After a long day you come home and flick on the lights. Someone who looks to be a stereotypical vampire is fiddling with your remotes. Before you can speak, they simply say: “Did you know you have a piece of rug that says ‘Come right on in’ in front of your door?”
Too tired to even be surprised – or terrified, which would probably be the normal thing to feel when you come home to find an eldritch horror you thought only existed in horror stories standing in your living room going through your Hulu lineup – you shrug and drop your keys at the bowl by the front door.
“Not really mine,” you say, watching as your visitor raises an eyebrow at your watch history on Hulu. He’s probably a little intrigued by the seven different Dracula iterations you’ve watched – irony, after all, is alive and well. “Gift from my mom. What kind of ingrate doesn’t put out a welcome mat their mom gave ‘em?”
“Don’t ask me,” he says, and you notice his thumb is hovering over the select button on the remote. Are you about to watch Bram Stoker’s Dracula (1992) with a vampire? You guess you are. “I was always a really shitty kid.”
Hesitantly, because it’s a fucking vampire and you’re not completely devoid of common sense, you take a few steps towards where he’s standing. He moves suddenly, and you freeze, but he’s only getting comfortable on the sofa, putting his feet up on your coffee table, which was another gift from your mom.
Is anything in your apartment not a gift from your mom?
Good to know if I’m devoured by an Ancient Horror, I can blame my mom, you think, as you sit beside the creature. And I can leave a bad review at Wal-Mart’s website. ‘Got me eaten by a vampire. 0/5 stars. Not recommended for anyone who doesn’t want to get eaten.’
You wait, sure that your ‘guest’ will spring at any moment. An hour passes, and then two; your Hulu eventually asks if you’re still watching, and your new… friend, or whatever, hits yes.
“Hey, it’s late. For me,” you say. “Like, probably not for you, but for, um. Normal not-vampire people, yeah. It’s late.”
He watches you with bright, unnatural eyes, and you feel a chill go up your spine. It’s not…entirely unpleasant. Which is somehow worse than if it was.
“So,” you continue, when he just keeps staring at you and not saying anything. “Uh… I’ve got work in the morning, and my boss is an asshole who won’t, like, just let me have the day off because I stayed up too late bingeing classic vampire movies with a, you know, actual vampire. So, yeah. Unless you’re gonna feast on me, maybe we call it a night?”
You expect him to lunge, then, to strike at you and tear into your throat with razor sharp fangs, but he only smiles pleasantly and stands up. And, to make everything really fucking weird and confusing, he holds out his hand to you.
You shake his hand, too dumbstruck to do anything else.
“I filled up on popcorn,” he says, and his smile widens to show the points of his fangs. “Maybe I can feast on you next time?”
You’re standing in your living room, with the cold hand of an undead monster in your own, and he’s flirting with you.
Worse, you flirt back.
Fuck it.
“Take me out somewhere nice and we’ll see,” you say, and he leaves with a promise to come back soon and see you again.
You look down at the ‘Come On In’ welcome mat on your front door. Instead of doing the sensible thing and removing it, you leave it where it is.
Well, fuck it.
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theclumsiestninja 