The Stand Up for Blogophilia 23.6

Ron James

The MC at the comedy club skips out onto the stage. “Our last stand up for the evening will be out in a minute. He’ll introduce himself.” The emcee, visibly shaking, races to the stage door, flings it open, disappears and the door bangs shut.

A man saunters into the spot light, glances over his shoulder at the slammed door, bewildered, he  shakes his head, mutters some unintelligible words, places a stool centre stage and a drink on a small table then takes the mic, steps to the front and smiles at the audience.

“Hello. I am Alan. I am 200 years old. I am a vampire.

“The name I was given at birth was .. a very ordinary and forgettable name. And not a good one to be lit up on a marquee.

“Yes just Alan. What?” He asks as his gaze scans the audience. “Alan’s no worse a name for a vampire than Edward, or Eric, or Bill for that matter. Yes, only one name ya know, like Prince, or Sting, or …umm… Dracula.

“Show business runs in my blood. My first meal was a famous actress. Ever since, I’ve had this need to entertain people.

“I’m single by the way so if any of you lovely ladies want to meet up for one singular sensation I’ll be in the alley after the show.” He smiles out to the people in front of him with what he hopes is an inviting expression.

“I passed an unremarkable life in… well it doesn’t matter where. I’m here now.“ He sends a big grin out to his fans, or so he hopes they are his fans.  “Until the night my best friend came out of the closet. No, no he wasn’t gay— he was a vampire and he initiated me into the life style. Everything’s a ‘life style’ these days right? He’s gone now. He couldn’t stay away from the beach.

“I can’t tan so I go to the beach only at night, but by then the snack bar is unavailable.”   He gestured in a ‘what can one do’ motion.

“I figured I’d come out as a vampire comedian. All sorts of minorities are doing stand up now, so maybe you’re ready for one of us—  inclusion is all the rage right, right?” His eyebrows rose as if he sought an answer from the crowd.

Alan sits on the stool holding the mic in one hand and sips from a glass in his other one. “Yes it is my preferred food,” he says holding the glass up, “hemoglobin. But I brought my own so no need to check your partner’s neck.”

The comedian looks around the stage, takes a few steps downstage and peers into the audience holding his hands to his eyes against the bright lights.  “This place feels like an abandoned boathouse. Well I’ve been in worse.

“Reminds me of an old joke.  How do vampires cross the sea?

In blood vessels.”

Groans from the spectators.  “Sorry that joke is older than I am  but I couldn’t resist. I have issues with impulse control.”  He paces as he speaks.

“Vampire jokes have really evolved   It wasn’t something  one would kid about 200 years ago.”

“What’s with this goth dressing the kids are doing? All black and black make up— vamp wannabes? Look at me. I’m dressed in jeans and a shirt and tie. Professional like — I just want to blend in.

“Ever ponder why vampires are so popular now? Cause we’re out,” he whispers loudly, molding his hands around his mouth. “We’ve been out since Anne Rice outed us—  blame her!”

A woman in the audience shouts out a question. “What’s that?” The woman repeats the question. “No lady I don’t turn into a bat, that’s a myth.

“And speaking of myths. While we’re hot stuff now especially in romance novels WE DO NOT SPARKLE! Whoever wrote that we do is sick. Look at me,” and he traces himself from head to waist, “see, no sparkles anywhere.”

“Just leave us to be what we are, if something ain’t baroque don’t fix it, certainly not with sparkles which sounds like sprinkles, something a kid would put on ice cream. Ah Fugue it and he wanderers upstage  in disgust.

Alan  moves to centre stage and perches on the stool. “Speaking of kids, If I had kids I’d tell them not to play with their food.

“One thing vampire children have to be taught early on is, don’t run with a wooden stake.

“The technology today is amazing. I love computers and iphones but some of my brethren haven’t taken to it much, especially the older ones. My buddy Bob is about 2,000 years undead. He insists he was the inspiration to Mel Brooks. But they don’t take well to new fangled ideas. They still go around with their capes and slicked back hair. Not like me, the thoroughly modern vampire,” and he prances across the stage.

“But my favourite new thing is microwaves. If you get your food directly from the source, that’s fine, it’s nice and warm and tangy. These days if a vamp wants to be practical and not snack on small animals, the blood bank is the grocery store of choice. And another reason I don’t shop at conventional supermarkets.

Clean up on aisle four would take on an entirely new meaning….

“Where was I? I’m just so excited to be here today.

He takes  sip from  glass.

“So blood banks— the stuff is cold! Cold blood! We don’t do ‘iced cap’ we want it warm like an Englishman takes his beer, so we get our jars and stick ‘em in the microwave—  just a few seconds, swirl it on the tongue, makes all the difference.  Mmm good,” and he smacks his lips.

“What?” Puts hand over ear as if listening. “You want more jokes? Of course, it’s why I’m here, not to natter on about my personal problems. And it’s why you paid the big bucks.

“Three vampires walk into a bar. The first one says, “I’ll have a pint of blood.

The second one says, “I’ll have one, too,

The third one says, “I’ll have a pint of plasma.

The bartender says, “So, that’ll be two Bloods and a Blood Lite?”

Recently I decided I needed a new bed. I’m claustrophobic.  Stan, down at the local funeral home couldn’t understand why I wanted a window and he refused to put one in. So I looked in the yellow pages (great invention.200 years ago  we had nothing like it ) under windows and doors. Found someone who agreed to put the window in.  He did a good job, didn’t ask questions,  took his payment and walked away shaking his head and muttering that no one would believe him.

So, does anyone know where I can get a set of new drapes?”

ba dum-tshh

That’s it. I’m done. Remember ladies — the alley. Hope to see a few of you there. And with a wink and a smirk he dashes off the stage.

***

written for

Blogophilia Week 23.6 – One Singular Sensation

Bonus Points:

(Hard, 2 pts):   Mention a 17th Century artwork*

(Easy, 1 pt):   Incorporate an abandoned boathouse

*for the 17 century I used baroque which was the period and fugue which is a musical art form