Hey all. This is supposed to be a parody of conventional vampires. Tell me what you think.
Not much was unique about 13 Mountview Place. It was a gray apartment complex, surrounded by other buildings, also of varying shades of gray. It had its own set of gossiping neighbors, cheating husbands and godsdamned kids making a racket all day. It was the sort of place urban legends begin.
Residing at #709, 13 Mountview place were a 10 year old and his extremely harassed aunt. The boy’s name was Larry Stubbins, although on the street he went by ‘Leadpipe Larry’, ‘Stubbo’, or the more colloquial ‘You little bastard, gimme back my wallet.” His resume, if he had one, would include ‘Leader of Leadpipe Larry’s Little Lads’, a notorious street gang, ‘Purveyor of candy from babies’ and ‘President of the Piss off Old People Club.’ Ahh, the casual criminality of youth.
Larry fancied himself a bit of a detective, and his latest victim of investigation was Mr. Randal, a middle aged gentleman who lived in the penthouse, on the thirteenth floor of the apartment building. Mr. Randall was a tall, good looking man, and only his grayish hair betrayed his age. He kept to himself, but had a dark sense of humor and an affinity for Bloody Marys. (Author’s Note: A bloody mary is an alcoholic drink made of tomato juice. They are delicious.) Also, he always wore black, was an atheist, and no one had ever seen him eat or drink. They particularly hadn’t seen him eat garlic. Naturally Larry suspected he was a vampire, and was convinced that he was behind the spate of cat disappearances plaguing the neighborhood. (Author’s Note: I view this as necessary pest control, but it impedes the flow of the story. I don’t like cats.)
Every day Larry and Mr. Randal shared a 5 minute elevator ride down, before walking to the bus stop. It was a slow elevator. While previously the trip had been filled with an awkward silence between a child and an adult who knows nothing about children, now Larry was determined to use this time to pull the deepest, darkest secrets from the recesses of Mr. Randal’s mind.
The next day, Mr. Randall entered the elevator to the sight of Larry eating a packet of highly odoriferous garlic chips. He watched with horrified fascination as Larry fit at least 15 chips in his mouth.
“Do you want fum mifter?” mumbled Larry, a gleam in his eye.
“No, thank you. I do not enjoy garlic as a flavor. It blocks my sinuses”
“Do you know who elf doefn’t like garlic” asked Larry, his mouth still full.
“I believe vampires historically do not enjoy the substance. It renders them quite helpless”
“You a vampire, mister?” asked Larry, swallowing his mouthful.
Mr. Randal declined to answer. As they walked in silence towards the bus stop, Randal popped into a corner store, emerged with a bulb of garlic, took a large bite out of it, and then smiling, handed it to the boy. Larry took it, perplexed.
“Aren’t you going to have a bite too?
Larry studied the bulb skeptically. He hesitantly took a bite. It was bitter, horribly pungent and made his eyes stream. Gasping for breath, he boarded his bus, which had just arrived, and glared back at Mr. Randal, who was giving him a smile of total innocence.
Well, he’d better watch out tomorrow. Larry would bring out the big guns. The water guns. The holy water guns.
To be continued…
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