all. Maybe Captain Sandy would win the game and get the girl. I had a pretty good feeling he would.

Tangled Tales

This story was featured in the WPaD Anthology: Goin’ Extinct – Tales from the Edge of Oblivion. Available on Amazon B&N and with other fine online book sellers. Proceeds of all WPaD go to MS Research.

Coming Soon...

Who can come up with a dozen different ways to end the world? We can!
This apocalyptic collection of short stories explores numerous ways in which life as we know it could end. From the traditional nuclear apocalypse to cosmic events, zombies, mysterious alien substances, evil corporations and even… coffee. These stories will shock, entertain and tug at your heart strings. For your post-apocalyptic reading list, ‘Goin’ Extinct’ is a must-have.

Including stories and poetry from: Mandy White (Author), David W. Stone (Author), Diana Garcia (Author), Marla Todd (Author), Nathan Tackett (Author), J. Harrison Kemp (Author), David Hunter (Author), Michael Haberfelner (Author), Jade M. Phillips (Author), Gina McKnight (Author), Mike Cooley (Author), , Chris Da Cruz (Author), S.E. Springle (Author)

WPaD is the acronym for Writers, Poets and Deviants. We are a diverse group of writers who came together on the Internet to support and encourage each other.Our collaborative works are charity fundraisers, with a percentage of royalties being donated to Multiple Sclerosis in support of members of our group who live with MS.

 

Books by WPaD:

  • Nocturnal Desires: Erotic Tales for the Sensual Soul
  • Creepies: Twisted Tales From Beneath the Bed
  • Passion’s Prisms: Tales of Love and Romance
  • Dragons and Dreams: A Fantasy Anthology
  • Tinsel Tales: A Holiday Treasury
  • Silk She Is: Poetry of Daniel E. Tanzo
  • Goin’ Extinct: Tales From the Edge of Oblivion
  •  Creepies 2: Things That Go Bump in the Closet
  • Strange Adventures in a Deviant Universe (Science Fiction)
  • Coming soon: WPaD Weird Tales, plus Creepies 3 and Tinsel Tales 2

WPaD books are available worldwide in paperback and ebook editions.

 

Add Goin’ Extinct to your summer reading list today. You’ll thank me for it later. Also check out the other books from the WPaD group.

WPAD SciFi

 

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B00LT240EA/ref=cm_sw_r_fa_dp_t2_LfZjybD530NJK

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Short Story Sunday: Dream a Little Dream…

Damn. What a night. Fighting demons and their fucking friends. Max rarely even thought of using four letter words but tonight was a swear night. Even as an alpha Vampire to top all alpha Vampires he was exhausted, and away from home.

The only saving grace was that he’d been not far from his fiancé’s house by the beach. He looked forward to falling asleep in her arms to the sound of the waves.

She wasn’t home. Damn. He let himself in as the sun started to light up the morning sky. 5:00 a.m. Where was she?

Max stripped off his clothing and threw it into the washing machine. Then he fell onto her bed. Damn it felt good. She said she’d gotten new bedding but this was amazing. He never understood Vampires who slept in coffins and crypts.

Falling into a deep sleep the dreams came in waves…

“I’m smarter than everyone in this room. They’re all idiots,” said Archibald Fontaine.

What is that blow hard doing here? Thought Max. He couldn’t stand the pompous ass. Archi was the last Vampire he’d want in his dreams.

Then Archibald Fontaine leaned forward and kissed Max on the mouth.

Max backed off. “It is over Archi.”

Then he was jolted into a dark passageway. Sadness overwhelmed him. He had never felt so alone. A cat started to follow him, then two, then three, then five.

The dream jumped to another location. This time a house. His house. She lay on his bed in silk tap pants and a silk bra, both in pale pink. He kissed her neck and brushed it with his fangs. He wanted to tell her that he loved her but he didn’t. Or did she want to tell him?

He was at a party. It was the 1916. He heard her voice I haven’t thought about him in years. It was a lie. She thought about him all the time. A wolf howled in the distance. It was a Werewolf.

He sat on a chair pulling off the silk stockings he’d worn the night before. Red peep toe shoes were on the floor in front of him along with a flowered dress.

Max had never worn a dress. Not even on Halloween.

Max opened his eyes and looked into his own face next to him in bed. His eyes were brown, then the color turned to hazel, then back to brown. He smiled at himself and pulled himself close in an embrace.

