Look out, Lady Lydaea!

“Honey! I’m home!” I enter the stone chamber clutching my bucket of KFC.

Lady Lydaea du Forte raises her head over the back of the plushy red loveseat she’d been lying on. She used to have a really sweet throne in here but replaced it with the loveseat so we could watch TV shows together. “Hallo!” Her ruby lips begin to smile but her mirth dies instantly. “I thought you were going to the gym?” She’s been really annoyed about KFC lately.

“I did! It was a great sesh.” I laugh. My trainer Big Steve calls it a sesh every time and it rules. I flex for her so she can see how strong I’ve gotten.

“Yes yes,” she says, waving a perfectly manicured hand. “We know you have amazing arms.” She teleports from her chair directly in front of me and pokes my belly. “It is this you said you would work on, yes?”

I make the Pillsbury doughboy noise. “Hoohoo!” It usually makes her laugh. This time it doesn’t. “Hey! What’s wrong Lydaea!”

“You said….” she mutters and scuffs her foot. Her black dress flutters around her ankles.

“That I would get a six-pack, yeah.” I smile encouragingly. “I’m getting there! I did SO many crunches today and did this really fun exercise with a heavy medicine ball where I twisted. Feel!”

She shakes her head. “But the chicken, it undoes all the work you do.”

“What! No, babe, it’s pure protein!” I wave the bucket of chicken. “Big muscles, just like you said I needed.” She said that all I needed to do to be a perfect vampire was to ‘glow up a little bit’. Who knew all it took was to just be super in shape? “Trust me!” I say, giving her my best smile.

She finally smiles back a little and I see the tips of her fangs. I grab her hand and lead her back to the couch. “How about we watch Gilligan tonight?” She shrugs because she doesn’t know anything about the old great sitcoms. When she first got the TV, I thought about showing her all the classic Vampire shows like True Blood, The Vampire Diaries, Buffy…well maybe not Buffy. That one might be offensive.

But then I got to thinking: she already knows the history of her people! She should see the greats. Last night we watched the Brady Bunch and she has been singing the song all day so I know I was right on the money. She’s gonna love Gilligan.

Before we even make it to the loveseat, her cool butler Jean appears. “Madame, I regret to disturb—“ his eyes fall on me. “Oh, you’re here.”

“Jean, baby!” I hold out my fist for him to bump bit he just sneers at it. At least I think he sneers. The dude basically looks like a skeleton in a tux and he really only has one facial expression. “Of course I’m here. I said I would be back.”

“Yes, sir. I had hoped it was merely another of your amusing jokes.” His eyes dart to Lydaea quickly. “Sir,” he adds.

Lydaea stops my banter by resting a hand on my forearm. She’s very cold. I should buy her some gloves or something. “You were saying, Jean?”

“Yes, Madame. You have a telephone call from your uncle in Romania.” The cadaverous butler gestures for her to follow.

“I shall not be long,” Lydea says to me and kisses me on the cheek. She poofs away.

I start munching on my chicken and shuffle over to the big bookcase we loaded up with DVDs.

“Actually, we should watch Lucy,” I say. “Lydaea will love her. Lucy! I’m home!” I chuckle to myself. I hear a banging down the hall. I know Jean normally answers the door, but this is a big castle. I figure I ought to do him a favor.

I head down to the main entrance, but I hear Jean greet the guests and almost decide to go back…but Lydaea doesn’t seem to have many friends and I’m nosy. I step into the foyer and see the three visitors. A cute (but not cuter than Lydaea!) woman in an orange sweater, a lanky guy in a green t-shirt, and a huge derpy Great Dane.

“Hey guys! What’s up!” I yell. Jean’s eyes widen and I laugh at how goofy he looks.

“Is this him?” the woman in orange says, quirking a brow.

“I, er, hoped for more discretion…”

She scoffs. “Jinkies, don’t worry about it. I can tell he can’t put two and two together.”

“Women are always saying that to me,” I mumble.

“Excuse me?” She says.

