How Not to Vampire - Season 2

13. What You Need is a Montage

Protip for Vampires #201: don't judge me.

There's a song from Green Day buzzing around my brain, a groovy, lazy bass-line looking for some lyrics and failing to find them. It's the perfect song for a montage, because guess what, it's time for a fucking montage.

Day One:

I felt so fucking chill the next day. I mean, I woke up around 6PM and then had to rush to catch the bus to work, but it was still a pretty relaxed vibe that made me question what the fuck I had been freaking out about been anyway? I was hallucinating, nothing more. Ibrahaim had freaked me out more than I was willing to admit even to myself, but who could blame me? Then I caught a whiff of sanity and realized possession was a real actual-factual thing, so there was really nothing to worry about. Right?

"Are you high?" Sammy asked as soon her eagle-eyed observation of me verified her suspicion that I was in fact extremely stoned. "And if you are, where's mine?"

In retrospect, I have to admit my entrance into the store had been a little less steady than I had imagined. The overly exaggerated movements had not helped at all, even as I sat behind the counter and tried to pretend to be perfectly normal. Fact: even stoned people know when their "I'm totally fine act" isn't fooling anybody.

I flashed a toothy grin at Sammy. "Okay, so maybe I'm a teeny, tiny bit stoned," I admitted, fishing under the counter for the novelty mug Sammy had gifted me on my birthday. "Maybe a lot. Who the fuck knows, because I'm so chill right now it's not funny." I found the mug and flourished it triumphantly, the bouquet of dicks on the side emphasizing the gold lettering underneath which eloquently read: 'Get fucked!'

"House rules state you have to share, so ante up motherfucker."

"Can't. This buzz is from last night."

Sammy gave me a look that said very clearly how much of a fucking idiot she thought I was. She glanced around the store as if to make sure nobody was listening, and leaned in close, brow furrowed with concern.

"Are you mainlining?"

Mainlining—the term for injecting drugs intravenously, usually opium or heroin, right into the veins—was one of the things that Sammy was strictly against. She was all for recreational pot and maybe the occasional shrooms or molly, but hard drugs were where she drew the line... just not snort the line, if you know what I'm saying.

"Not at all," I said, one hand over my heart, the other held up, palm outward as if I was swearing an oath. Sammy didn't know I was a vampire, so what the hell was I supposed to tell her? The perfect lie occurred to me even as I opened my mouth. "This is some designer shit that Beatrice turned me onto." There was a flash of recognition and interest from Sammy. Awesome! "You remember Beatrice, right?"

Sammy tried to appear nonchalant, but she shrugged and let it go. "Figures your rich friends would be into some weird shit, especially that one."

"You honestly have no idea how weird," I replied, the first honest thing I had said all morning.

Thus began a week of me being stoned senseless and waking up in strange places with no memory of how I had gotten there. If you've ever been on a proper bender, then you're already familiar with the mechanics of this very singular experience. If you haven't had the pleasure and the ensuing week-long headache, well let me assure you of exactly how completely fucked up it is.

Very.

Fucked.

Up.