“This is such bullshit.” Malcolm complained. “You’re supposed to pick out your own prize.” Trent couldn’t believe he was still whining. He had driven him home and it had been nothing but nonstop whining since he got inside.
“You know that’s for children who are scared of the dentist, right?” Malcolm shrugged.
“I was brave wasn’t I?” Trent turned up his brows at him.
“You screamed until you passed out. They didn’t even put the tools to you until after that.”
“Yeah but I was real quiet after that.” Trent sighed. Malcolm took that as a sign to keep going. “I just wanted a sugar free lollipop or a sticker or something you know? What am supposed to do with this?” He gestured to his other hand locked into a pincer shape. It might look expressive with some sort of muppet but the plastic ring of fake teeth left it bare and wanting for details. He answered himself in a high pitched singsong way, flexing up and down to open the fake mouth with every syllable. “Well, you could try putting me on big boy.” He responded normally “I suppose you’re right. I should at least try it.” ‘Where’s he going with this?’ Trent wondered exhausted and expecting a terrible punchline. with one swipe across his mouth he put them on and looked at Trent. He grew a sudden worried fearful expression as he cried out in mock horror. “They’re taking over! I can’t hold out!” He snarled and put on an evil expression. He faked a vaguely eastern European accent and somehow combined it with its previous singsong quality. “I vant to suck your diiiick!” Trent responded unimpressed “What does that make you? drag-ula?” Malcolm sputtered in shock and had to recover from almost inhaling his toy with his laughter. Trent waited for him to stop. “good one.” He finally choked out.
“You know you can do better than stolen jokes.” Trent said. “Even if creativity is hard you’ve got the skills of a thespian. I know some guys with Shakespeare in the park they’d love your expressive nature and affinity for vocal control.” Malcolm grinned.
“A thespian huh? Well, I am a cunning linguist.” Trent didn’t encourage that with a response.
“Just think it over, ok? There’s a performance in a few days if you’re curious.” Malcolm lashed out at him, his pride suddenly bruised.
“Well what do you know of creativity. I’m sure I could come up with something else.” “Sure.” Trent sighed. It wasn’t the point he was getting at, but it couldn’t hurt him. Malcolm took it as a personal challenge. “I thought of something just now!” He boasted. Trent waited and watched malcolm scanning the room clearly having spoken faster than he could think. His eyes finally settled on the sleeping pile of fluff in the corner. He carefully pushed up the fluffy’s nose exposing his teeth below and slipped the fangs in place. When he was sure they wouldn’t just fall out he coughed, fake sounding but loud. The fluffy woke up bleary eyed. “Daddeh?” He called out still too asleep to see properly. Malcolm scratched behind his ears to calm him. “Hey Marcus. How you feeling?” Marcus yawned his tiny jaw too small for the fangs to slip out accidentally. “Teefies feew weiwd.” Malcolm feigned concern. “Let me take a look at them.” He pushed and prodded at the snout as though inspecting the teeth closely. His breath grew short and he had an almost fearful quality in his voice. He looked to Marcus and said. “I have some bad news. it looks like you may have been… cursed!” the fluffy gasped in horror. ‘Is he really going to convince him?’ Trent thought leaving him to work. “What am cuwsed daddeh?” the fluff asked shakily. Malcolm took a more parental tone and comforted him with a hug. “It means you’ve become a vampire. A creature who must feed on the blood of others or face starvation.” Marcus started crying. “Mawcus nu wan’ huwt oder fwuffies.” Malcolm blinked away some crocodile tears. “You are still my little fluffy and I promise I will try to feed you. I only hope it will be enough.” Marcus cried harder and ran from the room. Trent stopped holding in his laughter and Malcolm joined him with Marcus safely out of earshot.
“Alright that was pretty good I’ll give you that. I don’t even like abuse but that was funny. I have to head home so have fun explaining the prank to him.” Malcolm waved him off with a grin
“No worries, take care man.” He called out. Internally new ideas raced around his head. ‘No reason to end the prank early.’ He thought. ‘There’s so much more to do.’
Malcolm went to check in on Marcus. He found him, cheeks still wet, wrapped around his special friend Carmilla. He took it as an inspiration for his dastardly deeds. ‘if she brings him comfort I have to steal her away.’ he thought. he burst in with a hurried panic and cried out startling both into looking at him.
