This is an original work of fiction written under the pseudonym Mac O'Roni. All rights reserved. Please do not copy or archive without the author's express permission.



Dead Air

Mac O'Roni


     “Well, what’s the sex like?”
    “Pardon me?”
     “Come on, what’s it like? Do you do it often? Use any props? Any fetishes?”
     “Why is that something you feel we should talk about?”
     “Hey, people want to know this stuff. It keeps the ratings up.”
     “It’s none of your business. Or theirs.”
     “Are you impotent?”
     “What?”
     “You are, aren’t you? You can’t get it up, and so you get defensive about it.”
     “I am not impotent. I feel you are crossing some very definite lines, here. I did not agree to this interview to talk about my sex life.”
     “Come on, everybody talks about their sex lives these days. This is the twenty-first century, Dracula, in case you’ve forgotten.”
     “I have not forgotten. And don’t call me Dracula.”
     “Just tell us what you use—chains, leather, IV bottles—do you bite your partners during sex, or only after?”
     “I do not feed from my partners during or after sex, unless they want me to. I am a vampire, not a rapist.”
     “So you don’t take what they don’t put out?”
     “Your words, not mine.”
     “Do many of them let you…feed on them?”
     “I do not feed on them. A werewolf feeds on someone. A disease feeds on someone. I feed from them. And yes, many of them do agree to let me drink of their blood. It’s part of the experience for them.”
     “The sexual experience?”
     “The vampire experience. To them, it’s rather like having a celebrity sign an autograph on an intimate body part.”
     “Like what? Tits?”
     “Throats.”
     “Not a breast man?”
     “I prefer to drink where life bubbles closest to the surface.”
     “If I were a vampire, I’d drink right from the old mommy spout.”
     “If you were a vampire, you’d have been ash-staked a long time ago. Let me give you a word of advice; women don’t like it when you call it ‘the old mommy spout’ any more than they’d like being bitten there.”
     “Hey, suck my jack handle. Oh wait, you just might, now wouldn’t you?”
     “I beg your pardon?”
     “You ever fed on a guy before?”
     “On occasion, when food was scarce—”
     “You get off on it?”
     “What?”
     “Are you a friend of Dorothy?”
     “A friend of whom?”
     “Do you fly a rainbow flag? Are you a butt pirate? Do you swing both directions?”
     “Mr. Stein, I find this tasteless wordplay and innuendo to be highly offensive—”
     “Do you like to suck the root?”
     “Mr. Stein, I’m warning you—”
     “Do you go to bars and ask guys if you can push in their stool?”
     “That does it. I’m only doing the world a favor.”
     Strange sounds, and what might have been a scream, then silence.
     “Folks, this is Marv Adelman, your announcer, speaking. The Howie Stein Show is experiencing difficulties of a…a technical nature, and will be taken off the air at this time. Goodnight, folks.”



Home