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JUNE 28,
2007 11:45
MOOD :
Blue
My name is Melvin Morton
-- not Vlad or Fang or anything else exotic or sexy -- just Melvin,
and I’m a vampire. That got your attention, didn’t it? Your late-night
surfing on the web has brought you to my story and I can just picture
you now. Yes, you are probably draped in something black and
depressing, holed up in your dank little room and hunched over your
computer, devouring tales of dark fantasy like candy. Or better yet,
you are the weird fat kid, lonely and desperate like I used to be,
searching for something else to be, something to numb the pain of your
daily existence; something different than what you are. Well guess
what? It doesn’t get any better than this and being a vampire isn’t
what it’s cracked up to be. My story isn’t fantasy; it’s real life.
Almost. Halfway. More of a parody, really. When I was a real boy, not
this blood-craving sham Pinocchio I’ve become, I was fascinated by the
all the thought and drama of the Masters of the Night. I saw every
film, read every book, studied myths and legends and haunted the
internet with every moment of my spare time. It was my hobby, my
escape, my fantasy and it wasn’t supposed to be real; just
make-believe. But I still wanted it. Hero worship is a real let down
when you learn the truth. I was the fat kid growing up. I didn’t even
have the sense of humor that we chubby folk are supposed to be
hardwired with as a defense mechanism. Laugh with me, not at me,
right? Nope. Just a big-boned, slightly pimpled and greasy-haired
outcast that grew up into an overweight and still pimply dullard who
worked security at a mall. Nothing ever went right for me. I even
still wore a retainer for a terrible overbite.
Take my name for instance, Melvin. Why
would a parent do that to a child? Did my mother view the ultrasound
and see my blobby form floating in her womb and think to herself,
Bummer. I’ll name him Melvin.
Have you ever met anyone
named Melvin that wasn’t lonely and just plain weird in one way or
another? I didn’t think so. I’m named after a juvenile bully
right-of-passage, for God’s sake. I’m underwear wedged into a butt
crack, personified. My parents doomed me to life a mediocrity and
hardship from the start. I would have changed my name, but it was like
an oily stain that seeped into who I am, who I was and into what I
became. I’m just Melvin.
Now I’m undead, actually
just mostly dead. That didn’t even go right. My ascension to the dark
realm was an accident. Yes, an accident -- and here’s how it happened.
I was at a dingy downtown bar drowning my sorrows in cheap happy-hour
liquor when I saw a fat girl sitting two stools down from me. She was
alone and I noticed she was watching me. I figured, What the hell? and
sat down beside her. No one else was gonna chat her up and maybe I’d
get lucky. Fat girls need love, too. She was pale and smelled a little
off, but she had a nice smile. Beggars can’t be choosers.
It sounds awful, doesn’t
it? So un-P.C. and just plain mean, but I’m a vampire now and I can be
evil and callous in the retelling. I’m supposed to be that way.
Before, I was just shameless and human.
Anyway, she looked me
over and I actually saw her deflate a little when she realized I was
the best she was gonna get. Insulting to me and demeaning to her, but
she had the last laugh after all. Yes, she was a vampire and I was
supposed to be her midnight snack.
An aside -- everything
you’ve ever heard about vampires being beautiful, dark, sultry and
exuding sex appeal and lust is a lie. Vampires have power, but it’s
not the romanticized Hollywood version. You don’t become an enchanting
beast when you turn, you just become an undead version of yourself. If
you were beautiful when you became a vampire, you stay that way in
un-death. If you were ugly...you stay that way forever: warts,
pimples, retainer and all.
On with the tale. She
said her name was Maddy and I thought to myself, Maddy Fatty, without
much guilt, I might add. I did feel sorry for what her childhood must
have been like, though. Another victim of the parental naming game.
She laughed when I told her my name was Melvin, but it wasn’t a cruel
laugh. More of a sympathetic chuckle at my lot in life. Something
clicked. Maybe it was just the fact that she was actually talking to
me, laughing at my jokes, even flirting a bit, but I liked her. I
actually really liked her and better yet, she seemed to like me. Why I
was such an idiot? One thing led to another and soon we were out in
the parking lot making out in her car like a couple of teenagers,
something I had never done before, by the way. It was magical. We
laughed at the world and talked and kissed some more. I should have
known that the universe would throw a monkey wrench into the works.
