Vampire Diary: Power and Tools

vampire girls

Dear Diary,

I find that I still am amazed at what is called the Modern World. After spending three hundred years locked in a crypt, which I have been out of for three years, new experiences still abound.

There is water in my house which I can use anytime. IN MY HOUSE. Last night as I was getting out of my car my neighbor Dan walked by with his dog. I asked him if he knew what to do when one’s kitchen sink no longer worked. After some conversation about things that made no sense to me, I invited Dan in to look at my sink. He said the faucet needed to be replaced. Then the good man offered to teach me to do it myself.

“I don’t know why dads don’t teach their sons to fix things anymore,” Dan said to me.

I did not tell Dan that my father was a Vampire King nine hundred years ago.

Dan made a list of things for me to get at a place he called the hardware store. This morning I took the list and had one of the most profound adventures of my existence.

I drove my Tesla (it is quiet like a Vampire) to a place called “Lowes.” Large displays of Halloween lights, electronic Jack-o-lanterns, Yule trees, outdoor furniture, grills, and poisons greeted me as I waked into the door. I held my list, ignoring it, as I was drawn to the paint. I took many small cards of color to bring home and compare on my walls. Next to the paint was a large display of electric lights. Into my basket I put a light of blue and silver to put in my entry way. Dan would show me how to put it in.

As I walked up and down the isles I saw tools of all kinds. There were tools that resembled tools that men used when I was a child, as well as tools that would screw, hammer, cut, sand, bolt, grind, build, and destroy. There were tools that were run by hand, by electricity, by gas, and by air. I put a hammer and a set of screwdrivers into my Cart. I am tired of using a rock and butter knives to pound and unscrew things at my home. But why must I screw by hand. There are electric cordless rechargeable screwdrivers! Into my cart I put one. I love this thing called electricity.

Then I saw it, the ultimate tool that every male must possess, a chain saw. I put it in my cart as well.

There were tall racks of lumber, bags of bark, pots for plants, trees, machines for washing laundry, kitchen sinks. And near the kitchen sinks I found faucets. Hundreds of faucets. I could not choose. I am a Vampire not a cook.

A female worker walked up to me and asked if she could help me with anything. I do like this modern world where women can help me with traditionally manly pursuits. She helped me pick out this faucet.

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I thanked her for her help. I could feel her heart beating faster. As I left I could hear, for I am a Vampire and I can hear everything, I could hear the other workers gathering around her. “OH MY GOD HE IS SO CUTE,” they all said.

How can I be cute? I have a kitchen faucet and a chain saw in my rolling shopping cart? I do not understand this cute.

I came out of the store with a kitchen sink faucet, a gas powered chain saw, an electric Jack-o-Lantern, an electric cordless drill, a hammer, a set of screw drivers, fifty yellow daffodil bulbs, a screwdriver set, 120 paint chip samples, a blue and silver light fixture, WD40, an extra set of house keys, a pet door, wood glue, 5 cans of black spray paint, a gallon jug of Simple Green, a box of 50 gallon leaf bags, leather work gloves, a Halloween themed door mat with a ghost on it, a dwarf lime tree, a hack saw, and a small container of small nails, and a shovel.

I feel like a king again.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I thought about my father today. He used a staff of somnambulists to bring water into the castle. As a child I would watch them as they moved about the castle in silence. They lived in a world of dreams without a will of their own. It was a good life until the Witch Babbaeliza whom, despite her great beauty, my father refused to have as a lover, came to the castle and woke all of the somnambulists up. They ran away into the forest of Werewolves and never came back. I do not know what happened to them. Babbaeliza was thrown into a dungeon and is still there as far as I know. The days of my father were strange indeed.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I was out with my friend Randolpho. He is also a Vampire like me.

At the end of the bar was a group of young Vampires. They did not look younger than Randolpho and me, the had just not been Vampires as long. At most they were maybe a hundred years old. They were dressed as what Randolpho and the bartender Cassie called Hipsters. I asked them what is a Hipster. Both Randolpho and Cassie used words like trendsetters, vintage, pretentious, and fancy beards. I failed to understand. They were no threat to me.

One of the young Vampires, a fellow named Troy got up and walked across the room. Randolpho followed Troy with his eyes then looked back to me with a disgusted look on his face, as if someone had put a dead fish in his shoe.

“He’s such a tool,” said Randolpho under his breath.

“Because he is useful,” I said.

“No,” said Randolpho, “because he is an asshole and rolls over like a dog to get approval of his friends.”

“I see.” I said.

I did not quite see but I will take his word on it.

