Tag Archives: Vlad

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Look it up

by

6

Dear Diary,

My hair has become as long as it was in the 18th Century. I have no problem with this situation. The sixteen year old girl who lives two houses down said I look like a rock star. I know what a rock star is. I like that better than someone calling me cute. She did call me cute. So did her mother. I do not understand. Puppies and babies are cute. I am a Vampire. I am THE Vampire King. Or at least at one time I was Vampire King. A long time ago.

I will take rock star as a compliment.

~ Vlad

Dear Diary,

I do not understand how the hierarchy works in this modern word. I am not even sure I understand the word modern.

My Vampire lover Gillian was talking about something to do with politicians. I never comment in fear of being yelled at, so I just listen when she speaks of such things. She made a curious comment. She said, “If you looked up asshole in the dictionary his face would be there in full 8×10 color.”

I had to speak up and take the chance of her wrath. “I agree the man you speak of is an asshole, but what do you mean by dictionary?”

Gillian turned towards me and blinked exactly three times. “You don’t know what a dictionary is yet?”

“My love,” I said, “You forget that I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years. There are things I still do not know about this world in which I find myself.”

“You don’t know what a dictionary is,” she said, not asking but stating a true fact.

“No. I have heard the term but no I do not know,” I said.

“Oh. That’s right. Before you were locked in the crypt, and where you lived there were no dictionaries. Damn Vlad. I’m sorry.”

“So?”

“Back around 1806 a man, an American named Noah Webster was tired of everyone spelling words in all kinds of different wonky ways so he created a book called a dictionary. There were some books like it in the past, but he was the first one to do it right. So a dictionary is a book which contains thousands of words, how to spell them, how to pronounce them, and what all of the meanings of those words are.”

“That is fascinating and it sounds quite useful.”

“Definitely. Everyone used to have printed dictionaries, you know, big books. Now it is all online.”

When I do not understand something everyone tells me to “look it up.” I know what the Internet is. I know what Wikipedia is. I know what Google is. Now I know what a dictionary is. I do not know how we survived back in the day but we did.

“If Noah Webster created a dictionary then who is Daniel Webster? I have heard the term which connects his name with the Devil.” I said to Gillian.

“Daniel Webster was a lawyer and a politician back in the 1800’s. The Devil and Daniel Webster is a fictional story about how he convinced a jury of despicable characters to vote against the Devil. The Devil purchased a man’s soul, then of course that man wanted his soul returned. On a rather thin train of reasoning Daniel Webster convinced the jury that the Devil was wrong.”

“What about the Devil Went Down to Georgia? Is that song the same thing?” The creator of that song, unfortunately not being a Vampire, recently passed away.

“No, that is about a young fiddle player who told the Devil that he was a better fiddler,” said Gillian.

“Was he?” I asked

“Absolutely. Dear Vlad, nobody writes songs and stories about the Devil winning, at least not in popular culture. It is the classic good versus evil story.”

“The Devil has no power over Vampires either.”

“No he does not. We’re so much smarter than that. Unfortunately that isn’t true with politicians and preachers.”

I had not heard the song so I looked it up. It was quite interesting.

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

I am at home more so I have time to look things up. Everyone is at home more.

After finding myself in the 21st Century after being locked in a crypt since 1715 I have come to realize the world is a much more complicated and confusing place.

I do not understand almost everything, yet there is so much that has not changed. More has changed.

I looked up the word cute.

A vocabulary web site stated this: The adjective cute describes something that’s attractive in a pleasing, nonthreatening way. Things that are small or young are often described as cute, like babies, puppies, or toy fire engines.

Something that’s cute is easy to like. We usually use cute to describe how something looks, like your cute smile or your cute dimples, but you can use it for anything that’s endearing or pleasing, like the boy-gets-girl ending to a romantic comedy. Cute can also refer to something that’s overly clever and a little bit fake. Don’t be too cute when you fill out a college application — the person reading it might not think it’s so funny.

What is the term my friends always use? Oh yes, I remember. What the fuck?

In following with Gillian’s advice I used the dictionary. I looked up the Merriam-Webster dictionary.

 

Definition of cute

 

1a: clever or shrewd often in an underhanded manner ” … he’s a true patriot and statesman … and a most particular cute lawyer.”— Thomas Chandler Haliburton

b: IMPERTINENT, SMART-ALECKY Don’t get cute with me.

2: attractive or pretty especially in a childish, youthful, or delicate way a cute puppya cutesmile

3: obviously straining for effect The movie’s too cute to be taken seriously.

 

Smart-alecky? Impertinent? I looked up smart-alecky and did not like that description.

Then I saw it 2: attractive or pretty.

I am still confused, yet not so much as I was. I am attractive. When I was young I could be considered pretty. I am still considered pretty in a manly way. Perhaps it is my youthful glow.

I am 676 years old but will admit, not out of vanity, but out of fact, that I still have a youthful glow.

Sometimes despite my age I feel like one who is a teenager. I think I know everything, yet the more I know the more I realize that I know nothing.

This word cute is something I shall never understand.

 

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

Today the weather is insanely hot. It is hellishly hot.

