DAYS OF OUR UNLIVES: BEDTIME RITUALS
``Stop! Don`t touch that!`` he bellows, and you`d think I`d be used to it by now, he hollers that or something similar at least a dozen bloody times a day. Christ, he may as well encase his whole foofy apartment in glass. The Vampire in the Bubble. Then maybe he`d be happy. My crime this time? I reached for his alpha-hydroxy-rasberry-almond face scrub. Friggin toff.
``Angel, yer goddamn skin is gonna look the same tomorrow, next week, next year, next effin *millenium*, what is the bleedin purpose of *exfoliating*?``
He snorts. ``You just want to throw out more of my stuff.``
``Well you have pointless stuff!!`` I holler back. ``Look at this shit...`` I pick up various bottles and containers, reading the names with utter disgust. ``Cucumber-Papaya facial cream...nice..if you wanna be a salad...Lemon-butter hand cream...what the fuck is it with you wanting to smell like a fruit anyway? Isn`t it bad enough you *are* one?``
He growls at me, but I am undeterred. A Vampire should not have this kind of stuff in their medicine cabinet. A Vampire shouldn`t have a goddamn medicine cabinet! It`s right unseemly.
``It`s disturbing enough I have to sleep on those hideous paisley sheets. Do I have to be tortured with a barrage of face creams and hair products every time I want a shower?`` I ask, undoing the toothpaste cap, and squeezing some multi-colored minty gelly thing on the brush. Christ. Even his toothpaste is foofy.
``Noone is forcing you to sleep in my bed, Spike. The floor has an utter dearth of paisley, and I`m sure it`s quite comfortable compared to your prior sleeping arrangements, and *For godssake!* Put the top back on the toothpaste tube, how many times do I have to tell you that!?``
Before I can reply, he`s done it already. Now he`s smoothing it out, squeezing it from the bottom. I think I may have to stab him with his own toothbrush. Who knew obsessive-compulsion transcended souls? And why is it I put up with this??
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Why do I put up with him?? He drives
me utterly, completely insane. He is an affront to all things good and
decent. He is soulless, crude, obnoxious, vulgar, and he squeezes the goddamn
toothpaste from the middle!
``Spike,`` I hiss at him, as he begins to use my $50 bottle of skin lotion on his *feet*...``this bathroom is *NOT* big enough for the both of us.``
He just grins. ``Well, mate, last month you were sayin` the same thing about the whole bleedin` city, so I guess we`re makin` progress,`` he quips.
I have no argument for that. I just watch him brush his teeth in silence, wincing when he spits and misses the sink.
He gives me a similar look while he watches me change into nightclothes. It`s not the changing part he minds, it`s the what I`m changing into. I believe he refers to them as ``pansy-assed pajamas.`` He could care less that they`re $200 a pair and imported silk. To him, they could only look good on fire.
Spike doesn't own nightclothes. He has two forms of dress when he slumbers: stark naked and fully clothed, duster, boots and all, depending on the temperature and how tired he was when he went to bed.
I don`t let him sleep in his boots on my bed, so most nights, it`s stark naked. Not that I mind, of course. But if he would put *something* on, maybe he wouldn`t be so cold all the time and have to hog all my covers. As I watch, he`s cocooning himself under every coverlet I own and a few I`ve never seen and would prefer did *not* touch my sheets. For godssake, how can a cold blooded creature want to be so damned warm to go to sleep?
``And what`s with the stinkin` mirror?`` he calls out, his jeering tone muffled under the weight of a thousand linens. ``What kind of Vampire has a *mirror* over their sink?``
``One who has mortal employees, mortal friends, and occasional mortal company, Spike.`` I shoot back, wondering how long it will be before I come home to find a bonfire containing all the products in my bathroom, including said mirror. Why not? He`s already tossed out half my clothing, smashed my stereo equipment with my battle axe and stolen money from my cash drawer. What would one sacrifice to the gods of personal hygeine be in the scheme of things?
``Are ya comin` to bed, ya nonce, or do you have to brush your hair a thousand times?``
I don`t answer, I just climb in next to him, and snarl a bit. He doesn`t look particularly impressed.
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``If you`re setting that goddamn
alarm clock for anytime before noon, I`m going to have to hurt you, pet.``
I warn him.
``Spike, some of us have *jobs*. You know, the things that keep you in blood, cigarettes, mosh pits and hair dye?`` he replies, while setting the clock for 7AM. Arrogant prick.
``Oh, bloody Hell, mate! We`re vampires!
This isn`t natural, all this sleepin` at night, walking around with mortals
durin` the day. It`s makin` me crazy!`` And it is. I think I may have some
sort of undead nervous breakdown and have to burn
everything in his bathroom in order
to make myself feel better.
He sets the clock on the bedside table next to his side of the bed. It used to be on my side, but I threw one too many into the wall, I suppose. Peaches is lucky I didn`t break `em all over his head. Do you have any idea how obnoxious it is to wake up to Debussy? Of course, now that I think about it, it could have been worse. It could have been soddin` Riverdance. I shudder just thinking about it.
``Hey! Quit hoggin` the bed with yer big arse!`` Fuck, he is the most lumbering, hulking thing I swear to gods...
``Spike, you`re smaller than I am. You don`t need as much room.`` he reminds me, with that smug look that makes me want to stab him with a fiery stick. But ya know what, I bet even as a pile of dust he`d be neat. Arrogant and neat.
``Yea, well, I got parts bigger `en yours. Not to sweat it though, luv, not every bloke can be a Clydesdale.`` I sigh contentedly and lean back on my hands.
``Spike, the only reason that part of you looks that big is because the *rest* of you is more Shetland pony.``
``HEY! Watch that shit, mate!`` I growl, and hurl a pillow at his face. Unfortunately,however, it misses, and knocks over a lamp. Ladies and gentleman, mayhem will now ensue....