I imagined Troy on the ground rolling and grunting like a dog. Then I put the thought out of my head.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Yesterday night my love Gillian and I lounged in my home with glasses of wine and our own company. She looked beautiful wearing one of my white dress shirts, leggings, and a string of pearls I had given her in 1660. I remember the night. It was cold, the sky full of stars, and my heart full of love. I kissed her bare shoulder then fastened the pearls around her neck.

Last night Gillian’s feet were bare with her toe nails painted red. Her fingernails were also a glossy red like fresh blood. I was tempted to lick them. I have to smile at the little things she does to make herself beautiful.

Our bellies were full of fresh blood from an early dinner. We had met a delightful couple at an art walk and spend some time with them. He owned the art gallery. She said she was a local city council member. I smiled knowing she knew nothing of running a government.

An art walk is where one walks down a street where people view art and drink alcohol and pretend they know about art and alcohol. The art was mostly pleasant. I did not drink any alcohol but the blood was exceptional.

As Gillian and I sat together, as I kissed kissed her and was losing myself in her cool embrace, there was a great noise in the entry way of my house. Jane my coyote dog began to yip. The cats ran out of the room.

Three individuals dressed in black came into the room.

“Don’t look them in the eyes,” yelled one.

I held up my hands and attempted to catch their eyes, for if I make contact I, the Vampire, will have control. “Please, gentlemen,” I said. “What do you need. Tell me.”

“Fucking asshole Vampire hunters,” Gillian hissed under her breath as she barred her fangs.

I am always astonished at her use of foul language. She ran from the room. I wondered why she would leave me at such a time.

“Go for the heart and the head,” said one of the men. Then they raised their guns and started to shoot.

“Please there is no need for this,” I barred my fangs. I was about to attack when I was hit in the arm with a bullet. Then another one hit my shoulder, knocking me back down the couch. That piece of furniture was ruined. Then another bullet skimmed my cheek. These men were horrible shots. They should have killed me already.

Suddenly as I saw one come out with a wooden stake and a large sword to cut off my head, and one had pliers to take my fangs, Gillian returned. She had the chain saw and was walking towards the Vampire Hunters. The chain saw was running. It was loud. My love waved it in front of the Vampire Hunters, cutting one of them in the arm. He fell, dropping his gun. The others grabbed him and ran. By the time they had turned the corner of the street in their car I could hear sirens. Police charged into the house. I stood still, bleeding out my dinner.

Gillian stood in my white shirt, now streaked with blood, wearing her beautiful pearls, and holding the chain saw. I have never seen a woman look so beautiful or powerful.

A man came to me and told me to sit. He told me I was cold. He said was freezing. I did not have the heart to tell him that I am a Vampire. He said I would have to go to the hospital. I ignored him as I watched the policemen speak with Gillian. I glanced outside of the window and could see my neighbors standing out in the street.

I told the man, the one called a paramedic, that I would take the bullets out myself. It was no problem. He said I must go to the hospital. He said the police needed the bullets. I asked about the budget. Did they not have enough money for new bullets? He looked at me oddly and said they needed the bullets for evidence. A gun had also been left by the Vampire Hunters.  Gillian said she doubted if it was registered. We told the truth to the police. We did not know these men.

At the hospital I was covered with heated blankets. It was a wonderful place full of commotion. The nurse put a needle in my arm. She told me that she was going to give me blood. I should go back more often. They hovered around me because my pulse was weak. Not weak for a Vampire. Obviously they do not teach about Vampires in medical school.

As I lay back on a bed with blood pulsing through my arms, and Gillian sitting near me, the white shirt now streaked with red blood, I could hear the hospital workers whispering to each other in the hallway. They spoke to each other to go see the beautiful couple in room 33A. I heard someone say, “they look like movie stars.”

At dawn I talked them into letting me go. I was full of blood and ready to sleep off the day. We went back to Gillian’s house together, after we’d packed up the Coyote and my two cats.

I will recommend every Vampire I know obtain a chain saw.

My neighbors all called Gillian to find out if I was alright. She told them I was fine and told them thank you. She also assured them that I would be home by Halloween. And so I will be.

Gillian is hardly at her own home. She spends most of her time with me. Perhaps I should change that situation. Perhaps…

~ Vlad

 

Kissed by a Vampire

This post is #33 in the Vampire Diary series here at Vampiremaman.com

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Pumpkin Spice

coffee

Dear Diary,

I do not understand these large vegetables called pumpkins.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went out for a bite to eat. It was night. Late night. I had gone to the usual night spots and had, what do people call it these days, oh yes, I had a snack or two. Small bites. Wanting more, and wanting something good I went to a tavern owned by a woman called Cassie.

I walked her home, nearly crazy with her warmth and the sweet smell of her blood. The night was cool with the change of the seasons. It was the autumn solstice. I was hungry.

