The other day a young woman wearing an Office inspired T: I AM: Better Than You Are, excitedly showed her Science teacher that she was almost done with Bram Stoker's Dracula.
It brought back memories of reading the dark book in High School. Curled up on my couch I let Stoker lure me down a tunnel
like the Phantom leading little Laudie down the stairs into his lair on a horse. The dark mood immediately drew me in.
Castles, night time. A cold and very thin Vampire a snooze in his planked coffin as the moon cast a glow through a small window onto the lid.
Bats flying in the dark clouded sky, circling the cement walled castle atop a mist shrouded hill.
Unbeknownst to an innocent woman with a fair neck, wearing a Victorian dress for protection The bad lighting from my lamp at night casting a holy terror upon me!
If I hadn't had been scared half to death by an old movie of the book back in elementary, I could have kept it in perspective. Unlike kids these Twighlight days,
that movie made me resort to cuddling my scriptures like a security blanket instead of posting Taylor Lautner's poster in my bedroom and dreaming of Edward at my neck.
I had to laugh. Because now that protective garlic neclace, instead of perfume to entice Eddie, precautionary step dissolves in my mind now that I have to succumb to blood suckers on a regular basis.
Now, I picture Count Dracula trying to get blood from this "hard stick"; (the lingo phlebotomists and nurses have for those whose veins are pathetic and won't give blood.) and a different scene swells in my head.
Drac trying to get blood isn't as frightening. Except it does drag out the pain at times you will want to hold a Bible to your breast and pray hard.
No, now I see a flustered Dracula..
hovering over me,
feeling for a good vein,sinking his fangs in me and getting nada.
Instead of fighting and succumbing to blood loss, I am directing him like I do nurses
to where the vein may make the draw easier.
"You're hitting a valve right there Dracula, you won't get it there."
"Try here, Drac." I would direct him to another vein, "Try that." pump my hand a bit and let him slap it.
Frustrated, Dracula hungrily try my wrists, get nothing and ask: Where do I get Gatorade this time of night?"
then fly to the store, return and pace impatiently back and forth in front of the big window of his emaculate bedroom until I could get some volume.
With the subtle streams of light coming over the mountains he would grab his cape by the sides, rush to the bedside, and try one last time to extract the life blood from my neck! Ahhhhhhhhhhhhhh! Nothing.
Finally, he searches my hand
and asks: "Do you mind if I tried your hand."
Exasperated I say: "Yes, only if you don't 'fish'".
Searching his vest breast pocket,
seeing the seconds tick on his pocket watch, he would draw a butterfly needle from it.
Kneeling by the bed
or recining chair, he would hang my hand down and use his bow tie for a turnicate.
Disatisfaction showing on his pale face he'd impatiently wait as each of the viles slowly dropped blood from my vein.
The sun starting to show, and the vein starting to suck on the needle would let Drac know that there was nothing left. Quickly he would place the viles in his pocket, draw the needle out and ask me to hold the cotton ball over the opening.
"Apply pressure!" he'd say hastily as he threw the windows open, swooped from the balcony simultaneously downing the viles like shot glasses,
and disappear into his basement bedroom, exhausted from such a long night's work.
I would throw back my head and laugh if it weren't for all the fang marks over my body. So the next time I would be prepared and drink LOTS of Gatorade before the wolves howled......
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