(Each week in October as a “treat” I post a segment of this four-part “fictional” short story. Happy Halloween!)
Since my original self died and I became a new and revised entity on October 1, does that mean I am no longer an impulsive, optimistic, happy-go-lucky Aries? Am I now becoming more of a moderate, well-balanced and inanimate Libra?
This could actually work to my advantage. I hear from astrologers that Libra and Aries are opposite each other in the Zodiac. Not only do opposites attract, they complement each other like two sides of the same coin. I could really learn to love myself! I already feel a huge ego evolving. I’d better make finding my plastic surgeon a major priority.
Surprisingly, there really aren’t a whole lot of vampires in Las Vegas. Greg has introduced me to only a handful. It’s actually kind of lonely out there. The reason for the dearth of deathly deviants is, believe it or not, vampires have addictions. It’s true. You have your gambling addicted vampires, your porn and adult club addicted vampires: a handful of vampires are addicted to cocaine, heroin and other illegal substances.
Vegas is an all-night city. A great many of the all-night revelers who flock here have enough cocaine in their bloodstreams to keep a vampire up all day. As for the heroin crowd? Ha! They’re too much work. If you happen to stumble upon one of them their blood is so sluggish and their hearts beat so weakly you’re there until the crack of dawn just trying to get a decent meal. Disgusting.
Greg tells me that the main man, el Capo (for want of a better word), has a tight grip on who is and who is not allowed to nest (for a real lack of a better word) in Las Vegas. Candidates are carefully screened and even monitored to prevent the horrific possibility that a stoned or horny vampire might inadvertently expose him/her/us to the world.
Along that vein (gak!) Greg also keeps telling me how special I am: That I was handpicked by El Capo who wanted an author in the mix. He also knew that Greg simply adores my novels. What’s—er, who’s next? A token artist? A musician? (How about a plastic surgeon?)
As far as undead dating goes, the pickin’s are slim. I’d been happily divorced for ten years in my former life. I was actually toying with the idea of finding (post-surgery and post hot flashes and mood swings) a cool kind of guy to hang out with on dates, in the bedroom, etc. Until my Most Un-Deadly Fan came along, that is. Vampires don’t have sex. They (crap!) WE get what we need through a hemoglobin exchange as opposed to swapping spit and other messy bodily fluids.
I have to chuckle when I remember certain conversations I had with girlfriends back in the Day (and I do mean the in the day). Nearly every female I spoke to who had read the teenage vampire book series that swept the world like cholera had one thing in common to say: “It made me horny!”
After I pondered this commonality for a bit, I had to point something out. What was making the ladies crazy was this: they were actually reading about good old-fashioned foreplay. These jaded women were so used to books (and movies) that cut immediately and graphically to the act itself that when faced with the teasing, tantalizing deliciousness of wending one’s way toward a climax (sigh) their poor deprived love meters shot off the chart.
My love meter was teetering on the brink of extinction when I got turned, so no loss there. Still, I wouldn’t mind some male companionship. Some testosterone around me to offset the now eternal raging of my estrogen as it struggles to stay attached to my hormones. Greggie-poo owes me. Big time…
A Vampire In Vegas Part IV
“Keeping Things Kosher”
This short story is a work of fiction. People, events, and situations are the product of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. © A Vampire Satire 2008 Christine L. McKellar. All rights reserved.