|The Secret Diary of Nicolas de Brabant: aged 769
Author: spliffs PM
I wrote this a long, long time ago. Found it recently while cleaning out some old floppy diskettes... does anyone even know what those are?Rated: Fiction K - English - Humor - Words: 1,045 - Reviews: 7 - Favs: 2 - Published: 09-25-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8555525
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
A/N: I wrote this a long, long time ago. Found it recently while cleaning out some old floppy diskettes... does anyone even know what those are?
Woke up this evening to a large crushing weight on the back of my neck and shoulders but realized that it was just my ever-present, constantly hovering, guilty conscience. Went to get some breakfast but all the blood had gone off. The fridge was broke. Now how did that happen? Strange though, the freezer was working fine but all that was in there were a couple bags of donations. Did without breakfast.
After choosing a blindingly colourful carnation shirt from my closet of millions, went to the garage to speak sweetness with my beloved Caddie. Didn't have anything to do at work but 6,319 pages of reports so told Tracy to handle it and quickly fled before her mind could catch up with my generosity. Drove to the coroner's building. Talked to Nat about my irredeemable soul until just before sunrise when I had to leave. Poor Nat. Must remember to get her some coffee. Her eyes were glazed over as she bid me good day.
Woke up this evening to a vast crushing weight on the back of my neck and shoulders. Same old, same old. Fridge was still broke. Wondered what I had done to be so busy yesterday that I could not get it fixed. Went without breakfast again. Left late for work as I had a brief angst attack that took great will to control. Gave myself two pats on the back for conquering that.
Got to the precinct and found Tracy full of complaints. Something about partners and not turning phones off. Looks like I will be doing all the paperwork tonight. Seven hours later and a whole box of no. 2's, I slipped away to visit Natalie. She doesn't seem to be quite so thrilled to see me as she used to be. Decided to change the subject and talk about my unconvertible evil nature until she started throwing lobes of liver and lung at me. Sheesh... mortals are such an unpredictable lot.
Woke up this evening to a painful crushing weight on the back of my neck and shoulders. Realized this time it was because I had slept on the couch again and had crinked my neck. Also saw that I had not changed out of my clothes and they were now hopelessly wrinkled. After several flashbacks, decided this was all Lacroix's fault. Called the local A-Vaughn rep and expressed deep, sincere interest in their adverts. Then gave them Lacroix's number and addy. Told them to come by in the morning and not to stop ringing the doorbell even if no one answers as I liked to take long baths. Hee, hee.
Saw that the fridge was still broke and risked the wrath of Tracy and Reese and called for a repair man. Mon Dieu, but I am hungry. An acne-faced teenager finally showed up and asked to see what was broke. Said it would take four to five weeks to fix as parts needed to be ordered. Lost my temper and called him a pleb. Then threw bottles of spoiled blood against the walls until the youth fled in terror. Felt a little better. Finally got to work and found that both Tracy and Reese had left for a crime scene. Whew! Decided to skip my visit to Natalie tonight.
Woke up this evening to an enormous crushing weight on the back of my neck and shoulders. Felt really bad about scaring the repair man and for avoiding my co-workers. Decided to blow my shift as the increasing tension of my guilt demanded at least a dozen new paintings. Did without breakfast again and painted a frenzy of inspiration brought upon by vivid hallucinations due to a total lack of nutrition.
Tracy called and said she was sorry I was not feeling well. Then she yakked but I didn't comprehend the gist of her babbling as I had zoned out to the good ol' 15th century. Did remember to put the phone back on the hook.
Natalie dropped by. She told me to get my head out of Uranus. Huh? She handed me some protein concoctions but suddenly I was not really that hungry anymore. Then she complained about not receiving her latest shipment of A-Vaughn products. Seems as though several reps were found mutilated and dead. Hmmm... funny that. The company was so distressed that it halted all activities. Went with her to the A-Vaughn queen bee's home. Upon pulling up to the house, we heard a gurgling, strangled scream. Imagined a tall, pale man flit away into the night but thought nothing of it. Then remembered that vampires DO exist and I AM one of the undead. Didn't bother to pull onto the drive but angsted right in the middle of the street.
Woke up this evening to an immense crushing weight on the back of my neck and shoulders. Could not recall how I got home and wondered if I wrote it down in my diary. Then felt the pressure on my neck increase and realized that an iron grip was being applied to my nape. Lacroix? Why, I didn't know that vampires could give off any warmth, let alone steam from the ears. In an attempt to safety valve the over-pressurized vessel, I told him that the red in his cheeks looked good for his complexion. Was he using a new sort of cream? Then he really exploded.
My, but he does have an inventive vocabulary and in all sorts of languages too. Never seen him so angry, not even when I had bartered his rebec for a certain vampire interview novel. I pleaded ignorance, being much too tied up with myself and told him as much. Really, I didn't have a klew. He flew away, screaming into the night. Something about moving to a cave in Mongolia where there weren't any bricks.
Padded over to the kitchen for some breakfast. Curious, the fridge was broke. Now how did that happen?