Thirsty - M. T. Anderson [19]
Nobody knows where the transmission came from. The rest of the night on television is as placid as a cold mountain pool that nobody has found or stirred.
There is not a hint of what dark god must struggle somewhere, writhing back and forth to escape.
The second vampire letter I get is from a girl, the morning after there was a mouth on TV. Paul can tell the letter is from a girl because of the handwriting and he steals it and runs around the room with it singing, “Chris has got a girl! Chris has got a girl!”
“Give it back,” I demand. “Give me back my letter!”
He makes a wimp face and mewls, “Give me back my wedder! Give me back my wedder!”
“Give it!”
“Give it, pwease, big bwudder! Give it back to me, pwease, my widdle wedder!”
“Don’t ever change, Paul. I hope you always keep this boyish charm.”
“Paul,” says my mother sharply. “Give him the letter. It’s his. Okay?”
So he gives it back.
I read it alone in my room. It is written on ruled notebook paper in purple felt tip pen. Some words, the special ones, are in all different colors. It is from a girl named Lolli Chasuble.
It says:
Dear Christopher,
How R U? You don’t know me, but I know you! My father asked me to write a letter. So here it is! One of my friends saw you in Bradley a few weeks ago, and we were hoping you’d come and get to know some of us. We’re really very nice, and you have nothing to lose. What are we going to do? — bite your head off? (joke! )
No, seriously! I know you must be scared. I was too!!! The first time my dad told me I had to drink blood, I was totally grossed out. But now I’m like, “Shit, this is great!” and, “Is there a diet variety?”
People say lots of dumb shit about vampires that isn’t really true. My dad says you’re a pretty brainy guy, so I guess I don’t need to tell you that we don’t have to wear stupid black capes like in flicks or live in big smell-o-rific castles. I just dress in cool normal clothes, meaning bike shorts, a T-shirt, etc., etc.
Being one of us is cool because you’re always on the move, like I’ve lived most of my life in Los Angeles, which I L-O-V-E-D [that word is in different color felt tips], but I’ve also lived all over the West Coast, since my father had to run away from L.A. It’s pretty tough sometimes not having a real address — I have to get my monthly issue of Sassy at the newsstand! But there are some of us in every city. We have G-R-E-A-T parties and do all sorts of cool secret stuff!
We also have more fun than mortals, who are just waiting around to die. For one thing, the night is ours, and for another thing, if you’ve heard of French kissing, we have something called Transylvanian kissing, which is when we bite each other’s tongue and exchange blood. Omigod, it is totally sexy! With mortals, sometimes it’s fun to make out with them before you kill them — go, girl!
Anyway, I hope you’ll come to meet us soon. I’d really like to meet you! The thing is, if you don’t come to us soon and learn the ropes from my dad and his friends, you’ll probably freak way out in a couple of months or so and get hunted down and killed.
God, not to part on a morbid note! So, I’m looking forward to seeing you! OK?
Luv ya,
Lolli Chasuble
P.S. I don’t have a boyfriend right now. There was this guy I had a total crush on at school — he was a complete H-U-N-K-O-R-A-M-A — did I want to get inside his shorts! And he would have been mine, too, except that after the car crash his parents had him C-R-E-M-A-T-E-D
Oh, well! Say la vie!
P.P.S. My father says you were in CCD or Sunday school or something for a while. Yawnsburg Central, U.S.A.! Make sure you don’t bring any crosses or anything to the meeting, because we worship an eternal being called Tch’muchgar who shall soon lead us to victory.
P.P.P.S. My address is P.O. Box 163 in Bradley, MA, 08545. Write!
That is my letter from Lolli Chasuble.
I fold it up and plan to keep it. Then I realize Paul might search my room for it, so instead I tear it up into a thousand