Saturday, August 04, 2007

Tales of a teenage vampire

        “Yes, dear?”
        I almost bit my lip, then remembered why it was a bad idea. “I have a confession to make.”
        “Hmm?” She flipped the paper, not looking up from her coffee.
        I took a deep breath from habit. “I’m a vampire.”
        “That’s nice, dear.”
        She looked up. “Your sister worked two shifts in a row last night, and you are not to wake her up, Charles. Am I clear on that?”
        “I just told you I was a vampire!”
        “It’s just a phase, dear. I’m sure you’ll grow out of it just like you did pretending to be Superman.”
        “Mom, I’m a vampire. Sunlight burns me, I drink blood, It’s not --”
        “I said --”
        “What did you say you did?” she demanded, putting the paper down.
        “Drinking blood?”
        “Do you have ANY idea what kinds of things could be in people’s blood? What kind of diseases you could get?” She stood, towering over the table, arms folded. “You are NEVER doing this again young man!”
        “Hello? Vampire? Immortal? Duh?”
        “Do you want me to open the curtains, Mr. ‘O, Sunlight will burn me, O! I am slain!’? No? Well, then we’re putting a stop to this silly nonsense right now. You are not a vampire and you are not immortal and you are not to go around drinking strangers blood - or even families! Have I made myself clear?”
        I held her gaze and pitched my voice at That Tone, the one people couldn’t help but obey, the one that had got me laid for the past three weeks every night. “I am a vampire, mother. And that is not going to change.”
        She blinked, once, and lowered her voice. “You will not take that tone of voice with me again, is that understood?”
        “Yes,” I squeaked out, blushing, even though she couldn’t tell.
        “Good,” she continued. “Now, I am going to find a decent psychiatrist to cure you of this silly condition and that WILL be that,” in a tone that made ‘Clean your room up now!’ seem a gentle request.
        But I had died when Karen ripped my throat open, and did not move, drawing my nature up about me. “I am Nosferatu, mother, and I will not be controlled.”
        “You can be french if you really want, but that doesn’t matter to me,” she said, walking towards the phone book. “I have had just about enough of you being goth and neglecting chores and if you really are stupid enough to go around drinking blood, I have had enough of this and you are grounded and going to get some help.”
        “I’ma vampire, mom! I can fly!”
        “Then you can go clean your room right now!”
        I stared at her, then turned and stalked up the stairs, pausing outside a door. “Yo, sis? It’s a full moon again tonight and you’re going to need a better excuse this time. Also, don’t try and tell mom you’re a werewolf anytime soon. Lifestyle choice my butt.”
        She didn’t reply.

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