two of us with at least three layers of sarcasm and biting wit. But I couldn’t do it. His neck was just a sloppier version of my neck; his life was just an alternate universe version of mine, one of the many that didn’t result in a happy ending with Chloe, or anyone.
He was me, and I was him.
And we are Don.
I think I’ve done my part to bring about closure with my Vampire Maker. I won’t be going back to check up on him again. I went; he wasn’t there. I left my words where he could find them, if he comes back. I get the feeling Don has moved on, though, and maybe not for the better. I know it’s likely that he’s still laying his trap, hooking junkies in exchange for their blood sacrifices. But in an uncharacteristic move for me, I’m choosing to hope he’s found greener pastures instead – not like ganja green, or dollar bill green. More like the recycling green, the green that tells you life is going to find way, even for the undead. And that you don’t have to take down others in the struggle to keep your own demons under control.
If he hasn’t figured how to do that yet, I sure hope he does sooner or later.
Sooner would be best, for all parties concerned.
POST 27
Me and the Misses
It appears that, after having its way with me for longer than I care to recount, the vampirility is finally leveling out. It’s still here in full effect, mind you. But it doesn’t seem to be advancing in leaps and bounds like it had been for a while. I’m looking at this – as well as many other aspects of my new life – as something good. Must be all the Louise rubbing off on me.
Not rubbing up on me. Rubbing off on me.
They’re not the same thing.
I’ve been keeping up with my coconut water and my bloody beef, which doesn’t sound any less gross no matter how many times I say it. But it has made my mood much more even, and I almost don’t mind the taste anymore, thanks to a liberal inclusion of Mrs. Dash. No new features have appeared as of late, though some of the old ones have intensified just a tetch. Here’s what’s shaking now:
• Fangs – They’ve started coming back quicker in the last few weeks, but since I’m house bound most of the day I only grind them down before I leave for work. Fits in nicely with the rest of my in-house dress code of nothing but briefs and a bowl of Apple Jacks. Perfect.
• Toenails – Those things have me replacing my work socks every other week, which trumps my pre-vampire average of once every four years. I’m not complaining.
• Pupils – I tried contacts to put the color back in my eyes and block some of the glare, but they sting like a son of a bitch and I hate touching my own eyeballs. So I just stick with the California-legal tinted shades 24/7. Lends an air of mystery, like I’m a movie star, or Secret Service. Or an ashy Ray Charles. Good stuff.
• Ear points – Can’t do much to stave off this one, short of clipping them. They’re wicked noticeable now, so I’ve opted to let my ordinarily clean cut Buzz with Top Spikes grow out into more of a Short Mop with Curled Edges to see if I can cover them up a little… which, I don’t mind saying, has gotten me more than a few complements from the lady folk around the block – and not just the prostitutes, either. You won’t hear me griping about that.
The coolest out of everything? I think all the extra protein consumption has helped thicken my thinning spots a bit – total bonus! If only I’d been in on that little secret before, I’d have eaten like Dr. Atkins years ago. Back then, though, the cholesterol would’ve kicked my younger self’s illness-obsessed ass. But now? No heartbeat means no need to worry about arterial plaque build-up. Sweet, eh?
See how I am now? Silver linings all over the place these days.
Not to say I’m not noticing the things that are missing. I’m just trying to keep them in their place.
It’s hard sometimes, though.
Despite the fact that it’s a thousand times easier than the alternative, I’ve been wondering how long I’ll have to work nights. Louise has never heard of any sort of a