My name is Jade, and this journal has weekly dribble. How I live, work, and shop, whom I eat, and how I deal with sharing a world with humans, demons and various things in between. I've been dead for over 300 years, but frankly, being a vampire has never been harder.

 

3-12-05

Laundry night. I finally cornered the git who’s been doing midnight laundry shifts and taking up all the washing machines in my apartment building. Seems he’s some kind of vamp wannabe. Oddly enough, when I expressed my own inner vampness, he changed his tune. Wanted to stay flesh and blood and all that. And he scooped up his soppy wet, half-washed clothes and offered me the washing machine.  Kind of him, really.

Not much else on the haps tonight. No work, no play, no Hunt, makes for a dull Jade.

3-14-05

Went to see her again tonight. The Victim. She’s got a real name - Jackie. Jaqueline McClair, but that’s a bit to femme for her. She goes by Jackie. At least that’s what her hockey jersey says.  She plays ice hockey. I like that in a girl.

And how’d I find out that much about her? Easy. She’s an Internet addict. Typety-type away at her computer til all hours of the night. And she leaves her bedroom blinds open, so I sat an watched her from the balcony tonight. Some people write the most personal details in an online journal.

Heh.

Meanwhile, back at the ranch…There’s a werewolf in the neighborhood. I can smell him, rank little beastie. Have I mentioned how much I hate them? All lahdeedah most of the month. Look at me? I’m still human.  Then come a little glittery light of the full moon, and they lose all self control. Eat their way through half the stray cats and dogs in the area. And when it’s all over, it’s back to work on Monday.

“What did you do this weekend, Bob?”

“Oh, took the kids skating. Bought flowers for the missus. Disembowled a few pets. You know, same ol’ same ol’”.

I’ll find him sooner or later. Convince him to find a new locale.

3-17-05

Gotta luv St. Paddy’s night in Boston. Everything’s green. The decorations, the cookies, the beer. The drunks are out in record numbers, and so are the flesh-eating leprechauns. Lurking around in the shadows, taking miniature bites out of those too inebriated to understand what’s happening to them.  They’ll wake up in the morning with half an ear missing and brag about it being some kind of a bender the night before.

Jackie was in the Commons tonight. I knew she would be. (See aforementioned online spanking trends of said human). No, I haven’ been hanging out on fire escapes lately. I too can access the Internet from the comforts of my own apartment. You may have noticed.

Anyway, she was there with The Bitch. The Bitch has a name too, but we’ll stick with her original name here or T.B. for short. It fits.  T.B. was sporting a rather stylish black leather jacked over a deep green pullover. I admit it, she’s good looking. Be a nice catch if you could rip out the personality disorder and replace it with something more palatable.

Jackie’s a bit of a looker too. Tall, blond, just butch enough to matter. She had on a forest green sweatshirt and jeans. Casual butch.

T.B. spent half the night eye up anything nearby. Male, female. Didn’t matter. I don’t have anything against bisexuals or against promiscuity. Some of my best friends are sluts. But honesty? That matters. And T.B. is less than honest when it comes to her extra-curricular activities.

I watched them for awhile. Jackie’s a wary one. She kept her eye on the crowd the whole time. She didn’t catch me following them, but preternatural stalking skills sure came in handy. If I’d been human, she’d have noticed me.  Dunno what up with that. Most humans aren’t even half aware of what’s going on around them. But not Jackie. Something’s up there.

By midnight I had to head off to work. Double duty tonight, what with all the drunks. I shared my shift with Eddie, a fifty year old ex-boxer. Nice enough guy. Nothing to look at, with his bald head and pot belly, but handy in a fight. And we had a couple of those. Just good clean fun, but it made the night pass.

Now that I’m home, it’s time to sleep the sleep of the damned.

Heh. Drama, how fun!

TO BE CONTINUED

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Dead Jade lives and breathes as a live journal at http://www.livejournal.com/users/deadjade

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