A DAY IN THE LIFE
by Jello Cat, 1995
jellocat@comcast.net
 
------------------------------------------------------------------------
Louis de Pointe du Lac
 
"Louis! I need some excitement tonight! I'm bored with this
prattle. Let's go to a rock concert!" said Lestat as he paced
back and forth across the Persian carpet. If he were mortal he'd
have worn a clear path across its faded red strands.
 
"A rock concert?" I asked, looking up from the New Orleans Times
Picayune. He always interupted my nightly reading of the
newspaper. Sometimes he would read, over and over again, a story
on the page that would face him as I read the opposite page. I
would peer over the top of the newspaper and watch him as he was
completely entranced perusing particular stories. Murder stories
always interested him the most...
 
"Yes! I feel like hearing really loud music and being smashed
against all that heavenly scented human flesh. Oh, what a feeding
ground it presents -- all those drug addicts, pushers..."
 
"Lestat! You just want to go to a concert to feed?" I said
folding the paper to the place I had been reading. I placed it by
my side and watched him pace. His energy always amused me.
 
"No, not just that. I just feel like... Oh... the pounding of the
drums, the electrified delayed sound of one single guitar note,
the morbid, dark brooding of those electric keyboards... and the
singers! Mon dieu! How they portray the wicked so congenially. I
was quite caught up in all that at one time, you know...I was the
ULTIMATE rock star!" He stopped his pacing and stood looking at
me giving me what he considers to be his 'prettiest smile,' all
mischievous and full of ideas. He had dressed for such an
occasion and I caught the full effect of it now -- black leather
pants and what's called a motorcycle jacket with the logo of
Harley Davidson blazoned across its back. He had pulled it off of
one of his victims -- a member of 'Hell's Angels' he told me,
laughing. 'How perfectly suited to my tastes,' he had said. He
wore no shirt under this jacket and his dusty, black boots (which
he also took from the same victim) bore silver spurs he had
fitted onto them. He took those from 'an evil cowboy.' I didn't
ask...
 
"I suppose you want me to attend such a cacophony with you?"
 
"Of course, beautiful one. But we must get you the proper
garments! Those faded jeans... and that musty, old high-collared
shirt! Really, Louis, whatever happened to your magnificent sense
of fashion?" He stepped out of the parlor. His spurs jingled as
he cascaded down the hall and the sound dissipated the further he
went. I could hear him rummaging around in his room, opening
dresser drawers, pulling things out of his wardrobe. "Voila!" I
heard him say and soon he was standing in front of me again with
a selection of apparel. "Now, Louis, stand up so that I may fit you 
properly," he said, pulling me to my feet.Œ"Now, Louis, stand up so that I

I let out a sigh, content enough to allow him to parade me
through a veritable variety of wardrobe concoctions. He had been
studying the clothes of this modern era quite frequently of late
and came home, periodically, from expensive shopping sprees in
the overly lighted mall. He had also subscribed to GQ and Details
magazine and consistently bought clothes that would mimic what
the models wore in those pages. He also took notes while watching
television shows, especially soap operas and MTV.
 
He unbuttoned my shirt and pulled it off me. He ran his hands
down my chest -- he always did this. "You're always trying to
'cop a feel,'" I would say, using the modern lingo he was
teaching me to his delight. I would always pull away, though,
before he got to my pants! "Enough is enough," I would snarl at
him. "Oh, Louis, you're no fun," he would always reply.
"Perhaps..." I would say.
 
These little episodes seem to be happening on a more regular
basis of late. No matter how distraught I might get over my
reading of the paper or while watching CNN on the giant
television screen Lestat had carefully hidden away behind the
old-fashioned paneling, he always found an excuse to pull me away
to taunt me. It was always something -- tonight, it would be my
choice of clothing, once again...
 
"All right, Louis. Have it your way," he said, dejectedly. He
slumped down into the couch and waited as I would turn my back to
him and undo my clothes. I could still feel his blue eyes
drinking in the sight of me, undressing me even with my back
turned and I could hear him sigh, whether he knew it or not. I
might've walked into my own room to change but somehow, well, I
rather enjoyed teasing him!
 
He had laid out a similar pair of leather pants, only these were
brown, along with what he called a 'muscle shirt.' "But your
muscles are much more than mine," I said handing it back to him.
"You should wear this..." I grinned.
 
"No, Louis. It would look much better on you!" he chortled.
 
"All right." I put on the skimpy shirt and took note of the open
sides of it. "I need a jacket, though."
 
"No, not at all. It's rather warm outside. 'You look mahhh-
velous!'" He said, in the accent he heard from the television
show he stole the quote from. Lestat was so good at
appropriation! He wiggled his hips in front of me and said in a
mock German accent: "touch my monkey! Touch him, love him!"
 
"If it's so warm, why are you wearing that leather jacket?" I
asked, sitting on the ottoman in front of him to tie the thick
black shoes Lestat called 'Doc Martens.'
 
"Ah, well, I rather like it, don't you? I like the logo -- it has
wings! And I'm not at all too warm," he grinned. "Not yet, at any
rate..." his grin rose into a big toothy smile, fang teeth and
all.
 
I merely sneered at him, which he seemed to take great pleasure
in. He rushed at me suddenly and gave me a 'big wet one' on my
mouth. He slipped his tongue through my lips which I sucked on
gently for a bit until he retrieved it. "Mmmm..." he said and
then leaned into me again to nibble my lips causing a drop of
blood to enter into him sending little shivers through his body.
I felt him tremble in my arms as he licked the small drops of
blood pushing his tongue into my mouth once again, inviting me to
nick his tongue with my teeth but I would never comply.
 
He always knew I would never take his blood and so far, I kept to
my own promise.
 
"Ah... you like your too mortal form way too much, Louis. It
makes you weak, you know, when you could be strong like me. Yes,
'Merciful Death' you are, you do so love your own guilt. I think
you thrive on it as much as you do the blood," he said pulling
away from me, disgusted as usual.
 
"It is what I've come to accept of myself."
 
"Well, someday, you may be the one begging for MY blood..." Ah!
How he always knew the right knife to plunge into me! He seemed
to enjoy the berated expression on my face, my sadness at his
words, the pain he would cause me by such simple statements. I
sighed and felt the evening to be near to ruined now. He could
switch the turn of events so easily from one of contentment to
one of complete anger. He always infuriates me!
 
"Nevermind. I don't mean to make a shambles of the night, Louis.
I'm sorry. You look so magnificent in those clothes. Yes, quite
sensuous and demure. Come. Let us go 'rock'n'roll'!" He stood
holding out his hand to me. I took it and he lead me out of our
upstairs apartment onto the roof. He took me into his arms and we
rose into the air. It suddenly occured to me that I had not
thought to ask him where we were going. Where was this concert
being held?
 
We rose above the clouds, the wind was cold and biting and I
turned to cover my face in the nape of Lestat's neck. He held me
closer to him and snuggled his face next to mine. I loved these
little flights if anything for the intimacy we would share. Every
so often I would turn my face to gaze upon the splendid
countenance of the night sky. The stars covered the universe in a
mass of twinkling, velvety lights. I would point out
constellations to Lestat, nebulaes, galaxies... all of which I
had been reading about most diligently. Lestat brought home a
massive telescope for me to magnify these specs of light and I
had become completely enamored of all things in the cosmos. I
would cajole Lestat into taking me into the air so that I may be
closer to their tiny pinprick lights and so that I may see the
fullness of the night sky without the diffusion of the lights of
New Orleans.
 
We were heading East and I felt a pang of panic within me. Lestat
always had some secret agenda he would wait to spring on me at
the last moment always when I could do nothing but passively
stand by and watch Lestat's crazy plans unfold. I hated that
passive stance and fought forever with him on many counts so that
the pain of our earlier days together would not be repeated. He
seemed to take great joy in my expressive outbursts but would
never listen. He would never listen to anyone -- even the
ancients finally left him to his own devices.
 
We were slowly and steadily coming down to Earth again. The air
grew warmer and I finally felt the ground under my feet. I
straightened what clothes I had on and looked around me.
 
We landed in a quiet parking lot of an automobile tire store. The
lot was quite full of cars but there were no people around. The
air was thick with humidity, similar to New Orleans, and just as
warm. From the quickness of our little flight itself I knew we
hadn't gone too terribly far. We were still in America, at any
rate.
 
"Where are we?" I asked.
 
"Athens, Georgia. The club is right down there," he said,
pointing to a building across the street from us. There were
several young people milling about the entrance. There were a
multitude of flyers pasted on the windows and a sign that blinked
"Twins of Pain Tattoo Parlour."
 
"Would you like to have a tattoo, Louis?" he asked me, gleefully
smiling, his eyes bright with mischief. He kept his hands in his
pockets.
 
"Very funny, Lestat. Perhaps I should have the very face of death
painted on my body?" I winced. He laughed and hooked his arm in
mine leading me towards the club.
 
We crossed the street and I noticed the sign above the door was a
giant, plastic light bulb with "The 40 Watt" painted on it. There
were many more people here now, the front entrance was jammed
with people but Lestat was rather adamant about getting through
the crowd. He pulled me along with him until we were met by the
doorman, a tall, full figured fellow with no hair. He started to
wave us off, telling us tickets were sold out and there could be
no admittance but Lestat used his mental powers and we were in
without a problem. I merely rolled my eyes at his showing of
satisfaction.
 
The air inside this club was thicker than it had been outside.
All those packed in bodies gave off various scents and their
sweat sweetened the air even more so. It was slightly annoying to
my senses but I could withstand this air for a little while.
Lestat lead me closer in towards the stage and we eventually
nudged our way through enough to have found a spot where a giant
fan was blowing refreshing air over us. I could feel the hunger
rise in me as I was sure it was rising in him. Even though we had
fed much earlier in the evening, before this escapade was a
twinkle in Lestat's eye, I felt the pull of my veins just being
surrounded by so much succulent flesh. Lestat sensed my
apprehension and held tightly to me in comfort. He was feeling it
too...
 
The lights had been semi-dim and now were completely shut off.
The band was about to make their entrance. The crowd let out a
ferocious series of yells. The lights came up and the band began
to play.
 
The singer was of moderate height and of very slender build. He
wore a cap but it was obvious he had shaved off his hair. He wore
dark sunglasses and he had a goatee. His clothing was that of
most of these concert goers -- cut-off shorts and a big, loose t-
shirt with a red star in the middle of his chest. He wore
converse sneakers with no socks and his legs were rather hairy
and thin.
 
I had wondered why people were staring at Lestat and I earlier as
we walked into the club. We were poorly dressed for this event,
that was obvious, and I believe there were a few people around us
that laughed at our attire. Now I felt completely embarrassed!
 
I felt something tug on me and turned to find Lestat trying to
lead me out of the crowd towards the area behind the stage. I let
him lead me to a back room that had been darkened for the show.
There were two young women sitting on a couch giggling to each
other. They both wore similar outfits that matched that of the
band on stage. Lestat moved so quickly I barely noticed him at
first. He latched on to one of the girls while the other had
blissfully broken into a laughing fit. He motioned to this one
and I complied, taking her swiftly and gently into my arms. I
felt my fang teeth dip into her soft, young neck and felt the
warm, thick blood enter my veins. The music was loud enough to
cover our deep moans and I quickly forced myself to recover from
the swoon lest we be discovered. Lestat seemed to take his time.
He fell back to the couch and sighed allowing the swoon to
overtake him. I picked up the girl and began to carry her away.
 
"Wait, Louis, where are you going?" he said, sitting up and
blinking away his swoon.
 
"To cover the body," I said.
 
"Wait..." he took the girl from my arms and began to undress her.
 
"Lestat! That's completely unnecessary and so very crude of you,"
I said.
 
"She's dead. What does it matter now?" He removed her clothes and
the clothes of the other and threw one set to me. "Put them on,"
he demanded.
 
"I will not! This is an outrage! How dare you!" I turned so as
not to look upon their naked bodies though I could hear Lestat
moan as he talked about their breasts. I knew he had his hands on one
but I could not bear to look at him. I began to walk
out of this room and decided I would find my own way back to New
Orleans. He grabbed me then, completely changed he was in the
girl's tight jean shorts (they were tight on him and quite short) and
purple NOW t-shirt. The sight of him in such clothes, with his boots
was so laughable that I couldn't control myself. I laughed. He hugged me
and then kissed me gently on my lips.
 
"Please, Louis. Won't you change? They can't laugh at you
then..." he said holding me by the shoulders.
 
"No, monsieur. I think they'll be laughing even harder now," I
said, looking him over from head to toe. He waved me away and
gestured to me to help him remove the bodies. We found a dumpster
in the outside courtyard connected to this backstage area and
left the bodies there along with his leather clothes. He pulled
me close to him again and kissed me.
 
"Time for music!" he said. I was never able to stay angry at him
for too long. We entered the main room and found our same spot
where the fan blew. The people around us were indeed laughing,
even harder now, at Lestat's choice of clothing. He didn't seem
to care one way or another. He merely pointed at them, smiled,
and said "tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow... no... YOU are
tonight!" Again, I rolled my eyes.
 
I began to feel a bit woozy and grabbed onto Lestat's shoulder
for balance. He, too, felt the same and held onto me. We looked
at each other and then realized whatever drugs those girls had
been on were now affecting our system. The drug had mingled with
our blood and caused some interesting sensations. The lights
seemed to move in a constant pattern, the sounds around us -- the
music, the crowd -- all seem to mingle into one cacophonous
noise, a pleasant one, but indiscernible from one another. I
thought of the first time I heard such sounds and saw such colors
when I was born to darkness. But over the many years we vampires
learn to separate such sounds and colors from one another. There
was no control over this now and the two of us merely clutched
each other and allowed these sensations to fill us, letting the
music wash over us, the voices, the feeling of the pressing,
sweaty bodies -- all so sensual and throbbing. I thought I would
lose myself forever in these sounds and those lights.
 
"I'm losin' my religion....." the singer sang.
 
"He's losing his religion?" I asked Lestat. He nodded.
 
"...trying to keep hold of you... but I don't know if I can do
it..."
 
"He can't do it?" I asked Lestat. He nodded.
 
The singer had a very interesting way of dancing. He fumbled
around on stage in a variety of strange poses while the guitar
player, dressed quite differently in black jeans and a long white
shirt with the tale of it out, dipped and periodically kicked a
leg into the air. The bass player wore what Lestat called a
'Nudie' suit -- all sparkling rhine stones and slick material.
The drummer was dressed like the singer. An interesting
combination, I thought.
 
We were still holding on to each other when I felt someone grab
my buttocks.
 
"How would you and your gorgeous friend like to come back to my
place after the show big boy?" a voice said.
 
I turned quickly and looked at him curiously. "You really have
balls to do that," I said. Lestat laughed at my modern usage and
whispered to me 'he does have balls, Louis...as you and I do and
every other man!' I turned to Lestat and gave him a sudden
glance. 'YOU taught me that phrase; that it means
'guts,''courage...'
 
'Ah,' he said. 'Chutzpah!' I felt the hands on my buttocks again.
 
"My, you are a ripe one!" he said. I turned to look at him full
on now, Lestat holding onto my arm tightly so that I wouldn't
lose my temper among this sea of people. He was as tall as I, as
slender, his eyes were a misty blue, but his hair... it was
braided down his back and it was green. He also had many of those
tattoos on his bare arms and a tattoo of red lips on his cheek.
There was a heart with an arrow stabbed through it on the top of
his chest with 'Frank' written inside it.
 
"Frank," I said, assuming it was his name. "You don't know what
you're asking for. I would suggest you leave us quietly."
 
"Frank? My name is Irwin... OH!" he laughed, "you were looking at
my broken heart. Frank left me." He grabbed my buttocks again.
 
"One more time and I'll..." Lestat pulled me away to the side.
 
"Oh wait, please come back! You're so beautiful. You really turn
me on!" he was waving at us to come back but Lestat shuffled us
quickly to the other side of the club. Before we moved away
Lestat shouted out 'you leave my lover alone...'
 
"Such nerve!" Lestat said. He pushed me into a new place and
there we stood listening to the remaining portion of this
concert. I was still feeling quite hazy from the drugged blood
and motioned to Lestat that I was going to find a place to sit.
The thick, wet air was beginning to get to me as well.
 
The only place I knew to go was behind the stage, where we had
snuck in earlier for our mid-evening snack. There was no one here
now and I could rest on the worn, black leather couch and not be
bothered. I could still hear the music quite clearly and
eventually I found myself dozing off.
 
I was wakened by someone shaking my shoulders. I looked up and
saw the singer of the band.
 
"Are you all right?" he asked in a very smoky, soft voice. His
eyes were the blue of Lestat's and large; filled with passion and
such long lashes!
 
"Yes. I'm fine. I was just a little... uh, sleepy." I sat up and
ran my hand through my hair.
 
"Our music made you sleepy! That's really funny!" he laughed.
 
"No, no... not that. I enjoyed your music immensely, really I
did. Your lyrics, they're quite... unconventional." He sat down
beside me and I now noticed the rest of the band were back here
milling about, drinking beer, talking amongst themselves. There
were others here too talking to members of this group.
 