Once inside of her house she grabbed my shirt and kissed me. I shared her embrace, hardly able to contain myself. Then she smiled and said she had to go to the bathroom. I waited, and decided to remove my shirt thus showing of my well chiseled muscular male form that few women can resist. I believe I have what people call a six pack. I do not understand it but I will accept it is a good thing.

Cassie appeared, still with a smile, completely naked, and completely beautiful. She approached me and put her hand on my chest.

“You’re cold Vlad,” she said.  Then she pressed her body next to mine. I kissed her. She sighed and pressed closer. Then just as I was ready to sink my fangs into her neck she stepped back away from me. I did not understand. Why did she step back from me?

The woman smiled and said, “Do you know what I want Vlad?”

“I assume it is me,” I said.

“I do want you Vlad, but first I want a Pumpkin Spice Latte.”

I did not know what to say. I, Vlad, King of Vampires, was speechless.

“Vlad,” said the beautiful naked Cassie, with a laugh, “you look so cute when you’re surprised. Damn, you always look cute.”

Cute. I do not understand this cute anymore than I understand this pumpkin spice. Kittens are cute. Babies are cute. I am not a baby or a kitten.

And now I find myself resistible. That is not a good thing. No woman should be able to resist me. I am after all Vlad the Vampire King. I ran my hand through my golden hair, and glared at her with my hypnotic blue Vampire eyes.

“What is this Pumpkin Spice Latte you desire?” I asked.

“Coffee flavored like Pumpkin Spice,” said Cassie.

“Vegetable flavored coffee? Why would you rather have that when you can have me? Would you rather I be a vegetable?”

She laughed again and called me cute again. I walked a few blocks to an all night coffee shop and obtained two Pumpkin Spice Lattes. All the while I was thinking that I should have stayed locked in the crypt in which I was imprisoned for three hundred years. On the walk to Cassie’s house I tasted one of the lattes. Stepping into an alley I vomited blood and Pumpkin Spice for ten minutes. Vampires should not drink Pumpkin Spice.

When I returned Cassie was wearing a robe over her naked body. She thanked me for the concoction from Hell. I debated whether to stay or go. She said the drink was good. Then she said I would be good too. I decided to stay.

I was exceptionally good.

I still feel ill

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I could not sleep today. Dreams of my home being overtaken by vines heavy with pumpkins, pounding on the windows, with tendrils clawing at my doors, filled my head.

Looking out my window I saw no pumpkins yet my thoughts were still troubled. Knowing my friend Randolpho would be awake I drove to his house to find solace.

My dear friend greeted me at the door and welcomed me in. His home was cool and dark. The experience made me feel relaxed. Then suddenly I was overcome with nausea.

I looked towards Randolpho who was lighting candles.

“What madness is this?” I cried.

“Pumpkin Spice candles. Bath and Body Works is having a sale. I love their fall scents. There is nothing like blood and a little Pumpkin Spice to make one feel positively warm with Vampire comforts,” said Randolpho.

“Are you out of your mind my friend?” I said. I glared at the candles and made the flames go dead.

“What crawled up your ass?” said Randolpho.

“You do not need to be crude Randolpho. That smell makes me sick,” I told him. Then I related the story of the night before.

“Vlad, my friend,” said Randolpho, “it was not the flavor that made you sick, it was the milk in the latte. You know Vampires can’t drink lattes. Now if the coffee had been black…”

“Stop. I want no more talk of this,” I said.

“Fine,” said Randolpho, giving me that look he gives me when he thinks I am being unreasonable. “I am going to the plant nursery on the hill to buy bulbs.”

“Bulbs. Pray tell why would a plant nursery sell bulbs unless you are growing marijuana…” I said.

“No, TULIP bulbs,” said Randolpho. “Fall bulbs, like tulips, daffodils and crocus. Those small fall wonders that when put in the ground explode into a riot of color and true beauty.”

Tulips. Oh how this modern world amazes me. I remember  when tulips were rare and as valuable as the rarest jewels.

Once as a ransom for his idiot son, who wanted to become a Vampire, a Dutch merchant gave me four rare tulip bulbs. It was the year 1635. I remember it well.

I planted the bulbs in pots and nurtured them. In the spring the small brown eggs of earth (as I liked to call them) produced magnificent blooms of purple and white stripes, red, and yellow. I invited all in my castle to come see the flowers. Then out of nowhere came Baskall Kirflint, a Vampire with great wealth, good looks and an ugly temper. He demanded that I give him the hand of my sister, or he would steal her away and have his way with her.

I told him, “Baskall Kirflint, my sister does not love you, nor will she ever love you. Your unpleasant ways and foul temperament reminds her of a spoiled child. She will not have you, and I will not force her to be with you.”

Baskall Kirflint snarled at me showing his fangs. Then he knocked the tulip pot to the floor and ground the bulbs and blooms with the heel of his boot into my Persian carpet.

