A Story Overheard

This story was written for a stake and garlic prompt. Write a story about a vampire with a disibility.

A Story Overheard

         Have you ever seen a vampire vomit? It’s not a pretty sight. Nope. Not at all. I used to have this little puking problem almost every night when I first got turned. And no, it wasn’t because I was tormented in my soul or because I felt sorry for the people I bit. It was because I’m allergic to blood- well most kinds of it anyway.

         I blame Leonard, the one that turned me. He’s a completely loony bastard. Some might say that it’s not his fault he’s off his nut, but I say, “What the hell?” Go ahead and blame him for that too. It’s easy to dish out blame when your heaving your dinner all over the grass. God it tastes awful the second time 'round.

         Did I mention that Leonard’s crazy? I guess he got that way from having the same affliction as my self. After a century or so of being hungry, puking, being hungry, puking, being hungry, puking…well, lets just say his mind snapped like the little twig it was and he found himself a “happy place”.

         He didn’t want to go there alone though. Nope. From what I can gather, old Leonard made himself company several times before, but his protégés either starved, or perhaps offed themselves in order to be rid of Leonard and/or the puking. Ah well, that’s the way it goes, I guess. Although, I can’t be entirely sure since I am still quite new to this whole undead thing.

         All in all though, being new can be good. You see, unlike Leonard, I was born in the 20th century, the age of technology and science. Also the age of Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman reruns.

         A few months back, Leonard and I were watching this episode where Dr. Mike was having problems giving blood transfusions because no one back then knew about blood types. Well, maybe it was all the pepto-bismol I'd just downed, but the whole scenerio sort of rung a bell and I thought, “Hey! Maybe that’s the problem.” And thus, a theory was born. I mean... it makes sense, right?

         And besides, anything would beat Leonard’s “sniff method”. He had this crazy habit of sniffing his food as if something in the person’s smell would tell him whether they were good to eat or not. Last Thursday he grabbed a pizza delivery guy who was stopped at a red-light. The guy was driving this little Honda Civic and he had Blink 182 blasting at an obscene level through his open window. Leonard yanked the guy right through the driver's side window, switched over to his "business face", and bared his fangs. The little guy screamed as Leonard leaned in to bite his neck. Leonard didn’t bite though. Instead, he just sniffed the guy a few times, threw him aside and yelled “You’re the debil, Bobby Bouchet!” and walked away.

         Did I mention that Leonard watched a lot of TV? Well, anyway, for lack of a better plan, we broke into the local blood bank the next night to test my blood type theory. Leonard threw the first two bags of “A” I handed him on the floor without even tasting them. Instead, he stomped on them, sent the contents all over the walls, and turned and smiled at me like I should say he did a good job.

         “That’s nice Len.” I offered as I rummaged around in the refrigeration case for some more A’s for him to try.

         “I bet they put that on CSI.” Leonard commented on his handiwork, nodding sagely. “Some of them are based on real life, you know.”

         “That’s great, Len. Eat these.” I threw him a few more bags.

         He did and he promptly threw up. I had the same result with the B’s. Yet, the O’s were a different story. The O positives were a definite no-go, but the O negatives were torture free. No discomfort in the slightest. Jackpot. I ate six bags. Leonard chugged down eight.

         I still can't believe my idea worked. I mean, I may not be a genius, but right then I felt like one. I was "The Mystery Solver". Leonard even went so far as to compare me to Scooby-Doo, which to him was a great complement to lay at the feet of any man. Even so, I’m sure a better person may have wondered why Leonard was allergic to all blood but O negative, or why his allergy was passed down to those he turned, but I didn’t care. My only thought was my stomach. It was full and full is good. In fact, I'm going to try to be full every night from now on. It's my new goal.

         But, you know, it’s not exactly as if people go around with their blood types pinned to their shirt collars. God wouldn’t that be convenient? But I’m not one to be daunted, so I plunged head first into a real brain storm session.

         Leonard suggested giving out surveys. I kyboshed that idea for obvious reasons. People in terror for their lives generally do not test well. I went through several other equally bad ideas, and then it hit me. The computers at the blood bank! They had the names, addresses and blood types of every one who ever donated. Oh yeah! Now we had a plan.

         Too bad we hit a little snag. You see, we tried going back to use the computers in the blood bank we’d broken into the night before, but alas, although the TV show CSI was not there, three local news stations were. So were four cop cars. The place was still sealed off in that yellow crime tape. It was a real inconvenience since the only other blood depository was way across town.

         Leonard was walking a few steps behind me as we cut across the park and headed for blood bank number two. His head was hung down and he was mumbling incoherently about CSI, which was why I was a bit shocked when his hand shot out like lightening and grabbed a passing rollerblader. I will always admire Len’s style. So direct.

         Well, anyway, he threw the guy down and the rollerblader landed with a thud, right on his biking-short-clad butt. Len immediately joined the guy on the ground, and began sniffing the man’s chest, neck and arms. He then looked into the guys befuddled face and demanded,

         “Do you know the muffin man?”