“Marcus! you haven’t claimed a victim already have you?” Carmilla looked at him confused.
“Mawcus jus’ wan’ huggies. Scawed abou’ teefies.” ‘Turn them against each other.’ He thought. ‘He’ll fall faster without her support.’
“Is that what he told you?” Malcolm crept up like a greased snake. “He must not understand his hunting instincts yet. He must be starving. Drawn in by that dark desire. He came looking for blood and a fresh heart to supply it.” Carmilla stared blankly at his accusations out of left field.
“Don’ be siwwy daddeh. Mawcus am speciaw fwiend. Wouwd nebah huwt cawmiwwa.” He was dissappointed she wasn’t gullible enough to fall for it. Luckily Marcus was. Marcus stood and backed away from Carmilla small looks of panic holding him back. “Speciaw fwiend whewe yu goin’? Am ok.” He shook his head with rising concern.
“Am cuwsed now. Wiww get tummie owwies untiw huwt yu. Nu wet Mawcus.” Carmilla was crushed. She tried to go to him.
“Speciaw fwiend…” She wanted to reassure him. To hold him and tell him everything would be all right. He snapped at her and puffed out his cheeks as his coat stood on end.
“Gu away!” She scrambled back having never seen him so angry. “Jus’ stay back. Fwuffy nu wan’ huwt yu.” He had deflated to a sleek depressed look. Carmilla wanted to help him more than ever ut couldn’t think of what to do besides what he asked.
“Ok speciaw fwiend. Cawmiwwa wub yu.” Malcolm smiled. ‘Like putty in my hands’ He thought.
It was late in the day when Malcolm checked in on Marcus again. He was sleeping soundly, if uncomfortably, on his own. ‘Let’s see how some sleep deprivation treats him.’ He thought. He put a hand to Marcus’s shoulder and shook him gently.
“Hmm?” The fluffy asked not wanting to wake up.
“Marcus! Marcus a sun beam is about to cross over you!” He warned in a panic.
“Mmm. Wawm.” Marcus commented before curling up to a more comfortable position and laying back down.
“No marcus! It’ll burn you! You have to go or you’ll have the worst pain and injury.” The fluffy was still groggy but far more cooperative.
“Whewe mawcus go? Nu wan’ buwnies.” Malcolm looked around in a panic. ‘Where would be the worst place for a fluffy?’ He wondered.
“Don’t worry Marcus. I won’t let that happen. In here!” Marcus yelped as he was practically thrown into the cold tiles of the bathroom across the hall. He shivered at the cold and damp.
“Daddeh, am cowd in hewe.” Malcolm gave him a comforting scratch behind the ears.
“I know buddy, but it’s the only way to keep you safe from the sunlight.” He stood to leave and Marcus hurried behind.
“Pwease weabe da wight on! Dawkness am scawy!” Malcolm smiled as he pulled the door shut.
“Oh buddy. You’re the sort of thing that makes people afraid of the dark.” The sound of him whimpering rose to match the sinking creak of the door until it latched and he broke into sobs.
Trent walked in and waited for Malcolm to arrive. He knew Malcolm was the sort to be fashionably late but this was bordering on sloppy. He came in with a grin wiping sauce from his hands. “Trent! Good to see you. What brings you here?” Trent stared in disbelief. Of all the lame excuses he hadn’t expected Malcolm to simply forget.
“We’re late to the performance. You know? New friends? A hobby? Reasons to get out of the house?” Malcolm raised his hand to his head in an almost comical rendition of surprise.
“I completely forgot man, I am so sorry.” ‘Either an idiot or an actor.’ Thought trent. ‘Could go either way with him.’
“Well just get ready alright?” Malcolm burned with a sheepish grin.
“Actually I’m still making skettis for the fluffies. Care to join us?” Trent looked to him, confused.
“I thought that was Sundays.” Malcolm looked at him excitedly.
“This was just a special occasion. I couldn’t wait.” He gestured to the kitchen and trent followed him in. He saw the two fluffies laying at opposite ends of the room. One looked sad, lonely even. She sighed forlorn by her empty dish. The other had his face buried in a mountain of kibble. His jaw moved as though eating but the telltale crunching couldn’t be heard. He looked up looking miserable. His eyes were dark and stained with tears, and his mouth sported a flash of green plastic with long fangs.