"Unconventional. Yeah... I suppose so. I'm always trying to dig
up things from the quagmire of my psyche," he said, sitting quite
still and comfortable. His eyes bespoke something deeper only I
could sense with a vampire's ability.
 
"Quagmire? Oh...?" I asked, watching him intently. His face
utterly fascinated me.
 
He looked at me quite brazenly and smiled. "I like your French
accent. You speak very beautifully -- the timbre in your voice, I
mean, well your words too. It's cool."
 
I was not used to this -- a mortal speaking to me in such a way.
I felt trapped to continue our conversation and actually quite
curious to go on but a blonde bombshell burst into the room.
 
"Louis! There you are! I've been looking everywhere!" Lestat
stood directly in front of me before he noticed the singer by my
side. "Oh, pardon me, I didn't mean to barge in on your
conversation. My name is Lestat." He held his hand out. I rolled
my eyes and sighed.
 
"I'm Michael. Michael Stipe. Nice to meet you," the singer said,
taking Lestat's hand. "Hey! You look really familiar. Weren't you
in a band a long time ago? Like, hmmm, 10 years ago or
something?"
 
"Uh... well..." Lestat began.
 
"Yeah! The Vampire Lestat! I have your record. Cool! I remember
your videos and you wrote a book, too, didn't you?"
 
"Uh... well..." Lestat began again.
 
This was delightful watching Lestat try to squirm his way around
such questions. He tended to avoid being recognized usually by a
little trick of his mind or by keeping himself away from
particular places. I don't think he realized this would happen so
many years later.
 
"It's a real pleasure to meet you, really. This is really cool,"
Michael said. He motioned for the other band members to meet
Lestat who by now was near to 'sweating bullets.' The others
stepped up one by one, made their introductions, shook Lestat's
hand, and then continued on with whatever conversations they had
been having. They all made a point of intensely eyeing Lestat's
choice of, uh, wardrobe. A few of them snickered but it didn't seem
to bother mon ami.
 
It seemed to me Michael was the only one interested in continuing a
conversation though he, too, took great care in noticing Lestat's
clothes.
 
I was much amused by this whole scene and sat on the couch with a
smile on my face.
 
"Do you still do music? What happened to you? You only put out
one album. Are you really a vampire?" Michael threw his questions
at Lestat in breakneck speed.
 
"Well, I, uh... no... I don't do the music anymore. Ah... yes, I
wrote those books and I'm supposing you read them so you know
what happened to me. Yes, I am a vampire," he bared his fangs
briefly to Michael who let out a bit of a gasp but then widened
his astonished face into a great smile. He was like a little kid
who just received a new toy.
 
"Wow! This is great! Oh... you're not going to drink my blood or
anything like that are you?"
 
"Would you like me to?" Lestat asked winking.
 
"Lestat! Don't you dare!" I stood up taking him by the arm. "We
should leave now."
 
"You must be Louis, then? Is that right?" Michael asked me.
"You're a vampire too, right?"
 
I felt a rush of excitement at the mere thought that I was
recognized as such but it quickly faded into apprehension.
 
"I'm sorry we have bothered you. Please excuse us." I began
leading the grinning Lestat out of the room but Michael quickly
stood and stopped us.
 
"No, please, don't leave. I'd love to talk to you, really. I
think this is just fascinating! Please."
 
"No, mon cher, as much as I'd love to stay and entertain you I
suppose we must be going. It's a bit of a way back to New
Orleans," Lestat said, "but I'm glad we got a chance to meet you
anyway."
 
We slipped out of the back room and walked up to the parking lot
where we arrived.
 
"Louis, why didn't you let me stay and talk to him? I wasn't
going to take him, really I wasn't."
 
"And I'm supposed to believe you?" I asked.
 
"Beautiful one -- you never cease to amuse me. He's an equal
opportunity letch, you know, like me!"
 
"Yes -- you are quite a letch, I'll admit to that! But I really
think we need to get home if for anything to change YOUR
clothes!" I encircled his waist with my arms and kissed him
deeply teasing him with my flicking tongue. "Perhaps when we
arrive in New Orleans may I be allowed to prove to you what a
letch I can be..."
 
"Ahhh... I'm eager to find out!" He put his arms around me and we
went up into the sky. It had been a full night and I was very
tired. I would offer my fur lined coffin to Lestat to share with
me when we got home. The two of us could contemplate the events
of this one evening while exploring other avenues of
entertainment before the sun brought its deep sleep to us. It was
then that I remembered -- we never did get any autographs! Damn!
 
			THE END