Musings of a High School Vampire: June 29

And that, kiddies, was my weekend with Py.  

Well - the whole bloody aftermath of it.   Take that any way you like.

 

So – where are things now?  

1. Kane still isn’t talking to me.   Won’t even answer his phone or reply to texts or emails, for fuck’s sake.  Fine.

2. Pam ended up with something less exotic than swine flu, but potent enough to keep her away from the house for the time being.   Also fine.  

3. Jenna came to report this.   She looked vacuously at me when I asked subtly about her seeing dinner still around my mouth the other morning.   More than fine.  

4. Then she told me about how some college guys had apparently kidnapped this kid from school for a prank.   Acccording to her, his mother had hysterics, his jock brother was currently (and only I knew how unfairly) getting the blame, and every time Mitchell retells the story it sounds more and more like a Hollywood action flick…   (This is a coherant paraphrase of Jenna, by the way.   Plus I’ve removed all the ‘like’s.)   Okay.   Sounds like that all turned out way better than fine.

5. I wouldn’t actually know - I’ve been ditching school all week.   Couldn’t be fucked.   Had enough to fucking worry about without living the facade as well.   Spoke again with the police, and – get this - some  imaginative old dude who lives down the road suddenly remembered ‘this sedan’ parked outside my neighbours’ house that night, which he promptly peopled with low-life thugs.   Police are off looking for whatever ethnic minority ‘gang’ the racist old bastard invented for them.   What a fucker.  

Point is, when it came to seeking a villain for the suburban carnage they found, they didn’t think to look next door at the pale and skinny school kid with the cold eyes and broken smile.   And that fucking suits me fine, boys and girls.

6. So, at the moment, things are cooling off.   When the school rang to complain about my absence, I decided ‘Eddie’ would have a random moment of kindness and tell them I was “traumatised and needed rest” (sort of true, but not for the reasons they presumed).  

7. Finally – since partying with Py, there have been some random ‘missing people’ reports over the weekend, but shit – it’s a big city, and people come and go, and you’d be surprised how rarely they get found.   Plus there’s been plenty of other celebrity deaths in the media this week that have usefully crowded out a) any strange incidents over the weekend or b) the little ‘mystery’ I caused next door.

In fact, I read the hilarious suggestion today that – get this! – Michael Jackson was a vampire.   Come on – pale, eerie, inhuman, unnatural, fed off kids, lived in seclusion, covered up in sunlight…   Fucking funny!   I laughed.   Then I actually thought about it for a milli-second.   Then I laughed again – because the poor old fucked-up bastard is dead, and the autopsy hasn’t mentioned – well, anything relevant.   And to be honest, we wouldn’t want to claim him anyway.   So – sorry to break it to you, kids, but take it from me – Jacko isn’t coming back.

 

But did I mention the Cat did?

 

NEXT ENTRY…

Musings of a High School Vampire: Revelations

Jonathon heads for home.

 

I know what you’re thinking.   And fuck you.   It’s not soft.   It’s smart.   Don’t start attributing any lame human emotional bullshit to me.   The kid hadn’t seen me, couldn’t identify me, and believe me – disposing successfully of a dead body is far harder than letting a live one go.   I should know.   And right at that moment I didn’t have the time or energy or inclination to deal with noise and mess and fuss and effort.   Mitchell the fish boy will come to, and flap off home – bit cold and hungry, but fine.   There’s every chance it will be considered some prank, not an actual abduction, and there’s no way it’s coming back to me, anyhow.   Which is the way I fucking like it.

I consider the entire situation on the way back to my place.   Assess my tidying up efforts after the – messy – weekend.   Mitchell problem – solved.   Further and more focussed police attention will be likely as the result of my stupid faux pas of eating the neighbours.   I need to clean up the house better, get ‘Eddie’ to give a phone interview so they don’t come looking for him, and lie low for a while.   Kane is pissed off with me because I blew him off to hang out with Py.   That’s going to make things awkward at school, so I’d better think of some way to make it up to him.   Jenna saw me post-party this morning, and might have been wondering exactly what that was all around my mouth still.   Then again, she’s a pathetic little moron, and she probably doesn’t even have enough brain cells to knock together over it.   I’ll quiz her tomorrow.  

Oh yeah.   And I should look for the Cat.

I get home finally, check out the low-level activity next door, take down the plastic in the upstairs bedroom, hunt around uselessly for the Cat, give up, and finally switch on the computer.   It’s been a fucking hellish day – and not in a good way.   I’m beyond exhausted and still hung over.   I need to chill.

 

And that’s when I find Py didn’t leave without a word after all.   You can read his little “Intervention” on here for yourself – hell, you probably read it before I did.

Py – you fucking, FUCKING bastard.

 

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Musings of a High School Vampire: Verdict

How to dispose of Mitchell.

 

I weigh up the possibilities and come to a decision.   I stand up, stretch, shut the door behind me, and go take a nap.

When darkness comes, things seem to have quietened down a bit next door.   Comparatively, mind you.

Anyway – time to get going.

The kid flails and flops about again as he hears me approach (ears being the only sense organ currently unhampered by Py’s neat lengths of black tape).   I haul him to his feet, pull up the hood of his jacket around his face, and half-drag him, half-carry him downstairs.   Out the backdoor (I always keep the yard overgrown for easy entrances and exits at the best of times), down to the hole in the fence (I kick out an extra board to push him through).  

Those fairly flawed human survival instincts kick back in about now, and Mitchell scrabbles about on his knees for a minute in a blind and dumb escape attempt.   For fuck’s sake, kid.   Hoist him up, hand at the scruff of his neck now, and gripping one scrawny arm.   Say low in his ear, from behind his right shoulder: “Walk”.   And he hears the menace and walks.

