Saturday, April 21, 2012

MARIANNE IN BRITCHES

An hour or so before dawn the barrel maker's boy rapped on the trap door..... What? - said the dominee...... You see, vampires are not always poetic...... Can I open the door?- whispered the apprentice..... Yes. Come on. What is it? - said the blood drinker....... It will be light soon. The master will be here. What are you gonna do, kill him? - whispered the boy....... Why? Would you like that? - said the dominee......... The boy quickly nodded and smiled. My creator mussed his hair (already quite disheveled to begin with) and chuckled....... There are cutthroats aplenty for jobs like that. Speak to one of them. I, of course, am sworn to a slightly different guild.


Yet we could not simply run up the ladder-like steps and depart. I just shed my skin last night. And while the new, soft, perfect replacement was very much to my liking, I was naked and decidedly unprepared for  the pre-dawn streets of Antwerp. But the dominee, being a quick thinker, had matters well in hand...... Shuck down, boy. Peel off them clothes. - said the vampire...... What!?Why? - said the boy. You ain't gonna try no funny business, are you?...............My master said - Consider the situation. You've given shelter to vampires, tasted of our blood, slept eight feet above sharp-fanged denizens of the night, gleefully accepted money that I got from God knows where and you ask me if I'm  about to try 'something funny' ...now!? She needs the clothes, boy. Peel down!......... The skinny, ginger haired barrel boy obliged. And sixty heartbeats later (or maybe seventyfive) I was arrayed in the clean, but simple garb of a fourteen year old boy. You know, at our age, boys and girls are much the same size. The 'interior' garments (what you would call underwear) were a wee bit roomy through the crotch, but beggars can't be choosers. And at least he had no lice. Not that I, as a blood drinker, had to worry about such stow-aways, but still........


The skinny, shivering red head said - What'll I tell the master? He'll call the beadle, he will. I know it...... Well, then this is a time for decisions. Do you WANT  to make barrels for the rest of your life? - said my maker...... The boy shook his head...... And are you aware just how much two gold florins will buy? - he added........ The boy looked down at the huge coins barely contained in his hot, little hand....... Go, boy. Run! Live the life of a country squire. You can do that now. Here's three more (the naked youth almost fainted). Sail to New Amsterdam. Become a patroon. Hob-nob with savages. Dance with painted ladies. Go, go, go! The world awaits!...... Two heartbeats later, the 'casually' attired youth pushed open the door and bashfully scrambled out into the chill, low country darkness. And his fortunate descendants own five percent of Lower Manhattan today.


Half an hourglass later I made my  first kill, a fat and juicy, sneering cut-purse... My God, the blood tasted good!


I still prefer meat eaters. Vegetarian serum holds no  great charm for me. And although such as I am, an elferina - vampirina, kills are rare, I never-the-less savor a 'full meal' every now and then.......


With that confession,  some in the audience pushed back in their seats. 


Even the spaniels looked scared.


Wait til I tell them 'bout the cold, iron box.....


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