I wish there was a different word for vampire. You get all these young teenagers who go on about “Oh, it would be so cool to be a vampire.” I mean, would it really? Are you sure you want to do that? The whole teeth thing for a start, and never knowing if you’re going to bite your lip. For not smiling; not to be able to go out in the sun properly… that’s a bit of a drag.
It might seem all cool and glamorous and everything but ah, it’s tedious. Well, not tedious but it gets in the way of a lot of things. It’s not exactly a lifestyle choice.
But what was I saying. .? Oh, right… Names… After all, you have so many different styles of eating out there: your omnivore, your Paleo, vegetarian, vegan, Raw vegan, fruitarian, breatharian (!). Don’t get me started on the breatharian movement. How #FirstWorldProblem is that?
I just wish there was another word that would make vampirism sound cool. I guess the fact I’ve used the word ‘cool’ not only betrays my age but probably points out just how uncool I am. I mean, how about ‘haemogan’? Although that actually sounds like something a celebrity couple would call their baby son…
I remember an episode of “Doctor Who” and there were these creatures that were essentially crusty, bug-eyed vampires. They were called ‘haemovores’. Now that was pretty neat. Except that the word ‘haemovore’ was always preceded by word “ancient”; as in “Ah! The ancient haemovores are attacking!” Why ‘ancient’, for goodness sake? Still, I suppose ‘young, hip and trendy haemovores’ would have been slightly less terrifying.
So, as you can imagine, my parents kept me a secret – what I was, I mean. Can you blame them?
“Oh, I see the [Smiths] are about. They’ve got a vampire in their family, you know!
“There goes the neighbourhood…”
It was bad enough trying to keep the net curtains white and their front step shiny… let alone having to hide the fact that there was an unclean thing in the house! And when I say ‘unclean thing’, I don’t mean morally or spiritually, I just mean I was little. I hated baths.
Of course, my siblings gradually began to work out what was different about their little sister. That’s where the fun started. And when I say ‘fun’. What I actually mean is – the opposite of fun. There were little things like making me watch horror films (I told you before), and pointing to the various monsters and going “That’s you, that is!” Yes, I’m sure the widow’s peak and black cape is going to be a big look this spring. Thanks, and I’m sure I’ll rock that look one day when I’m older and my teeth grow in. Which they did, quite quickly.
Or the time my brothers locked me in a suitcase. “Thought you might like the practice for when you get your own coffin!”. Yeah, that was nice. It was really uncomfortable (never underestimate the luxury of a bit of silk lining!). The worst bit was – it was tea time, and they left me in there and only let me out afterwards, having told Mother that I wouldn’t come in because I was playing outside. So not only did I not get any tea, I got a thorough beating for being disobedient! Okay, so Mother’s ‘thoroughness’ could be quite capricious, depending on her mood, but that day she was especially thorough! I wonder sometimes how come I’ve still retained the super-human hearing, given the amount of times she mistook my head for a bongo…!
Excuse me… there’s someone at the door. Either it’s the post or they’ve found me. Again. Discovery or a fruit knife from ebay…
Oh, I love my life!
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