         The guy made a choking noise and seemed to come to his senses.

         “Get away from me, freak!” The man then began pushing himself up only to be knocked down again by Leonard, whose eyes had changed to vampire yellow in an instant. Leonard sniffed the hyperventilating man one last time and then pronounced,

         “You smell like a foot.”

         And with that we were off again, on our way to find some O negative people who did not smell like feet.

         Everything was quiet when we finally arrived some hours later at bank number two. It was nearing midnight and the place looked deserted. Too bad it wasn’t.

         The doors were predictably locked up tight, but Leonard opened them right up. For all his craziness, he has this weird vampire mojo thing where he can open up locked doors. He can do other things too. I’ve been meaning to ask him if he can turn into a bat, like I saw this one vamp do down in Louisiana. Wow, was that creepy! And Leonard’s creepy enough all on his own, even without the bat bit… if you know what I’m sayin’. It’s not like bats scare me or anything. You know… me bein’ a creature of the night and all. I’d just like to know if Leonard has any plans to transform into a winged mammal. It’s really just common courtesy.

         But I’m getting off track. I was telling you about our second go at breaking and entering. Well, anyway, we walk right on in like we own the place, and head to the back where they keep the blood supplies. We figured on grabbing a quick snack before we swiped the list of all the O negative donors.

         Well, I heard her before I saw her. Why she chose to work late testing samples that particular night, I do not know. But she’d spotted Leonard, who was a couple of paces in front of me, and she let out a scream. She probably saw the report of the other trashed blood bank and figured we were the same guys, come to do the same thing, only in a different place. She was mostly right, but still, she shouldn’t have jumped to conclusions like that and screamed before anything even happened. Women.

         Leonard jumped when he heard her scream. He was, quiet frankly, focused on the refrigerator and failed to notice the pretty brunette sitting on a stool at the counter working with some little vials of blood. When he did see her, he glided to her work station, leaned across the table and squinted his eyes suspiciously at her.

         “Do you know the muffin man?” He fixed her with another squinty stare and she made a noise that sounded like “eep.”

         Somehow, this must have been a satisfactory answer for Leonard because he then ignored her and turned back to the refrigerator. I took that opportunity to walk up and introduce myself. I explained who we were and why we were there. She just stared at me the whole time, hardly blinking. When I finished my charming elucidation, I flashed her my vampire face. Girls just love tough guys you know. Then I followed it up with a suave, toothy grin.

         "So, baby... what's your type?"

         She squeeked and fainted cold. I mean, I know I’m sexy but, damn! I’m hotter than I thought.

         Leonard walked over about that time with a blood bag in his hand and supper running down his face.

         “Tough luck, Hal.” He patted my shoulder paternally.

         “Tough luck nothin’!” I replied “She fainted for me! That's not a rejection. That’s pretty damn cool, is what that is. And honestly, Len! Who the hell is Hal?”

         “Sorry, Charlie.”

         “I’m not Charlie either.”

         “Pete?”

         “Nope”

         “Clarence?”

         “Try again”

         “I like you Hal. You’re a funny guy.” He slurped some more from his blood bag, patted my shoulder affectionately and wandered off.

         I just can’t say enough about what a lunatic Leonard is. You should pray to God and as many saints whose names you can remember that you are never cursed to spend an eternity with a mad man for company.

         Anyway, I decided to leave Leonard with his messy meal and head on over to the computer. Wouldn’t you know? They put a password on the thing. I spent three hours trying to gain access to the files I wanted. I ended up putting the tower containing the hard drive into the toilet. Why, you ask? Because I could. Because it felt like the right thing to do at the time. Because maybe Leonard’s craziness disease is as genetic as his allergy. Who can say?

         Well, anyway, after the computer was properly taken care of, I set to looking for the printed records of the donors, which were, of course, not kept in that branch. All the files for our region are sent to Birmingham! Birmingham!

         Well, I’m not going back to Alabama, I can tell you that. Flat out not gonna do it. Not after what happened when Leonard and I traveled through last time. That was probably the worst week of my existence, and seeing how my life… death… is regularly not that good… well, you get the point. Going back to Birmingham won't happen.

         So I sat there and moped a while. Then I cursed at Leonard who got mad and accused me of being the muffin man. Just a quick thing to note, if someone ever calls you a muffin man… take the first available opportunity to shut the hell up and thereby avoid pissing them off further. But… I won’t go into that.

         So anyway, do you want to know how I finally fixed it? How I finally overcame my little disability? Well, I never did get the computer to work and I never did travel to Alabama. Nope. But as I visited the blood bank over the next several months… well, that little brunette was there a few more times… and you know how girls always fall for bad boys.

         So she hooks me and Len up with all the O neg we can drink. She still won’t give out the names of the O negative donors, but I’m workin' on it. And you know, in the mean time, the bag stuff is good if you heat it up. My whole unlife is shaping up pretty nicely. Yep. I think I'll have another beer. No on second thought, I have a better idea.

         "Hey! Bartender! I'll take a bloody mary on the rocks over here!"