3 May, 2009, Manor, Texas I had another disturbing dream last night. I was running away from something, but I don't know what. And I heard music, children's music. I had heard it before, but where? Keep trying, keep trying, don't give up... never give up... It was eerie, I tell you.
5 May Something strange is happening here at my country estate, Paradise House, though I cannot put my finger on exactly what it is. I got up normally, and, as per my custom, hobbled to the kitchen to ensure the coffee was going. I then tightened my velvet robe's sash around my ample waist and made my way out the front door into the chilly morning air to retrieve my newspaper, hoping against hope that it would be lying on the dewy grass to be easily procured, rather than thrown up under my motorcar on the driveway, thus forcing me on my hands and knees to grope for it (the last time that happened, a neighborhood cat was under there as well, and its startled hiss scared the living beeswax out of me, if you know what I mean). Though I searched high and low, I could not locate my morning read, and my heart sank as I realized I would have nothing to peruse this day as I sat in the water closet.
Later, after my usual breakfast of soft boiled eggs, English muffins, and menudo (garnished with finely diced green onions and fresh Chilean cilantro), I retired to the drawing room to relax in my chair. Feeling of good temperament, I requested that my granddaughter be brought to me, that I might watch her play for awhile. She was carried in forthwith, and her beaming mother let it be known that she had an important announcement to make. The child had grown her first baby teeth that very night! How wonderful, I thought! But after she placed the not-quite-six-month-old nursling on my lap, I noticed that her two new teeth protruded from her mouth in an odd way, much like the fangs of an Amazonian vampire bat (with which I had had an unfortunate encounter years ago as I led an expedition in a fruitless search for the fabled El Dorado, but that's another story).
Not wanting to worry the little one's mother with my concerns, I "oohed" and "aahed" about how white and shiny and sharp those new teeth were. The compliments appeared to please her mother, who then informed me that it was time for the baby's bath. I was left alone with my thoughts, puffing on my pipe in my chair, but I couldn't shake a vague feeling of uneasiness that had settled uncomfortably on my chest, leaving me with a bad case of heartburn and putrid-tasting burps.
6 May Today I had yet another strange experience that has left me even more perplexed than usual. As I was taking my customary stroll around the house, I happened into the nursery and found my granddaughter playing with her teddy on the ceiling. I thought that a bit odd (if not somewhat dangerous), and I told her to come down from there that instant and play on the floor like a normal child. She is an obedient little girl, so she floated down immediately upon hearing my command. I rewarded her with a pat on the head, but she then grabbed my leg and started gnawing on my left ankle. I sensed she was hungry, so I rang for the maid to bring a warm bottle right away. While we waited for the bottle to arrive, I gathered the diminutive anklebiter into my arms to give her a kiss, and I noticed that her eyes, rather than their usual slate-grayish-blue, had changed to a deep and vivid purple!
I was both con- and dumb-founded at the same time! What was going on? I had heard that a baby's eyes could change color, but this was ridiculous! When the maid returned with the bottle, she took the baby from my arms and sat in the rocker to feed her. I then noticed that the liquid inside the clear, glass bottle was as red as blood! Seeing my looks of disgust and consternation, she said, "Oh, 'tis her formula for sure, Guvna'. Ain't a one of us knows why, but she won't drink it 'less we add some red food colorin' to it, don't ya know." I left the nursery feeling a bit shaken, with questions whirling around in my head - questions that require answers that I may not want to hear!
7 May, 4:00 a.m. I did not get much sleep this night, for I am absolutely possessed with both fear and the desire to find the reason for my granddaughter's metamorphosis. I locked myself in the library so that I might conduct my research undisturbed, with nothing but a bottle of Forty Creek, two Red Bulls and a bag of Cheezits to keep me company, and for hours I have poured over tome after tome, volume after volume of vampire lore. Yes, I said it! Vampire lore! That is my suspicion! That my poor little granddaughter is a vampire! Now, on to the DVD's!
7 May, 11:59 a.m. Alas, I cannot be certain of that which I fear, though I greatly increased my store of knowledge regarding the vampire by watching a number of well-researched videos on the devilish subject, including (but not limited to) Bram Stoker's Dracula; Abbot and Costello Meet Dracula; Dracula, Dead and Loving It; Love at First Bite; and Blacula. Oh, the horror of it all! I feel that my bloodshot eyes are ready to fall from their tortured sockets! Oh, that I could get some sleep! But there is one more task that I have to do before I seek the blessed repose that can only be found in my velvet-draped bedchamber! I have decided to write a letter pleading for help and advice from an expert in the area of vampirology; the only person I know who knows everything there is to know about these hard-to-know creatures; the one person I trust whole-heartedly because of her vast store of vampire knowledge -- my niece Vitoria Bella Cullen Dante! She is a budding legend in the Twilight world, who simply devours each new book in the series as fast as they are churned out (it is rumored that she read Twilight in little more than two hours, that she read Midnight Sun before it was officially published, and that she has plans to read the next novel in the series, Solar Flare, before it is even written!) No one could know more about vampires than she! So, I am taking pen in hand and dashing off a short, ten-to-twelve page letter to her describing the symptoms suffered by my beloved granddaughter in order to find out, once and for all, if there is any hope for us! And, God-willing, she will write back before it is too late!
Hey duke of Paradise, I think I know what your problem is. I think your grand daughter is becoming a.......toddler. That's all it is. By the way where are her parents in all of this? I heard her father was thrown in the Château d'If for bombing an improv gig for her Majesty. I heard her mother became stuck in her tower because she bought way to much STUFF at the Old World Market friends and family sale. If you and your grand daughter keep this up you should soon be promoted to Count Paradise, bada BING!
ReplyDeleteI got nothin' better to do.
- Zar
Her mother was mentioned, and played an important part, in Part 1. You, however, might not have been worthy-enough to be mentioned this time. Perhaps(since you have nothing better to do) if you mow my lawn, I will mention you in Part 3.
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