In the days, now so long ago, when I was King of Vampires, I lived in a castle in the mountains. It was never hot. Maybe it would be warm in the summer but never hot like this as if I lived inside of an active volcano.

“How did I get here?” I asked Gillian.

“Private Jet. Don’t you remember?”

“Of course I remember. That is not what I meant. Why here? Why not in a castle in the mountains? Why not a place where it is not so hot? How did you end up here in this hole of Hell?”

“To make a long story short,” she said as she gave me that look that women always give, “Randolpho and I, plus a lot of other Vampires came out here during the Gold Rush to start a new society of Modern Vampires. We were tired of all of the arcane stupid bullshit that we had to deal with. You were gone. Your castle was gone. You were one of the only leaders who stood up against all of the stupidity and old beliefs.”

I looked at here almost feeling as if a tear would come into my eye.

She continued, “I had no idea it would be so hot. None of us did. But this is our home now. Get over it.”

“I appreciate what you did,” I said, because I did. “It is just so far away.”

“We needed to be far away and come to a place where we could have a new start. Our own start. Randolpho, Constantine, and I never stopped looking for you. We never stopped,” she said.

There was a knock on the door, just like in a bad stage play when the writer runs out of things to say and no longer wishes to explore options.

Our friends Randolpho and Constantine were at the door carrying a bag.

“We brought Tequila and limes,” said Randolpho, who was wearing a straw hat decorated with flowers.

“I brought masks for everyone,” said Constantine. “These are not only exceptionally stylish but your fangs won’t get caught in them. I made them myself.”

Constantine is not only the most stylish creature I have ever met but in another life he was a tailor to the most fashionable and important people on the planet.

For the rest of the afternoon, we stayed in my cool house, sipping cocktails. Four Vampires wearing shorts and flip-flops, keeping cool. Maybe this place  is not so bad after all.

I still do not understand why it is so hot. Maybe I should look it up.

 

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 61st installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To look up all of the entries from the very beginning of Vlad’s modern adventures click here.

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Flip Flop

by

8

Dear Diary,

For the past week the days have brought hellish heat. I am a Vampire so I know what hellish is.

For three hundred years I was trapped in a crypt, only to come out five years ago. I had no idea my friends would transport me to such a place where the air is hot enough to cook eggs upon the sidewalk. It is what is called triple digits. This is all new to me. The thermometer was invented a few years after I was locked away. Sometimes it seems as though everything was invented after I was trapped away.

Where I have come to reside is considered paradise except now on the brink of summer. There shall now be months of such blistering and ungodly heat. This is no place for a Vampire.

My Vampire love Gillian and my friend from my childhood Randolpho were at my home today with gifts. Gillian presented me with shoes. She said they were shoes. I had my doubts.

“You expect me to wear these things?” I asked her that as I reluctantly took the objects from her hands.

“It’s too hot for closed toes shoes,” she said.

“But then do those in charge, politicians as you call them, wear flip flops?”

“No. At least not while they’re working,” said Randolpho.

I put the odd looking shoes on the table. “Then why do people say they flip flop. Are they on the ground like a fish out of water? Do they have medical conditions to be addressed?”

“Flip flop also means someone is changing their mind. The shoes are called flip flops because of the sound they make when you walk in them,” said Randolpho.

“Like a fish out of water,” I said.

“Sort of,” said Randolpho.

I could not imagine putting something between my toes and expecting it to stay on my feet. Then Gillian took out a pair of shoes made of straps and something that looked like leather but was not leather.

“What is this?” I asked. “You want me to wear sandals like a Roman or those people you who were once called beatniks. I know what a beatnik is.”

“These are Tevas. They’re waterproof and comfortable. You can walk in water with them,” said Gillian.

“Why would I want to do that?” I asked.

“I don’t know. If we go to the lake and you don’t want to step on rocks…” Gillian started to say.

“I do not go into the water out of doors,” I reminded her.

“If it’s hot we can for for night swims,” she said.

“I do not go into the water,” I said again.

“Why? It’s not like you’re going to shrink,” said Randolpho.

“I do not understand. Why would I shrink?”

“It’s a joke,” said Randolpho. Everything with him is a joke.

I said nothing. I would not ask the to explain it to me. It is frustrating to be thrust into fashions and ideas about entertainment that are completely foreign to me.

“Why don’t you like the water?” Gillian asked.

“I never learned to swim,” I said.

Both of my friends stood in silence as if I’d told them that I never learned to ride a horse.

“I will wear the flip flops today if that will make you happy.”

“You can’t swim?” Randolph said with a strange look on his face as if in pain.

“No,” I said.

“Vlad, you’re a Vampire. You’re the Vampire King,” said Randolpho

“I am aware of that fact,” I said.

Gillian put a pretty hand on my shoulder. “In 676 years you never learned to swim?”

“No, I never learned to swim. There was no reason for me to ever swim. Do either of you ever remember me swimming?”

Randolpho smiled. “Wait, you’re telling me that with your body, and your face you never had the inclination to come out of the water, with your gorgeous well muscled body wet, glistening in the moonlight, your golden hair slicked back, your blue eyes shining, and just a hint of fang in your come hither smile, while your admirers swooned at the sight of you?”