I rally. “Say, where’s the other guy and the ba-“ I stop myself before saying something that will get me in trouble. “The lovely redhead that normally hangs out with you?”

“Like, they went to go check into the hotel first, man,” the shaggy guy says.

“Ms Dinkley, if you please…?” Jean gestures for her to follow him into the parlor. He glares at me, but she shrugs and complies.

Shaggy licks his chops. “Hey man that chicken looks great.”

I look down at the bucket. I know I oughta share. “Yeah but my macros….er, it’s Keto, you see.”

“Reto?” the dog asks.

I sigh. “I know, it’s a drag. But I promised my girlfriend I would get hot so I could become a vampire.”

The two goofs exchange a nervous look. “Rampire?” The dog asks.

I wave. “Yeah, don’t worry. Apparently it’s way more ceremonial than you think.” I brighten. “Hey, I bet you guys would like some comically large sandwiches?”

“Like, you read our minds, man!” Shaggy says.

I lead em to the kitchen and pull out a bunch of baguettes and other ingredients. We construct cartoonishly large sandwiches and my mouth is watering. The dog starts playing his like an accordion, which is incredibly sick, you have to see it.

“What is this?” Lydaea says. She looks furious.

I don’t understand why for a second. My eyes widen. “Babe no it’s not what it looks like. I’m just making sandwiches for my friends…uhh….”

The guy has turned white as a ghost. “V-v-!”

“Rampire!” the Great Dane moans and they clutch at each other.

I try not to be offended. “Sheesh, guys, what’s the big deal?” Lydaea is glaring at me. “Besides I’m the one in trouble here.”

Her hands are on her hips. “You’re eating sandwiches!”

“No! I’m still eating my chicken! I couldn’t eat a sandwich too!” I say. She keeps glaring. “Okay that was ONE time—“

She cuts me off by snapping. “You two get out of here.”

The guy in green hesitates. “Like can we keep the sandwiches or…?”

“Je m’en fiche,” Lydaea says with a shrug and shoos them away. They scram, leaving a pair of dust clouds in their shapes behind.

The woman in orange comes back, Jean in tow. “Monsieur DeFarge, it’s a pleasure doing business,” she says while shaking his hand. She nods to Lydaea. “Madame.”

My lady turns to her butler. “And what are you up to?”

I clear my throat. “I heard the whole thing.”

Jean shifts from foot to foot. “You did?”

“Yeah. He’s gonna get a portrait of me done.” The butler tilts his head and Lydaea is confused. “He said he wanted her to frame me.” I look at Jean with a smug grin. “You rascal. You know I’ve always wanted a sweet painting of myself.”

Jean blinks before beaming. “Er, yes, sir. I regret that the surprise has been spoiled.”

Lydaea sighs loudly. “This is all very stupide.” She takes my chicken.

“Hey!”

She thrusts a finger at me. “You’re cut off!” She takes a bite of a drumstick and hisses. “Well I know what one of the herbs and spices is. Celery salt. Augh.” She sets the bucket down. “Jean do away with this. Cherie, show me this Gilligan Island or whatever.”

I didn’t get this far in life by arguing with beautiful women. “Lead the way, Madame!” She loves it when I call her that.

She rolls her eyes. “Mon fou.”

---

I fell asleep watching Gilligan but Lydaea wakes me up a little after dawn. “Mon fou, this show is très amusant, but I must retire.”

I blink at her sleepily. “Ah for your beauty sleep.”

She folds her arms. “Do you think I am not beautiful enough?”

Whoops. “It’s just an expression…”

She pats me on the head. “Uh huh. Bisou.” She teleports away. The loveseat is comfy but I slept on it funny and my neck kinda hurts. I should get up and go for a workout anyway. There are about a million stairs on the castle so I decide to go march up and down them for a while. It’s great cardio. I used to song Stairway to Heaven but Jean has forbidden it. So, I go for the next best thing.

Britney Spears. Oops I did it again is a killer song for running stairs, let me tell you.

“That song sucks!” The suit of armor I had passed a million times before is speaking to me.