“Daddeh, nummies stiww bein meanies. Nu make fwuffy feew betta’.” Trent wanted to inquire but thought it best to let him have his fun first.
“No worries marcus. Just for tonight we’ll try new skettis!” The red tinged pasta plopped wetly onto the floor. Marcus could hardly focus his eyes to respond.
“Yay.” He said flatly. His voice was tired and sounded dry. He was slow moving but still went to the skettis with as much enthusiasm as he could muster.
“I should warn skettis have lots of garlic in them. Garlic hurts cursed fluffies.” Trent felt his heart sink with the fluffy’s.
“Nuuuhuhu.” He cried quietly as though expecting this somehow.
“But dont worry you can have some side dishes too, like garlic bread!” He stared expectantly. It took nearly a full minute for the half starved fluffy to understand the meaning. His wails grew steadily and softened as he fainted from the effort. Malcolm laughed as soon as he was clear to.
“He’s wearing those again?” Trent asked, afraid to hear the answer. Malcolm chuckled.
“You mean still.” Trent looked at him incredulously. It had been days and clearly the poor fluffy could hardly eat. Worse still it looked woozey and dazed.
“What have you been feeding him?” He asked more concerned for the fluffy’s wellbeing than his friends idea of a joke.
“Mostly pasta sauce. He thinks it’s coagulated blood. I found a butcher to buy real blood to cut it.” Trent couldn’t believe his ears. Not even eating solid food.
“That’s fucked man.” Was all he could say. Malcolm bowed deeply.
“Why thank you.” He purposely misinterpreted the judgement.
“Has he been sleeping at all?” Malcolm laughed harder.
“Hardly. This is the most light he’s seen in days. He’s trying to be nocturnal so he doesn’t burst into flames. Doesn’t make him any less scared of the dark.” Trent stared coldly.
“He’s not a real vampire.” Malcolm quirked an eyebrow.
“Are you sure? Stranger things have happened.” Trent curled his lip in disgust.
“Just actually feed him alright? Stop this.”
Malcolm lit up at this.
“I already have. That’s the best part. A little ipecac and he thinks his food is rejecting him. A couple more days and I think I can get him to bite Carmilla.” Trent left no longer caring to introduce this whack job to more close and treasured friends.
“Thank you for the uh… entertainment, but I need to leave.” Malcolm waved as he passed.
“Don’t be a stranger!” He put his hand to the fluffy’s back just as the first wave of nausea surged up as vomit. ‘Worth it’ he thought.
Marcus stumbled to his safe room. It was nearly evening. He hadn’t slept at all despite his need. Still he hungered more fiercely. His daily feeding of blood had been thin and watery the more days went by. Daddy said it was older blood. Daddy worked so hard to find blood just for his curse. He needed more. He looked around the room hopeful for some relief. He saw only his special friend. ‘Not her’ he thought. ‘Anything would be better…’ but his hooves still carried him closer. He smelled that soft lovely scent she always had. How he wanted to hug her. How he wated to feast. ‘I wonder if she is as sweet as she acts.’ He shook his head clearing his dark thoughts. ‘Just one hug. She always made me feel better.’ His limbs shook as he got nearer. So tantalizingly close. She sighed in her sleep when he was close enough for her to feel the warmth. “Fowgib me Cawmiwwa.” She woke at the sound. “Speciaw fwiend?” She asked her eyes not used to the dark. “Su hungwy” he said and bit down. The world turned to sound as she screamed and ran with terrific speed. A laughter seemed to surround him as he spun. He felt a painful pulling in his mouth and saw something green land with a flip to the ground. He poked it with a hoof when he heard his daddy approach.
“The curse Marcus!” He cried. “The curse will transfer to Carmilla! You have to kill her before it’s too late!” Marcus sobbed.
“Nu! Mawcus nu huwt Cawmiwwa!” Daddy looked angry at that.
“Only one of you can survive marcus! It’s you or her!” Marcus stood his ground. He thought and knew which he preferred.
“Den Mawcus choose Cawmiwwa!” He burst past and ran to the door. ‘To hell with the burns.’ He thought. ‘If I end here it will be with the evening sun.’ He burst into the main hall and stared into the orange glow of the sun. He felt a peaceful warmth spread through him and thought ‘at least I know some good will come of this.’ He waited for the pain the searing agony of death to come but nothing did.