“That never once crossed my mind Randolpho. Never once,” I said.

For the rest of the day I wore the flip flops. I did not fall or trip as I expected to. I would rather go barefoot but I did not.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Randolpho told me today that if I wear flip flops on my feet nobody will suspect I am a Vampire. I told him that I appreciated the sage information. He told me not to be sarcastic.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

My cats do not like to swim. They are reasonable creatures. Why should I be expected to swim for I am also a reasonable creature.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Today it was hotter than Hell, or so I was told. Gillian complained that she did not like this weather because necks would be hot and sweaty and taste like dirty salt. She pulled a packet of some sort out of her purse. She said they were called wipes.

“Take these to wipe off necks next time you go out to feed,” she told me. I appreciate her concern.

That night the air continued to be hot. Gillian led me up to the bathroom with the large shower and undressed me. Then we both stood under the cold water.

“You remind me of Randolpho’s description the other day,” she said as she ran her hands over my wet body.

In this new modern world there are things which will always confuse me, but then again there are things which will always come naturally without effort.

I said nothing as I kissed her, and banished the thoughts of Randolpho from my mind.

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

This has been the 59th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read Vlad’s story from the confusing and cute beginning CLICK HERE.

 

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Social Distancing

by

6

Dear Diary,

Even Vampires are going out less these days.  We must, what does Gillian say, oh yes, she says we must stay the fuck home.

While at home during this quarantine for a virus called Covid-19 my friends feel compelled to keep me entertained from afar.

A quarantine is not an uncommon or foreign idea to me. I was born at the time of the great black death plagues in Europe. I have been through many many many pandemics. Unfortunately for me I was locked in a crypt for the past three hundred years only to be rescued in the year 2014. I had skipped the 18th – 20th Centuries and first years of the 21st. That included all of the technology that came to be, not to mention the popular culture that occurred. Everything changed. I have still yet to catch up.

My friends, who forget I did not read Dickens the first time around, and never drove an automobile, or even heard of or imagined an automobile until six years ago expect me to dive into the fun and frivolity caused by people staying the fuck home.

They, my dear friends, telling me WATCH THIS. They expect me to laugh. The songs are all about hand washing, bleach, and staying alive. While these are all good instructions I find myself at a loss. These songs are also supposed to be humorous. I am supposed to laugh. I understand that if I drink milk I am supposed to spit it out of my nose. I do not understand that reference either. Who shoots milk out of their nose? I do not understand.

Finally my good friend Randolpho asks me why I do not understand the musical quarantine parodies. I tell him that it is the same reason I do not understand the songs of Weird Al. I have no point of reference.

THEN Randolpho tells me that another thing those staying at home do is to make a playlist.

“What is a playlist? Are we going to put on a show and play different parts from afar wearing masks and gloves? If we do Othello I will not play Iago.” I tell my friend.

Then he says, “NOOOOOOOO,” like he always says when he thinks I am being stupid. “A playlist is a list of songs that you like. Usually it is a list of songs that define your being. It is music that makes you feel.”

“Feel what?”

“Anything.”

“Alright then, I will make a playlist,” I told him.

I freely admit I do not know all of the songs but I have learned quite a few pieces of music that make me feel. Not all of them make me feel but I do enjoy listening to them, especially loudly in my car when I drive at night with the windows rolled down.

Driving with the window rolled down and music playing loudly is a pleasure of modern life I could have never have predicted. It is invigorating unlike almost anything else.

I have made a playlist. This is what is called a short list meaning it is not all of the music I listen to.

  • Walkin After Midnight – Patsy Cline
  • One Fine Day, Madam Butterfly – Haylet Westenra
  • Rave On – Buddy Holly
  • Concerto in Da Minor, Bach – Bach Eternal
  • Riptide – Vance Joy
  • Ring of Fire – Johnny Cash
  • Friends in Low Places – Garth Brooks
  • Riptide – Robert Palmer
  • Fuge in G Minor, Bach – Virgil Fox
  • I Will Survive – Gloria Gaynor
  • Friends in Low Places – Garth Brooks
  • Everlasting – Survivor
  • You Shook Me All Night Long – AC/CD
  • Who’s Alright – Yeah… Um Huh. – The Rapture
  • Somethin’ Stupid – Frank & Nancy Sinatra
  • Short Skirt Long Jacket – Cake
  • Camel Walk – Southern Culture On The Skids
  • Dark Necessities – Red Hot Chili Peppers
  • Hall of the Mountain King – Apocalyptica
  • Day Dream – Lovin’ Spoonful
  • Cello Suite No. 1 in G Major Johan Sebastian Bach – Yo-Yo Ma
  • Hot Blooded – Foreigner
  • Night Call – Kavinsky
  • Night Walk – Gavin Luke
  • Tricky – Run DMC
  • The Way You Look Tonight – Fred Astaire
  • House of Wolves – My Chemical Romance
  • Sweet Caroline – Neil Diamond
  • Damn Right, I’ve Got the Blues – Buddy Guy
  • You Could Be Right – Jeremy Lister
  • Contagious – Night Riots
  • John Coltrane – everything

Randolpho told me my list is random. In fact, he said it was the most random playlist he has ever seen. I do not know what that means. I refuse to ask him or comment on his response.