“Be gone from my sight,” I said. Then I told my guards to send him on his way knowing there was a full moon that night. The Werewolves ate him, all except his head which was still alive. I put his head on a pole on my castle wall so he could watch the world without being able to be in it. That was a mistake for Baskall Kirflint yelled insults from his bodiless lead to all who passed. I threw his head into the fire pit in the castle court yard that night and ended Baskall Kirflint.

“Remember Baskall Kirflint?” I said to Randolpho.

“What an asshole,” said Randolpho. “In the five hundred years I’ve known you I don’t think I’ve ever seen you go angry.”

“Seven hundred,” I said, “but who is counting.”

Then we both laughed.

After putting on sunscreen and donning our dark glasses we went to the plant nursery on the hill to obtain tulip bulbs.

I have no words, or almost no words for my joy when I walked into the plant nursery building. Bin upon bin was filled with tulip bulbs in every color imaginable. Along with tulips were daffodils, narcissus, crocus, and freesia bulbs. I imagined the fortune I would spend in this place, then saw that the bulbs were inexpensive. Six bulbs were the price of a pair of socks.

I filled my cart with bulbs of all colors, but mostly red. Then Randolpho said we must look at more things. As we walked along rows of trees, blooming shrubs and flowers, two women looked at us. One whispered to her friend, “they make a cute couple.”

Randolpho just laughed. I was not amused, but wondered at the ignorance of these women. If two men look at flowers why do modern people assume they are a couple. I am still trying to figure out the modern world but make an attempt to not fall into branding people with stereotypes (my new word for this month.) Randolpho told me to get over it. That is another expression I refuse to use. I told him so.

As we continued to walk through the beautiful rows of flowers, herbs, and shrubs we came upon a sign that said, “Pumpkins Are Here.” What madness was this?

In front of us were piles and rows and mounds of pumpkins in every shape, size and color. There were gourds that looked like small monsters. There were pots shaped like pumpkins with grinning faces.

Randolpho picked out a few of the unusual pumpkins to bring to his house.

“What are you going to do with those Randolpho? You are not going to eat them, I know that to be true,” I said to my friend.

“I am going to decorate with these pumpkins. Then when the fall is over and Yule Time comes I will cut up the pumpkins and feed them to the squirrels and deer,” said Randolpho.

Now I am at home with two large bags containing over one hundred flower bulbs. It cost me less than one hundred dollars for all of them. I did not, would not, bring home any pumpkins.

I went back to sleep and had dreams of red flowers and Cassie’s hot red blood.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

It is now snowing in the mountains which I can see from my home. I think of the winters long ago when I lived in a castle. I think of standing on the high tower lookout with the cold wind in my hair, and soft flakes of cold snow falling on my face.

People in my neighborhood are starting to celebrate the cool air by putting scarecrows, wreaths of gold and orange leaves, and pumpkins on their porches.

Everything is different now. Different than it was centuries ago when I was King of the Vampires.

I sent my sister a text on my phone. I have learned to do that. It is a valuable tool. I send her a photo of the tulip bulbs. She sent back a message with three red hearts. Do I dare say that was cute? I told her that I would save some for her. I told her how excited I was about the bulbs.

Then she texted, “Do not lose your head over it.”

And I texted back, “LOL.”

I am feeling as if I belong to the modern world, even if I do not appreciate the cult of Pumpkin Spice.

~ Vlad

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This is #33 of the Vlad’s Vampire Diary series. For the entire series, from the beginning, CLICK HERE. ~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

Vampire Diary: Hot and Cold

Dear Diary,

Last night I attended a party which was given by Vampire friends, a former Count of some now nonexistent country, and his wife who is from another now nonexistent country.

Her name, or what she now calls herself is Angelica. She explained to me that she is repelled by the feel of the body of a warm living human next to her, and no longer seduces her prey in the warmer months. What is it that the teenagers who live in my neighborhood call it? TMI. Too. Much. Information. I was tempted to suggest she bring a thing called baby wipes with her so she can wipe down hot sweaty necks before she eats. I knew she would not understand, or even see the humor in my comment.

I next heard that Angelica was going to bring in live food for us. That would be live people whom some of the younger Vampires call Vamp Tramps. They are those people who let Vampires feed on their blood willingly. Some like the excitement. Some hope to one day become Vampires themselves. I find them distasteful. They are like beggars asking for something they can never have, or whores who never get paid for their services.

I left the party with lie about having a headache. One does not earn the title of King of the Vampires by spending time with crass bores. I like my meals to be quiet, private affairs.

It reminded me of a time, centuries ago, when a wealthy and powerful man brought his daughter to my castle.

“Oh Vlad, King of Vampires, I bring you my daughter in exchange for immortality as a Vampire.”

