Archives for posts with tag: vampires

Donna Louise here tracking Frankenstorm—a clever name when you think about it. The weather people have senses of humor. Maybe they must to survive so many failed predictions. Here in the Heart of America we won’t see any of it, but that doesn’t mean we won’t be affected. Halloween will be like always though and that’s the most important thing.

I talked to Mina and Lucy again, tracked them to their home address. Neither one was any friendlier than they were before AND they have reconciled. The two, young women now share an apartment in the ‘hood. When I knocked on the door after jimmying the front door to the apartment building, Mina answerd and looked very surprised. She recovered quickly. “What do YOU want?”

As I pushed the door open, imagine my surprise to see Lucy flat on her back having a pedicure from Count Dracula. Lucy screamed. The Count screamed. Mina attempted to deck me with a right hook, but I put the door between us. Her fist hit solid wood and I swear I heard some cracking, probably just her knuckles.

I headed straight for the Count who cowered on the far side of the chaise longue (aka, chaise lounge). Lucy had sat up so she could hide him from my view. She’s much too thin to hide anyone.

“What’s going on? Do you know him?”

Lucy stuttered. “Ye…ye..yes. He..e..e…e’s our boyfriend.”

“Your boyfriend?” My head turning back and forth as I looked at Mina and Lucy. I felt like I was at Wimbleton. “Then why did you call the police and report an assault?”

 Mina yelled at me from the floor. “I didn’t. You butted in and tried to save me.”

“What are you talking about? You were the one who was screaming for help.”

Mina sat in an easy chair and massaged her knuckles. “It was a scene, you silly bitch, not real life.”

She had just crossed a line. I turned from Lucy and the Count and walked over to the easy chair. “Listen, Sarah Bernhardt, you play your scenes out on stage, not on the street.”

“I’m Mina Murray, not Sarah what’s-her-name.” (Don’t these kids study the history of the theater?) The sneeriness (I made that up) dripped from her voice.

I walked around behind the chair and leaned over so I could whisper in her ear. “Filing a false police report is a crime punishable by imprisonment or a fine or both. Now stuff that attitude.”

She rose from the chair. “And who’s gonna make me?”

As I hurried around the chair, she fled to the chaise where she joined the Count.

“Now that I have your attention, let me tell you how wrong what you all did was? You’ve used up lots of police man hours that couldv’e been spent on real crimes. Some people think a vampire in on the loose. You’ve made people afraid. Scared people make bad neighbors.”

The Count whimpered. “But we were only doing a realistic scene. You’re too old to understand.”

“Too old to understand? I’ve been doing public scenes since I was four years old. But, I haven’t been reporting false assaults to the police.”

Mina had apparently grown a little more sure of herself. “Yeah, but if you had minded your own business, the trouble never would have started.”

“Did you expect people not to come to your aid? What kind of world would that be?” I cringed as I said it because I almost knew for sure what her response would be.

Sure enough, she said exactly what I thought she might. “Most people would have ignored my pleas for help, but I had to get a do-gooder.”

As Mama always said, “No good deed goes unpunished.”


Donna Louise here recuperating from a very late night in one of the city’s premiere vampire bars. It opens at midnight—long after my bedtime—but no price is too great to pay to catch a fake vampire attacking young women. Or, at least there wasn’t until I spent six hours in a dark place with about 500 other people in what may be the most unique experience of my life. Come to think about it, I’ve had weirder, but this rates high on the “Odd Chart of DL’s Life Experiences.”

Following some directions from the Vampire Hot Line which provides services to people seeking to meet other people interested in vampirism, I went to a coffee house where I met Ann Yurism and Hema Toma (which are, of course, not their real names—they never give those out except to people they trust and I’m not one of them). They asked me why I was interested in the vampire world especially since I didn’t appear to fall into the extremely youthful age group that flocks to vampirism.

I explained how much I had wanted to be a vampire as a younger woman, but buried that desire under my need to work, earn a living and set aside money. Having achieved my goal of being independently wealthy, I now had the opportunity to purse my heart’s desire. Now, as we know, that’s mostly bullshit, but I didn’t feel like I could unload on them. After all, they wouldn’t give me their real names so the distrust was mutual.

They instructed me to grab a coffee and sit at another table while they interviewed other people. At midnight they would lead those people they found acceptable to one of two vampire bars in an undisclosed area. They would blindfold us before they drove to the club as they did not want outsiders to know about the place.

I bought myself a triple expresso figuring it would keep me awake all night and sat down at a table by myself. I watched Ann and Hema interview ten people. Only five stayed and sat at other tables looking around to see if they could recognize anyone. They all looked pale, but fairly normal. One young man had multiple piercings in his face. He looked like Justin Bieber after someone attacked him with a nail gun…cute and studded.

At midnight the women gathered us and took us to a van. Once inside they put blindfolds on each of us before taking off. We drove a long time, but I think we went in a big circle to throw us off should we be memorizing the turns and sounds coming from the outside.

When the van stopped. They said, “Blindfolds off.” We were in a pitch black area that I didn’t recognize at all. They led us to a door and knocked. A man with a white face like a mime (I hate mimes) opened a little slot in the door. They said something to him. He opened it and we went inside to Techno music and a packed dance floor.

The living dead certainly knew how to party. Our guides informed us that we would meet at 6 a.m. when the bar closed and they would take us back to the coffee shop—blindfolded. We had five and a half hours to become acquainted with their world. I got right to work.

At the bar I ordered a Bloody Mary which seemed like an appropriate drink. The bartender, a pale, hunky guy leaned across the bar. “What may I make for you?”

The question while appropriate seemed laden with sexual innuendo. My knees almost buckled.

“I’ll have a Bloody Mary with celery, no olives.”

He smiled. “Real or fake blood or the non-bloodsucker original?”

“How about the non-bloodsucker one? I have to drive home.”

He laughed. “One NBS Bloody Mary coming up for the beautiful bodacious lady.”

Bodacious? I looked at my breasts. Maybe they look bigger in the dark. (Yesterday afternoon Mikey told me that “bodacious” meant bold and audacious, not big breasted. Damn.)

I’d had two drinks when someone sat down next to me. A lovely tenor voice said, “Well, well, well, the woman of my metal dreams comes home.”

I whirled around on my bar stool. Sitting next to me was She God in all her metal glory with a few vampire touches. There I was with a hunky bartender and a transvestite guy who had rocked my metal world about two weeks ago. I felt like I had died and arrived at the gates to Vampire Heaven.