March 8, 2011

Night Tripper

Travel has always been tough for me, as it is for all vampires.  All it takes is for one flat tire right before sunrise to turn you into a smoldering pile of ash next to a jack and a lug wrench on the side of the road. 

I could fly after dark, but there’s the money thing.  I picked up an overnight gig at a convenience store on Fayette Street, selling Newport loosies to junkies and day-old egg salad sandwiches to defeated-looking security guards coming home from the late shift.  It makes me glad I don’t eat food, though I can taste the triglycerides and salmonella in your blood if you’ve just had pretty much anything from my store.  It’s not airfare money, but it’s $8.45 an hour I didn’t have before. 

With no cash and dire consequences from any delay, what is a vampire to do? 

Being dead, I don’t need to breathe.  Being over a century old, I have patience.  Being a perpetual teenager, I have a PSP for when that patience runs thin.  Being broke, I go by third class mail.

Luckily, I have an old casket I pilfered from a mortuary back in the ’80s during my goth phase (yes, even vampires grow out of that).  It’s a plain wood number painted matte black, sturdy enough to handle going through the postal system.  All I had to do was move the latches so they close from the inside and lock myself up with all the paperwork completed on a loading dock behind the Post Office. Someone will eventually figure out that I should be sent and then put me on my way.

Great big wide world, here I come!

PS: I won’t be posting to Ungrateful Undead for a few days.  You could say I’m looking to reconnect with an old friend.