A frightened girl of fifteen years stood before me. I told her to sit by the hearth and make herself warm.

I faced the father. “What should I do with the girl?”

“Drink her blood. Take her as a mistress until she can no longer take a breath on her own. I have too many daughters, but she is the boldest and strongest. She is a pain in my ass. Take her as my gift. Enjoy her.”

I looked over at my friend Randolpho who was also in the room with me. “Randolpho, please take this good man out to meet some of the other Vampires. I wish to speak to the girl alone.”

When they had left the girl cowered in the chair in which she sat.

“Do not be afraid. I am not going to drink your blood or kill you. I will not keep you as my mistress.” There was still fear in her eyes. I then told her that I would send her to friends in Italy where should could live with artists and eat oranges and live without fear. She could be happy and choose the man she wished to be with.

Then we heard screams. “Your father will never bother you again. His blood will be gone and we shall boil his bones and feed him to the hounds. That is what we do to men who try to barter their children for their own gain.”

She smiled then took my hands. I remember the warmth of her fingers around mine, and how she smelled like lilacs when I gave her an embrace.

“Thank you. You are so cold,” she said.

“Of course, but I will make sure you are never cold.” And she never was cold or unhappy for the rest of her seventy eight years, which was a long life in the 1500’s. We should all be so lucky.

Fifteen years later I spent the winter in Italy at the villa she now owned. We became lovers for several months. She then told me that it would never last because she could never fall in love with a man who was far more beautiful than she was, and for the fact that she was in love with another. They married the following year, and lived a long happy life together.

I heard rumors that her father’s skull was used in the first production of Hamlet but do not quote me on that fact.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went to the local pub, owned by a woman named Cassie. We have become friends over the past year, Cassie and I have. I stayed late talking with her at the bar.

“Where is Brody tonight?” I asked about her large black dog who is usually behind the bar with her.

“He ripped a claw out. Poor baby is home wearing the cone of shame,” she said.

“But surely it was an accident,” I said. “One should never shame a good dog.”

“It is a just a joke Vlad. The veterinarian, the animal doctor, puts a plastic cone shaped collar on dogs to prevent them from chewing on themselves.”

There is so much to learn about the complexities of the modern world after being locked in a crypt for three hundred years.

We had a few drinks together and talked about our pets. Since Brody was not in service tonight I offered to walk Cassie the three blocks to her home. She accepted my offer.

She invited me inside. I looked at her and locked my eyes on hers.

“You’re so beautiful,” she said and pulled her shirt over her head, then proceeded to pull my shirt over my head. How I love the modern cotton knit fabric.

“You’re so cold,” she said as she put her arms around my waist and pulled me close.

“You are so warm,” I said, kissing her on her forehead, then her cheeks, then her eyes, and by then she was smiling in a lovely trance as I moved on to her neck. She was a perfect A+ blood type. Even in her trance she let out a slight feminine sigh, and barely whispered my name.

That is one of the wonderful things about being a Vampire in this day and age – we know blood types. We have names for them. What do the young people say? Cool. That is it. It is very cool. The blood is hot, but the expression “cool” means it is something wonderful.

I left Cassie and Brady asleep with sound dreams of all things good.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

It is now considered summer as the month of June passes by. When I was young we did not wonder why the weather changed. It just did. There were seasons. Some said it was the Gods, but we did not believe in the Gods of those who came to judge us. They told us we would be damned so we drained them of blood. If you can’t beat them eat them. I know the new expression is “join them” but why? They had too many Gods, like what they call Super Heros now. Nobody has time for men in tights (see I make a joke.)

So now the sun comes up and I will sleep. Yesterday I had a dream of a warm body next to my cold side. I woke to find the two cats curled up by my side.

I thought about many years, in fact centuries ago when I was awakened one morning from great commotion at the doors of my castle. I pulled on a robe and went to see who was there. A group of men, twenty of them, stood with swords drawn and grim expressions on their faces. They wore white robes with red crosses stitched on the front.

“Who are you and what do you want?” I heard my friend Randolpho ask them with his fangs out.

One man took a step forward. “We are the Knights Templar.”

I came out from behind my Vampire guards and could hear the Knights Templars gasp in unison.

“Please,” I said. “Put down your swords. We have no need for that here. I am Vlad. How may I help you?”

Then they all went down on one knee and bowed. To make a long story short they were under the false assumption that I, Vlad King of the Vampires, was an angel. It might have been my long blonde hair around my shoulders, or maybe my beautiful face, or just what do they call it, my magnetic charm. I do not know why, yet I was quite amused.

Then my sister came running out and a few of them almost fell over. I later learned those men, for whatever foolish reasons had taken vows of celibacy but upon seeing my sister they all became overcome with a sort of brain fever of wonton love for her.

