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2005.10.09

[Jerome_The_Vampire]

[It is my extreme pleasure to present the latest from the romantique and mysterious mind of WTC's own Mimi Jones-Taylor. Prepare for the ultimate enchantment... -G.]

Jerome The Vampire: Gardening
by Mimi Jones-Taylor

            You walk down the dimly lit corridor as the screams from the crowd echo in your ears. Instinctively, you reach for the red shoelace around your neck, sliding your fingers along its bumpy pattern until they reach the laminated smoothness of your pass.
            You lift your hand towards the beady eyes of the beefy security guard in his overly tight yellow golf shirt. He greets you with a stern nod, and opens the door. The room is filled with the most beautiful women you’ve ever seen; women of all ages, sizes and types. All hotted up for the big event. You smile. This is going to be like picking apples in Washington in October.
            You spot her. She is standing alone, aloof, trying to be cooler than everyone else. You know she’d be holding a cigarette if the non-smoking law wasn’t so strictly enforced in this two-bit town. She’s drinking something red, probably one of those popular fruity martinis that are so in vogue these days with girls who think they’re better than everyone else. Her eyeliner is a little too thick for the rest of her makeup. She must have just recently given up her complete goth look.
            A blonde, reeking of high notes of cheap, oily gin, bars you from proceeding along your chosen pathway.
            “Oh my god,” she says, cocking her head to inspect your face, “are you in the band?”
            You smile, and nod, and nudge her out of the way. She’d be too easy, and besides, she’s with a gaggle of blondes. If you took one, you’d have to take the whole group. And that’s just too many to handle.
            Now, you’ve taken two more steps towards the ex-goth, who has yet to spot you. You check your watch. You have twenty minutes left to close the deal.
            “Hey, where’s Trent?”
            A redhead stumbles into you, her curled bangs getting caught in her eyelashes. She would have been a good choice if she didn’t reek of pot. She tears at your shirt to keep herself propped up.
            “Hey, I don’t know,” you say. You nudge her harder than you did the blonde. She collapses on the floor.
            “Asshole!” her friend calls to you and to the attention of the ex-goth. You smile your twisted smile. The timing couldn’t be more perfect.
            “Fucking stoners,” you mutter, just loud enough for ex-Goth Girl to hear. She averts her eyes; a smile crosses the left side of her face.
            “You’re not with them, are you?”
            You’re standing right in front of her, surreptitiously watching the rise and fall of her bosom. Your mouth begins to water, so you swallow hard.
            “Who me?” she asks, looking directly into your eyes.
            “Yeah,” you say casually, “you’re not with them, are you?”
            “Oh no,” she says, shaking her head. Beautiful. She doesn’t have any attitude. How much more perfect could things be?
            “Good. For a second there, I thought I was going to get into trouble.”
            She laughs in a shy, suppressed way.
            “Can I get you another…?”
            “Crantini. Um, sure.”
            You fetch her girly drink and as you hand her the stem you say, “What’s your name?”
            “Candice.”
            Her fingers touch yours as she takes the glass.
            “Nice to meet you, Candice, I’m…”
            “I know who you are,” she says with slight glee. “But I didn’t think you’d be playing tonight.”
            “I know,” you reply, “I had a bit of a scare there. But everything’s going to be okay. I have a new regime that I have to follow.”
            “That must be really difficult if you’re on the road,” she says.
            “Actually, it’s easier out on the road than at home.”
            She has a pretty smile. It will almost be a shame. Almost. You check your watch. You now have ten minutes.
            “Hey,” you say, “do you want to go somewhere quiet and talk? All these crazy chicks are driving me nuts.”
            She nearly chokes on her crantini. You’ve just made her entire universe.
            “Sure,” she says, looking around. Your heart skips a beat.
            “Oh, are you looking for someone?”
            “Uh, no,” she says, resting her drink on the bar.
            She takes your arm, and you lead her out through the back door.
            “This is the way to the bar cellar,” you explain. “Where they keep all the mix. We found it earlier when Jeordie needed a drink.”
            “Is that guy as bad as everyone says he is?”
            Her voice echoes against the clacking of her heels on the cement floor.
            “He’s not nearly as bad as I am.”
            She stops in her steps. You smile your charming smile. Relieved, she laughs at your supposed joke. You guide her into a small, dark room.
            “What is this place?” she asks.
            “Don’t worry, you’re perfectly safe,” you say, closing the door behind you. You lean in to kiss her. She responds with hunger. But not as much as yours. Your lips move past her mouth to the nape of her neck.
            “Oh Jerome,” she moans. She’s ready for you. You can feel her heart beating in time with yours. You can taste the salt of her skin mixing with the cornstarch in her makeup. You can smell her jugular as it rises to the surface to meet your tongue. You look into her eyes. They’re open slightly, looking at you with wanton lust. Your lips open wide, baring your teeth to penetrate her flesh. As she gasps, you cover her mouth with your free hand, pushing hard. She is starting to fight. Pinning her against the wall with your legs, you use your other hand to crush her nose cartilage into her brain. Her body goes limp, but she will be alive just long enough for you to get what you need.
            You never feel the hunger until you can taste the blood, and then it’s as if you haven’t eaten for a thousand years. Her heart’s beat begins to cease. You relax your leg, and she slides down the wall, landing on the floor with a thud.
            Wiping your mouth with the back of your hand, you flick on the light switch. You bang the edge of the shelf on the wall with your fist, once, twice, three times…the shelf tumbles onto her head, crushing what’s left of her skull.
            You smile. You turn off the light, and blow a kiss into the room. You head back towards the party. You can hear Jeordie’s loud voice chatting up the blondes as you reach the door. You use a serviette in your pocket to wipe up the traces on the side of your mouth, and re-enter the party.
            “Hey dude!” It’s that crazy fucker, Aaron. “Did you take your medicine?”
            “That’s what I just finished doing,” you answer.

