As soon as the evil sun slid behind the hill, I scampered out from behind my refuge. Stretching my hands high above my head, I smiled in blissful pleasure as all my joints snapped and popped back into their proper places. Being behind the couch all day hadn't been the most comfortable of spots. The sad thing, I wasn't even a hundred percent positive it was necessary. There was a lot of conflicting information on the internet on whether or not vampires could be in the sun, but since I wasn't willing to become a human torch to find out, I stayed in my Lazy Boy fortress.
Tilting my head to the left and right, I cracked my vertebra back into position. Unless I wanted to learn how to become a contortionist, I needed black out curtains...pronto. I was definitely not going to spend another day hiding behind that floral print nightmare with nothing more than an M&M and stale Cheetos. Fortunately, shopping was my super power, so getting my undead butt down to Bed, Bath and Beyond wasn't no big whoop.
My stomach rumbled hard and felt like it was trying to gnaw its way to my spine while sounding as if I had swallowed a rock polisher. Food. I needed some and now. My future shopping spree would have to wait. I dashed to the kitchen, skidding across the floor like a racecar going around a turn. Damn...I'm fast.
Like Speedy Gonzales fast. I jogged around the kitchen island about a 100 times in less than a minute and I wasn't even panting. Cool! Workouts from here on out were going to be a breeze. Kiss my pasty ass Jillian Michael, your Insanity work out doesn't stand a chance against me. Who knows, I might even finally run that marathon. Well, probably not, but it was nice to know I could if I wanted to.
Another hard pang from my protesting gut reminded me what I was actually in the kitchen for. Skipping lightly to the fridge, I popped the door open...and off its hinges. Shit! I stood there in shock as it swung in my hand as if I was holding nothing more than a feather. Apparently I had some serious super strength to go with my impressive speed. Hercules! Hercules!
My belly, not impressed, growled loud enough to rival thunder. Gently, I laid the door up against the kitchen wall and proceeded to scrounge for sustenance. I bypassed the dozen tiny tubs of fat free yogurt which probably was growing penicillin by now. Brushing those aside next to the long forgotten and rather smelly leftover tofu stir fry from several nights ago, I continued my search. There were so many unidentifiable things in here, I was surprised the refrigerator hadn't claimed to be Zuul the Gatekeeper of Gozer.
Carefully, I pulled open the bins and dug around. Carrots...nope. Celery...no. Broccoli...oh hell no. When did I decide to go green? Oh yeah, after I read that bit about monkeys in Russia who were fed a steady diet of "power foods" and were able to solve complex mathematical equations. I could chew on the jolly Green Giant and still need to take my shoes off to do addition. Okay, so I am not that bad, but close enough. I slammed the drawer in frustration and it shatter into a zillion pieces.
"Stupid made in China plastic," I grumbled, willing to blame another continent rather than point the finger at myself for not being more careful. Staring at all the little tiny shards glittering in the light only added to my annoyance. Sure, they get to "glitter", but I don't. Hunger was making me bitchy. Besides, I had enough on my plate with being a vampire, China can take some of the load.
The thought of plates had my stomach clawing for relief. I dove back into the fridge and finally hit the motherland. Behind the tub of imitation butter that tasted nothing like the real thing no matter how many hot guys you had hawking it, sat a package of ground beef. Unthawed and laying in a puddle of dark, red...delicious...blood. Saliva flooded my mouth. Without thinking twice, I snatched the cellophane package and held it with more reverence than Smigul did with his precious ring.
Delicately, I pulled back the clear plastic keeping me from my prize. The lovely aroma of raw beef mixed with the iron metallic smell of blood hit my senses like a sledge hammer. My canine teeth punched out of my mouth like two little heat seeking missiles. For a moment, as I beheld the sight, I swore I could hear the celestial singing of angels.
Tipping the package carefully up to my lips, I slurped the sticky goodness into my mouth. The glorious feeling of it coating my tongue and oozing its way down my throat made me moan. Or growl...or...whatever that sound was. All I knew is that it was like having a cool drink after tromping through the desert. Not that I've done a lot of desert tromping, but I can imagine, and I've seen Lawrence of Arabia. Three greedy gulps later and it was gone.
Tossing the worthless meat aside, I lapped at the container like a dog licking peanut butter. After every trace of the glorious red liquid was gone, I pitched the empty container on the kitchen floor. Licking my lips, I went back to the fridge. Though the pangs had eased a bit, I was still hungry.
Nothing else in the vandalized refrigerator remotely held my interest. What was I going to do? I moaned pitifully and plunked down on the floor next to the discarded meat. I was just about to start sucking on the hamburger like a beefy lollypop, when a faint sound pricked my ears. I cocked my head to the side and listened.
Three doors down, Mrs. Jones was letting out Tinkles. Wow! I had some serious supersonic hearing. I could make out the creaky wheels of her walker, the sound of Wheel of Fortune blasting away in her living room and...ewwwww...talk about your methane gas emissions. Must have been taco night down at the rec center. She sounded like she was smuggling duck calls in her grannie panties.
