“Sorry. No such luck.”
“So…can you do anything else?” he asked.
I frowned. “There’s this eyes-going-black thing I’ve seen. I’m still working on that one, though. I’m still pretty new to this.”
“The vampire’s apprentice?”
“Not quite,” I continued. “Let’s see…I’m stronger than I was before. Oh, and then there’s that whole sunlight thing.”
That seemed to perk him up a bit. “That really happens?”
“Yes. Why do you think I need a note?”
“Show me.” He seemed to be growing excited at the prospect.
“No.”
“Show me,” he insisted.
“It hurts like a motherfucker,” I argued.
“You want me to write a doctor’s note, you show me.” Fuck, I was afraid it would come to this.
I sighed. “Okay, just do me a favor and grab a wet towel or something first.”
He did so while I rolled up one of my sleeves. I glanced out the window. It was definitely starting to cloud up, but there was still some sun shining through. I’m sure it would be more than enough. Damn, I had really been hoping to avoid this. Next life, I’m going to make it a point to find friends who are heavier on the trusting and lighter on the sadism. When Dave returned, I turned to him dramatically.
“Behold, lowly mortal! Nothing up my sleeve.”
“Yeah, yeah, get on with it.”
“Showmanship is such a dead art,” I complained. That being said, I pulled back one of the curtains and put my exposed hand in front of the window. As a beam of sunlight fell upon it, it started smoking (AND HURTING!), then ignited with a whoosh of air and a smell not unlike that of cooked bacon (at least I smell delicious).
“That is so freaking coo…” Dave started to say when I cut him off.
“GIVE ME THE FUCKING TOWEL!”
“Oh, yeah, sorry.” He tossed it to me and I immediately used it to douse my hand. I don’t care if I live to be a thousand; being on fire is a feeling I’m never going to get used to.
Dave sat down and was quiet for a moment, which was fine because I was too busy hurting to hear him. Finally, the pain started to subside (thank you, vampire-healing factor) and I sat down opposite him, still cradling my crispy appendage.
“So?” I asked.
“Okay. I believe you. I must be going fucking mental, but damn if I don’t believe you.”
“Good. Because I’m not planning on a repeat performance,” I flatly stated.
“This is just so freaking amazing.” He was getting all excited again.
“Yeah, it’s fascinating, I’m sure. So, will you help me out?”
“Dude…” He stepped forward and put his hands on my shoulders. “I think we can help each other out.”
“Okay,” I replied, somewhat dubious as to his motives. “The note?”
“Oh, that? No problem. I’ll write up that you’ve contracted an acute case of solar urticaria. That should do it.”
“And that is?”
“It’s a form of photosensitivity,” he explained. “Means you break out in a nasty rash from the sun.”
“Ah. Hide the lie inside of a bit of truth.”
“Exactly. Give that to HR. They’ll have to accommodate you. Otherwise you could potentially sue the shit out of them.”
A disturbing thought occurred to me. “What if they want a second opinion?”
“Then you’re hosed. Actually, we’re hosed. But let’s not worry about that. Accommodating you is going to be cheaper for them than hiring a specialist since you’re mostly remote already. I’d be willing to bet they just shrug their shoulders and deal with it. When in doubt, always count on a company to play it cheap. Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve seen it happen.”
“You’ve done this before?”
“People seem to forget that residents get paid shit. If I want to be able to afford to live, I have to either get creative with my skill-set, or get a part time job at Blockbuster. Would you want to rent a movie from the same guy who was sewing your intestines back into your body just a few hours ago?”
“Not really,” I truthfully answered.
“Me neither, and let’s just leave it at that.”
“Okay. Anyway, that all sounds like a plan to me. Thanks for…”
“And in return for my help,” he said, cutting me off, “and for sticking my ass out for you, you’ll be a part of my research.”
I wasn’t expecting that. “What?”
“You heard me.”
“Dude, I’m not being your lab rat.”
“Don’t be such a melodramatic pussy. I’m talking a few blood and tissue samples here and there,” he explained, still sounding a bit too manic for my liking.
“What for?”
