Joe Vampire

POST 13



The Man with Two Brains (And No Girlfriend)

Since spilling my guts to Hube, it’s become quite a bit easier to deal with all this vampire crap. Whenever some new aspect crops up – say, little fanglets (yep – they’ve started coming in) or a slight pointing at the tips of my ears – I bounce it off of him to make sure it’s real and that I’m not going insane. He’s a great sounding board for stuff like that. He’s also not afraid to let me know when I’m getting a bit too dark – shocking, I know, but it does happen – and he doesn’t let me stay bummed for too long when it all threatens to overwhelm me. For a member of the fully living, he has some pretty keen insight about how to have a normal life while being somewhat dead.

He’s like my second brain, that guy.

He’s also willing to make all kinds of crazy sacrifices to help me out, things I end up having to put in perspective for him so he remembers that this whole shebang is a little more wonky than what we’re used to facing, being a couple of work-a-day dudes in a synthesizer rock band and all. Hube prefers to think of This as a wake-up call, something to remind me how alive I still am, and how lucky I am to be so. A near-death – or un-death – experience, of sorts. He thinks I should approach it like I’m on some kind of an adventure, like a super-pale Bear Grylls or the Indiana Jones of the undead. I’m thinking no. Adventure is something I prefer to experience from a distance.

And through television.

Hube is also ultra-aware of how much the whole human bloodfeeding deal really bothers me, as it should bother anyone who thinks about it for even a second as a real-life possibility. But he’s all about the solutions… to the point of excess, sometimes. “Maybe you could become a vigilante, like, a superhero sort-of thing,” he suggested once, when the topic of feeding came up.

“Nah… I’m too lazy.” I come from a long line of very still, very conservatively-dressed people. The last thing I wanted to add to my list of shit to figure out was how to move quickly in spandex without everything jiggling.

“Right… right. You could become a missionary, then, dedicated to tracking down terrorists and dictators and human garbage in general.”

“That’s mercenary, not missionary. And no.” How would I fund something like that?

“So, no criminals and no terrorists." I think my reluctance irked him. "I understand you're walking a moral tightrope here, but is there any faction of loser you actually would be willing to suck blood out of in order to avoid biting the innocent? We have to find you someone to feed off of.” This is precisely the reason I love Hube: he speaks in terms of we, as if even my being a vampire is something we’re going to tackle together. He’s always been this way. He doesn’t stop to think about it for a second, doesn’t hesitate. I tell him I’m a vampire and he just jumps right in with both feet to help me out, no matter how whacked things get. He’s more of a brother than my own brother, really.

My own brother is just an asswipe.

Before I could stop him, Hube jumped in one more time. “Got it. You could feed off of me.”

I was sure he was kidding. “Yeah, right.”

“I’m clean and healthy, had all my shots. No history of blood-borne illnesses.”

A little less sure after that. “Hell to the no, bro.”

“Why not? We’ll make a schedule… it’d be like a donation at the blood bank. They take a pint every eight weeks, so we could start with that and see what happens.”

He was totally serious. “No freaking way!”

“I’ll have to double up on my protein pretty quickly… how many Slim Jims do you have on you?”

This was too much. I stopped him as he was tapping his neck to make his jugular pop out. “Hubert, pal, listen… you’re the best; you’ve stepped up to the plate like no one else ever would – not even my family. I know how totally there you are for me with this crazy vampire shit. But dig me here: I’m not going to take your blood. I’m not going to take anybody’s blood.” He kept insisting this would work, saying he couldn’t just sit by and do nothing while I circled the drain. I assured him I was nowhere near the drain – I was way at the back of the bathtub, and the water wasn’t even halfway down the sides yet. True, I could sometimes see a scummy ring from where I was, and the soap was full of hair, but I didn’t let on. “You’re a vampire, for crying out loud,” he reminded me. “You’ll have to feed eventually.”

“No, I’ve got this – I’ll just be non-practicing. I already do it with my religion and that seems to be working out okay, so why not give it a shot with this stuff… am I right?” He didn’t think that was as funny as I did. So I explained how I’d experimented with uncooked steaks and stuff, and how just sucking the juices out of the flesh seemed to energize me a little, like licking a battery or downing half a Red Bull. The charge didn’t last long, maybe because everything I sucked out was from something that was already dead. But I assured him I’d find a way around this, that this was a perfect opportunity to put my hard-earned D in college biology and my internet addiction to good use. There had to be some non-invasive, unfelonious solution that didn’t involve biting my friends or consuming raw animals on the regular. It might take a while, but eventually I’d figure it out. “How much of a while do you think you have?” he asked.

“No idea.”

For the time being, I’m okay with raw meat and the blood gravy and other various concoctions that I’ve come up with. They are neither delicious nor entirely satisfying, but as long as they give me a little energy without harming anyone else, that’s all I really need as far as food goes. For now, anyway. Not sure if the Need to Feed will get stronger or if this is the worst of it. I’d feel much better about things if I could just stop smelling people as if they’re a twelve load of Krispy Kremes about to sail beneath the magical curtain of love glaze. It’s under control, though; they may smell virtually identical, but I’m not so far gone that I can’t make the distinction between snacks and people.

Little Debbie? Totally edible.

Debbie from Accounting? No f*cking way.

My bigger issue at the moment is what to do about Chloe… not that women should be my primary worry. I think I’ve got enough to deal with at the moment. But Hube might be right about the wake-up call thing. The idea of having died and yet still being at least halfway alive has made me begin to realize something: the opportunities I’ve let pass me by have probably been snatched up by other dudes who ended up with happiness that could have been mine if I’d just crawled out from under the coffee table a little sooner. So I think it’s time to try a different approach. A better approach.

Any approach.

And none of this baby games shit of giving her my phone number and waiting for her to make a move. The move is mine to make, and make it I will. Haven't quite nailed down the where or the when of it all yet, but I’m definitely stepping things up. Maybe her situation with the Tool is in a downward spiral, anyway. Maybe all this time she’s been waiting for me to make the first move, and I’ve been too lame to just do it. Maybe it's time to grab my junk and drive the f*cking car already, vampire or not. Whenever I think about this, I can feel that primal sort of impulse spark to life again, like my inner vampire is getting his dick stroked a little. It definitely didn’t exist before the change. It’s a lot like when I cornered Buttons in the dumpster and tried to chow down on him. Whatever it is, I get the feeling it’s going to push me in the same way to jump in and try for something big with Chloe. Only this time, I won’t be diving for a cat and ending up with a mouthful of fur. Unless she wants me to, that is.

That was crude.

I hope she isn’t reading this.

Anyway, it may take me a minute, as the hip kids say, but I think I’m ready to take the chance I couldn’t bring myself to take before all of this happened. I don’t see that I have much to lose at this point. What, if she shoots me down am I gonna die?

Been there.

Done that.