The Less-Than-Brilliant Life of Norman
After Norman's favourite pen exploded in his breast pocket, he figured the day couldn't get any worse! How could it? This was his favourite "Czar of Russia" shirt, got for a song (only $7.99 at the local King Value) and only worn twice! And now it was ruined! So Norman was confident that things could only improve. As an accountant, Norman made a good profit. And as a prophet, not surprisingly, Norman made a good accountant!
Treating himself to a consolatory trip to the Twilight Theatre that evening, Norman's spirit quickly soared. The Twilight was famous for its 24-hour Three Stooges marathons. And Norman knew no ecstasy greater than that found in the escapades of Larry, Curly and Moe.
Leaving the theatre shortly after midnight (the movies played on, of course, but this was a weeknight!), Norman began the fourteen block walk back to his mother's house. When he was still several blocks from the house, he began to fumble in his pants pocket, trying to locate his housekey among the change, bubble gum wrappers, marbles, and lint balls. He wanted to get the keys out early so as not to wake his mother (after all, she didn't approve of his staying out late, even though he was thirty-two). Such was his preoccupation with his task that he didn't hear the flapping of wings approaching from behind. In fact, he was oblivious to everything around him, until the small creature landed on his shoulder.
"Don't move," a strange voice hissed into his ear, "this won't hurt a bit!"
Norman's funeral didn't attract many people, but then again, neither had Norman. His mother attended the service, of course, but left before its completion in order to join several lady friends in a shopping trip that had been planned for weeks.
A week after his death, Norman clawed his way up out of his grave and into the clear night air. The casket had been clean enough, but Norman had been disgusted by all of the dirt piled on top of it! He stood picking filth off of his "John Travolta" white suit (why Mother had buried him in that he'd never know!) and then spit out an earth worm that had somehow made its way into his mouth.
"Really gross," he said, as he dug something green out of his left ear.
One might like to imagine that joining the ranks of the Undead would've lent Norman a certain sophistication, or failing that, at least a new sense of perspective. Oh well.
An hour later, Norman stood outside the Twilight Theatre and eyed the Three Stooges poster enviously. Mother, however, had not had the foresight to include any money (or even a credit card!) in the pockets of Norman's burial garb. He knew that a bat could easily fly in through the shadowy areas of the entrance, and he was pretty sure that he should be able to turn into a bat. Unfortunately, he had no idea whatsoever how to make such a transformation!
Considering the matter further, he recalled that he should have a hypnotic power over mortals, and that seemed promising! Picking a mousy fellow in his mid-twenties, Norman sauntered up to the young man and made eye contact.
Affixing his victim with as steely a glare as he could manage, Norman said, "You are... uh, mine to command! By that I mean, your will is my will. No, wait, the other way around!"
At this point, the other man shoved Norman hard and growled, "Fug off, queerboy! Nex time I'll brag yer face!" He gave Norman the finger as he strolled off.
Another idea had been shot to Hell!
"Darn," Norman thought, as his clammy skin turned even clammier, "if I can't even pull this off, how the heck am I ever going to eat??" Something in the back of his mind told Norman that a Big Mac and Large Fries weren't going to kill the hunger that was slowly building within him, but he quickly pushed that thought away. (Norman was, as his mother had often pointed out, one of the few people on the face of the Earth to ever faint from simply hearing someone else talk about giving blood!)
Wallowing in his misery, Norman didn't see the girl approach.
She suddenly tapped him on the shoulder and asked, "Honey, would you like to see a movie with me? My treat?"
Norman rocked back on his heels. His heart would surely have leapt up out of his chest if it hadn't already shriveled up into a tiny ball (it's amazing how a few centuries of wooden stakes can make a species evolve!) Salvation! In the form of a pretty girl, wearing sunglasses!
Taking his cold hand in her warm one, the girl lead Norman to the ticket counter and said, "Two for the Stooges, please."
Moments later, Norman sat with his newfound friend, in his favourite row (right below the screen), and watched in rapt attention as three grown men slapped, poked, prodded, and chased each other across several cities and planets.
Around 4:30 a.m., the girl leaned her mouth against Norman's ear and whispered, "If we leave now, we can make it to my place before sunrise."
Suddenly, Norman remembered that sunlight was now a really bad scene for him! He'd never been all that fond of it to begin with, but now it meant more than just a bad sunburn to him! He quickly agreed to her suggestion.
"Man," he thought as he got up out of his seat, "am I ever lucky she reminded me! I might've stayed here 'til noon, otherwise!"
Excusing himself temporarily, he made his way to the Men's room. Attempting in vain to catch a glimpse of himself in the mirror, Norman finally gave up on his hair (he'd been struck by the idea of giving himself a widow's peak). At the urinal, he was immediately grossed-out by the white syrupy substance that oozed out of what his mother had always referred to as his 'John Henry.'
Back in the lobby, his companion greeted him with a smile. He still couldn't believe his luck in finding this girl!
Once outside, the girl lead Norman to a nearby dark alley. She removed her sunglasses for the first time, and a strange yellow light shone in Norman's face.
"Well, honey, it's been fun, but I'm afraid this is the end of the road for you."
Recoiling from the threat in her voice, Norman whimpered. But then he remembered what he was, and he bared his fangs (cutting his upper lip in the process). "Don't you know what I am?" he asked in the scariest voice he could muster. "I'm a vampire! And vampires feed on humans!"
"Of course they do, honey," she replied, as she loomed over him, "but haven't you ever wondered, what feeds on vampires?"
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment