Musings of a High School Vampire: Doing Time

For starters – didn’t mention I’ve been back to work.   Partly because it was dangerous.   Partly because it was lame.   Mostly because it’s fucking boring.

School was an obvious target for any pyromaniacal, appendage-purloining, attempted-Jonathon-killers in the vicinity – but days persist in being long and sunny, and I’m poor as a fucking vampire mouse (another story), so had to return to the hallowed mall unobtrusively to fill in the hours and fill up the wallet.   Daisy has paid off my old rent debts, but Py told me being broke was my own fucking fault for fraternizing with a shithead like Dwayne (another other story) and has never coughed up a cent.   He’s kinda got a point.

Remember my job?   I fucking didn’t.   Felt like years since I’d been back, but fortunately I had told them I had exams and wouldn’t be about.

It was true.   I just ended up being a different sort of test subject during that time.   Let’s change the subject.

Thing with time in retail? – apathy and monotony grinds it to a bloody halt, along with its employees’ souls into dust.   Probably lucky I don’t seem to have one then.   Doesn’t make being on the clock tick over any faster though, or the clockwork trundle across the finish line any sooner.  

Yeah, yeah.   I get it.   Be nice/rude to customers (depending on boss proximity), hang up some clothes, open some boxes, chuck out some hangers.   Repeat.   Ad nauseum.

Sean, who looks like he’s been attacked from behind with a blowdryer, comes and leans on the counter next to me.

“I am so over this…”

I cover my right hand quickly with my left.   “I had no idea you were going to say that…”

He makes a gutteral noise of general despair in the back of his throat, and puts his head on his own hands – carefully, so as not to mess up his fringe.

I amuse myself by looking over the customers for dinner options.

Eat her.   Eat her.   Eat him.   Wouldn’t eat her.   Eat him.   Not him.   Ew.   Definitely not him.

When Sonja the boss comes back from break though, Sean will be diligently dusting the fixtures, and Jonathon will be showing his teeth to a customer buying a bad cardigan.

 

Smiling.   I’ll be smiling…

 

Probably because I know what happens next.

 

MAKING TIME…

Musings of a High School Vampire: Dust to Dust

I don’t believe in premonitions or shit like that.   But okay, yes – what with one thing and another, I seem to have a strange burning sensation following me around in recent weeks.

Culminating in this.   Me standing right here, in the charred remains of Dwayne‘s apartment block  – probably about the same place the arsonist stood as he torched the place.  

Dunno why I came.   My feet just erupted  an undisturbed pile of ash into mini-Iceland volcano clouds, but mostly the police patrol and pre-demolition construction barriers have been ignored by the city’s night-dwellers.   The homeless, the reckless and the curious have still traipsed through the scorched, blackened rubble looking for shelter, souvenirs and answers.   The pyre has been picked over by forensics, survivors – and amateur vultures.  

If this were a film I would, of course, still overturn some random wreckage and find some vital clue to reveal what happened here.   Then I’ll confront a random suspect, pull off the mask, and some scary ol’ fairground owner will tell me he would’ve got away with it too, if it wasn’t for pesky kids like me…

Pft.   Scooby fucking doo.   Hello, real life.   This is just the burnt-out shell of a place I went to a couple of times, and the former abode of a guy who ripped me off and thus may have skipped town either temporarily – or permanently.  

And I’ve got charcoal smudges on my Iphone now, and ash all over my sneakers in the current European style – and no bloody end to the story.

 

Hang on.  

Fuck – weird timing.  

My phone’s ringing.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

Musings of a High School Vampire: May 8

What do you get the vampire who has nothing because… a frackwit geek pseudo-uncle arsonist momma’s boy stole your alter-ego, your savings and your capacity to enjoy a nice inferno?   (Long fucking story.   Don’t ask.)

Well, this one needs a bloody job.   Preferably bloody would be nice, actually.   So I’m taking suggestions.   Out of school hours, happy to work nights, don’t suffer fools gladly – oh, and it needs to pay fucking well too, because I’m skint.

Thanks for those who gave some options on Twitter.   You know who you are.   Some were kinda witty.   Some were pretty lame.   Some I actually looked into…

Yes, I seriously considered the sort of blood bank attendant/phlebotomist possibility because I certainly prefer to stand the sight of blood, and it does initially sound like the perks include all-you-can-eat, and the drinks are on tap.   But there’s training, inventories, and the fact that EDTA makes the good stuff taste funny anyway, so it’s not all as rosy as you’d think.   Plus I’m pretty sure my bedside manner would, well, suck.   It’s not like I have a lot of sympathy for anyone complaining about their blood being drained.  

Suck it up, I say.

The whole night porter, late-night gas-station attendant, graveyard-shift taxi-driver vibe has the ‘creature of darkness’ appeal, sure -but apparently demands a face, physique and ID that says 18+, and some kind of employment record I sure the hell don’t have.

I could turn to an unlife of crime, of course.   Hitman or mugger is always an option.   Only I don’t really fancy being told where, when and who to eat.   Plus no-one advertises for that shit in the newspaper or on employment websites, and it’s not like practitioners can peddle their services in public arenas either.   As for the other – I’ve dabbled in that in an amateur way occasionally, and do you know how few people carry enough fucking cash to make it worth my while?   It’s okay for scoring Iphones and media players and cool jewelry if I wanted to go into ebay fencing in a big way, but honestly it’s all a fuckload of trouble when it isn’t just for your own personal adornment.

Cinema projectionist (because it’s permanently fake-night-plus-movies), museum worker (because I’d be at home with the artifacts), and record-store employee (because they’re a surly bunch generally) I did actually look into: but no-one around here is hiring.

And as for teen counsellor, dental assistant, and anything than involves me wearing a hideous uniform with a funny hat? – you people have a sick sense of humor.   Kudos.

Anyway.   The whole job-hunting gig blows big meaty chunks (and I don’t mean in a good way) – my expertise lies in different hunting skills, usually.   But, having lied through my teeth on the resume, I’ve finally been told to come in looking neat and presentable for an interview in the morning.   Bad start, mind – my best jeans are currently soaking in ammonia for the blood stains, my pronounced issues with authority are already resenting the tone here, and it’s not like I’m a real morning person or anything…

So it should all go fucking brilliantly, yeah?

I’ll keep you posted.

 

NEXT ENTRY…