The Magnificent Afterlife of Mortimer Wordsworth

Chapter 1 - My History, In Brief

So, a few weeks after the incident with the brute and the three would-be rapists I attended a wonderful gala for a certain famous brokerage house. (I say a few weeks, but it could've been a few months. When you've been alive for over 300 years time doesn't quite hit the same, to use the modern vernacular.) Got several good tips near the end of the evening when the champagne (actually from Champagne) and caviar had been flowing for at least four hours. This info will set me up for the next year or so, but if I can ensnare that beautiful little red-head in the corner I'll make an even higher score. Her mind is a challenge. Organized, but closed off from others. Guess that's why she's in a corner with her blonde friend clearly avoiding contact with any men. The friend looks upset that she can't dance and I keep catching the red-head sneaking glances at me. Peripherals, man. Like in The 40 Year-Old Virgin it's all about peripherals. Use 'em!

Anyway, I won't feed on this girl. I ate well just after sundown, so I'm set for another couple weeks if I supplement with deer in Jersey or even Pennsylvania. Oh, by the way, besides Portland we also love Pennsylvania. It sounds like home. Get it? Pennsylvania, Transylvania? Eh? Eh? Oh, you guys are no fun, tough crowd. It's a joke, but it's fairly accurate. That's actually one of our odd little quirks. I won't say weakness, because how can a liking for puns be a weakness? "They're great!" said Tony the Tiger.

Sorry, keep getting distracted. That's another part of our eccentricities. I won't go so far as to say we have ADHD, but we sure act like we do sometimes. Easily distractible, especially by dropped seeds, marbles, tacks, whatever. We get this OCD urge to pick them up and it makes us...twitchy, if we try to ignore it. Don't know where that one came from. I didn't read the handbook when I became immortal. Just teasing, there is no handbook. Well, ok, there might be, sounds like something one of those other companies might put out like a circular. Sort of like Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. Beetlejuice. There, I said it. Hope he doesn't show up, he seemed like a real pervert, I'd hate to have to kill him. But anyway, in that Tim Burton classic there's a "Guide for the Recently Deceased" or something. Yea, I didn't get one, but probably some company has one in print.

Again with the distractions. Red-head. Juicy secrets. Warm bed. Oh, and another thing, we can't get cold, but sitting in front of a roaring fire with a nice snifter of something is still just as comforting. We aren't really so different from you mortals if you take out the blood-sucking, the immortality, and...oh, who am I kidding? We're not even human anymore, totally different species. And, before you ask, no, they haven't been able to sequence our DNA. Several scientists in the know have tried. Something about our DNA being "completely incompatible with our equipment." Someone once joked that vampirism is actually an alien disease that alters DNA sequences to match some alien race from beyond the galaxy. HA! Nah, no way. We're just ordinary, everyday Undead. Supernatural? Sure. Science Fiction? No, definitely not. I would like to believe we're beings of magic, but my rational mind has doubts. I may run a chain of occult stores, but it's hard to live through the Scientific Revolution, the Enlightenment, the Industrial Revolution, the Atomic Era, and now the Computer Age without a firm grasp on scientific principles.

Back to the conquest. I gracefully secrete my way into the girls' conversation. The red-head actually seems interested, I'm pouring on the charm. That's another thing. That charisma I mentioned. We just draw people in. Sometimes even amorous animals. That was weird the first time it happened to me. You've no idea what it's like when a female black bear presents in front of you. You still feed on her, assuming their aren't any cubs, that'd be a rotten, vile thing to do, but it's alarming to have to run around or leap over the rump to get at the neck. I once saw a...an acquaintance, bite into the rump. Nasty business and much more painful for the poor bear. Anywho, the red-head. She's charmed. Her friend, however, is halfway between being charmed and flickering her eyes back to the dance floor. I turn my attention on her and extend my hand.