“What? How dare you!” I stare at it. “How come you ain’t ever talked before?”

“It used to be much quieter around here,” Sir Clank complains.

I nod. “That’s true. Yesterday the furniture didn’t talk. I’m just kiddin! Ha ha! Say, do you know King Arthur?”

“No who’s that?”

“Camelot? Lancelot? Excalibur?” A lightbulb goes off. “Sword in the Stone! I should get that for Lydaea. Do you think Best Buy has it?”

“Does Best Buy even exist anymore?” The suit of armor asks.

“Sure does! That’s where I got her excellent BluRay DVD player and selection of quality television programs.” I hold up a hand. “I’m gonna get over there. See ya later!”

“Listen, buddy, you seem like a great guy so I need to warn you. The Lady has a big plan for you and she’s definitely gonna ki….”

His annoying voice trails off as I get to the bottom of the staircase. Yeah, yeah, I know she’s gonna kiss me. News at 11. I march down to the front door and when I yank it open there’s a grim looking guy in a cool hat standing there like he was just about to pound on the door.

His eyes go wide. “BACK!” He yells while thrusting a golden cross in my face.

I spread my arms. “Dude what the heck. What are you, Jehova’s Witness?”

His fear evaporates. “The cross doesn’t bother you?” He looks around. “Sunlight doesn’t bother you?”

I sigh. “Ever heard of the First Amendment? I’m cool with the cross. Lotta good stuff in the Bible and–”

The guy rudely interrupts. “So you’re NOT a vampire?”

“Not yet,” I say. “Anyway who are you! I’m on an important mission.”

He puts away his cross and bows like a nerd. “Jim Van Hecksing.” Except he didn’t say heck, he said the H-E-double-hockey stick word. “Monster hunter.”

“Well, pal, no monsters live here,” I say.

He looks confused. “I heard a vampire lives here?”

“Oh yeah, that’s my girlfriend, Lydaea. She isn’t a monster though. I mean, sometimes you could say she’s a little meaner than necessary when I accidentally leave the toilet seat up, but monster is uncalled for!”

Jim gives me a shifty look. “Pale skin? Supernaturally beautiful? Pointy teeth? Sleeps all day? Prone to biting? Despises garlic?”

“Bro you’re basically just describing most women. I guess they don’t all have pale skin, and some really love garlic but-”

Jim shoves past me and starts looking around. “This is the kind of place a vampire would live in.” He points at the giant portrait of Lydaea in the foyer. “Is that her?”

I nod. “Yeah, what a hottie amirite?”

“Listen, my friend, she has you in her thrall. You are in grave danger.”

“Everyone keeps saying that,” I sigh.

Jim ignores me. “She’s going to drain you of your blood so she can turn you into a vampire as well.”

I wave him off. “Nah, dude, she just says I need to get all hot and then I can be a vampire forever. She’s not gonna drain my blood or whatever. I’m not trying to yuck your yum or anything, but you need to stop projecting your kinks on me. It’s super weird.” I gotta find a way to get rid of this guy.

“I think you are very mistaken.” Van Hecksing says. “When you turn you will stay in whatever form you are currently in. She is merely waiting for you to be ‘hot enough’, as you say, before she turns you. Vampires are quite shallow, you know.”

“First of all, that’s really mean. And B) according to Anne Rice, when you take on a vampire curse, you automatically become hot. So…if she was really that concerned about looks, she’d just turn me outright. Check mate Jim.” Before he can argue, I get an idea. When Lydaea wants to go do something else, she distracts me with a treat. “How would you like a banana split?”

The so-called monster hunter freezes. “That would be delightful, actually. No walnuts please.”

Great! Now I can make him a snack and slip away to buy the movie for date night. “Perfect come on into the kitchen here.” I lead him to the table and start whipping together a banana split. I stuff the peel in my pocket for later. Those never fail to come in handy. I slide the bowl of delicious ice cream, banana, and hot fudge across the table and then launch a cherry through the air. “Kobe!” I yell as it plops onto his sundae.