I invited the men into my realm. The leader, a man called John, asked if they could keep some of their items in my castle.

“I would be honored and your treasure would be safe,” I told him.

Then from his coat John pulled an old goblet and handed it to me. “This is the cup from the last supper.”

“I see. I will have dinner prepared for you and your men tonight. You may all have new cups tonight.”

John then looked upon me with compassion and passion in his face. “Vlad, this is the cup which held the blood of our Lord.”

I could feel the cup getting hot in my hands, enough to burn an ordinary man. I smelled it. Yes, it had contained wine at one time, but no real blood. I later learned the blood was symbolic.

“The cup is the most holy of relics,” said John. “Would you keep it safe.”

“I will,” I told him.

He also asked me to keep a chest with something which I now believe to be an old radio receiver.  I hope if he ever comes back that he will be able to find tubes. I will send him to eBay.

The Templars stayed for four days then left. I locked their treasure in a room underneath my castle. They never came back for it. It was not like now where I could text them or sell the items on Craigslist.

Now I still have those items in my basement at my home in America. I doubt if the Templars will try to look me up. They are long gone. With no women in their lives they had no children to come get their things. Maybe I will get out the cup and polish it up. I could always restore the radio or whatever that thing is. I will look into it. Maybe there might be a YouTube video explaining it. One never knows.

~ Vlad

 

 

 

Vampire Diary: Hot Mess

Dear Diary,

Today I walked to the end of the street to pick up my mail. My cats and Jane the coyote pup followed me.

A group of teenage girls sat on the front porch of the house nearest the mail box. They waved to me.

“Oh my God, Vlad you’re so cute with your cats and the pup,” said one of them.

I smiled minus my fangs. The girls giggled. They find me attractive but I do not know what is cute about a man with board shoulders and almost six feet of height. Cats are cute. Puppies are cute. I have yet to understand what this cute word means. They also call me sexy, but not to my face. They do not call cats or coyotes sexy. That makes more sense to me. My lover Gillian told me not to think about it and to stop being silly. I am not silly.

As I looked through my mail, mostly letters from other vampires, I could hear the girls talk. One said a friend of hers was a hot mess. Hot mess?

So I said, “I could not help but overhear your conversation. What do you mean by hot mess.”

They all laughed out loud. Some laughed with high pitched voices. One had a laugh that was low and rough, but not unpleasing. One laughed like a woman ready to seduce and rule the world.

I repeated myself. “Sweet ladies, you know I am not from here. Please, what is a hot mess? Is it something you eat?”

They laughed again. Then one girl, the one with the low and rough laugh answered. “A hot mess is when someone tries to look good and ends up looking like a disaster. They’re just a hot mess.”

“I see. That is amusing,” I said. “Am I hot mess?”

They giggled. Then one said, “You’re just hot.”

Then they giggled some more and didn’t stop.

They then talked among themselves and I heard one say no sheets Sherlock. I wondered what was meant by that. I did not ask. I told the girls goodbye and winked at them. They giggled some more, and as my pets and I walked away I could hear them talk about me, but not in an unflattering way.

That night I asked my lover Gillian about Sherlock. “Darling, who is Sherlock and why does he not have sheets? Does he sleep on the ground or in a hammock? Why would young girls be speaking of such a person?”

Gillian smiled and kissed me. “I love you Vlad but…”

“Gillian dear, I was sealed in a crypt for three hundred years. I am still learning the strange language and customs of modern life,” I said to her.

“Vlad, Sherlock Holmes is a fictional detective. The first story about him came out in 1887. You were still locked in the crypt. Sherlock’s adventures became extremely popular, and his character, and versions of the character are still popular. The term is No Shit Sherlock.

“Does he not poop like most people?”

“Yes, he poops. I assume he poops. It isn’t covered in the stories. The term No Shit Sherlock is used when somebody says something incredibly obvious.”

“Like I say being locked in a crypt is a bad thing. Then you say No Shit Sherlock.”

“Exactly Vlad.”

“Do not say I am not learning anything.”

Then she kissed me again. And again. And again.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went to a pub where I am known and liked. I do this so that I can get blood with ease. I am not one of those vampires who likes to crawl through windows. I would rather have a glass of wine and talk with my dinner companions a bit.

The bartender is a woman named Cassie. We talked for a while then she noticed my satchel.

“Oh my goodness. You brought your cat tonight. Bring her out,” said Cassie.

I took the purring cat out of the bag. Cassie said we were cute. Always cute. My world is nothing but cute. Yet, I am happy when Cassie and my cat are happy. After many women and men came over to pet the cat and call it cute, the cat crawled back into the bag and fell asleep. I visited with Cassie more. She told me about her graduate studies. She is brilliant.

