Free Joe Vampire by Steven Luna

if even my being a vampire is something we’re going to tackle together. He’s always been this way. He doesn’t stop to think about it for a second, doesn’t hesitate. I tell him I’m a vampire and he just jumps right in with both feet to help me out, no matter how whacked things get. He’s more of a brother than my own brother, really.
    My own brother is just an asswipe.
    Before I could stop him, Hube jumped in one more time. “Got it. You could feed off of me.”
    I was sure he was kidding. “Yeah, right.”
    “I’m clean and healthy, had all my shots. No history of blood-borne illnesses.” 
    A little less sure after that. “Hell to the no, bro.”
    “Why not? We’ll make a schedule… it’d be like a donation at the blood bank. They take a pint every eight weeks, so we could start with that and see what happens.”
    He was totally serious. “No freaking way!” 
    “I’ll have to double up on my protein pretty quickly… how many Slim Jims do you have on you?”
    This was too much. I stopped him as he was tapping his neck to make his jugular pop out. “Hubert, pal, listen… you’re the best; you’ve stepped up to the plate like no one else ever would – not even my family. I know how totally there you are for me with this crazy vampire shit. But dig me here: I’m not going to take your blood. I’m not going to take anybody’s blood.” He kept insisting this would work, saying he couldn’t just sit by and do nothing while I circled the drain. I assured him I was nowhere near the drain – I was way at the back of the bathtub, and the water wasn’t even halfway down the sides yet. True, I could sometimes see a scummy ring from where I was, and the soap was full of hair, but I didn’t let on. “You’re a vampire, for crying out loud,” he reminded me. “You’ll have to feed eventually.”
    “No, I’ve got this – I’ll just be non-practicing. I already do it with my religion and that seems to be working out okay, so why not give it a shot with this stuff… am I right?” He didn’t think that was as funny as I did. So I explained how I’d experimented with uncooked steaks and stuff, and how just sucking the juices out of the flesh seemed to energize me a little, like licking a battery or downing half a Red Bull. The charge didn’t last long, maybe because everything I sucked out was from something that was already dead. But I assured him I’d find a way around this, that this was a perfect opportunity to put my hard-earned D in college biology and my internet addiction to good use. There had to be some non-invasive, unfelonious solution that didn’t involve biting my friends or consuming raw animals on the regular. It might take a while, but eventually I’d figure it out. “How much of a while do you think you have?” he asked.
    “No idea.” 
    For the time being, I’m okay with raw meat and the blood gravy and other various concoctions that I’ve come up with. They are neither delicious nor entirely satisfying, but as long as they give me a little energy without harming anyone else, that’s all I really need as far as food goes. For now, anyway. Not sure if the Need to Feed will get stronger or if this is the worst of it. I’d feel much better about things if I could just stop smelling people as if they’re a twelve load of Krispy Kremes about to sail beneath the magical curtain of love glaze. It’s under control, though; they may smell virtually identical, but I’m not so far gone that I can’t make the distinction between snacks and people.
    Little Debbie?  Totally edible.
    Debbie from Accounting? No fucking way.
    My bigger issue at the moment is what to do about Chloe… not that women should be my primary worry. I think I’ve got enough to deal with at the moment. But Hube might be right about the wake-up call thing. The idea of having died and yet still being at least halfway alive has made me begin to realize something: the opportunities I’ve let pass me by