So I Might Be a Vampire - Book 1 (Original Version)

30: The Starbucks Effect

This is what happens to a vampire who is exposed to an overabundance of flavour: the brain literally shuts down from the overload. The tastebuds on a vampire are apparently extremely sensitive, and while the most fragrant and delicious of foods will be doubly delicious, it is also too much for a vampire to handle. The taste sensation is more like an atom bomb, and every single receptor in the mouth is screaming, singing HOSANA at the top of their fucking lungs.

I had dodged the tabasco bullet and run directly in front of the coffee train.

It was the "Starbucks Effect" in full force.

Reality came back, much like a brick to slap me in the face. One minute I was in a happy place with clouds. The next minute, I'm waking up in Claude's car, barreling down the freeway at horrendous speeds.

A minor spasm hit my body then and I turned my head to look at my friend, my eyes not wanting to focus, having a tendency to wander just a little bit. I tried to focus but my eyelids didn't seem to want to cooperate.

"Wha's happ'ing?" I managed to slur. Apparently, my mouth was also taking a vacation. Upon further inspection, it seemed that the rest of my body was as equally unresponsive.

"I'm taking you to the hospital man. You just had a fucking seizure back there. Some dude was saying that you might have had a stroke or something." He looked worried now. "Your eyes and ears were bleeding dude."

Something popped in my ear then, and I was finally able to focus on Claude. There was a tingly feeling in my body as nerve receptors started to fire again. I somehow managed to reach up to massage my neck.

"I feel like shit. Like I overdosed or something."

"How would you know?"

Shit. That's right. That's the one thing that I'd never shared with Claude. It was probably more embarrassment than anything, and he probably suspected that I smoked a little weed from time to time, but he might have never guessed about the heroin and the pills. Hell, I would never have guessed about the heroin myself. It was one of the drugs that I had sworn never to take, along with any chemical drugs like LSD or Meth or even Acid. When it came to cocaine, I didn't even want to go there because they all felt so manufactured. With marijuana, I at least knew where I stood, and until my first taste of heroin, that had been my drug of choice.

So, needless to say, I remained mute on that one and massaged my neck, letting the feeling return to my body. Claude drove on, shooting me a look of suspicion.

"Maybe you should lie down dude. At least until we can get a doctor to look at you."

"I'm feeling better already. Really." That was in response to the look he was giving me. "Maybe you should stop speeding."

"I'm still taking you to the hospital."

"Do we have to? Last doctor I saw sucked all of my blood out and turned me into a vampire. I'd rather not go through that again."

Claude gave me another look, and I leaned back, giving in. He can get really fractious when he's pissed. "Fine, let's just avoid the ones with the intensely blue eyes, okay?"

By the time we got to the hospital, I could move my entire left side again, and my right side was fully recovered. Claude nevertheless managed to commandeer a wheelchair, and having dumped me into it with more force than necessary, pushed me into the Emergency Room, while humming the tune to the "Facts of Life" under his breath.

We spent the next three hours roaming the limits of the Emergency room, with me making the occasional bid for escape, but Claude wasn't letting me get away. He'd just chase after me and wheel me back into the ER.

I have a theory that boredom was invented in Emergency Room waiting areas. I'm serious. It's got to be the most boring place on earth. Within the first ten minutes, I'd already gone through the magazines twice and had rescued a snoring man from falling over and crushing his cigarettes. This was in the hopes that I could point out that I'd saved his cigarettes and then he'd offer me one, but no, it was not to be. He just crossed his arms, snorted and kept on snoring away, this time leaning severely over to the other side of the chair. When he fell over rather loudly, ten minutes later, I was already in the middle of "Better Living Through Gardening" and was rather enjoying the engrossing article on potting soils. It even had pictures.

Boredom I tell you. Boredom.

***

"Claude?"

"What is it Bob?"

"I hate hospitals."

"Me too. They always feel like places to die to me."

"Yeah. I know what you mean... I'm not dying am I?"

"Only if you have more coffee."

"This is seriously going to fuck with my diet."

"Maybe you'd feel better if you bit someone. Like her over there."

"Which one? The blonde?"

"She's cute. At least I think she's cute."

"Well, her back is cute. Shapely... What are you doing?"

"Well, Bob ol' buddy, I'm using my mental powers and I'm willing her to turn around."

"I don't think it's working."

"Wait, she's turning..."

"Fuck."

"What?"

"She's a vampire."

************

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