Then a man sits down next to me. “Vlad. You are Vlad.”

I look at him. He is tall and thin, with dark wavy hair pulled back into a tail like the teenage girls who live on my street. His brown eyes are hidden behind large black framed glasses. The teenage girls might find him attractive. I find him to be what they call a hot mess.

“Yes,” I say. “My name is Vlad. What is your name, and how do you know mine?”

He grins, a wide grin with perfect straight white teeth. “I know you’re a vampire Vlad.”

“Cute maybe,” I say. “A vampire, I do not think so.”

“I was told on good authority that you know where the high counsel of the vampires meet. I hear you used to be their king.”

“You are mad,” I told him.

I walked out to the street. He followed me and called out after me. “Vlad, I’m not a vampire hunter. I’m a scientist. I’m a journalist. I want to know the truth.”

I turned around to face him. “You seek the truth do you Kyle Gunner? That is your name. Yes, you seek parlor tricks so I just gave you one. You are excited and thrilled that I have stopped. Let me answer your question. There is no high council of vampires. That is, what do they call it, a plot device, a fictional bit of grandness to try to explain things you do not understand.”

He looked disappointed and puzzled. I continued to speak.

“Be a scientist Kyle Gunner and get the facts, if that is facts that you seek. Not alternate facts, but real facts.” He stood transformed so I continued to speak. “The facts are that if you speak out people will believe you to be insane. I advise you not go that route. Do not make memes of me either. No memes. I know you are recording this on your tiny magic telephone.” I held up my hand. “Now you are not recording me and it has all been deleted. I will tell you another thing Kyle Gunner. The reason we do not always show up in photographs is because we do not want to. It is the same reason paint flakes off of canvas and ink drawn to the likeness of a vampire fades on paper. It is because we do not want to be seen. Good night Kyle Gunner. Be thankful I was generous and charitable to you tonight. I may not be next time. One more word of advice. You are a hot mess. You need to do something about that.”

Then my cat put her head out of the bag and said, “Maaaaoooo.”

“That’s a cat. You have a cat in your man-bag,” said Kyle Gunner.

Then I said, “No shit Sherlock. Of course she is a cat. And this is a satchel, not a man-bag.” Then I snarled at him with my fangs and almost stopped his heart from fear.

I left him standing alone in the dark as other vampires watched, and waited from the shadows.

Then I heard one of the vampire women whisper to her friend, “Oh my God,  Vlad is sooooo cute.”

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

I stand outside under the full moon watching the bats play at night. A large owl flies by. I hear a mocking bird call in the night. The wind blows gently and dances through my hair. Gillian comes behind me and puts her arms around me, then rests her head on the back of my shoulder.

For all of the confusion there are constants. I am in love, and I am cute. Those are two things which I am not sure I will ever understand.

~ Vlad

This is the 30th Vampire Diary Post. For more of Vlad’s Vampire Diary (from the beginning) 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: It Will Be Fun

Dear Diary,

I went to my mail box today. Unlike when I lived in my castle the mail box is in a wall of mail boxes built like a columbarium with a lot of little boxes all together with names on the, except mail is put there. It would not surprise me to find ashes, or even a skull in my box one day. That would be a pleasant change from so many advertisements.

The two cats, and the Jane the coyote pup with the soul of a Werewolf, followed me to the mail box. They ran around together then as I stopped the cats climbed a nearby tree, and Jane sat on my foot and leaned against my leg.

As I gathered up my mail, glad to see a packet of letters from Europe, my neighbor , a woman named Liz whom I am friendly with and drink wine with came to get her own mail.

“I am so glad you and Gillian are going to see Beauty and the Beast with us,” she said with a big smile.

I did not understand. What had my lover Gillian agreed to?

“I do not understand,” I said to Liz.

“You’re so cute Vlad. The movie. Gillian said you’d go with us. We’re getting a group together. It will be fun.” Then she scratched Jane between her shoulder blades. Jane licked Liz on the chin.

When I arrived back at my house, behind closed doors, I thought about what Liz had said. It will be fun.

I thought about a long time ago when I was a young man of seventeen years and someone said to me it will be fun.

In the court of my father was a Vampire called Lord Cuthbert. Cuthbert was not only large and handsome, but he was also vain and cruel.

One day he said, “Come with me Vlad. We will go to the woods for sport. It will be fun.

When we arrived in a dark spot in the woods Cuthbert took out his whip and started to beat me. Then he pushed me to the ground and held me there with his foot.

“You are too pretty to be a man. Maybe I should make you my bitch,” he said laughing and showing his fangs.

I was strong and young. I pushed him off of me, but he sliced open my arm with his knife. I stood in shock as he laughed in my face. Then he took my horse and left me in the woods.

“Next time Vlad, I will make you cry like a little girl,” he said as he rode off.

