Memoirs of a Vampire: Go for the Goal

By J. M. Allison

Over the centuries I’ve had brief spells where I’ve considered children adorable. But such misconceptions can be very dangerous. My only excuse, I’d caught a March madness.

“Those are the official rules. Any questions?” I snapped the NBA rulebook closed and stared down at the children. Fourteen wide eyes stared back at me.

The tallest boy scratched his nose. “How old are you?”

“Old enough I’m not required to answer. Now, select a ball and run to the far line and back.” I moved to stand at the edge of the court to supervise their progress.

“Are we supposed to dribble?” a small girl with pigtails quipped.

“Yes, you may dribble if you wish.”

“Are we supposed to shoot when we get back?” a boy with dark hair and olive skin asked.

“Yes, you may shoot a goal after your run.”

“It’s called a basket not a goal,” the tall boy corrected. “Goals are for hockey and soccer. Baseball has runs and football has—”

“Thank you.” Figures I would end up with a walking sports encyclopedia. “You can start running now.” I blew my whistle for emphasis. Five children raced away across the floor.

“Excuse me, Mr. B?”

Sticky fingers touched my hand, and I looked down to discover a walking mess of peanut butter and jelly.

“I think I might need to wash my hands.” The boy pressed a grape-coated ball into my arms and ran for the restrooms.

“Be sure to clean your face, arms, ears, and uniform too!” I called after him.

I felt a small tug on the back of my jacket. Turning, I nearly collided with the girl. She stood directly below me, craning her neck to make eye contact.

“Yes?”

“I think I need the potty.” Her little voice whispered.

I glanced at the clock. Rehearsal ended in seven minutes.

“Your mother will be here very soon to retrieve you. Can’t you wait until then?”

She shook her head, the sprout of feathery hair shooting from the top of her head waving like a swarm of insects.

I glanced about for Victor, my coaching assistant. I’d agreed to coaching as a personal favor to him. And now when I needed him, he’d disappeared.

I disdained the unnecessary use of vampiric powers, and I had a strict rule against using them on children, but desperate times called for desperate measures. I looked deep into the child’s eyes and released the aura that would make a person susceptible to my will.

“You do not need to go potty.” I let the hypnotic tone saturate my voice as I impressed the thought into her mind. “You are a big girl, and you can hold it until your mother arrives.” I nodded in emphasis. She copied the movement. “Good girl.” I patted her head and turned back to the other children lobbing their balls aimlessly at the net dangling several feet above their heads.

She continued to nod. “I still have to go potty.”

I ground my teeth together. Vampiric suggestion was, regrettably, unreliable on those below the age of six.

A stray ball bounced off one child’s face, sending him into instant sobs. Blood dribbled from his nose. I held a small towel out to the child, who proceeded to wipe his nose with the corner of his shirt.

I stifled a groan, resigning myself to enduring the smell for the rest of practice.

“Remember to aim your throws. We aim for the basket, not each other’s hea—”

Wham! A ball ricocheted off the back of my head.

“Oops!” The offending child leapt behind his much tinier friend.

“I still have to go potty,” the tot beside me chirped. “And why did your voice sound all funny? Do you have a senior problem? My mom’s voice gets all funny when she has a senior problem. She says her nose gets all stuffy, and she sounds funny. Like you.”

“Your mother has a sinus problem,” I corrected, “and I do not suffer from such a thing.”

“Do you like milk?” she asked. “We have a new kitty, and he drinks milk. His name is McFluffy, but Daddy always calls him McFleabitten.”

“That’s wonderful,” I mumbled, taking a large step away from the chattering child. She followed, continuing to yammer. I took another step away from her. Again, she followed, now pontificating about her stuffed bear or some such thing.

I moved down the court, the child insistently keeping pace. She was more persistent than a berserker midbattle. I focused on the four children on the court.

Wait, four? I was missing one. No two? How many children did I start this lesson with?

“Coach B?” a small voice interrupted my thoughts.

“Yes?” I turned toward him.

“Do we get to practice drills all week?”

“All week?” I echoed.

“Indeed!” Victor’s cheerful voice exclaimed at my side.

I glared at him. He’d failed to mention this was a week-long obligation. I made a mental note to refuse any activity Victor suggested involving children over the next few centuries.

“All right kids,” Victor called, “splendid job today. Coach B and I are very pleased with your progress.”

“But you just read the rules and I already knew those,” Sports Encyclopedia complained.

“Yes,” countered Victor, “but now we all know them. Dismissed!” Victor gave a wave and sent the tykes running to waiting parents.

I grabbed his arm. “It appears you omitted a few pertinent details of this arrangement, Victor.”

He flashed me an easygoing smile. “Relax Jean Luc. It’s only one week. Give it a day or two, and the children will love you!” He gave a cocky grin and sauntered off toward the locker rooms.

I looked at the mess of equipment and contemplated if I could survive another four days with sticky and obnoxious children. If I survived this week, Victor was going to owe me. Big time. And I intended to collect. With interest! Surely the second day would be easier than the first.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

J. M. Allison, more commonly addressed as Lisa, or Mommommommom, grew up captivated by the magic and wonder of fairy tales. She finds daily adventure in raising four small humans, teaching musical theatre and dance, sewing, drawing, cosplaying, writing, and reading. Stories can communicate so many things, and she hopes her stories will inspire others to courageously live their own adventures or at least bring a little happiness into their humdrum lives.

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