But what really caught my attention and made a weird growl climb out of my throat, was the tiny little chime of Tinkles bell ringing softly on his collar. My fangs grew longer and my hunger became more ardent than ever as my ears followed his diminutive footfalls across the yard. My instincts were primed and all predator verses pray.
Was I seriously going to hunt down my neighbor's cat? I crawled over to the window scanning the night, easily spotting my contemplated victim relieving himself over by my ficus. The smell making my nose twitch. What in the world is Mrs. Jones feeding that animal? I covered by nose, frantically waving the air in front of me.
I watched him cover up the disgusting evidence, my stomach still clanging away on the dinner bell. How could I possibly still be hungry after watching that? Besides, the cat was a beloved pet, not a fast food joint. Mr. Tinkles strutted past within feet of my open window, the scent of him on the breeze had me sniffing the air in pure culinary torture. He smelled like a turkey dinner with all the fixings. Okay, not really, but you get my drift on how appealing the cat smelled to me.
Drool dripped off my fangs pooling on the window sill. I shrugged. If the Cullen's could do it...why can't I? With that thought echoing in my head, I slowly crept towards my kitchen door. I may not sparkle like a Cullen, but I sure as hell could be a stealthy as one.
Ten minutes later and sputtering out white tuffs of fur, I found myself sitting under my bushes with a now very deflated looking Tinkles clutched in my hands.
"Ewww!" I dropped the poor thing with a thud onto the dirt, unbelieving that I had just sucked the blood out of someone's pet, but finally somewhat satisfied. Panicking, I frantically looked for a way to hide my...um...digression before Wheel of Fortune was over and by the sound of it, I had better hurry. Pat Sajak was on the bonus round.
Running to the house in alarm, I tore through the kitchen door. Literally. The thing was hanging by one rusty screw and a bent hinge. Shit! At this rate I would be lucky not to destroy the whole house. I might want to consider getting some renters insurance or I could kiss my deposit goodbye. I already had to explain the freaking fridge and now the door. Do we have bears in this area? Mothman? Maybe I can blame it on a random Sasquatch break-in.
Moving at a bit slower pace, I looked around for inspiration. My eyes focused on the set of big wooden utensils hanging on the wall beside the decapitated refrigerator. Once tacky decorations ignored by me for years, those over-sized wooden fork and spoon now became my saviors. As long as I didn't get a sliver.
Carefully grabbing the spoon off the wall so I wouldn't impale myself or break it, I made my way back out to the scene of the crime. Poor Mr. Tinkles. Guilt assaulted me for the deed I had done. Poor Mrs. Jones...maybe I could make her a batch of my famous brownies as sort of a...gosh, I'm sorry I sucked your pussy dry...kind of thing. I wonder if Hallmark makes a card for that?
With a tentative plan in place, I began to dig a small hole under the bushes with the kitchen spoon. It didn't have to be overly big, there wasn't much of Tinkles left to bury. Once I had an acceptable grave dug, I scooped up Tinkles and placed him inside. After a giving a brief prayer for his sacrifice to my fangs, I quickly dropped the dirt over him and pounded it flat.
Just in time too, Wheel of Fortune had ended and the squeak of Mrs. Jones's walker was making its way ominously towards her door. Ducking down further into the bush, I camouflaged myself with the leaves. For several moments she called for her poor cat, before giving up and farting her way back inside. I sagged in relief.
Sitting on the ground with my spoon shovel in my hand, I looked up at the night sky. This was my life now. Instead of blue sky and sunshine, I would see nothing but stars and moonlight. How long could I possibly stay? Somebody's going to notice if never ventured out during the day and eventually, people were bound to get pissy about their pets going missing. My yard wasn't big enough to support a pet cemetery for all the centuries I would live if I managed to avoid stakes, garlic products, daylight, crucifixes and holy water.
You know, for being a mythical creature of the night, vampires were incredibly easy to dispose of. I didn't understand what all the hub-bub was about. For millennia villagers lived in fear of having their village sucked dry, when all Val Helsing had to do was poke Dracula with a toothpick like a cocktail weenie and POOF...all your troubles where gone. That is, if the vampire didn't starve to death first. I still had a major predicament of how I was going to feed myself and still be able to live in my house without causing the neighbors to come after me with torches and pitchforks for killing off all their pets.
I sighed. Then again...My other neighbor, Mrs. Clarks, has that annoying Chihuahua, Samson. His constant yipping has driven me batty for years. No pun intended. I wouldn't mind slurping him down like a juice box. I wondered briefly if Mexican food would still disagree with me in the form of a dog.
In the middle of my murder planning of poor Samson, a pair of very large, black shitkickers appeared in front of me scaring me half to death. Not that it was possible, of course. I was already dead. There was no such thing as being deader...was there? Maybe instead of "scared half to death" I should start using the phrase "I about peed my pants". Wait...do vampires pee?
Poor Mr. Tinkles! I want you to know, no cats were harmed in the writing of this story. :)
Stay tuned for the next installment of FANGED to find out whose Mel's visitor is .
Hey everyone! I hope you enjoyed reading this story as much as I have enjoyed writing it. If you liked it please give it a vote and comments are always appreciated. If you don't see any updates here...check out my other two stories Bending Steele or When Roses Collide.