I did mention that
nothing ever goes right for me.
She leaned in and kissed
my neck. I felt the brief sting of her teeth and a moment of pain, and
I actually swooned. I thought it was a hicky. What did I know? After a
few minutes she pulled away and told me that I tasted awful, like fast
food and crisco, and I should have been insulted, but I wasn’t. I was
too dizzy, caught up in the moment and probably woozy from the blood
loss. Instead I just smiled and tried to kiss her again. I was clumsy
and stupid, still wearing my retainer, and I clunked against her face
and cut her lip as I mashed my lips against hers. It was just one drop
of her blood, lapped up in my befuddled attempt at passion, and I was
cursed. She shoved me away and wiped a kiss smeared bead from her lip,
but it was too late. The deed was done. She looked horrified.
“Ahhh, crap!” was all she
said.
Indeed. That’s when I
passed out and when I came to at dawn, I was on my front porch with a
note stuffed in my shirt pocket :
Melvin, sorry about
all this. It wasn’t supposed to happen. Hopefully you don’t have the
dark gift - you’ll know in a day or two. If not, consider this your
free pass...you tasted awful anyway. You should clean up your diet.
If so, well, good luck
with everything. Thanks for the evening. - Maddy
Well, guess what? That
one drop was enough to change me, but not enough to make me whole.
Dark Gift, I don’t think so; more like a turd with a shiny bow on it.
Looks intriguing from a distance, but up close you see it for what it
really is.
I died the next day --
kind of. My body shut down and restarted with a stutter. My heart
still beats occasionally, I can tolerate the sun on overcast days and
I’ve turned the palest shade of blue -- like I’ve held my breath for
far too long. I got the unending craving for blood, but the thought of
actually drinking it makes me queasy. Besides, I didn’t get the sharp
pointed teeth, only a more enhanced and exaggerated overbite. I have
keen senses: I can hear the roaches crawling through the walls of my
cheap apartment, and I can see in the dark. I smell terrible -- worse
than when I was alive. My body can’t seem to decide whether it should
decompose or make the transition to the fully undead. I guess I have
forever for it to decide. Other than the being mostly dead thing, my
life hasn’t changed. I still work security at the mall and I still
have bills to pay. And taxes. And I’m still an outcast. I’ve looked
for Maddy and other vampires, but I’m alone here in this city. Humans
go out of their way to avoid me now, even more so than before. They
think I’m diseased. I guess I am, and with no real cure in sight.
Suicide? That makes me almost as queasy as the thought of drinking
blood. Besides, could I even die properly? I don’t want to risk it and
make things worse than they already are.
I watch my old vampire
shows on television and rent DVDs to pass the time. I just watch and
laugh. I have to. If I don’t I’ll cry. Their version of the Masters of
the Night is, after all, just fantasy. Oh and that shtick about holy
water and crosses...all Hollywood.
Even my favorite
novelist, who wrote about vampires with such pain and beauty, has
abandoned me. She’s become a born-again Christian so my hero, the
beautiful blond frenchman who becomes such a demon immortal, is lost.
There will be no more tales in which to escape. All I have now is
reality, but reality can be stranger than fiction...
Being a vampire isn’t
what I thought it would be and I realize now that being human wasn’t
as bad as I thought it was. I guess the grass is always greener,
right? Looking back, I could have been a better person, but probably
not. I’d be a better vampire, but I can’t. I was never particularly
evil in life, just human, and now I don’t know how to be really much
of anything at all. I realize that I’ll have to eat someone
eventually; the craving is so intense and fast food just doesn’t touch
it. I suppose there will always be a happy hour somewhere and another
desperate loser, just like I used to be, looking for some
companionship. Time will tell. So where does this leave me? Muddling
along and late for work. Take this tale to heart and be careful what
you wish for... Get a life while you still can. Otherwise, maybe I’ll
see you around. - Melvin
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