Read Online Joe Vampire by Steven Luna - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Steven Luna
Tags: Speculative Fiction
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of being on drugs, dude. That wasn’t cool.”
I waved it off. “Forget it. You were trying to help me out. How were you supposed to know I was a vampire and not a crackhead? I made it kind of difficult to tell the difference.” The tension was fading. “Sorry for waiting so long to tell you. It hasn't been easy to find the right way to say it. Bet you wish I really had been on drugs after finding all this out, huh?”
He chuckled weakly. “Nah… we’ll figure it out,” he said, not sounding terribly confident about it. I, on the other hand, couldn't have been more relieved to have spilled it all to someone – to Hube, especially. I kind of felt like I had a partner in vampirism now.
“Thanks anyway for the intervention. Aren’t there supposed to be a few more people at these things?” He told me he’d called my parents, but tonight was a new episode of Breaking Bad , and they wondered if this couldn’t be done next week instead. My sister was out of town; my brother didn’t pick up the phone. “That sounds about right.”
Hube looked sort of embarrassed. “But I didn’t want to wait any longer. So you just get me… an intervention of one.” I slugged his shoulder.
As it turns out, one was all I needed.
POST 13
The Man with Two Brains (And No Girlfriend)
Since spilling my guts to Hube, it’s become quite a bit easier to deal with all this vampire crap. Whenever some new aspect crops up – say, little fanglets (yep – they’ve started coming in) or a slight pointing at the tips of my ears – I bounce it off of him to make sure it’s real and that I’m not going insane. He’s a great sounding board for stuff like that. He’s also not afraid to let me know when I’m getting a bit too dark – shocking, I know, but it does happen – and he doesn’t let me stay bummed for too long when it all threatens to overwhelm me. For a member of the fully living, he has some pretty keen insight about how to have a normal life while being somewhat dead.
He’s like my second brain, that guy.
He’s also willing to make all kinds of crazy sacrifices to help me out, things I end up having to put in perspective for him so he remembers that this whole shebang is a little more wonky than what we’re used to facing, being a couple of work-a-day dudes in a synthesizer rock band and all. Hube prefers to think of This as a wake-up call, something to remind me how alive I still am, and how lucky I am to be so. A near-death – or un-death – experience, of sorts. He thinks I should approach it like I’m on some kind of an adventure, like a super-pale Bear Grylls or the Indiana Jones of the undead. I’m thinking no. Adventure is something I prefer to experience from a distance.
And through television.
Hube is also ultra-aware of how much the whole human bloodfeeding deal really bothers me, as it should bother anyone who thinks about it for even a second as a real-life possibility. But he’s all about the solutions… to the point of excess, sometimes. “Maybe you could become a vigilante, like, a superhero sort-of thing,” he suggested once, when the topic of feeding came up.
“Nah… I’m too lazy.” I come from a long line of very still, very conservatively-dressed people. The last thing I wanted to add to my list of shit to figure out was how to move quickly in spandex without everything jiggling.
“Right… right. You could become a missionary, then, dedicated to tracking down terrorists and dictators and human garbage in general.”
“That’s mercenary, not missionary. And no.” How would I fund something like that?
“So, no criminals and no terrorists." I think my reluctance irked him. "I understand you're walking a moral tightrope here, but is there any faction of loser you actually would be willing to suck blood out of in order to avoid biting the innocent? We have to find you someone to feed off of.” This is precisely the reason I love Hube: he speaks in terms of we , as
I waved it off. “Forget it. You were trying to help me out. How were you supposed to know I was a vampire and not a crackhead? I made it kind of difficult to tell the difference.” The tension was fading. “Sorry for waiting so long to tell you. It hasn't been easy to find the right way to say it. Bet you wish I really had been on drugs after finding all this out, huh?”
He chuckled weakly. “Nah… we’ll figure it out,” he said, not sounding terribly confident about it. I, on the other hand, couldn't have been more relieved to have spilled it all to someone – to Hube, especially. I kind of felt like I had a partner in vampirism now.
“Thanks anyway for the intervention. Aren’t there supposed to be a few more people at these things?” He told me he’d called my parents, but tonight was a new episode of Breaking Bad , and they wondered if this couldn’t be done next week instead. My sister was out of town; my brother didn’t pick up the phone. “That sounds about right.”
Hube looked sort of embarrassed. “But I didn’t want to wait any longer. So you just get me… an intervention of one.” I slugged his shoulder.
As it turns out, one was all I needed.
POST 13
The Man with Two Brains (And No Girlfriend)
Since spilling my guts to Hube, it’s become quite a bit easier to deal with all this vampire crap. Whenever some new aspect crops up – say, little fanglets (yep – they’ve started coming in) or a slight pointing at the tips of my ears – I bounce it off of him to make sure it’s real and that I’m not going insane. He’s a great sounding board for stuff like that. He’s also not afraid to let me know when I’m getting a bit too dark – shocking, I know, but it does happen – and he doesn’t let me stay bummed for too long when it all threatens to overwhelm me. For a member of the fully living, he has some pretty keen insight about how to have a normal life while being somewhat dead.
He’s like my second brain, that guy.
He’s also willing to make all kinds of crazy sacrifices to help me out, things I end up having to put in perspective for him so he remembers that this whole shebang is a little more wonky than what we’re used to facing, being a couple of work-a-day dudes in a synthesizer rock band and all. Hube prefers to think of This as a wake-up call, something to remind me how alive I still am, and how lucky I am to be so. A near-death – or un-death – experience, of sorts. He thinks I should approach it like I’m on some kind of an adventure, like a super-pale Bear Grylls or the Indiana Jones of the undead. I’m thinking no. Adventure is something I prefer to experience from a distance.
And through television.
Hube is also ultra-aware of how much the whole human bloodfeeding deal really bothers me, as it should bother anyone who thinks about it for even a second as a real-life possibility. But he’s all about the solutions… to the point of excess, sometimes. “Maybe you could become a vigilante, like, a superhero sort-of thing,” he suggested once, when the topic of feeding came up.
“Nah… I’m too lazy.” I come from a long line of very still, very conservatively-dressed people. The last thing I wanted to add to my list of shit to figure out was how to move quickly in spandex without everything jiggling.
“Right… right. You could become a missionary, then, dedicated to tracking down terrorists and dictators and human garbage in general.”
“That’s mercenary, not missionary. And no.” How would I fund something like that?
“So, no criminals and no terrorists." I think my reluctance irked him. "I understand you're walking a moral tightrope here, but is there any faction of loser you actually would be willing to suck blood out of in order to avoid biting the innocent? We have to find you someone to feed off of.” This is precisely the reason I love Hube: he speaks in terms of we , as
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