Then he woke in a jolt. This was too weird. What had those demons done?

Mehitabel stood by the bed. “Hey baby.”

“Hey,” said Max.

He reached out his hand and gently pulled to him. She sat on the edge of the bed and gently kissed him.

“The new bedding is nice. Love the pillows. But oh man, I’m having weird dreams.”

She smiled and stroked his hair. “Memory foam,” she said.

“What?”

“Memory foam. You’re sleeping on my pillow silly.”

Then she undressed and got into bed beside him, but not before she gave him his own pillow.

~ end

maxresdefault

 

Note: Aside from the occasional rerun all “Short Story Sunday” stories are written quickly over coffee on the Sunday morning they are posted. Coffee + pencil/pen/crayon/keyboard + observation + imagination + inspiration + more coffee + a punch line or twist = a story of somewhat questionable origins and more questionable quality. What jump starts your imagination? 

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Burning Question #20: Observe the Flirt

jane-austen-600x383

It is now time for me to tease you with another Burning Question!

I like my men to be confident, smart, and flirty.
~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

But some people have a less than lovely view of flirts. They have a somewhat vile view of flirts.

Some believe flirts hurt.

From the Royal Path of Life (1883)

Flirting is a horrid outrage upon the most holy and exalted feelings of the human soul, and the most sacred and important relation of life. It is a vulgarism and wickedness to be compared only to blasphemy. It had, and still has, its origin in the basest lust. The refined soul is always disgusted with it.

You can read the entire text at the end of this post – AFTER you click your answer on the poll. It is from my own copy of the highly entertaining and educational publication.

If the passage above is true then my husband Teddy, who also happens to be a Vampire, and an outrageous flirt would be considered a crass unrefined soul. That makes me so sad. Even now he flirts. If he walks into a room he can make any woman feel beautiful. He can make any man laugh. He is charming and such a flirt. Is that wrong?

But what about when flirting is mean spirited. Maybe it isn’t really flirting, or is it? That is the burning question.

Some think it should be an Olympic sport. In that case I’d have a case full of medals. My husband would have a warehouse full.

So I’ll put it to you…

Burning Question #20: Is Flirting a Good Thing?

 

If you have an opinion or statement, or want to flirt with me or anyone else around here please leave a comment. It would be fabulous and delightful.

xoxo

I’ll see you next Saturday for the next BURNING QUESTION.

In the meantime, I wouldn’t recommend you flirt with disaster but if you must, you must.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

UNADJUSTEDNONRAW_thumb_1fca

UNADJUSTEDNONRAW_thumb_1fcc

UNADJUSTEDNONRAW_thumb_1fcb

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Bodice Ripping Fight Night

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

Dear Diary,

Today is hot. It is one hundred and ten degrees fahrenheit. I am in Hell. Never before now have I been in such heat. I miss my cold castle. Even today I would deal with rats and damp stone walls rather than feeling I am being strapped to a stake and burned to a a pile of ashes with only my blue eyes looking out of my blackened skull in search of my charred heart.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

It is still hot.

Tonight my friend Randolpho and I went in search for warm blood and cool dark rooms.

In the middle of the city we walked the streets and went into bars with mists of water spraying down upon pretty young women who sat outside in short skirts as they drank cold drinks and talked among each other.

Inside these places it was cold and filled with loud music. People sat and talked. Nobody was dancing. It was too hot.

As Randolpho and I walked among the mortals I could see their eyes upon us. I could hear the women whisper to each other as I walked by he is so cute, he is gorgeous, I would take him home.

I would glance their way and smile. Maybe I would fulfill their desires and go home with them. I could taste their blood in my mouth already. I could feel their warm skin on my cool Vampire body. I started to turn their way.

Then Randolpho grabbem my arm and said, “Come this way.”

Down a hot ugly alley between old brick building we walked, then down narrow stairs into a dark doorway.

I could hear men shouting and cheering. Then I saw there was a fight.

Two men kicked and punched each other in a chain link cage. A final kick brought one down in a bloody heap upon the floor. I could smell his blood. My mouth watered.

Then all eyes turned upon Randolpho and I.

“You got a pretty face. It would be too bad to ruin it,” yelled one of the men in my direction. I looked him in the eyes and his face contorted in pain at my will.