Posted by Mimi Jones-Taylor in tales_of_terror | Permalink

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Comments

Uh... so, let me get this straight: not only is Jerome a nasty, sexually predatory rockstar asshole in this story, but he is also an EVIL, BLOODSUCKING VAMPIRE?!

Awesome.

I think I just gained a new respect for the romantique and mysterious mind of Mimi.

Posted by: Jane | Oct 10, 2005 2:59:53 PM

Gardening?! Best double entendre ever. Even better than the "bizarre gardening incident" jokes.

Posted by: emerald527 | Oct 10, 2005 3:11:00 PM

Interesting idea. I never would have come up with it haha. I see Jerome too much as a 'gentle giant', or something similar, to put him in that kind of role, but you pulled it off.

Posted by: Kim | Oct 10, 2005 3:11:06 PM

“Hey dude!” It’s that crazy fucker, Aaron. “Did you take your medicine?” “That’s what I just finished doing,” you answer.

Mimi, have I told you lately that I love you?

Posted by: Dierdre | Oct 10, 2005 3:54:27 PM

Seriously, Mimi? GREAT fucking work.

I can't wait until Jerome turns into a NIN-bat and takes out some groupie bitches. FUCKING BADASS.

Posted by: Gabriel | Oct 10, 2005 3:56:48 PM

I love Jerome. Thank you Mimi for giving him some TLC.

:)

Posted by: bex | Oct 11, 2005 5:44:57 AM

Merci tout le monde for all of your kind words. I always find les vampires to be quite the romantique, n'est-ce pas? There is a part two coming as well, which I hope you enjoy, and I may include a pastry just to keep you plein d'amour! :)

Posted by: Mimi | Oct 11, 2005 8:21:11 AM

Um, Bex? "TLC"?

BARF!

Mimi, I was just going to say: there aren't enough pastries in this story. Can Jerome the Vampire enjoy a nice pain au chocolat, or is that not part of his vampiric dietary regimen?

Posted by: Jane | Oct 11, 2005 9:10:57 AM

Ah, Mimi, I agree, I find vampires very romantic.
:)


:)

Posted by: bex | Oct 11, 2005 9:37:56 AM

OMGoth!!!

Keep up the good work, Mimi. It's Goth-Tastic!

kisses,

denise

Posted by: denise | Oct 11, 2005 2:39:20 PM

Tonight I had a wonderful apfelstrudel with one of my very best friends, and I thought of you, Mimi...ah, the healing powers of Austrian pastry!

