Unlucky in Death
Written by Dan Dillard
Copyright Dan Dillard 2010
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“So, tell me why you are here today?”
“I’m a vampire.”
“Interesting, and how long has this been going on?”
This is my life—er—death now. Three weeks ago I got jumped by some hippie in the park and he didn’t drain me completely. Fuck.
I have issues with this for the following reasons:
I love garlic. All the wonderful ethnic foods that are out there and I’m stuck with blood. It tastes like iron. I don’t even suck on a paper cut like most folks. I took a bite of pizza from my fridge that next morning and it burned my tongue. It was cold…Fuck.
I’m a morning person for Christ’s sake. I liked getting up early. I like coffee.
This just sucks (no pun intended).
That brings me to my final point. This is a tad embarrassing, but I pass out at the sight of blood. Can’t handle it. Don’t even like strawberry jam or red paint because it makes me swoon. So here I sit with a therapist who thinks I’m one nut short of a testicle sack and I just want help.
“A few weeks,” I reply.
She scribbles something in her notepad. I’d bet it’s a shopping list.
“Is that why you requested such a late appointment? You’re my last of the day.”
“Yup, sunscreen wasn’t as effective as I’d hoped.”
She looks up over her reading glasses but isn’t amused.
It was true. I put on sunscreen after I figured out I was undead. SPF 60. It was the strongest stuff I could find at the drug store. The next morning I rolled out of bed and wandered outside just to sizzle like a piece of bacon.
God I miss bacon.
“How did you become a vampire?” she asked in her droning clinical tone.
“I got bit by one walking through the park,” I said.
“How did you know he was a vampire?”
She stopped writing and crossed her fingers on the desk.
“He gave me his business card,” I said.
“Honestly, he had fangs and bit me on the neck to drink my blood. Don’t you read books? I mean, you’re a doctor.”
I’d let some frustration show.
“Yes and I rather enjoy vampire stories,” she crossed her legs under the desk, “shouldn’t I be afraid you will kill me?”
“That’s just it. I’m afraid of the sight of blood. I faint.”
That got a laugh.
“I see your predicament,” she said now scribbling again.
“How did you think I could help?”
“You were just the first shrink in the phonebook that had an open appointment slot. I’m not sure if you can.”
“Well there’s no cure that I’m aware of for vampires, but we might be able to work something out,” she smiled as she wrote.
“Are there any other creatures of the night I should be aware of?”
I knew this was a bad idea and my face showed it.
“How the hell should I know? This is all new to me.”
I lay down on the couch. I was actually surprised to see the couch, just like in films. Terms like ‘crazy couch’, ‘loony loveseat’ and ‘daft davenport’ kept running through my head. It was surprisingly comfortable until she spoke again.
“Where are your fangs? You do have fangs, right?”
I don’t. Not yet anyway. I guess they will come in eventually. How long does it take to grow teeth? In books and movies you get bit and BANG! You got choppers. Me? I had nothing but regular teeth, although my gums have been aching.
Holy shit, I’m thirty-seven years old and I’m teething.
“Not yet. I know that sounds bat-shit crazy. I guess they haven’t grown in yet.”