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

Chapter 2.1: The Notorious B.O.B (pt 1)

"I don't want to talk about it."

"We just killed a dude."

"We killed a vampire. It's different. I'd really like to talk about anything except that, if you don't mind."

"So you're going to do that thing you always do and shove it way deep down inside and try to pretend it's not happening? Is that what's happening here?"

"It's part of not talking about it, so yeah."

We drove in silence after that, Claude giving me the space I needed to be an asshole and me taking that space to do anything but think about what we had done to Daemien.

No, I didn't want to talk about how Daemien screamed. No, I didn't want to talk about the looks on my family's faces as they all took turns in murdering the sonofabitch. No, I didn't want to think about it, and even now I still don't want to talk about it, so let's shut up about it and pretend that everything is just fine, okay?

Okay.

Claude dropped me off at my shitty basement apartment, and he wanted to say something. I didn't let him. I just walked away and listened for Claude to either try talking to me, or to just drive away.

Fuck.

Ever get that feeling that nothing you do really matters in the vast scheme of things? That everything you've done matters only to you, and nobody else gives a shit if it doesn't affect them directly? I suppose it's the primary human condition, where we question our place in the universe to see if it gives us any meaning, but I usually try not to do that because it's depressing as shit and the last thing anybody needs is a depressed me hanging about.

And yet there I was standing on the side of the road at 3:14 AM, watching my best friend of twenty years drive away, and I was feeling existential as shit. I just felt tired and knew that I'd be soon revisiting Daemien's murder in my dreams.

So that was my state of mind as I entered my apartment.

"Oh, there you are," Beatrice said as she lit a cigarette.

She was sitting at my kitchen table with a mug of half-empty coffee in front of her. I had no idea where she had gotten the mug from since all of mine had been broken one by one over the past couple of months and I had never bothered to swing by the Dollar Store to pick up any new ones. Paper cups from Tim Hortons were good enough for me, and I didn't have to do the washing up. I noticed that there was a brand new Keurig coffee machine on the counter, and that definitely was not mine. It was nice and expensive-looking, so definitely nothing I owned.

I suppose I should have been startled, since Beatrice was the last person I expected to see, especially in my apartment. That whole existentialism mindset kind of fucks with you and you end up not caring about some things as much, so I wasn't as startled as I would have expected to be and was, in fact, more interested in if Beatrice had brought any additional pods for the Keurig.

"Oh hi Beatrice," I said and dropped my keys on the counter. "Is there more coffee?"

Beatrice gave me an unamused look, her brilliant blue vampire eyes expressing her disappointment at my lack of reaction. She pointed to an empty reusable pod next to the Keurig and an opened bag of Starbucks Pike Place Roast. Question answered. Sweet!

"I could be here to kill you, and that's all I get?"

I prepped a weak coffee pod for the machine while I talked to Beatrice. When I say "weak" I mean there was barely an eighth of coffee in the pod, since I didn't want to end up in the Emergency Room again with an instant embolism. It's one of those details they left out of all the vampire mythology: strong coffee and vampires do not go together well. I still didn't know if Coca-Cola was a good substitute.