I said nothing to my father. Only my friend Randolpho knew what had happened.

The following week Cuthbert said to Randolpho, “Come to the woods with me. We will hunt wild boar. It will be fun.”

Randolpho went to the woods with Cuthbert. There Cuthbert beat Randolpho with a club, and stabbed him over and over with a knife. Then he took Randolpho’s clothing and left him naked to walk home.

The following day Cuthbert said to a Vampire girl called Sabine, “Come Beautiful Sabine, see the wild flowers with me. It will be fun.”

Cuthbert overpowered Sabine and violated her. He cut off a large chunk of her hair. He cut her face. He carved his name on her belly with his jewel handled knife, and threatened to kill her if she told anyone.

Sabine told Randolpho for he was her sweetheart.

The following day I said to Cuthbert, “Come to the woods with us near where the Wolf Folk live in their rough cottages. We will play a trick on them. It will be fun.”

Cuthbert was happy to go with us. He enjoyed nothing more than taunting and molesting Wolf Folk. We passed the village of the Wolf People, those who are part animal, and live as poor sad outcasts in their rough villages. They looked at us from the windows of their crude houses. They licked their lips with fear in their eyes.

“Look at you ugly filthy creatures,” yelled Cuthbert. “Go back in your dens before I put chains around your necks and pull you to Hell. But first I will take your women dog style.” Then he laughed a full belly laugh and showed his long sharp Vampire fangs. I was disgusted with him but said nothing.

To make this long story somewhat shorter I will finish up as not to get hand cramps. Outside of the Wolf Village I told Cuthbert to get off of his horse. When he did I struck him down with my sword. I cut off his right hand. He fell to his knees. Randolpho kicked Cuthbert down, then took out his knife and cut off Cuthberts manhood. As he lay screaming, the Wolf Folk gathered around. I sliced into Cuthbert’s flesh and threw it to the Wolf Folk who quickly ate it up. Bit by bit I flayed him, feeding the hungry half humans. Small Wolf Children ran up and begged for his nose, lips and ears. Cuthbert watched as he was devoured and begged us to stop.

“Sabine begged for you to stop and you laughed in her face, and made her suffer the worst humiliation. You disgust me. This is for Sabine,” I said as I cut off his nose and threw it to the laughing Wolf Children. Then Randolpho and I left. The sounds of Cuthbert screaming could be heard as the Wolf Folk ate him alive, and did not leave a single bone untouched. From a place behind the Wolf Folk Sabine watched and smiled.

Then Gillian came into the room and asked, “What are you thinking about. Vlad, the look on your face…”

I smiled. “Nothing darling. Liz told me that we were going to go see a movie. It will be fun.”

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Movie theaters fascinate me. There are times when I am unable to tell I am just sitting and watching. I am transported into another world.

This movie Beauty and the Beast is an old story. Like a girl falling in love with one of the Wolf Folk, only this man is enchanted by a wizard. He is a beast in a land of no other beasts. That is how some Vampires feel when they are out of sorts and wonder who could love them. Oh the prisons some put around themselves.

It was fun, but the theater was full of people so there was no chance to go to a back rows for snacks.

But the story was odd. I prefer the film Gillian and I saw last week. It was straight forward and to the point. It was about a man called Rick who owned a bar in a place where refugees met. The woman he loved and mysteriously lost showed up with a new husband who was a famous leader. Rick let her go despite the agony in his heart because it was for the good of all. I might not have been so noble. A kiss is not just a kiss. A bite is just not a bite. And all beautiful friendships have notable beginnings.

All of the women who went to view the movie with us said I reminded them of the Beast. I asked why. They said it was that we were both cute. I do not understand, but I smile without my fangs to be polite. I do not want them to ever consider me a beast. I thought of the Wolf Folk. I do not ask Gillian about it because she would only roll her eyes at me.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Yesterday I had a dream about dancing with Gillian in a huge ballroom. She wore a yellow ball gown. I’d never seen her look so beautiful. We danced around the floor with eyes only on each other, then the chairs around the edge of the room started to move towards us. When they started to attack I woke.

Tonight I went out to more adult places to hunt. I had had enough of fairy tales and talking furniture. At one intersection there were bars, alleys, dark corners, and people wanting companionship, if only for a night.

When I arrived home, full from a successful night, the cats and Jane were waiting.

Gillian came out wearing something pretty, yellow, extremely small, lacy, and almost completely transparent.

She held out her hand and led me towards the stairs to the bedroom. “It will be fun,” she whispered.

“I have an idea for some games,” I said.

“Be my guest,” said Gillian, as she put her lips to mine in kiss that would enchant the coldest heart and deadest soul. Then she…oh yes she did.

And she was telling the truth. It was fun.

~ Vlad