Little Miss Vampire

Edvard Munch  The Vampire

OOF! 

Dreamt that I was living in some gritty city or other with a fellow human type and a vampire couple. The vamps were nice enough folk but hard edged — not enough milk of human kindness to fill a juice glass. Mind, they weren’t cruel or especially cold hearted — just finely tuned to the harshest realities of this world.

Somewhere along the line we, me and human flatmate boy, were transformed into creatures of the night. Presumably the vampire couple turned us. This was experienced more as ‘*shrugs* that was inevitable’ than as tragic shock.

The male vampire, Greg (in point of fact, not ALL vamps get cool, poetically romantic names, like Tristan or Heath) says we’ve got one last moment of being able to eat food. I swipe a finger around the rim of an almost empty container of low fat blueberry yogurt that’s left over from lunch. Not what I’d plan to snarf as my last meal but it’s not like we’d had prep time.

Somehow guns came into play. How? Why? Might have had something to do with our attempts to drink up our makers.

Why would we do something so rude? Was that terribly ungrateful of us or what? Hey, hello! We were just turned into bloodsucking fiends and were really parched. K? They were just standing there, practically mocking us — swear to Bast — with their extra special, huge surfeit of O+. Damned boorish of them not to share.

So yeah, they were merely 'defending' themselves when they broke out the Remingtons...after turning us into mindless bloodthirsty ghouls. Totally understandable of them, right? WRONG. They pissed me off royal, so we split.

A realization came over me then — my body was what it would always and forever be. Though I couldn’t enjoy a big plate of fish tacos any longer (vamp systems can’t process solid food. True fact! You can look it up), I’d also never lose those 10 pounds I’d been meaning to shed for so long. Such cruel, nasty and way over the top fuckwadded fate!

But wait, would, at the very least, my perpetually teenaged skin FINALLY clear up? Are there there any damned perks to this new state of unbeing?

My ex-human, ex-bunkmate Floyd didn’t take kindly to the no food edict and, in a truly over the top fit, had his wicked and decidedly sloppy, frat boy-ish way with a poor defenseless 7-Eleven.

 ‘Dude, you’re drooling all over those jelly doughnuts and, even if you get get those stuffed jalapeños to stay down....well they’re gonna come back to haunt you.’

Did he listen to me? Fuck no. I got out before the hurl and shitworks began.

I set out on my own, finding that, though not quite dusk, I didn’t sizzle and pop much if I kept to the shadows. Yea me.

I ended up in a square, a palazzo reminiscent of, perhaps, Scollay Square of the first half of the 20th century (not that I was there at that time, thenkyew veddy much!) BUT the buildings were all heavily painted with wild, colorful graffiti — like that building on Comm. Ave down in Kenmore Square  but even more so. In places it was as though a three sheets to the wind giant had tossed great gouts of Crayola Tempera Purple Pizzazz, Neon Carrot, Cerulean and Electric Lime over and across all the building fronts.

It was pretty damned tremendous. Beautiful too,

And then I woke, thirsty as all hell. Yeah, for water. I think I'll go pop a Buffy vid in while I treadmill-ize this morning.