Vlad’s Vampire Diary: You Can’t Go Home Again

Dear Diary,

Going home is no longer an option.

This morning I went to Google Maps. There are cameras in space, up in the sky, in the heavens taking photographs of the Earth. Everything can be seen. I dare say unseen is what I wish today.

This thing called technology, baffles me. It amazes me. What amazes me the most is that all of this, which would have once been considered black magic is now not magic at all, AND it has almost all happened in the past one hundred years. It has happened in the past fifty years.

After being imprisoned in a crypt for three hundred years, I am still overwhelmed. The past four years… I can not even describe them.

This morning at dawn I stood out on my deck and looked at the sun coming up over the dark night sky. I thought about my old home where I was King of Vampires and all I could see. This morning I saw a flock of turkeys. Alas I am not even King of Turkeys now.

So inside I went to my MacBook Pro and to Google Maps and to my castle.

It was gone. My castle was not there. GONE. Not a trace. Just forest and meadows and NOTHING. All traces of my existence was gone. I looked up my name. Nothing but some Russian fool who rides horses and other animals without a shirt, and ridiculous laughable horror movies, and bad fan fiction. There is no trace or memory of me.

I picked up my phone (another unbelievable marvel of technology) and called my friend Randolpho. He said I had to look on the Dark Web to find information about real Vampires. I do not understand. I know that by web he does not mean a spider web but something of course we can not see. This new world and the language is confusing. Everything is called by a name that is indeed a tangled web of language. He said I needed a special server and spoke of other things I do not understand. Who is that special server and where do I find him? Will he serve only me or others as well? I did not risk asking Randolpho and seeing his eyes roll.

Yes, that is something people do now. They roll their eyes around in their heads as if to say, “you are ridiculous and have the mind of a child.” I have recently learned the term, “bless his heart,” means the same thing. Eye rolling. Bah.

I am forgotten. I am lost. I am new. I am frustrated.

I expressed this feeling to my love Gillian.

She said, “You’re so cute Vlad.” Then she kissed me. That is something no amount of technology can improve on.

So apparently I am cute as well. I do not understand this cute, but I will take her word for it. My advice to any male is to take a woman’s word on it, no matter what she says.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I still mourn the loss of my former home and kingdom, but on the other hand I am glad it is gone and nobody else is living there in my place.

Tonight I walked around my new home. It is a 3,500 square foot home with what is called a good sized yard. There is plenty of room for me, the cats, Jane the coyote dog, and Gillian when she is here.

Gillian has claimed her own bathroom (there are four of them. FOUR.) With all of the tools and cosmetics at her disposal there is no need of a maid for her. When I first met her it took two hours for her to get ready in the morning. She had layers and layers of clothing. She had layers of hair. Cosmetics were complex and questionable. Now she jumps in the shower, blows her hair with hot air and lets it flow down her back, then she pulls on six items. Only six. Bra, panties, jeans, shirt, two shoes. That is all. Sometimes she wears a dress, but it is tiny and no slip, corset, underskirts, hoops, or pads are needed. It is just my beautiful Gillian’s natural shape that shows. She sometimes laughs and says it is easier to be a Vampire with fewer clothes.

Gillian also has taught me how to get blood stains out using magical chemicals and a machine that actually washes clothing. In my castle there were five women who washed my clothing, and only my clothing. There were a dozen more to do the job for the rest of the castle.

Yes, I can now wash clothing in secret, with my own private machine, without anyone knowing what I have been doing the night before. That is always a good thing.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I was out tonight at my favorite night spot, where Vampires can sit among the crowd without anyone suspecting they are only there looking for a bit to eat in peace.

The bartender and owner, a lovely woman named Cassie, has become, shall I say, a friend.

Tonight she leaned against the bar facing me and asked me, “Where are you from Vlad? Originally? I can’t place your accent? Europe? South Africa?”

I smiled and took her hand, “Dear Cassie, where I come from no longer exists. Even if I could go home those who live there would not welcome me. I have found a home here, with those who are like me, in a new home with strangers. But strangers no more. I have you and others friends who are far better people than I knew before.”