“I’ve been doing some thinking the last couple of months. I’ve decided that once I’m done with my residency, I’m going into pure research.”
“Why?”
“I pretty much hate all of my patients,” he said. “They’re assholes, and since people in general are assholes, I doubt it’s going to get much better. I’d prefer my days to be asshole free, thank you very much.”
“I can understand the desire.”
He sat down and started setting up his dungeon master screen, continuing as he did so, “The problem with research is it’s mostly a tiring, thankless job. For every person who discovers something like Viagra, there are a thousand researchers who will never so much as wind up with a new headache medicine to their credit. I am not a big fan of a career spent in obscurity, thus I’ve been wracking my brain trying to come up with an edge. And voila, out of nowhere you show up on my doorstep. If that isn’t divine inspiration, I don’t know what is. You, my friend, are going to be my ace in the hole.”
“Define ace in the hole.”
“Immortality, superhuman abilities, regeneration,” he said, motioning to my hand, which was already rapidly recovering from its toasting. “It’s all locked away inside you. If I could unlock even a fraction of that potential, I’d be swimming in Nobel Prize groupies.”
“Seems like a lot for just one little work excuse,” I pointed out.
“This could benefit you too, you know. What if I could figure out how to enhance your abilities or, better yet, what if I came across what caused vampires to flame-on under the sun and could somehow block it?”
I thought about it for a few minutes. Sure, his motives weren’t exactly altruistic, but he had a point. Maybe some good could come out of it, but we’d need to be really careful.
“Okay, you’ve got my attention. But only on the condition that people can’t know about vampires. I’m pretty sure that would bring a world of hurt down on both of us. Believe me when I say there are some seriously scary players in this game. They would not be happy.”
“Of course not. Don’t be stupid,” he said dismissively. “Besides which, I discover a way to prolong life, and I’m a fucking god. I tell people it’s because I’m experimenting on vampire blood, and I’d find myself locked in a mental ward. Trust me, you would definitely be my silent partner…very silent.”
“Good. Then I’ll agree there might be some potential here.”
“I’ll throw in an experience bonus for your character going forward,” he said, sweetening the pot.
“Deal,” I said. Damn, I’m a cheap date.
“Coolness. Although we should probably keep this a secret between us.”
“The vampire thing or the XP bonus?”
“More of the latter, I’d say.”
Kicking Ass and Taking Names
It was nice to be able to enjoy an afternoon of gaming. It was something I had started taking for granted, but after the last couple of weeks, it was like a glorious vacation from reality…minus the cost (or the exotic locale, open bar, and hot bikini babes…just trying to keep things in perspective, here). By the time the game broke up, a storm had moved in. I could deal with being waterlogged, as it also meant I c
ould move about freely without fear of turning into a walking tiki torch.
Dave had written me the doctor’s note I’d requested and had also typed out a pretty official-looking preliminary diagnosis on some hospital letterhead. He gave me instructions to first talk to my boss and let him direct me to HR. That way, he wouldn’t get his panties in a bunch that I’d gone over his head and would thus be less likely to cause a stink. Sounded like good advice. My boss, Jim, was typical middle management in that he wasn’t above a little old-fashioned brown nosing. Since he saw me in person, at most, maybe a few times a month, I was fairly confident that a little ego gratification would be all I needed to grease the wheels and get this approved.
I arrived home a couple of hours later, a little damp (a vampire with an umbrella just doesn’t sound cool), but none the worse for the experience. I opened the door and stopped dead in my tracks. Tom and Ed’s remains were splayed out on the living room floor. Blood was everywhere. They had been slaughtered like cattle.
* * *
Just kidding! Had you there for a second, though, didn’t I?
Ed was walking out of the kitchen, a cup of ramen in hand, as I stepped in the door.
“S’up, Nosferatu?” he asked casually. Great, now the vampire nicknames were starting. If I knew Ed, he now had a whole list of IMDB derived names to call me by. Best to ignore him and hope he went away.
I followed him into the living room, where Tom sat. “Ah, the prodigal prince of darkness returns,” he quipped. “I see you made it back in one piece.”