Fast and fucking quiet.   Down the side of someone’s yard under cover of trees, turn left into the back alley, cut through the dumpsters behind the convenience store, one lit but deserted road to cross, through the kindergarten playground, across the factory lots.   Through the gap in the wire fence – out into trees and undergrowth and big echoing silence.   No-one to disturb us here – this has often been a useful place.

We stop.   Mitchell sinks to his knees, his hoodie falling back, breathing heavily through his nose and sucking at the tape on his mouth.

The time has come.

I grip his hair with one hand and pull back his head.

 

And punch him.   Out like a light.   Rip off the tape on wrists and ankles, peel it off face.   Stuff it into a pocket to take with me – no evidence.

Jonathon heads for home.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

Musings of a High School Vampire: Decisions

“Sorry.   Sorry for the language I mean, officer.   But I’ve got this fucking Cat…”

 

He laughs.   The dude actually laughs.   A nervous, awkward laugh - sheer ridiculous delight at there still being normal, idiotic shit happening in the world.   Confirmation that the horrors that creep around in your nightmares don’t infect the whole world when they escape out.   The poor sad fucker.

I watch him leave as several more vehicles arrive next door, loaded with suits, reporters and forensics guys.   The bane of our lives, those people.   Do you know how hard we have to bloody work to cover our tracks since they were invented?   Luckily real life is not like whatever clone of CSI you’ve been watching on tv – these guys are seriously overworked, and cases are completely backlogged, and unless it’s something that warrants the special attention, the investigation usually goes off the boil pretty fast.

Unfortunately, this may now be one of the ’special attention’ type – respectable ‘wealthy’ couple (and their dog), brutal unprovoked (ha!) attack, middle of the ‘burbs, no-one saw or heard the posse of bad guys apparently needed to make it happen…   That’s newsworthy – it will easily scare hordes of the general public out of their armchair complacency.   Which makes for good ratings.   Gotta love the fucking media.

So – police station/science lab/media circus/freak show is setting up camp just next door to clean up my mess from last night, and I’ve recently discovered I now have a body to dispose of, courtesy of Py’s misguided generosity.   Moreover, a still warm one, which means noise and struggle and effort, and I’m bloody tired and irritable after this shit-awful day.   At least the asprin have kicked in a bit.

I go upstairs and into Eddie’s room.   Mitchell is lying where Py left him, also tired from straining against black tape and fear, but he turns his taped up eyes and mouth to the door as I come in, and wiggles kind of pathetically away across the plastic on the floor.   The kid seems to be doing his best caterpillar impersonation.   I watch him squirm, then cower against the far wall, bound too tight to curl into foetal position, and I sigh.   I put my own back again the nearest wall, and slide slowly down the plastic until I’m sitting.  

What to do.

 

How to dispose of Mitchell.

 

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Musings of a High School Vampire: Repercussions V

This fucking day just keeps getting better and better.

 

So I open the door to the police (investigating the ‘incident’ I caused next door in a rash moment).   Open the door to the nice policeman (with Py’s leftover live lunchmeat currently stowed in the second upstairs bedroom).

What the fuck else am I going to do?

 

The officer looks stressed and unsure.   I’m thinking he hadn’t seen this kind of thing before.   All right.   Guess Py and I cleaned up everything rather neatly in the end, after the other night…   For fuck’s sake – focus, Jonathon.   I blink and rub my eyes , and look vacant with the best adolescent apathy I can muster.

“Hey, son.”   The man’s voice is a little unsteady, and the hand still holding the walkie is trembling a bit.  ”Listen, are your folks in?”

I lean against the doorway and stifle a yawn.   I seriously am fucking tired, but  ‘you just woke me’ sympathy is gonna be useful right now too.

“No, just me, officer.   My uncle has night shift, then crashes at his girlfriend’s place on weekends.”

He doesn’t really care.   He hasn’t recovered from what he saw next door.

“Son – did you hear anything last night?   Seems there was some – trouble – next door.   Did you hear any – trouble?”

I shrug.  

“Nah, I was hanging out with my friend last night until late.   Only got home a little while ago.   Why – what’s happened?”

He’s still perspiring.

“Nothing, son.   Well – yeah, nothing.   Looks like there was a break-in.   A gang or something from the – damage.   Probably happened early in the evening, but you say you weren’t home?”

“Well, yeah.   I mean – yeah, I was earlier.   But I had the music kinda loud.   You know.”

He knows.

“Sure.   Sure, kid.   And you didn’t see anyone around your neighbours’ place when you left last night?   Strange car in the street?   Group of guys or something – probably four or five… big guys?”

I wipe my nose on my sleeve deliberately, and shoot him a contemptuous look.

“I reckon I would’ve remembered that.”

He looks at me – thin, pale, shorter than him.

“Okay, son.   You just – take care, right?   Keep your doors locked at night.   Let us know if you think of anything, yeah?”

He doesn’t really know what he’s saying here.   He’s happy to not be specifically talking about it any more, but is also reluctant to go, in case that means returning to the scene of the – incident.   I’d be fucking happy to stop talking and see him go.

“Uh huh.   Sure thing, officer.”

He starts to walk away, and wouldn’t you bloody know it?   Mitchell the lunchmeat picks that exact fucking moment to thrash around a bit upstairs.  

The noise carries.   The officer turns around, and looks for a moment.  

I look back at him, blankly, then glance over my shoulder, and groan and curl my lip a bit.

“Shit.   What the fuck is the little bastard up to now?”

The man raises his eyebrows slightly.   I shuffle my feet a little and look guilty.

 

“Sorry.   Sorry for the language I mean, officer.   But I’ve got this fucking Cat…”

 

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