“You can’t go home again. Sort of like the Thomas Wolfe novel. Have you read it?”

“No. Write it down. I will read it.”

“You seem sad,” she said.

“No, I am not sad. I am just feeling, what do you say, retrospective.” Then I smiled at her in a way that charms all who have warm blood in their veins. “I come from a place in Europe where the mountains are high and eagles still fly above the towering trees. I do not even know what country it is now. It does not matter. I am here in California. I will learn to ride a board on the waves. What is it called? Smurfing?”

“Surfing. It is surfing. Smurfs are small blue French people. Like annoying little dwarves and there’s only one girl.”

I had no idea what she was talking about. I just smiled and then scanned the room for someone with a nice neck and a healthy pulse.

Later with my veins full of fresh blood and my mind clear I went back to see Cassie. I gave her a kiss on her cheek and a hug. I closed my eyes feeling her heart beat.

“Thank you my dear Cassie for giving comfort to an old man.”

“Love you Vlad. HA! Old man my ass. What are you? Thirty-two, thirty-four?”

“Something like that,” I said as I kissed her cheek again. I would never tell her that I am 675 years old. I would never tell. It always confuses people, more than any technology can confuse an old Vampire like me.

As I left I could hear her tell the other bartender, “Damn, he is cute.”

I do not understand this cute. That I will never understand, but I will take it as a compliment from a friend.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I woke in a cold sweat. I am a Vampire so I only have cold sweat. I had a nightmare about small blue Frenchmen. They smelled of garlic and blueberries. They sang songs in deep throaty voices about ripping out the heart of Vlad the Vampire King.

The door to my bedroom opened. My love Gillian came in. She was wearing an extremely small black dress. The dress fell to the floor, along with her bra and panties. That was three pieces of clothing. She had no shoes. Now she wore nothing but diamond studs in her ears.

She crawled into bed with me, putting her smooth cold arms around me. I put my arms around her and pulled her close as she skimmed her fangs across my neck, then put her lips to mine.

I closed my eyes, and saw blue men, screaming as the large waves covered them while the great white sharks ate them like teenage children eat Hot Cheetos.

Gillian took my face in her hands. “Are you ok Vlad?”

OK. That is another one of those words I do not understand. It means someone  or something is good, or not bad, or it could mean anything, or nothing.

“I am fine,” I said. “Just take my mind off of my mind. Make me forget.”

As always she did. And then some.

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

You’ve just read the 40th entry of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To start from the beginning, or read your favorites again click here. 

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Go Pee Pee

At 3:29 a.m. I took the dog out to go pee pee.

To make her go fast and get it all over with I have to say, “go pee pee” in a high shrill voice while trying not to wake my neighbors up.

It is as still and quiet as death out, but the dog and I both know we’re being watched by creatures of the night.

So I was outside in a robe and bare feet not really caring because A) I’m not cold, and B) Nobody can see me, and C) I don’t care if they see me.

Then I see a familiar figure standing in the middle of my street (which is really a private drive for seven houses.) He flips me off, which is his usual asshole move. I swear, nothing ruins a nice quiet evening faster than a Ghost.

The dog and I went inside to find Nigel (The Ghost) sitting on the couch in my living room.

“I have a question for your advice column Juliette. Do Vampires go pee pee,” he asked me.

“I’m not even going to answer that,” I told him.

He didn’t smile or laugh. That is almost as rare as seeing a ghost. To tell the truth seeing Ghosts isn’t rare for Vampires, but I usually don’t interact with them. They’re vile creatures for the most part.

“Don’t you have someone to haunt?” I asked.

“Only you,” he answered.

“I’m going to make coffee,” I told him. “Do you want some?”

“I can’t drink it. I’m a…”

“Ghost. I get it. You’re a bitter, obnoxious, annoying Ghost. I’ll give you a cup and you can smell it,” I said.

“Um, sure,” he said.

“Were you this annoying when you were alive?”

“Of course, only everyone thought I was charming,” he answered.

