Andrew Fox - Fat White Vampire Blues

Sub-Mariner-“

“Hang on a second. I’m writing this down.” A little while later he said, “Okay, got it. Where are your keys?”

“In the top drawer of the dresser, next to my wallet.”

“Before I go, can I get you a pint of blood from the ‘fridge?”

“Naww. I ain’t hungry.”

That was a lie. Jules’s stomach was rumbling like an empty garbage truck bouncing over the potholes of Tchoupitoulas Street. But he refused to eat anything. Some time later, Doodlebug returned with a bag full of comics, a stand-up flashlight, and a big package of batteries. Jules loaded the batteries into the flashlight, read a few comics, then drifted back into sleep. He dreamed of better, prouder, happier nights, nights when he’d helped win the Second World War as the mighty Hooded Terror.

He was jarred awake by more knocking. “Jules, I need to discuss something with you.”

Jules stretched (as best he could in the confined space) and yawned. “Yeah, what you need?”

“I have a friend over at theTimes-Picayune. Actually, he’s not so much a friend as a cyber-acquaintance; I got to know him through a cross-dressers’ chat room on America Online. Anyway, he works nights, so I took what we know about Malice X to him, and he agreed to search the newspaper’s computer archives of old articles to see if he could dig up any information for us. But I couldn’t tell him enough to get him started. You told me that Malice X was once a teenage felon who called himself Eldo Rado. My friend couldn’t find any mention of an ‘Eldo Rado’ in any crime reports from the last fifteen years. He’s probably in there somewhere. Maybe the newspaper lists his legal name, or possibly another alias. We need to ask Maureen some more questions. She might be able to help us get more of a lead on him.”

“You want more information?You go ask her. I’m stayin‘ put right where I am.”

“I really think weboth need to go question her.”

“Ferget it. Ain’t gonna happen.”

“Jules, I think it’s time you come out of your box for a while.”

“It’s time whenI say it’s time.”

That put an end tothat. By now, Jules’s stomach felt like a rabid iguana was inside, scratching furiously to get out. He did his best to ignore it. He put fresh batteries in the flashlight and reread the last two stories in his Justice Society of America comic. The final page ended on a cliff-hanger: The entire Justice Society was chained to a huge rock, prisoners of the evil Ultra-Humanite in his underground cavern fortress. The leering villain was preparing to turn a death ray on the helpless heroes when the comic came to a sudden end. A final caption teased readers with the excitement… to come in another thirty days. Jules could hardly believe the effrontery-when he’d been a young vampire, comic books had been a full sixty-four pages, and stories werealways complete. What a cheap, underhanded marketing scheme! He might bedead in another thirty days, not just undead!

The next knocks were different.Shave-and-a-haircut-two-bits! Not Doodlebug’s style. Doodlebug wasn’t musical or rhythmic in the least. “Who’s out there?”

“You gonna stay in that box fo’ever, or what?”

Despite his irritation at being disturbed again, Jules smiled. He knew the voice well. It was Erato. “Maybe. I kinda like it in here.”

“You know who this is?”

“Yeah.”

“Is that all you got to say-Yeah? Man, you had me worriedsick these past few weeks. Last time I seen you, I drop you off, then the next mornin‘ my wife tells me she saw yo’ house burnin‘ down on the news. I figures you’s gonna call, let me know what’s happenin’, so I leaves my cell phone on. For the next three days straight, I leaves it on, constantly poppin‘ in fresh batt’ries. I drops by the Trolley Stop every chance I gets, hopin’ I’d bump into you or at least hear some word.Nothin‘. It’s like you fallen off the earth. Finally, I go see yo’ friend Maureen at her club, and she say she ain’t seen you, neither. What the hell been up with you, Jules?”

Great.More guilt. Just what he needed to be feeling right now. “Look, I’m really sorry, Erato. I really am. It’s a helluva long story, pal. And most of it I can’t tell you-”

“Oh, Iknow. If you tells me, you hafta kill me.”

“Right.”

“Yo‘ friend Miss Doodlebug-cuteli’l thing, by the way-she tells me you’s in a big-ass funk because of lady troubles.”

“That’s one way of tellin‘ it, yeah.”

“Well, you listen here. Ain’t no woman on this earth worth crawlin‘ in a box for. Now me, Ilove women. I’m married to one. Got another one for a daughter. But women… they’scrazy, man. Got somethin’ to do with their hormones or somethin‘. And another thing-women can’t help it if they got this giant power to hurt us in the heart. It ain’t their fault, see. That’s just the way things is. If you’s honest, you hafta admit thatwe got the same power overthem. Maybe not in yourparticular case, but in the big scheme a things, anyhow.”

Jules mulled over what his friend was telling him. It made sense, or it seemed to. Unfortunately, nothing Erato had said was motivating Jules to leave his box one bit. “Yeah… So how’s your family doin‘, Erato. Everybody okay?”

“Oh, fine, fine. My little girl’s none too happy about her score on those SATs. She wants to go to LSU in Baton Rouge, see. I told her she got plenty of time to retake that test. Worse come to worse, she can go to that junior college, Delgado, for a couple of years and get her grades up. Then she can go to Baton Rouge if she still want to.”

Jules knew his friend was acting more nonchalant than he really felt. Erato’s big dream for years had been that his daughter Lacrecia would go to a top-notch college and start a prestigious career. That was a good part of the reason Erato worked himself the way he did, pulling both day and night shifts with the cab company. His friend the family man had aspirations and worries Jules could only vaguely imagine. “I hope she can pull those test scores up,” Jules said. “So both of you can get what you really want. I know you got a buncha stuff weighin‘ on your mind, Erato. I’m sorry I been addin’ to it. I never meant to.”

“Yeah. I know. You got a good heart. So are you comin‘ outta that piano box or not? All the guys over at the Trolley Stop been askin’ ‘bout you. Even them guys that grumble ’bout you takin‘ up too much space at the bar. So what I should tell ’em all, huh?”

Jules felt trapped. By the box, by people’s expectations of him, by luck that seemed to get worse and worse with each rising of the moon. Staying right where he was seemed to be the least of all possible evils. But eventhat was causing pain to people he cared for. “Aww, shit if I know, Erato… just tell ‘em all to be patient. I still got a lot to think out. I don’t know when I’m comin’ out. If ever. Just lemme think, lemme think… there’s so fuckin‘ much to think about, y’know?”

“Well, don’t be thinkin‘too much-too much thinkin’s what done Elvis in. He stopped singin’ and started thinkin‘ too much, and then he sat down on that toilet and youknow what happened then.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, pal.”

“You do. And I ain’t gonna ferget aboutchu, y’hear? I be back soon. By the way, whose Looney Tune idea was it to put apiano box in this itty-bitty room, anyway? You lie in there much longer, I’s gonna think you’s some kindavampire or somethin‘. Ain’t neverheard of such nonsense over a woman before. Shee-yit! ”

“So long, pal. Take care.” Jules felt a tiny but growing urge to jump out of the box and chase after Erato, then follow his friend over to the Trolley Stop. But he wasn’t quite ready to leave the comfort of the buffering darkness.