Joe Vampire (28 page)

Which is why I left Amanda a voice message to fill her in. 

I owe her an explanation, anyway, and if anyone can help me make the confession to the rest of the family, it would be her. That’ll give them all something else to discuss besides television and their disappointing retirement accounts. Hopefully, by week’s end, the fam will know about the vam. That leaves just one thing out of sorts. I’ve been trying like hell to put it back into sorts, too.

It’s proven to be a tad more difficult than I gave it credit for. 

It was easy enough to talk to Chloe, since I’d been preparing what I wanted to say to her for the entire duration of our copy machine chitter-chatter. Not as easy to talk to Hube, who, until our unseemly late-night knock-about at the deli, I could always talk to about anything. Except how shitty I’d been to him, apparently. That was going to be a high hill to get up. I’ve had the phone in my hand a dozen times, my thumb on his speed dial number, totally at the ready to fire the missile, and I haven’t been able to do it. What keeps holding me back is the knowledge that there’s a favorable chance I’ve run out of luck where he’s concerned. 

But I’m big into taking risks lately.   

And as long as I’ve gotten used to being knee-deep in humiliation, I might as well see if I can shovel a little more embarrassment on the heap, right?

Yeah. He’s worth a little more embarrassment.

I called his cell today, hoping for his voicemail to pick up. It would be so much easier to start things off with a voice message:
Hey Hube, ol’ pal, ol’ buddy. It’s Joe – hit me back when you can. Later.
Then it would be on him to return the call, and if he chose not to, I’d have my answer. We’d stay on our non-speaking, non-interacting, no-longer-in-each-others’-lives terms, and it would be completely his fault. My conscience would be squeaky clean knowing I had tried.

That was the most chicken shit way to do it. 

And it would still be my fault that things were as hellacious as they were. His not calling me back couldn’t change that. So I called and let it ring through, and when it went to voicemail I hung up and called again. I called about eight times in a row before thinking the guy might actually be busy, and not just avoiding me. He didn’t play things like I did, ignoring calls and messages out of spite. As long as he could reach it, he actually picked up the phone every time it rang. In light of that, I knew a text would be a more direct hit instead; at least he could look at it if he was in the middle of things, and know that I was sending over an olive branch. I hoped he wouldn’t strangle the dove that carried it. I texted:

R U good 2 talk sometime soon?

I tried to busy myself until he replied. Lucas had called earlier and said he and the guys are ready for me, for our first practice as a whole unit. We’re getting together tonight to start laying out some new tunes, so I fiddled around with some synth patches and riffs in an attempt to appear impressive. I know I’m already in as far as the band goes, but I didn’t realize until after I left the audition that Lucas was the only one who’d heard me play. Kyle and Jeremy have no idea what my music sounds like and will be hearing JoeTunes for the first time tonight. So I’m desperate to shine for these guys. I won’t be the one to drag down their shot at making something big out of Forever 81.

I hope we change the name, though. It’s kind of weak. 

After an hour of tinkling around on the keys, my phone buzzed with a text so brief it didn’t even have letters. Hube had written back:

???

Okay… he wasn’t going to let me off the hook in one jump. Fair enough. I texted back to him:

U can’t call me?

Then, in a much quicker response than the first had been, he threw one back my way:

!!!

I know the subtext is real subtle there, but I’m pretty sure he was calling me a dick. So I volleyed back:

Want 2 say sorry if U’ll let me

I watched my phone, knowing he’d probably not call back very quickly but hoping for it anyway. As easily as the words had flowed in the café – useless though they turned out to be – I was also hopeful I’d find some sort of articulate way to tell him I was fully aware of how ginormous a jerk-off I’d been, and how perfectly well within his rights it would be for him to light into me with a whole encyclopedia of self-invented slang customized to insult me and my family. And my ancestors. Anything would be fair game. I had my cup on; I could take it. I totally deserved it, too. And what’s more, I expected it, as my penance for having trespassed so heavily on the sacred bond that is our friendship, so sayeth the shepherd in heaven and on Earth, when the moon is in the seventh house, Amen.

Forgive my lack of knowledge where prayers are concerned. 

But you get my drift.  

So it was an excruciating ten minute wait for his next move.  But it finally came:

Can’t now – busy

Okay. I had to accept that. He probably didn’t want to talk, busy or not, even if it was to insult my ancestors. And I had made it that way, so I had no choice but to let him be, just like Chloe. I said it myself a few posts back: life is everyone’s circus, not just mine. I’m slowly realizing that both the elephant
and
the bearded lady belong to me. If she’s wearing a lapful of grass-laden crap, it’s because I put her directly in the line of fire from the big guy’s ass. 

Really gross analogy. 

I need to work on those.  

So I loaded up my synth and hauled my amp out to the van, trying to let it all go so I wouldn’t be anxious at rehearsal. And when I came back in he’d return-texted: 

Lunch tomo – Sal’s?

Like a weight lifted from me, it was. I speed-replied:

Sal’s it is – I buy

That put me in such a better mindset for my first rehearsal with my new music mates. Things with Chloe may have been a bust, but it looks like there’s still a chance of me getting some of my life back on track. 

Took me long enough.  

As bumpy a ride as it’s been for me lately, it’ll be nice to be able to turn on the cruise control and coast for a while. 

When I post my next entry, I will have started a new chapter in my life. And not necessarily as Joe Vampire, either. As Joe Average again, maybe. Or Joe Normal. Or maybe just Joe.

