Andrew Fox - Fat White Vampire Blues

Jules’s face was the color of slate. “I got no idea what came over me. One minute I was lying on the ground, feelin‘ like my stomach would burst from all the food I wolfed down. Next thing I know is, all I canthink about is sniffin’ that dog’s ass. I never experienced anything like it in my life. It was like every part of me got shut off except my dick and my nose. Before I could begin to get a handle on what I was feelin‘, I’m leanin’ on her and doin‘ the business. One part of me was totally disgusted-I mean, I was rapin’ this poor, helpless animal, and besides, I had my dick inside adog. Even if it was a wolf dick at the time. But this other part of me… Doodlebug, I ain’t admitted this to nobody. Before now, I ain’t even admitted it to myself. But part of me was enjoyin‘ it. Part of me was happy I wasn’t alone no more, even if my mattress partner was a flea-ridden mutt. And part of me was totally into it, all the sensations, the smells… the feelin’ of bein‘ totally outta control.”

Doodlebug was speechless for a minute. Another customer came in, and the whir and clatter of a passing streetcar blew through the open door, along with a paper Burger King cup from up the street. Doodlebug took a sip of his coffee. “I don’t really know what to say, Jules.” He tried forcing another smile. “Uh… if your friend has puppies, will you name one after me?”

Jules seemed not to hear. “And nowthis. How could she’ve done it? Ruin my life, then lie to me and lie to me and lie even more. Y’know, Mo waseverything to me. She made me into a vampire, so she was almost my second mother. She taught me practically everything I know about bein‘ a vampire; just like what I taught you. And when I first laid eyes on her, I knew right then, she was the most gorgeous woman I ever saw, and the most gorgeous woman I ever would see. I could hardly believe it when she picked me-me! — to be her number one guy. Her paramour, she called me. More years than not, she was my best friend, too; apart from maybe Erato. I mean, for chrissakes, we was practicallymarried. She was as close to a wife as I’ll ever have.

“And you wanna know the worst thing of all? I worshiped that woman. I always figured she was better than me. Why else you think I took her shit all those years? Every time she’d get all sarcastic on me, I’d tell myself, ‘Jules, just shut up and take it. You must deserve it, so hear her out and maybe you’ll learn somethin’. She’s a smart woman, and she’s a better vampire than you, and she knows what she’s doin‘.’ Even when I couldn’t do what she told me, couldn’t get it right, I alwaystried. What do ya think kept me goin‘ this past month, when everythin’ I touched was turnin‘ to shit? The thought that, no matter what happens to me, no matter how bad I screw up, Mo’ll still take me back. And if Mo would take me back, then I must be worth somethin’.

“But you know what? She ain’t better than me. She’s not. Since before you was born, she been tellin‘ me, over and over, beatin’ it into my head like a nail: Don’t make no colored vampires. Like this was the biggest goddamn sin in the world. And I was tempted, too; lots of times. Both before you came on the scene and after you left, I had a few good pals who was black. Guys who weren’t married and didn’t have no kids, who woulda enjoyed the undead life. Plenty of times I thought to myself how great it would be to have a good buddy who was a vampire like me. But always, like a big glowin‘ neon sign, her words were in my head: Don’t be makin’ no colored vampires. And I figured she knew better than me. ‘Cause I figured shewas better than me. But she ain’t no better than me. She’s nothing more than a liar and a goddamn hypocrite. And I got this lousy feelin’ that things ain’t gettin‘ any better for me. I thought maybe they would. I thought maybe I could somehow get back the life I had before all this. But everything’s goin’ downhill, Doodlebug. Shit rolls downhill. And that’s where I’m headin‘. Downhill.”

The door opened again, and a breeze blew the dirty Burger King cup against Jules’s shoe. He didn’t bother kicking it away. Doodlebug didn’t try cracking a joke this time. He looked at Jules’s still-full cup of coffee, gone cold. “Can I go to the bar and get you a fresh cup?”

“No thanks. I don’t want none.”

“Whatdo you want? What can I do for you?”

Jules tried thinking. It was a slow process. He felt like his thoughts were drowning in a pan of congealed brown gravy. “Can I stay with you for a while? All I feel like doin‘ is sleeping. I can’t… there ain’t no way I’m goin’ back where I was stayin‘ before.”

Doodlebug spoke to the concierge at the bed-and-breakfast. The concierge, happy recipient of a generous tip, woke the owner and explained the situation. The owner, very well connected and quite sympathetic to the unique needs of California’s creative community, made a series of calls. Following a flurry of negotiations, which resulted in a five-hundred-dollar charge on Doodlebug’s American Express corporate card and a sworn promise that he would make a thousand-dollar donation to Associated Catholic Charities the following day, the owner of Werlein’s Music Stores had an empty grand-piano case delivered to Doodlebug’s cottage that night. The huge wooden box, complete with hinged top, filled all but a few square feet of floor space in the suite’s sitting room.

Doodlebug was obviously pleased with what he’d been able to accomplish on such short notice. But Jules barely acknowledged the help. He took a pitcher from the kitchen and slowly walked outside. He returned a few minutes later, the pitcher filled with clumpy dirt dug from the perimeter of the goldfish pond, and tossed the dirt into the open piano case.

“Jules, maybe we should drive back to your old house and collect some earth there? What do you think?”

“Don’t wanna bother.”

“But are you sure dirt from the yard here will, you know, work for you?”

“Guess I’ll find out come morning time, won’t I?”

“That’s not a very reassuring answer.”

“It’s good enough for me.”

Jules stepped onto the couch, which the delivery men had pushed against the wall, then climbed down into the piano case. With Doodlebug’s help, he lowered the top above his head. Then he lay down in the thin sprinkling of dirt. Thanks to the assortment of overstuffed pillows Doodlebug had thoughtfully provided, Jules found the box surprisingly comfortable. The darkness was soothing. He closed his eyes. The blackness and quiet beckoned to him like old, dear friends.

Jules very quickly lost track of time. His periods of dreaming and wakefulness blurred together into an undifferentiated mush of memories, regrets, and dark fantasies. Maureen frequently joined him and his mother in his dreams. Their alliances were constantly shifting. Sometimes Jules and his mother would be heaping abuse on Maureen. Sometimes his mother would be savagely berating Maureen and him together. And other times, the worst times of all, his mother and Maureen would act as a tag team of women wrestlers, leaping off the ropes and pounding him with wooden folding chairs or strangling him in choke holds.

An indefinite time later, Jules was startled by a sharp series of knocks on his box. “Jules? It’s Doodlebug. Are you awake in there?”

“I am now.”

“Look, I’m going out for a while. Can I get you anything?”

“Where are you goin‘?”

“Just out for some air. If you want something, just tell me, and I’ll take your car and go get it.”

“Can you get me a time machine, maybe? So I can go back to ten years ago?”

“No can do, Jules. Sorry.”

Jules thought for a while. “Y’know what I’d really like? Some comics to read. Captain America or The