By LC Cooper
Words: 57,370. Language: English.
Published: January 19, 2012.
Eugene faces more than the usual challenges of a young teen. He's given a very short time to decide whether or not to become a vampire. He trips into love, but is it too late? What will his stepmother and stepsister say if he joins the forever-damned? The perks are incredibly tempting. Oh, what's a goofy little kinda-vampire to do?
Eugene Elliott Kleinman never intended on becoming a vampire. At the geeky and awkward age of twelve, the boy was preoccupied with typical pre-teen nonsense.
Shuffling home one afternoon with his stepmom's emasculating grocery sack of pads and other feminine products, Eugene tripped over a crack in the sidewalk and wiped out into a tall, sinewy, and ice-cold man. Unfortunately for Eugene, he knocked the man off his feet and right on top of him. The man's fangs plunged into Eugene's neck.
Wiping excess blood off his mouth, the man stood and introduced himself as Maximus, Over Lord of the Damned, Freaks, Atheists, Rejects, and Terrors.
Eugene replied with, "You do realize the acronym for your title is 'Old Fart,' don't you?"
Maximus rolled his eyes, nodded, and sighed, but replied with, "Oops, I crapped my pants. Damned sun does it every time."
Thus began Eugene's rocky and challenging transition from human to vampire. Balancing the benefits of both worlds solves a number of Eugene's social dilemmas, but he must decide, by the time he turns thirteen, which lifestyle he'll forever retain. The choice of eternal life or endearing mortality isn't an easy one for Eugene. Until he makes a decision, he must keep Maximus, the OLD FART, at bay.
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Diary of a Reluctant Vampire
Copyright LC Cooper, 2012 - 2013
Published by LC Cooper at Smashwords
Cover design by Joleene Naylor
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each person. If you are reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return it to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, brands, media, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.
Dear Diary – it was a dark and stormy … toilet bowl. Yep, Mom fixed her nasty old bean burritos for dinner last night. Man, those things blow through me. Ha! That ought to get Aunt Tess hollering (Hi, Auntie!).
I absolutely hate diaries. The only reason I'm writing in you is because my Aunt Tess gave you to me as a Hanukkah gift, and she's coming for a visit in two weeks. So, Mom has me writing three entries per day to impress her sister. Apparently, we Kleinmans lead very boring lives if a highlight of Aunt Tess' visit will be a review of my diary. I think I'll stir things up and sett you on fire in front of her.
Here's something to think about. If vegetarians eat vegetables, what do humanitarians eat? Isn't that a riot! My best friend, Antonio O'Rilley, is hilarious! He freaked out the cafeteria lady with this one. I laughed so hard, milk squirted out my nose, which made Tina Martin vomit. Trifecta!
Got another one for you: What's the last thing that passes through a bug's mind when it smashes into your windshield? It's butt-hole! Hilarious, eh?
You know what? I have like 153 more entries to write before Aunt Tess gets here in two weeks. Why fight reality? There's no way I'm gonna fill you up with a ton of stupid things – my life just isn't that interesting.
Humph, Mom's bellowing again. It's that time of the month – not for me, for Mom. She can't get out of the house much, so I walk to the pharmacy to buy Mom's monthly stock of feminine stuff. How fun is that for a thirteen-year-old guy? Never fun and always embarrassing. Needless to say, I never ask anyone to tag along. I usually hide in bushes and take back streets to avoid being made fun of on my way home from these stupid shopping trips.
For example, last month, I was walking across the pharmacy's parking lot when the wind yanked the sack out of my hands. Boxes of Mom's pads and douches, packs of wipes, tubes of gels and sprays flew everywhere. Naturally, it happened right in front of a van full of my classmates. This kind of thing happens to me so often that I expected it. While the bunch of jocks and babes laughed and pointed at me, I waved and tried coolly to scoop up some of Mom's junk. Most of it made it into the bag, while what didn't, like one box of pads, was annihilated when I kicked it to pieces and stomped what was left into dust. But, at no time was I frustrated or mad, even though I wasted thirty minutes rounding up all of Mom's essentials, as she calls them.