“You shouldn’t have done that Marcus.” His daddy stood glowering at him. Marcus looked at him questioning.
“Why Mawcus nu buwn?” He asked. His daddy smiled.
“Oh you will. Let’s play a game.” Marcus was suddenly afraid.
“Wha’ game?” He asked. His daddy opened a red and white box and held something up from inside it.
“Matchsticks.”
Trent knocked on the door of the house and grimaced at the smell. He hadn’t been gone long yet already his friends house was overrun in brambles and vines. When Malcolm opened the door he hardly recognized him. His skin was pale and sickly. His once taught shirt hung loose and he could count his ribs on one side. He looked less like a man and more like a squirrel his head twitching around looking for dangers.
“H-hey!” He spoke as though he had been found in the wilderness. Trent half expected him to ask to borrow a phone.
“Hey buddy. Noone’s seen you in a few. You still ok?” He looked terrified at the question and shook his head in tight jerking motions.
“Of course! Just busy!” He laughed. An ugly fake sound forced into being.
“You want to come with us? Could use an understudy for macbeth.” He lit up at the suggestion.
“Oh I-” “Can’t” a fluffy voice chimed in behind him. “Nee’ tu wawk fwuffies.” His face twisted in conflicting directions.
“Yeah. Sorry man.” He stared something begging to leap from his mouth but refusing to.
“Ok then. Just let me know if you change your mind.” He nodded solemnly.
“Sure thing.” He stood staring, unmoving. Trent sighed and walked off.
“It’s not like he’s actually stuck with that shitrat. Until he admits its all in his head there’s nothing we can do.”
“Don’t go.” Malcolm whispered quiet as he dared. He stared at the silhouetted figure walking into the evening sun waiting for trent to come back. Waiting for him to kick the door in. Waiting for the police to drag him to the asylum. Anything but this hell.
“Cwose de doow.” He heard calling behind him. how he wanted to just throw open the door and let sunlight wash over her. A fog fell over his mind as his willpower burned away. He closed the door. “Come hewe pet.” She called. ‘How many more commands can she give until I can’t resist?’ He thought. The fog thickened. He approached the curled fluffy figure. “Feed fwuffy.” A panic raced across his mind. The fog grew overwhelming. It was nearly a steady droning like rain. He unbottoned his shirt slowly, deliberately, taking as much time as he could. He leaned away wanting to dissapear as she stood towering over him at two feet tall. He bared his chest and a hungry glint came to her eye. She walked up his form his heart beat faster with every step she took. The sound of it was deafening in his ears and she felt it too. He whimpered as she penetrated the soft smooth skin of the neck and she drunk her fill. He nearly fainted as she released her latch on him and just as quickly she bit into her own limb. The dark blood oozed slowly compared to the bright red of his neck. “Dwink.” She hardly spoke but he was in no shape to resist the dark gift oozing down her ankle and onto her perfect hoof pads. He savored the taste and texture as all the world grew fuzzy and far away. His focus fell only on her and she sneered at his complete subjugation. “Pitifuw” she said pulling her leg away and leaving him to clean himself up. “Yes mistress.” He spoke without thinking. His mind was a void like this. He could feel himself slipping away with every feeding. Still he could only obey. It was intoxicating and just the smell was enough to drive him mad.
“Yu wiww fin’ new pwey dis dawk time.” She commanded curled back over her perch. “Twy sketti again. Nu mowe pwain feedings.” He had grown to hate finding prey. Nothing made the purity and innocence of fluffies more obvious than the pain and suffering his twisted fluff had grown to embody.
“Mistress please.” He begged. “I don’t want this. I’ll give you anything just-”
“Anyfing?” She repeated with an evil cackle. He cursed under his breath for his poorly worded promise. “Gib Cawmiwwa hew Mawcus back.” She teased daring him to try to weasel out of his words.
“I can’t do that.” He explained simply. She laughed shrilly expecting more fight.
“A wiaw an’ a kiwwew. Dat’s nu gud a’ aww. Fin’ yu pwey, make gud skettis nu tummie huwtie skettis, den come back fow yu huwties. Yu ge’ yu favowite. Matchstickies!” His stomache flopped as he thought with a crippled mind ruined by dark desire.
“And if I can’t?” He asked intent on blundering his way out of responsibility. She sneered.
“Nu wowwies. Yu hab e-tew-ni-tee tu ge’ betta’.”