“It was touch and go there for a bit,” I confirmed. “But, yep, no worse for the wear. You guys do anything good this weekend?”
“I took a road trip yesterday,” Ed said.
“Forget us,” Tom interrupted, “what happened with you?”
“Please tell me you tapped that sweet piece of ass that picked you up on Friday,” Ed commented.
To that, I answered in the only way that I could. “Of course. Taught her some new names for God by the time I was done.”
“You’re so full of shit,” he said with a smile.
“Maybe,” I admitted. “But I’ve got all of eternity to wear her down. Eventually, she won’t be able to help herself.”
Tom smirked an asshole grin. “Yeah, I’m sure Hell has to freeze over sometime. Speaking of help, though, I found your note.”
“Good,” I said. “Fortunately, you didn’t need to follow my instructions.”
“Yeah about that…what the fuck, dude?”
“What?” I asked.
At which point, he pulled out the note and proceeded to read it aloud.
Tom, Ed,
If I’m not back by Sunday night, 9 pm. Send help!
Bill
“That’s it? Those are your instructions? Send help?”
“I was in a rush,” I replied. “I’m sure you’d have thought of something,”
“Asshole,” Ed opined.
“Fine, maybe it wasn’t the most well thought out plan,” I acknowledged. “So, do you guys want to hear about what went down this weekend, or not?”
* * *
I gave them the rundown on my meeting with James and the whole freewill situation. My roommates thought it hilarious that I was now this legendary creature of dread amongst the vampires. Lots of love there, I tell you. I then brought them up to speed on the whole faith thing and how it worked with Tom’s Prime doll. Unsurprisingly, he was ecstatic at the news. I then turned to Ed.
“Tom’s covered here, but sorry to say, as far as this faith thing goes, I think you’re pretty well hosed.”
That didn’t seem to faze Ed much (not that much did). He just grinned. “No worries. I think you’ll find I have my rear covered nicely.”
He didn’t elaborate, and so I continued with my tale, concluding with my outing with Jeff (minus some of the more embarrassing details) and the subsequent slaughter I was given credit for.
“This Ozymandias dude sounds pretty hardcore,” Ed commented once I had finished.
“No shit. He’s definitely on my list of people whose good graces I wish to remain in.”
“Yeah. Although, it sounds like this Razor douchebag is more your immediate problem,” Tom said.
I nodded my agreement. “He’s definitely number one on the ‘waiting to kick my ass’ list.”
“Which obviously means you need to kick his, first.”
“Really?” I sarcastically asked. “And I suppose you know exactly how to do that.”
Now it was his turn to smile. “Fortunately for you, you have caring and competent friends around to make up for your shortcomings.”
I looked from one to the other in confusion. They let the moment fester until it became uncomfortable, and then Ed got up and grabbed something off the kitchen counter. He came back and tossed it in my lap. It was a pamphlet.
“Jeff’s a vampire, not a gnat to swat,” I said without picking it up. I had to endure a few seconds of baleful glares before I continued, “Okay, fine. What is it?”
“Krav Maga,” said Tom, a wicked grin on his face.
“Who’s that?”
That earned an eye-roll from Ed. Hmmm, if things didn’t work out between Sally and me, I might have to consider setting them up. I’m sure that would be a match made in the seventh circle of Hell.
Tom snapped his fingers. “That clicking noise, in case you’re interested, is the sound of my opinion of you dropping a notch.” His tone suggested that I was a small, stupid child. “Krav Maga is a martial art. More precisely, it’s the fighting style used by the Israeli Mossad.”
“Whoa,” I said in response.
“Whoa is right,” Ed confirmed. “They train those guys to fuck up the bad guy’s shit.”
Tom jumped back in. “Yep. Something like Karate will teach you how to disarm an opponent with a knife. This shit’ll teach you to take out a dude holding a gun and then proceed to shatter every bone in his body.”
“Okay, and …” I prodded.
“And, while Ed was out, I found a place that teaches it. They offer night classes, so I took the liberty of using one of your credit cards…you really shouldn’t just leave them lying around like that, by the way. Anyway, I signed you up.”