Please continue your tale of lust and cartilage-crunching. Would never have suspected it of dear Jerome, but then, you know, it's always the quiet ones...

Posted by: maise | Oct 11, 2005 7:43:44 PM

Oh thank God, have checked myspace and have confirmed that I do NOT appear in the Chicago video. I'm very camera-shy and was halfway afraid that Rob would have snuck up behind my short ass to film me rocking out like a total dork.

I'm also pleased that the Chicago video featured more actual performance and less "Whoooooo!"

Posted by: maise | Oct 11, 2005 7:54:07 PM

Oh, Maise, I beg to differ! The "NIN-FOREVER!" tattooed total dipshits?

Aside from, the drumstick incident, I think this one featured the lamest retards yet.

Posted by: Dierdre | Oct 11, 2005 10:24:14 PM

Okay, so maybe I was just *really* distracted by footage of Trent at the soundcheck.

The one who had a birthday seemed quite sensible, though.

But yeah, I will agree...I soooooo don't need to see the other fans. I'm not making any claim that I would be any less lame on camera, but Rob and Co. should get a more accurate picture of the true desires of their market base. More band. Less fans.


Posted by: maise | Oct 11, 2005 11:48:04 PM

If Rob were to catch me on that camera, he would only catch the big, blissed-out smile of pure, unadulterated pleasure that always accompanies my moments in the proverbial sun of the holy and the divine as bodied forth by Trent "Sparklepants" Reznor.

However, as much as I adore him and his band, I do not have it permanently inked to my fucking skin. I know Gabriel disagrees, but that is just wrong.

Posted by: Dierdre | Oct 12, 2005 1:22:07 AM

Yeah, I have the NIN logo tattooed on my back. Yes I got it when I was 19. YES IT SEEMED LIKE A GOOD IDEA AT THE TIME.

Don't be throwing stones, you former-fan!

Posted by: Gabriel | Oct 12, 2005 1:30:40 AM

Kiddo, that's the last time I lend you my Anne Rice novels. You said it was to get back in touch with NOLA. I had no idea, sis, that you were having stalker fantasies about Jerome. I'm really scared (and not in the "oooh vampires scary" way but in the "my sister's a fucking freak" way) to see the next installment. Is there a next installment? Yeah, and what Jane says -- where's the food for the rest of us? Don't say it's Aaron...

Posted by: Buttercup J. | Oct 12, 2005 5:53:05 AM

lol...NIN tattoos...somewhere Nelson from "The Simpsons" is doing that "ha ha" thing he does so well.

Anne Rice novels...you kids are killing me today!

I like Jerome vampire fanfic. Just as long as Buffy doesn't wind up becoming involved. I can't do Buffy fanfic, sorry.

Posted by: maise | Oct 12, 2005 7:18:01 AM

I hope Jerome gets around to sucking "that crazy fucker, Aaron" BONE FUCKING DRY at some point in this saga.

That would be aces.

Posted by: Jane | Oct 12, 2005 7:21:29 AM

Gabriel, I'm not going to dignify that bullshit with an answer. The very notion of you throwing the "former fan" stone at me, is totally ludicrous in view of all the hating on Trent you do around here.

As for me, I have always loved him, but times change, and Michel deserves all of my amorous attention. Trent and I have had some truly scrumptious times together, and personally, I credit his erect nipple with bringing Michel and I together, but let's face it: he never answers my love letters.

And Gabriel, your tattoo is fucking gay. Just like you.

Posted by: Dierdre | Oct 12, 2005 7:33:12 AM

Damn the fickle internet today! Anyway, my pithy and profound response to Dierdre's response before it fell into limbo was that requited love is REALLY nice. Pretty addicting, actually.

Posted by: maise | Oct 12, 2005 8:53:29 AM

My tattoo just proves how HARD I am.

But I really wish other gothlameo fans wouldn't show theirs on videos. Gives my dope shit a bad name.

Posted by: Gabriel | Oct 12, 2005 8:10:03 PM

My question, Gabriel, is do you have any more tattoos? Like some teardrops to represent that time you stuck that guy with a shiv behind bars?

Posted by: maise | Oct 13, 2005 8:07:23 AM

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