How Not to Vampire - Season 1

1. My Own Worst Enemy

Pro-Tip for Humans #146: If you think your life sucks, try mine sometime.

Listen to the audiobook on Spotify: https://open.spotify.com/show/413qzoA7pIWIfTZdjVcmO8

You know that dream you have where some unknown assailant grabs you by the legs and drags you forcefully from your bed, only for you to smash your head on the floor and force you to wake the fuck up?

Me either.

So for that actual thing to happen to me was a hell of a shock.

My day began with an explosion of agony in the back of my skull. It wasn't the usual type that was preceded by a night of heavy partying when someone else was paying the bill. No, this was a different type of pain completely. It was the type that would have rendered a person unconscious, but it kind of gets complicated when that person is already unconscious. So instead of getting knocked the fuck out, I was essentially knocked the fuck awake, pain spiking through my head, my ears ringing in a kind of you just got a concussion way.

Just to add to the insult and confusion, there was something over my head. Through the pain and fog that had become my brain, I realized that I should be freaking the fuck out. I couldn't see what was going on, but I could feel hands on both my legs and holy shit I was being dragged across the floor!

"Wait," I mumbled instead of yelling something utterly heroic and incomprehensible. In situations like this, what exactly is the appropriate thing to yell? Your choices usually come down to a variation of "Hey, stop doing that, hey you, stop," or a lot of wordless yelling.

The dragging suddenly stopped. I didn't even have time to wonder what that meant before somebody punched me in the face, one, two, three times, adding to my ongoing head trauma.

"Ow," I managed, and then whatever was on my head was ripped away.

I slowly blinked at the two very pissed-off women who stared down at me, my brain trying and failing to connect the faces with names. I was also desperately trying not to think about how I was only wearing my Superman skivvies and that I had suddenly become a line from a Weezer song. Finally, something clicked--

"Tanya! Doreen!" I blustered as cheerfully as I could, which wasn't much to be honest. The pain that was masquerading as my brain had come with the conclusion that this might all be a stupid prank. "You had me worried for a second there. I thought it was somebody who actually wanted to kill me."

"Hi Bob," Doreen smiled nervously. "Nice underwear," she said, blushing. Doreen looked tough, the sides of her head shaved with the remaining hair at the top dyed blue and pulled back into a ponytail, but that was by design. Doreen had always been a sweetheart to me, and I was honestly surprised she had been roped into this mess, whatever it was. At least she was a little embarrassed by the sight of all my exposed brown skin. My naked chest probably did nothing for her since she was into chicks, but I was glad that my irregular workout routine had yielded some kind of muscle, and I wasn't too scrawny-looking for my attackers.

I'd like to say that any other female assailants who were not lesbians would have at least been distracted by my manly looks, but who am I kidding? I'm an average height black-Mexican guy (my dad is from Barbados, my mom from Mexico), reasonably good-looking if I don't let my scruff get too long. I'm not a hunka-hunka-burning man-meat, if that's what you're into, but my past girlfriends have always said that I had a particular mischievous look that made them weak in the knees. Since it's hard to get that kind of a reaction in the middle of an assault, I was fucked, especially since one of said assailants (Tanya) had never really liked me.