His exact words were, “What the Hell is this Vlad? Were you trying for random?”

I told him once again that his hat was ridiculous.

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

I have conversations with my neighbor over the fence. She told me that in order to entertain her children she is making paper dolls. I asked her what paper dolls are. She told me. She cuts out shapes of girls and boys, animals, princesses and snowflakes. She said her paper dolls are cute. I asked her how to make them.

I made my own paper dolls. As you can see I am fairy adept when it comes to arts and crafts. I believe these would be considered cute.

IMG_1766

IMG_1768

IMG_1767

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

I still do not understand those who go to the streets and protest that their hair needs to be colored, or that they need to go to the beach or go out an fart in the public squares. They should try being locked in a crypt for three hundred years. They would not do well indeed.

As a 676 year old Vampire I know to well the finality and fragility of human life. I also find myself, as always, someone with a vested interest in what these warm blooded humans do with themselves.

I have come to respect those who have become quite ancient for the standard of warm blooded humans. They are called seniors. When I was locked in that crypt there were very few seniors. Now there are more but they still need to be protected and respected.

Others from babies to people who are not yet ancient are also becoming ill and perishing from this virus.

Humans can indeed be vile creatures.

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

Today I went out to the hardware store to get a saw blade. I am building deck chairs. That would be chairs I will sit in when I sit on my deck at night. I am supposed to be improving my home since I am supposed to stay at home.

I put on a face mask. When I returned to my car I attempted to take off my mask but got a fang caught in it. Damn it all.

~ Vlad

 

 

Dear Diary,

I have finished my deck chairs. I am listening to my playlist. Now I will binge watch on Netflix.

I know what a virus is now. A virus is a small being that is not an animal or a plant. It creates illness for no other purpose than that. A virus is a vile thing. I came to learn that some believe that a virus is what first caused Vampires to become Vampires. I very much doubt that.

How can something so small that not a soul can see it can do so much damage?

As I sit under the stars listening to the frogs, with a glass of blood on the table beside me, my MacBook Pro on my lap, and my love Gillian in my other deck chair I count my blessings, that is if there are blessings for Vampires. There must be blessings or Gillian and I would not be here.

I look at her and sing quietly,

Heart and soul I come to you
Are we meeting here on cue
Just in time for a love affair?
Like a fool that walked through fire

Just to reach my heart’s desire
Baby would you be waiting there?
Can we afford to wonder
If this could be the one?

Woh-oh — lookin’ for a love that’s everlasting
Wonder if the feeling’s strong enough
Tell me are we merely lovers passing
Or an everlasting love?

She takes my hand and makes me stand. Then she holds me close, and then we went inside, leaving the night for others, and starting our own playlist for the night.

 

~ Vlad

 

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

Big Hat

Randolpho and his ridiculous tall hat which he rarely takes off.

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Last Call

by

5

Dear Diary,

When one is a Vampire one is not as fragile as those who walk the Earth with fragile hearts pumping hot blood and thoughts of love. 

I attempt to be poetic but even that alludes me today.

My Vampire love Gillian is traveling and will not be home until late tonight. I feel an unease even for a Vampire. It is that odd dread remembered from my childhood. We were not in danger but everyone else was.

I decided to go down to Cassie’s bar. It is not called that. My closest warm blooded human friend Cassie owns the bar. Sitting with her and watching the other patrons would knock me out of my melancholia. I called my friend Randolpho to come join me but he said he was unavailable.

Randolpho quickly stopped talking on the phone which was quite unusual. He gave me no details to where he might be going or what he might be doing. Maybe he was in the middle of a meal. I do not know. One should never bother a Vampire who is in the middle of the meal.

Cassie greeted me at the bar with a bright smile. Her eyes were sad. The only other humans working were her helpers Kate and Diego. They were busy cleaning and making small talk with the few customers who lingered spread out in the usually crowded space.

I noticed a coldness not usually there. Everyone in the bar, except for a group of four friends at the end of the bar were Vampires or others who are not in danger due to human mortal illnesses.

A couple of ghosts sat at a table by the window. One had a shot of some unknown spirit, while the other hovered over a glass of red wine. They were dressed in the fine clothing they were buried in and did not look around as they held their glasses with transparent hands and took in the aromas of the drinks.

Several Vampires, for it was mostly Vampires there, sat at a booth in the back. I went over to see them.

“What is the worst pandemic you’ve seen Vlad?” my friend Constantine asked.

“The Black Death arrived in Europe when I was a child of three years,” I said. “One of my first memories is adults speaking of it, and of the rats and piles of bodies. There was a great fear our main food source would be gone.”

“Was it bad where you were Vlad?” That was asked by Lily a young Vampire woman.

“No, not in the Vampire Kingdom. My father sealed the borders far from where our warm blooded citizens lived,” I said. “We thought that would be the last of it. I remember at the time I was kidnapped and thrown into a crypt another smaller plague was in Europe. So much for traveling out of my own country.”

A Vampire named Valentine spoke of a cholera outbreak where he lived on the Northern coast taking entire families out. He left, not daring to weaken any of those still living with his own needs. Before he left he helped tend to those who were ill since he was immune to cholera.

“We are not ghouls,” said Lily. She took a sip of her drink and then wiped a tear from her pretty face.

My friends spoke of pandemics I had missed while I was locked away. They lost friends due to the Spanish flu, more plagues, Yellow Fever, and HIV. In fairy stories warm blooded humans write of Vampires turning the sick into Vampires, but it does not work that way. The sick do not survive the turning. They are not strong enough for conversions, so we do our best to nurse them or give them a comfortable death.

A lone Demon, uncomfortable in his own skin, sat alone with a beer, pulling with the collar of his flannel shirt. He looked like any other thirty year old man, but I knew his mouth was full of poison and underneath his shirt were leathery wings. I also knew, that like most demons, it was not an existence he savored. Being vile to the core takes a harsh toll on any creature.

Cassie rang a bell and yelled out, “LAST CALL.” It was only 9:30 but I could tell she was weary and done for the night.

An hour later we dispersed. That included the Ghosts and the sad looking Demon.

“I will walk with you to your house,” I said to Cassie.

She smiled at me and we put on our coats. I must now mention that before I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years, only to be rescued six years ago, I never used an umbrella to keep rain off. It was just not done. We had no umbrellas in the Vampire Kingdom. It is an amazing device. Cassie and I shared the dry space underneath an umbrella on the walk to her house.

“This all makes me uneasy,” said Cassie. “I am worried about my grandmother. I’m worried about my parents. I’m worried about my business.”

“Do not worry about your business. You have Vampires to help you out.”

“I don’t want to take charity,” she told me.

I said, “Cassie, it is not charity. Even Vampires need someplace to go where everybody knows your name.”

Cassie laughed and squeezed my arm. I do not know why. I did not think my comment was funny or of the arm squeezing variety.

My friend Randolpho was standing on her porch wearing one of his ridiculous hats.

Then I noticed the way he looked at Cassie. Then I noticed the way Cassie looked at Randolpho. Could it be? Perhaps? Maybe?

Cassie tossed her hair back and pushed it back showing her neck. Randolpho put out his hand and then Cassie put her hand in his. Then he kissed her on the cheek.

Sometimes a woman needs a man who will bite her neck and tell her sweet things. Sometimes when times are tough, and we are told to be alone, maybe it is good to have a Vampire around.

As I walked away, a smile on my face, I could hear Cassie sing a line from a song I do not know, “You can leave your hat on.” Then I heard Randolpho laugh as they went through the door.

I will have to look that song up.

When I arrived at home Gillian was there to greet me with a cold kiss and bright eyes. I held on to her for the rest of the night.

~ Vlad

 

Big Hat

Randolpho and his tall hat which he rarely takes off.

 

This has been the 57th instillation of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read the entire series from the beginning CLICK HERE. This is the only one that is not outrageously funny.

 

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Murphy and Snafu walk into a bar

by

6

Dear Diary,

It has not been a good day.

My cat was crying a pitiful cry the way cats do. She sounded like a wailing infant who had been damned to eternal suffering. Ever so gently I picked her up and could feel a swelling on her neck.

An abscess. I remember back when I was King of the Vampires when mortal men who were among my subjects would shuffle like the living dead after being bitten by nasty dirty rogue Vampires. Responsible and civilized Vampires such as myself, and those in my court were always clean, knowing that if they took care of their food it would be there for them again when they were hungry. The rouge Vampire who lived in foul caves and holes in the ground smelled like death and putrid rotting flesh. Their fangs were yellow and black.

When they would bite a man, if they did not kill him, the man would become infected with every sort of germ imaginable. Of course we did not know of germs back then. That did not stop the wounds from becoming horrible neck abscesses that had to be lanced and then cleaned with flame and gallons of alcohol. I had seen heads fall off from such vile poisoned Vampire abscesses. It is not a pretty sight.

The last night of the foul rogue Vampire attack I chased them down through the woods. My hounds ran in front of me. My men rode behind me. As I went ahead it started to rain. Lightning flashed and the tree in front of m exploded. A branch fell on me. My horse ran away, as I lay on the ground with a broken arm and a broken fang. As I stood up one of my men ran over me with his horse. He never even saw me and continued to ride. As I limped back to my castle, soaking wet, I wondered what else could go wrong.

My friend Randolpho was waiting for me at the front gate.

“Vlad, you won’t believe this but…guess what I just found out.” he started.

“What?” I snapped at him.

“Guess,” Randolpho said.

“Tell me,” I said ready to tear his throat out. I had no time for his games and riddles.

“Your wife is cheating on you,” my friend said. “Can you believe it? I knew something was up with that bitch.”

Four hundred years later I will not heal my cat with flames.  I did not want her head to fall off so I called the Veterinarian, otherwise known as an animal doctor.

Knowing that my cat would not willingly ride in the car I put a cat carrier cage box on the kitchen table. I attempted to put the cat within the box. She growled and jumped. I fell backwards against a chair. The chair hit the window. The window shattered. My head hit the window sill. Broken glass slashed across my cheek. I was not wearing shoes and stepped on a large shard of glass cutting my foot.

My Vampire lover Gillian came into the room while still drying her hair with a towel.

“Vlad. What happened?” Gillian asked.

“Nothing,” I said.

“You’re going to bleed out. Oh my God, your face.” She grabbed a roll of paper towel and then grabbed me, and then pushed me into a chair. She took the towel from her hair and pressed it to my face. Then she yanked the glass out of my foot. “What happened here?”

It told her. “Everything that could have go wrong did go wrong.”

“Murphy’s Law,” she said. “I’m going to have to stitch up your foot and put a butterfly on your face. You’ll heal fast but it will go quicker if I stitch it.

“Who is this Murphy and what is his law?”

“If anything can go wrong it will.  Murphy’s Law.”

“Who allowed Murphy to do this? Surely he was not elected into office.” Then again it seems like anything that is not either dead or a possum can be elected for a job.

She ignored my question about Murphy. “Do you want me to take the cat to the Vet?”

“I will do it.”

“Fine. I’ll call the handyman and have the window fixed.”

Apparently Gillian does not consider me handy.

“Why do you want to put an insect on my face?” I asked.

“A butterfly bandage. It is a type of bandage not an insect.”

“I did not know,” I told her. “I was locked in a crypt for three hundred years. Do not expect me to know all things that that are modern, especially bandages.”

When she had finished with me Gillian managed to get the cat into the box. She put the cat box on the passenger side of my car, handed me the keys, and told me to be careful.

I arrived at the animal hospital. I could hear the women working there whispering, “He is so cute. Look how adorable he is.”

“My cat is female.” I said to them.

They all started to giggle. I do not understand what make women act in such strange ways when I come into a room.

Another woman who was a doctor to animals looked at my cat. My cat purred. I was still not over joyed by the situation no matter what the cat thought of it. The Animal Doctor gave my cat drugs to heal her and told me to call if the cat did not get better.

At least that went as it should have.

I drove about a mile when I heard a loud noise. My car started to bounce. It was difficult to steer. After pulling over I found that one of my tires had exploded.

I did as I have been advised to by Gillian and my friend Randolpho, who are both well versed in automobiles, and called the number on my towing service card.

After a long wait on the side of the road with my cat, a large tow truck showed up.

A man got out of the truck and looked me up and down as if he was sizing me up. I am quite muscular so I am assuming he thought I might push my car home.

He asked me, “Do you have a spare?”

“Spare what?” I asked.

“A spare tire?”

“I do not know. Should I have one?”

“Pop the trunk,” he asked.

“It is not inflated. The trunk of this car is hard metal,” I said.

“Open the trunk so I can look for a spare tire,” said the man.

The man found a spare tire hidden under a flap in the carpeting in the trunk.

“You’ve never changed a tire,” said the man. It was not a question.

“I know nothing about cars. I never even drove one until about five years ago.”

“What about your dad? Did he drive?”

“No. We used horses. My father never learned to drive.” My father died in 1460. I did not tell the tire changing man that interesting fact.

“What are you Amish or something?”

I do not know what Amish is but I answered, “Something like that.”

“Makes sense by your accent. Nice car. How do you like having an electric car?”

“It is quiet,” I said. Vampires need quiet cars. “I like it.”

As I stood watching the man change my tire, I stood in the sun feeling sick. This was not good. I could imagine my skin starting to blister. I can take a small amount of sun but not this heat which seemed to seer me like a pig on a spit over a bonfire. I thought I was going to vomit but my stomach was empty of all blood or food of any kind.

I could hear the radio of a car driving by blasting the song Sweater Weather. It was indeed sweater weather for anyone who was not a Vampire. That just, what it the term, added insult to injury.

I heard the cat meow sadly from the box on the front seat. Then my stomach started to tell me that I was in dire need of blood. My head was light and all I could do was look at the veins on the man’s neck and forearm.

After getting a spare tire put on my car, and sucking about a pint of blood out of the arm of the AAA man, I left him sleeping on the front seat of his truck with a $50 bill.

I got into my car and noticed a large blood stain on my shirt as if I were some amateur Vampire. Then I noticed my shoe was soaked with blood where the stitches had come out of my foot. I was sunburned. My head throbbed. My hair was a mess.

I need to find this Murphy and kill him.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After the events of yesterday, my Vampire lover Gillian greeted me with kisses and promises of passion.

After a few minutes of passion she fell asleep.

She fell asleep.

SHE FELL ASLEEP.

I was tempted to look underneath the bed to see if Murphy was there. I am sure I heard laughing.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight I went out find blood and perhaps some sanity.

I went to a bar I often go to. This particular establishment is frequented by college students, young working people, and those who believe themselves to be, as my friend Randolpho says, bougie.

Two attractive young women approached me. They introduced themselves as Emily and Sammie. I find it odd that at least half of young women I meet are named Emily.

This Emily was tall with long blonde hair and a dazzling long neck. Sammie had red hair of an unusual shade.

“You’re so cute,” Emily said to me.

“Gorgeous,” said Sammie. “So are you up for a little fun? Wanna play with us tonight?”

I was taken aback by their forwardness, but I was also extremely hungry. Yet, something did not seem quite right. Before I could turn down their offer a large man accidentally bumped Sammie and an entire glass of red wine was dumped on my white shirt.

“Oh no,” the young women said in unison.

“Our apartment is just across the street,” said Sammie. “We can rinse the wine out of your shirt before it is perminately stained.”

So I went across the street to the home of the two young women.

They quickly stripped my shirt off of me, leaving me standing bare chested. Both of the women were quick to run their hands over my chest while making purring noises. Then they both kissed me and vanished into another room. Within two minutes they both returned completely naked. I have to admit they were a double vision of perfect female beauty.

I could feel their warmth, and hear the blood pumping through their veins. I could smell it.

Suddenly, as I was ready to take both to the nearby couch they grabbed a handle from the wall and pulled down a hidden bed.

“What is this?” I asked, having never seen such a contraption.

“A Murphy Bed,” said Emily.

May the ancient Gods protect me. I could not stay.

As the women cried after me to come back, I left, with only my jacket, leaving my shirt behind.

When I arrived at my car I took my keys out of my coat pocket. Suddenly something crashed into me. I could smell the stench of dirty human. I turned barring my fangs pushing the foul creature off of me.

It took a look at me and screamed, the grabbed my keys off of the ground and ran into a nearby alley. I ran after it. All of the sudden the dirty human came flying through the air and back at me. It hit me and I fell flat on my back. Something picked up the dirty human and threw it again. I could hear it scuttling off.

A face looked down at me, fangs barred. Then a smile.

“Vlad. Is that you? I thought you were dead!”

“Constantine. My old friend. How long has it been? Wow, the last time I saw you was 1680.”

“It has been a while,” I said, taking my old friend’s hand as he offered to help me up.

He gave me now what I know is called a bro hug.  “Vlad, oh Vlad. Where have you been?”

“I was kidnapped and locked in a crypt for three hundred years. I have only been out for these past six years.”

“Dude. Who did that to you?”

“I do not know,” I told him. “Randolpho and Gillian rescued me.”

Constantine looked me up and down and smiled. “Damn, you’re still the best looking Vampire anywhere, but why no shirt? You look like something off of a bodice ripper romance cover.”

A bodice ripper romance cover. I will have to look that up. “Murphy’s Law,” I said.  “I have an extra shirt in my car. One never knows when stains will occur.”

Now, as in the past, Constantine was always the best dressed Vampire. He was impeccaple tonight in a black suit, with a dark plum colored shirt and a plum colored silk tie. As we walked back to my car I saw that shadows were closing in. Constantine also noticed. We heard foot steps.

My friend and I were surrounded by Vampire Hunters.

Back when I was King of the Vampires, and Constantine was my dandy friend we could just take out our swords.

“Look in their eyes. Capture their souls,” I said quietly to my friend.

He smiled, then showed his fangs.

There were five Vampire Hunters. Two had guns. One had a whip. Two had wooden stakes.

“Oh look, someone is getting ready to plant their spring garden,” said Constantine, mocking the Vampire hunters and their stakes.

“Put down your weapons,” I said quietly. “Look at me. You are in the presence of the King of Vampires.” I caught the eyes of three of them. They put down their weapons. “Sit down. Stay still.”

“Don’t look at their faces. Don’t listen to them,” yelled one of the two left standing. Constantine approached them. A gun went off. I saw a dark shining stain start to swell on his shoulder.

“Damn. That was one of my favorite suits,” said my friend. He jumped on the man with the gun and slammed him to the ground. What happened next I will pass on describing. I will just say a good tailor and dry cleaner will be needed to fix that suit. I took on the second man still standing. After showing him my fangs he dropped the whip he held and ran.

When we were done, I said, “Murphy’s law.”

“That was more of a SNAFU,” said Constantine.

“SNAFU?” I asked. I had never heard of a SNAFU.

“Situation Normal: All Fucked Up.”

“I see,” I said. “That makes sense in a confusing sort of way.”

“Listen Vlad, you’re doing great considering how much catching up you’ve had to do.”

I dropped my friend off at his house, and I went home to my cats.

The first thing I did was look up Bodice Ripper on the Internet.

That was interesting.

The next thing I did was take a shower. While I closed my eyes under the cold water I heard a door open. My eyes flew open. I was ready for a fight. Fortunately it was Gillian. She took off her clothes and got in with me.

“Turn up the heat,” she said.

“I will definitely turn up the heat,” I said.

The rest of the evening went splendidly without any interference from Murphy. There were no interruptions. No SNAFU. No broken glass, stray possums, Vampire Hunters, or stains of any kind. We slept the deep sleep of lovers entangled in each other’s arms and legs. It was the peaceful dreamless and quiet sleep of the undead. It was a rare blessing, something Vampires savor and prize.

Then tomorrow…tomorrow I will find this Murphy and I will kill him. I am Vlad, former King of the Vampires. The cats came in and curled up at our feet, as if to say, we will keep you safe tonight, for we are cats, and we are the ones who now rule all.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

 

This has been 55th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary.

It is also a lame entry into the 7th Annual Contest of Whatever at the Evil Squirrel’s Nest. And if you’re out driving in your car watch for urban wildlife. Possums are our pals.