In the kitchen we sat over coffee and small talk, and the dogs and cats who also see what others cannot.

Wishing you all plenty of sleep, and coffee, and dogs who go pee pee outside rather than inside.

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Kind of like worms in that weird old kid’s song

As I sit pondering… the cat walks over to the dog bowl and check it out. There is nothing there she desires.

It is odd how random thoughts go in and out. Kind of like worms in that weird old kid’s song.

 

The worms go in

The worms go out

The worms play pinochle on your snout.

 

Anyway, on the way home this morning, after dropping Clara off for a Mock SAT test, I was thinking about what I’d write today. Junior year in high school is busy. All week long she has been seeing college recruiters and now tests. Mock SAT today (the new test), PSAT next week during school, then the real SAT and ACT. Then the AP tests. Then my mind goes off in other directions. What songs would I include on a play list for old boyfriends? It has been a while since we played wii Just Dance. Garret’s vintage clothing collection that he swiped from his father’s closet is making waves at college. I thought about a blog about wearing vintage clothing and jewelry – should I write it? What would happen if we (Vampires) told the world what we really are? How would that change the presidential debates. Holy crap, now THERE is an idea. I’ll write about that next week for sure. I thought of love letters and graveyards and the drought and coffee and about putting up my Halloween decorations.

Wait… just a second… I will be right back.

I felt a presence outside but refused to lift the shades. And like my bad cat who scratches the walls to wake me up, a ghost, THE GHOST, materialized in front of me. He sat at my table, in the round turret breakfast nook, right across from me.

He did not look happy. In fact he was glaring at me. His black hair hung over his forehead and covered one eyes. Today he wore his black suit, the one he was buried in (in 1986).

Before he could say one mean nasty comment I spoke first.

“Nigel, did you know The Cars have been nominated for the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame?”

He brushed his hair out of his face, uncovering a bloody gash in his forehead. The gash vanished. He looked perplexed. I know he’d planned on saying something vile or rude. I know he’d planned on using the word fuck, as in “fuck you Vampire.” He is such a lovely and thoughtful ghost (said no Vampire ever.)

After we sat for a while as I sipped my coffee Nigel finally spoke up. “Too bad they didn’t get nominated when Benjamin Orr was alive.”

“Coffee?” I had to ask. Nigel nodded.

I put a cup of coffee in front of the ghost. He inhaled and closed his eyes with a slight satisfied smile.

“Los Lobos was nominated,” I told him.

“Local boys. Good choice. Who else?”

“Deep Purple, Cheap Trick, Yes, the Smiths, Steve Miller, Chicago, Chaka Khan, and Janet Jackson. There were a few others.”

“Janet Jackson? You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

“I kid you not.”

“Fucking Janet Jackson?”

“Hey, you’re preaching to the choir.”

He took in another breath of coffee. His form wavered in and out of transparency and opacity.

“So the Giants won’t be going to the World Series this year?”

“Unfortunately not.”

“I don’t know what happened to my record collection.”

“Did you leave a will?”

“Sure, but not specifics like that. I was only 26 when I died.”

“Do you want me to check it out for you.”

“No, it would just piss me off.”

“Nigel dear, everything pisses you off.”

“Pretty much.”

“Is that a ghost thing?”

“No. It is a Nigel thing.”

His eyes grew black and he glared at me. I knew the rage was building up. Ghosts are such tormented souls, not to mention major assholes most of the time.

“Hey Nigel,” I said. “I’m going to put up the Halloween decorations while Clara is at her mock SAT test. Do you want to help?”

His eyes went back to normal and the rage vanished from his pretty face. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

“What are you doing for Halloween this year?”

He smiled. “I’m going to be a ghost. How about you?”

“I don’t know. I thought about being Little Hagrid, or maybe a Vampire.”

We both smiled and finished our coffee.

I have to go pick up my child now. Have a good weekend everyone and thanks for dropping by.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Teenage Jungle

Hey baby, let me finish my cigarette and we’ll take the SAT test together. I hope your score is smokin hot high because stupid boys never get lucky with me.