Several other men shouted at us using crass childish profanities.

We do not belong here I thought, but it might be fun. Randolpho was thinking the same thing.

Many of these men were large. They were well over six feet tall with shoulders the size of oxen, and muscles like those of Hercules. We are not built like oxen but more like one would imagine Apollo or Hermes, or more even like those men on the covers of book that  women call Bodice Rippers. Yes, Randolpho and I are Bodice Rippers.

I am not considered large these days. At one time I was taller than most men but now I am not always so tall. I stand at five feet and ten inches. Randolpho is not tiny but he is also not huge at five feet and six inches. People have become larger. I do not understand this trend. By the end of this century I will be the size of an eight year old child. None the less I knew Randolpho and I could take on these petty men who puff out their chests and call us cats.

“Why do they call us cats? Cats know how to fight.” I asked that of Randolpho.

“Vlad, they called us pussies,” said Randolpho.

“That is what I said,” I told Randolpho. I do not understand why I have to repeat myself so much with him.

Randolpho and I faced a dozen men. Not a problem. We are Vampires and I am cute. I find that when one if cute one can do anything. Take for example cats and babies. Cats and babies are cute. They get everything they desire. I looked over at Randolpho. If I were a girl I might consider him cute as well. Maybe. Maybe not.

The men shouted FIGHT FIGHT FIGHT.

I thought that as long as they did not cut of my head or rip out my heart I would be fine. It would be like taking candy from a baby, only I do not know why anyone would do that. None of these men were cute like babies or puppies or me. Yet, I would take from them whatever I could.

Randolpho tipped the ridiculous top hat he always wears, even in the 21st Century, and smiled.

“Gentlemen,” said Randolpho. “We will take up your challenge and top it. Two of us will take on all of you who wish to go home lesser men.”

Randolpho set his hat aside and went into the cage. I followed.

Ten minutes later a dozen large men sat crying like babies. These were not cute babies. They are large, bad smelling, hairy babies with mothers who would be ashamed of them. We received a prize of a great deal of money, then we left before the remaining men tried to kill us. HA! They could have tried but never would they have success. They are but spineless worms. They are lesser men.

There was not a scratch between Randolpho and me. Not one scratch. I brushed my golden hair back with my hand. I am not cat. I am a Vampire.

The sound of sirens of Police cars came close as we walked away. Nobody in the basement where the fight took place would remember the faces of the two young men who beat them senseless. They would only remember that we were cold to the touch and exceptionally good looking. I laughed at the idea of us being young. I am 675 years old and Randolpho is a scant year older than I.

I do not know how to make one of those little yellow faces with a smile. There is a number code. Little face with smile. There. I put it in italics so it is so. The Vampire King has spoken.

The women we had passed earlier did remember us. They got their wish. We got our blood. It was, what is the expression, a Win-Win situation.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

When one is imprisoned in a cold dark crypt for three hundred years one has time to think. Then one stops thinking. Then one wakes and starts to plan as if the night will come when the crypt will break open and you will escape.

Then one day you find yourself awakened with a shake of a shoulder and look into the face of friends. The world has changed into a place that even Jonathan Swift or Jules Verne, or Nostradamus (the hack) would never have imagined. It is a world world, I Vlad, the Vampire King, could never have imagined.

Yet things do not change. Men still fight. Women still turn their heads and smile when I walk by. Randolpho still wears his ridiculous hats.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Ice. Whenever I want it. I love this century.

My Vampire love Gillian lay with me on my bed. We had turned on the thing called air conditioning that makes the summer air turn to winter inside of my home. It is like magic.

I kissed Gillian’s hand, then her shoulder, then her cheek, then her beautiful lips.

“Do you think I am more of a Greek God or a Bodice Ripper?” I asked her.

She gave me an odd look. “Vlad, I’m not even going to answer that.”

“But I am serious,” I said.

“So am I,” she said.

Gillian took her hand and pushed me down on the pillow and straddled me. I did not stop her.

“You’re a magnificent pagan beast,” she said.

“A pagan beast?” I asked, but even I had to laugh.

“Maybe not, but what you are is cute. You’re so cute,” then she pulled her shirt over her head, and kissed me, and I will say no more.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

This has been the 39th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. For the entire series, including more Vlad cuteness CLICK HERE, or go to the sidebar for the Vampire Diary page.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman