I’m going to edit a number of stories and collecting them into a book. As I rewrite an edit them I’ll post them here on the blog. And there’s no place to start like the beginning.
The Vampire in My Attic
So, there’s this vampire living in my attic. I mean it might be some other kind of undead semi-human – but I’m pretty sure it’s a vampire. On the skids just like I am. Because I live in a tiny, crummy little house. Hence, tiny, crummy little attic. He has to pry open a little half window thing to crawl in and out. And he’s not nimble or graceful. In fact, he sounds kind of clumsy.
I suppose I should be afraid for my life or eternal soul except; He has horrible taste in music. And I’m not talking about a self-stereotyping predilection for mid-80’s goth. Oh no. I mean, BAD music. Real guilty pleasures. Music that is in no way appropriate for a Lord of the Night. And what’s worse – he sings along.
It’s unbelievable. He comes home, drunk off his ass after inhaling the blood of some weak willed college student and sings along with the some AM Gold hit at the top of his undying lungs. You’re not a Lineman for the county, you’re a fucking Nosferatu and you should have some self-respect.
Many is the night (his night, my early, early morning) that I lay in bed screaming, “Kill me now! Kill me now.” in a vain attempt to be heard over Lionel Richie, Diana Ross and what I can only assume is Dracula’s gay nephew. Vlad the impaler indeed.
It is sad, but I don’t think he actually kills anyone. He’s more of a scavenger vampire. Somebody wanders out in front of a car, bang, he’s right there with a straw. A friend of mine who works EMS had to mace him twice last week. Honestly, what kind of vampire is dissuaded by Mace? Maybe a mace dipped in holy water.
But what are you going to do? I take pity on the guy. And I’m certainly not going up there in the middle of the day to put a stake through his heart. Attics are hot. Besides it’s an old house and I’m hoping the fiberglass insulation will make him so itchy that he’ll go away.
But if I have to hear how Brandy is fine girl one more time – All I’m saying is there are limits.
Behind the Keystrokes
So this odd little tale jumped into my head fully formed in the middle of a sleepless night. I heard an odd thump in the ceiling – it was a new house and I could not be certain of the usual noises of the place – and I wondered, “What in the hell is in the attic? What if it’s a vampire? Wait – what kind of vampire would live in my crappy attic? It’d have to be a pretty pathetic vampire. Ah, I could probably take him. Might as well go back to sleep.
But it was too late to talk myself back to sleep. I was already at the computer and typing.