“You’re too good to me,” I said dryly.
“Aren’t I?”
“And where, pray tell, are these classes?”
“In Queens,” he answered.
“Where in Queens?”
Tom mumbled something in return.
“What was that?” I asked, knowing pretty well what he just said…vampire hearing and all. “I didn’t quite catch you.”
“A few blocks from Ozone Park,” he said sheepishly.
“You want me to walk around there, after dark? I’ll get my ass shot off,” I pointed out.
“But that’s the brilliant part. It’s in a bad area. Think about it. You could potentially be attacked going there. You’ll definitely get beaten up during class. And then you could be attacked again coming home. That’s like three times the fighting experience for the price. By the time this Jeff douche comes after you, you’ll be Chuck Norris.”
“Besides which,” said Ed, “need I remind you, you’re a scary-ass vampire now? The criminals should be afraid of you, not the other way around.”
“He does have a point,” Tom added.
“Fine,” I conceded. There was some logic to their plan. It was completely insane logic, but logic nevertheless. “When do we start?”
“We?” Ed questioned, raising his eyebrows. “There’s no we, here.”
Tom agreed. “We’re not coming with you. A person could get killed walking around there after dark.”
* * *
Contrary to popular belief, prior to the past couple of weeks I hadn’t been privy to all that many beat downs in my life. Sure, in high school, I got my fair share of lumps, but that was more due to being a smart-ass than anything else. In retrospect, I probably deserved each and every one of them. The
thing is, being a smart-ass also saved me from more than one smack down. People who crack wise tend to cause just as much laughter as abject anger. As such, it tends to even things out and more or less put you in a safe zone…except when you cross the line and say something exceptionally stupid to someone with an underdeveloped sense of humor…which also tends to happen from time to time. Being a wiseass means you sometimes just can’t help it.
Then there’s the whole geek thing. Most would assume that caused me to endure undue strife during my formative years. However, also contrary to popular belief, people like me are not at the bottom of the high school food chain. Why? Simple. It’s because there are a lot of us, and we tend to flock together. As in the wild, there’s safety in numbers, because predators don’t like to charge directly into the center of the herd. It’s a poor hunting strategy. Predators prefer to pick off individuals. In the jungle, this consists of the sick, or the elderly. In school, this typically equates to those socially inept enough really not to fit in anywhere. Loners (except maybe those with the rep of being psychos) are the most vulnerable. Thus, a geek with a decent-sized circle of friends and a quick enough wit to be tolerated by the other social cliques can waltz through school fairly unmolested.
Such was my existence…at least until recently. I might have chalked some of the more recent stuff up to bad luck, but then Tom signed me up for that self-defense class. Now I’m wondering if maybe I inadvertently pissed off a major deity or two.
Now, don’t get me wrong, I am a believer that there are plenty of positive reasons to pursue a lifetime learning the martial arts. Some do it for self-defense, some do it for self-esteem, and I’m sure there are some who do it to find inner peace. Then there was the guy teaching my class. I’m thinking that, as a youth, he must have seen The Karate Kid and come to the conclusion that, while he might philosophically agree with the Cobra Kai dojo, they were too big of a bunch of pussies for his tastes. Had I still been a mere mortal, I have little doubt I’d be recounting my memories of this place from a body cast, but we’ll get to that in a moment.
It turned out that Monday morning had gone better than planned. Jim seemed pretty cool, if a little dubious of my sudden “condition.” They had a few programmers upstate who were considered permanent tele-workers, so he didn’t see much issue with getting me classified as the same, providing that I continued to meet all my deadlines. I faxed over the documentation Dave had provided, and he promised to get it to HR as soon as possible. I was home free, with only one regret: Sheila. She was pretty much the only reason I ever showed up to the office, period. But as I mentioned before, I doubt she even knew who I was, outside of maybe “that doughy guy who occasionally shows up to collect a paycheck.” Oh, well, maybe it was for the best. If I’d learned one thing in the last couple of weeks, it was the hotter the babe, the bigger the trouble.
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