The Seventh Annual Contest Of Whatever!

~ Juliette aka Vampire Maman

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Vlad’s Vampire Diary: Ugly Christmas Sweaters

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Dear Diary,

I have been listening to Christmas songs on the radio. Nothing they sing makes any sense. These are just songs about children who want huge animals, broken romances, mothers cheating on their husbands, and women asking a mythical man in a red suit for high priced gifts. I do not understand.

Then…THEN there are witches. Why are no creatures stirring? Have the witches been banned from their potions the night before Christmas? Have their animal familiars gone away into winter hibernation brought on by the over abundance of green and red lights? Are mice organizing? It is truly horrifying.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

After spending three hundred years locked in a crypt therefore missing the 18th, 19th and 20th Centuries I find myself still learning, and a bit confused over current Yule season traditions.

I received an invitation to what is called an ugly Christmas sweater party. I do not understand the significance of this. I asked my Vampire lover Gillian about this. She said for God’s sake Vlad it is just for fun. At times Gillian has little patience with me.

On the Google I found many references to ugly Christmas sweaters. It seems the sweaters depict favorite holiday motifs portrayed in bright red and green colors. In the spirit of Yule I have decided that I will make my own Christmas sweater.

During my childhood, unlike my current situation in this place called California, it was often bitterly cold, even for Vampires. It was during a dark cold winter storm lasting two weeks that my Baba taught me how to knit and how to do needlework. One could say that was an unconventional task for a ten year old Vampire boy but Baba said as the future King of Vampires I must know many skills. She stressed that as a Vampire I must know all of the survival skills, including being both protected from the elements and striving to always being fashionable.

In a yarn shop, where they sold only yarn, I found a pattern for a sweater suitable for the male body. Next I looked for the right needles. I learned on needles made of bone and wood. These needles were brightly colored like ugly Christmas sweaters.

The women in the shop asked me if they could help. They wanted to know if I was buying a gift. When I told them I would be knitting my own sweater they all but swooned. I am used to such reactions. Then I told them that my grandmother, my Baba, had taught me to knit with yarn. At that point the air was thick with love and admiration.

After about an hour I left with a bag of black, green, red, gold, brown, and white yarn, needles, and a pattern. I also left with a belly full of blood, but left the women with smiles on their faces. They do not remember my taking their blood, only that a handsome man came into the shop and charmed them.

At home I have begun to knit.

My friend Randolpho came over to check out what I was doing. He told me he thought the sweater would bring quite a reaction. I told him that I was mixing both new and old traditions. It warmed my cold Vampire heart to work on such a project.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Tonight was the Ugly Christmas Sweater party at my friend Cassie’s Pub. She had closed her establishment down and just invited friends and family. Cassie is not a Vampire. I do not scare her friends with the fact that I am.

My sweater was finished and fit quite well. I did not think it was ugly at all. Maybe it was a bit unusual due to the cats I knitted onto the back. I was willing to accept any stares or giggles that might bring.

There was quiet when I walked into the room.

Everyone looked at the front of my sweater in wonder, and maybe a bit of horror. I was confused by this. Was this not supposed to be a Christmas party full of holiday cheer and memories of traditions old and new?

On my sweater was the large image of a man with bloody feet. I used shining metallic red thread for the blood. I put green blinking lights on his eyes. It was indeed an ugly sweater, yet beautiful at the same time. I was happy with it.

When I walked in there was quiet, then a gasp.

“Die Hard,” someone said.

“Yes, indeed,” I replied. “A Christmas classic so I am told. My sweater is covered in beloved motifs of Christmas traditions.”

I did not only make the Die Hard man. On the left sleeve was Krampus with his long tongue wrapped around the arm. Tiny faces of children in agony due to the whip of Karmpus bordered the cuff. Krampus held out a large bag ready to pack in the children. It took me hours to get the shading of the folds correct on the bag. I spend much time unraveling and re-knitting it. The results made me happy indeed.

On the right sleeve were shining bright white skulls with gold and silver sparkles stuck upon bright red and white, what is now called candy cane poles. Snow flakes danced brightly in the sky above the skulls.

On the back of the sweater I knitted a picture of my two cats sitting next to a Christmas Tree.

Everyone at the party was impressed when I told them that I knitted the sweater all by myself. Again there was more swooning from the ladies. They all said I was so cute. I do not understand what they mean by cute but I shall accept it as a compliment by the sheer lust in their eyes.

It warmed me to think that 665 years ago, my Baba taught me how to knit. It seems like yesterday.

~ Vlad

 

Dear Diary,

Yule is a time that even makes Vampires feel warm. The views of pine trees is now replaces with orange trees. I am becoming accustom to my new home where there is no snow, no castles, and not many Vampires.

My love Gillian and I watched Die Hard tonight while we sipped warm blood mixed with spices and a splash of red wine.

Too much merry and bright makes my skin crawl, but this year it has been just enough to make me feel there is hope for me in the modern world.

~ Vlad

Kissed by a Vampire

Kissed by a Vampire

This has been the 55th installment of Vlad’s Vampire Diary. To read Vlad’s diary from the start CLICK HERE.