“Why, thank you,” Jim says and takes a bite. “As I was saying, I really think you ought to…ahem…I think you ought to escape…ahem…from here. Excuse me. Living with a vamp…could I get a glass of water?” As I go to get him one, I hear him gasp. “There are walnuts in this! I said no walnuts!”

I snort. “Nah, I’m prety sure you said MO walnuts. Like more.”

Jim is clutching at his throat with bulging eyes and pounding on the table. Whoops. I have seen this in that great romantic comedy Hitch. Dude is going into anaphylaxis. “Jean! Get the epi-pen!” I start jingling all the servant bells I can find.

Lydaea appears in the kitchen in her designer night gown. She’s livid. “ICE CREAM?”

Jean slides in and sees Van Hecksing. “Oh no, this is going to be bad for insurance.” Luckily he brought the epi-pen and he injects it into the so-called monster hunter.

Lydaea’s fists are in her hips and she’s glaring at me.

“How come this keeps happening,” I whine. “Babe, it’s not what it looks like, see I can explain–”

She smiles suddenly. “Don’t worry. I can solve this. I did not want to do this, but you have left me little choice. Look deeply into my eyes.” I do. They are green and beautiful but I know better than to say anything. “You do not want to eat ice cream ever again.”

I shift from foot to foot. I know there’s a right answer to this but…. “Ever?” I finally say.

Her smile is gorgeous. “Ever.”

I don’t want to make a promise I can’t keep. “Not even sometimes?”

Lydaea’s smile disappears. “Why is the glamour not working? You are too stupide aren’t you?”

“Lydaea what are you–”

“Je vais te tuer!” she hisses and lunges at me.

“Hey! Whoa, it’s not Thursday night what’s going on! OUCH! HEY!” She has sunken her teeth into my neck and it really hurts.

She recoils suddenly and holds her hand up to her mouth. “How many of those garlic chicken wings did you eat the other night!”

“Big Steve said I should proteinmaxx so I had…like 96?” Her eyes go wide but I keep going. “It was less than a hundred!” I put my hand up to my neck. “Yo Jean, can you hand me a band-aid?”

There’s ANOTHER knock at the door. Jean ignores me to answer it. It’s the woman in orange, back with the shaggy guy, the dog, a buff blond dude, and a hot (but not hotter than Lydaea!) red head. Also the sheriff is with them.

“This is going to be even easier than I thought,” the woman in orange says. She turns to the sheriff. “That’s him, sheriff! Old man Watson trying to scare people away so he can drive down the property values in the area!”

“Hey! I’m not old. Also that’s not–” I slip backwards and land on my butt. The banana peel in my pocket had fallen out. Before I know it, I’m in handcuffs. Lydaea is watching all this with her arms crossed. She’s still angry. “Babe, tell em this is all a misunderstanding!”

The sheriff ignores me. “What about that guy? He looks in bad shape.” He nods at Jim Van Hecksing.

Jean smiles slyly. “It appears they are in cahoots, officer.”

The cop shrugs and handcuffs the catatonic Jim. He starts dragging us towards his cruiser.

“Lydaea! Help!” I yell.

“Officer? Do they have fried chicken and ice cream in jail?” she says a little too sweetly.

The sheriff chuckles. “Absolutely not ma’am. More like saltines and bologna.”

Lydaea’s grin broadens and she waves to me sweetly. “I will see you when you are free darling.”

The sheriff shoves me out the door before I can reply. I slip on the banana peel again and the sheriff yells at me for resisting arrest. “I don’t even live here!” I explain.

“Sounds like trespassin, then!” He pushes me into the cruiser. “Tell it to the judge.”

Van Hecksing spills into the seat next to me. “Don’t worry,” he says weakly. “I know Judge King. We play racquetball at the YMCA together.” He smiles. “Plus, now the monster won’t eat you.”

I sigh as the sheriff pulls away from Lydaea’s castle. “I really just wanted to watch Sword in the Stone, man.”