So I'm a Vampire... Now What? - Book 2 (Original Version)

Chapter 1.1 - The Other Vampire

"There's a vampire in my mom's kitchen, and I'm probably gonna have to kill him."

Claude's response was exactly the kind of thing you should say to someone who was ranting about having to kill the vampire in his mom's kitchen: "Just so I'm absolutely clear on this, are you talking suicide or murder?"

"Murder! Definitely murder!"

Claude's look of cautious concern changed instantly to relief and then went directly to the more mischievous expression befitting my partner-in-crime of almost twenty years. He rubbed his hands a little too gleefully for someone plotting murder, possibly "murderous vampire" or not.

"Great!" he said, "Who is this other vampire we're going to have to kill?"

In case you haven't guessed it by now, I'm the other vampire whose head is not currently on the chopping block. This may sound like an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, but here we go: I'm Bob, and I've been a vampire for about eight months. Believe me when I tell you that it has not all been roses and champagne. If there had been any of that, acts of random violence and the distinct sound of me fucking up royally would have immediately followed. To say that I wasn't very good at being a vampire would be a massive understatement.

Claude, on the other hand, is definitely not a vampire.

With his boyishly-handsome good looks and the charm to match said looks, he would usually be the one anyone would pick if you were to tell them that one of us was a vampire. Him, not me, got it? He looked just like you would want your average vampire to look, but it was definitely not something he wanted for himself, especially after seeing all of the shit I had been through.

Claude and I had known each other since we were twelve, and we'd stayed close through all of the years, both of us getting wrapped up in whatever shenanigans the other had going on. He was a natural leader, and I had quickly fallen into the role of sidekick, but when hanging out with Claude, it really didn't matter; it was just the way of the world, and with Claude around, everybody was a sidekick... or an accomplice. When I became a vampire, Claude had been the first person I had called, and he had come running, no doubts, no judgements, no stupid questions like "are you sure you're a vampire"?

He was definitely the friend you called when you wanted to bury a body. He was also the friend I would call if I were to ever need help killing someone.

Like right now, for instance.

"Dial it down a couple of notches dude," I said, surprising myself at having to be the responsible one. "I only said probably kill. I didn't say to get in there with an axe and start chopping."

"Show me the vampire and then we can take a vote on exactly how much killing this dude needs. Judging by the fact that he's right there in the kitchen, I'm already voting for murder with extreme prejudice. Or with that axe you just mentioned."

"Are you drunk? Usually, it's me being the idiot."

"I'm just saying, if there's murdering vampires to be done, I'm your man."

"Just cool it, dude. Someone might hear us."

I looked around my mom's back porch, sure that someone had heard us talking potential murder but apparently, nobody was paying any attention to us except for a disapproving glare from my uncle Alfredo who was still convinced that Claude and I were gay lovers and were attempting to make him gay by our very presence. That by itself was nothing unusual; he'd always had that suspicion of us since our very disreputable teen years, and nothing was going to ever change his mind. Everybody else was oblivious to anything we were doing or saying.

It was a huge family gathering, and nobody was even aware that murder was being planned right in their midst.

***

Okay, okay. I know you want to hear about the vampire in the kitchen, but first I gotta fill you in on my family. I promise I'll make it quick since there are so many of them on my mom's side alone. Just be glad it's only the Mexican-Canadian side we have to deal with and not the Caribbean side of the family as well. My mom and dad got divorced a long time ago and as a result, my dad's side of the family just gets... complicated.

To say that there was a horde of aunts, uncles, assorted family members and family friends at my mom's house would be a significant understatement. My mom's family had been immigrating to Canada from Mexico since the 1960s, all of them by-passing Toronto and going straight to Montreal, do not pass GO, do not collect $200. As a result, I had always grown up with lots of family around me anywhere in Montreal, until I left and moved to Toronto, and then all of a sudden... I was free.

If you've grown up in a large extended family, you have some kind of idea of how freeing it is to be hundreds of miles away. There is a certain novelty of going downtown and not running into a distant cousin or random step-uncle, not even once.

Claude and I had arrived earlier in the evening. The sun had just about gone down, so it had been safe for me to ride at the front and pretend to be normal. My mom had been ecstatic to see me and had given me the welcome home that I so richly deserved: she had all but squealed and thrown herself at Claude, hugging him tightly. That had been the reception I was expecting. I mean, I was the prodigal son and everything, but I rolled with it. My mom loved me, but apparently, she really loved Claude like he was a second son.

"Thank you for bringing mijito back to me," she said to Claude and slapped me affectionately across the arm. "You'd think we lived in Vancouver for all of the times he comes to visit."

"Oh come on, mom," I protested, that familiar guilt settling in and making itself at home, "we still Skype and stuff."

"We used to Skype, en verdad," Mom said. "That was before you went and chased off Jaime. Now you don't even call anymore unless Claude is making you." She shook her head and looked at Claude. "She was such a nice girl. Una bonita alma."

"Jaime dumped me," I pointed out.

"But, mijo, I would have dumped you too. Jaime was way too good for you."

"Thanks for having my back Mom. Do I at least get a hug?"

"Nope! No hugs for you! Do you know why I'm hugging Claude? Because he actually picks up the phone and calls me. All I get from you are excuses about why you didn't call."

"Dude," I said to Claude, "help me out here. You're on her good side."

"And I intend to stay there. Sorry, Dude, I'm selling you out."

I glared at Claude, silently swearing at him and wondering just how he had managed to talk me into even making the trip home. He just grinned back over his shoulder at me as my mom walked with him toward the house, one arm affectionately around his waist.

"Coming dude?"

I took one look around at the houses in the cul-de-sac where my mom had moved to a couple of years ago, noting the small differences in the almost identical houses of the development, the music from "Weeds" ironically playing in my head, you know, the one about "ticky-tacky houses" or something like that. If we hadn't been a six-hour drive from Toronto, I might have just thrown a tantrum and called a cab or something. Maybe I might have even tried to walk home and just wait for Claude to eventually pick me up on the way home. But no, neither of those options were viable when we'd already driven so far, and to be honest, I missed my mom, even if she was giving me a hard time.

So instead, I turned back to the house into which Claude and Mom had already vanished. I swallowed my pride, and went inside where I was promptly ambushed by the horde of great aunts, uncles and cousins that my mom had, of course, invited over and had somehow convinced to keep quiet until I came inside.

Oh, and I also met the other vampire.

Music: Motley Crue - Home Sweet Home