Check you all soon.

POST 39

Joe's Missing

Hey everyone – this isn’t Joe. My name is Hubert; I’m Joe’s best friend. I don’t know how many of you are out there, but if anyone is reading this I’d really appreciate your help with something. Joe and I were supposed to meet up for lunch yesterday. He never showed. It’s not like him to miss appointments, but he isn’t at home and I can’t get him on his cell. I’m pretty worried about him by now. He’s disappeared once before, and that time he turned into a vampire. You probably know all about that from reading the blog. Last time I saw him, he didn’t look so great and he talked about wanting to bite someone. My fear is that he fell off the wagon (however you say that for vampire stuff) and might have gone out looking for blood. I hope I’m wrong. He’s been through a lot and I know he could use some down time, so hopefully he’s just off somewhere taking it easy. I don’t know if any of you are in contact with him outside of reading the blog, or if you talk to him offline. If you’ve heard from him or you know where he is, please comment back or hit me on my cell 621-555-3231 and have him get in touch with me as soon as he can. 

Thanks for your help.

POST 40

No Sign

Hey everyone – Hube again… still nothing from Joe on this end. He still won’t answer his phone. I think I’ve filled his voicemail by now. I checked with the other people on his shift at work and he hasn’t been in all week, or called in his absences. I went by his house again today and found someone named Bo doing woodwork in his front yard. My first thought was that he had something to do with this. Turns out he’s a friend and has been waiting for Joe to show up, too… hasn’t heard from him since last week sometime. I’ve checked the emergency rooms, police stations, etc. but there’s no trace of him. Wherever he’s gone, he’s covered his tracks in a major way. I haven’t asked his family yet… no use in worrying them if he’s just gone underground to figure out the vampire situation a little more. And I’m not too comfortable with the idea of filing a missing persons report, in case it turns out there’s something darker going on. I’d rather get to him first, if possible. I can’t shake the feeling that the vampire thing has become too much for him to handle. If that’s true, then the longer he’s out there the worse it’s going to get. So, again, if anyone reading this knows where he is, hit me at 621-555-3231. Bo has offered to help search, so we’re going to check second-level places like shelters and parks. Please, if you hear from him, let him know he needs to call me ASAP. Thanks again.

POST 41

Leads?

Hey there… still Hube. I’ve checked everywhere, and still no sign of Joe. I might have a lead – a pretty weak one, but at least it’s something. Not sure why it took me so long to think of it, but I read his last post and found out he left for band rehearsal right after we agreed to meet for lunch the next day. So I checked out the club Damage to see if anyone there could give me anything else to go on, but it’s locked up tight. Too many dead ends, and this thing is dragging on for too long. Bo is kind of a computer whiz, and he thinks he has an app that can pick up the GPS signal from Joe’s phone. If so, we’ll follow it and see where it takes us. It’s a last-ditch effort, but it’s the only thing we can think to do. If this doesn’t work, I’m out of ideas. I don’t want to think about what might have happened to him by now, so I’m holding out hope that we’ll find him soon and he’ll be okay. Please, if anyone out there has made contact with him and he’s told you not to tell me about it or to keep quiet about where he’s gone, I’m begging here: tell me where he is so I can get him help – 621-555-3231. I know he thinks he can take care of everything himself, but this stuff is too serious to mess around with. 

Again, thanks for whatever information you can pass along.

POST 42

Monsters

After several unintended guest posts from my buddy Hube, we’re back to the Joe Show.

Sorry for the interruption, folks. 

So maybe you’ve noticed it’s been longer than expected since my last post, and you’ve been desperately checking every day wondering when you’ll hear more of the fascinating details about my life. I don’t make any presumptions about that, but if you have, then thanks. We should grab a beer sometime. At this point, it’s possible that no one is reading my ramblings anymore, in which case it doesn’t matter how long between posts, and now I’m just talking to people who’ve Googled “pink dogs with huge hairy balls” but somehow ended up on a blog about a real-life vampire. Judging by the analytics, it’s happened more than once. Or maybe there’s been no one reading any of this from the beginning, and whoever’s on my followers list is only there because they like to see their little avatar show up online in as many different places as possible. I’ll just assume the truth lies somewhere among all of those possibilities. For the sake of continuing the narrative – and to add more sanity to my fading humanity – I feel like this post is necessary, even if it goes completely unread. Even if no one who isn’t in the forest isn’t there to not hear it not fall. 

You know what I mean. 

And I have a whole lot to stay in this one, so if anyone is indeed reading this I recommend comfortable seating and a tall glass of something alcoholic. It might help with the stomach-y parts when we get there. 

It’ll help me, anyway… so I’ve got mine. 

Up until recently, I was under the distinct impression that I’d become a vampire. I had all the symptoms, and if you’ve read any of the prior posts I won’t bore you with the list again. If you haven’t read them, I encourage you to check them out so maybe the rest of this post will make sense to you. But as deep in as I fell with the skin and the ears and the eyes and the fangs, and all the other superficial physical complications, it was the blood hunger that I worried about most, and the idea that under the most dire and unnatural of circumstances people would eventually become a food source for me. For as long as possible, staying slaked with uncooked animal flesh and coconut water in tetrapacks was enough to keep it all in check. I knew I’d been changed; I understood in simple, non-academic terms how the deed had been done. I was well aware of my situation, and no matter how loathe I was to admit it out loud, I really believed I had become a vampire. But I was mistaken. 

I hadn’t become a vampire.