Funk's the Chocolate Loving Vamp

Funk’s the Chocolate Loving Vamp

  By Jamie Ott

  Copyright 2011 Jamie Ott. All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used without written permission.

  Passionate Prose Industries

  ISBN-13: 978-0615544908

  ISBN-10: 0615544908 

  For all inquiries, please contact [email protected].

  Special thanks to the real Layton Funk.

  Sting of Betrayal

  Chapter 1

  Saturday at three ‘o’clock his dad was supposed to pick him and his sister up so they could spend some time together. It was, now, four ‘o’ clock.

  Layton lay on his belly in the grass as he rolled marbles over ants in his mother’s flowerbed. They franticly scurried about with little specks of white on their backs. The little glass balls neither killed nor squashed the tough little bugs. He was vaguely amused by this, but quickly tired.

  He rolled onto his back, looked up at the blue sky and sighed.

  What a boring day.

  His dad was supposed to take him and his sister out for pizza and miniature golf, but as usual, he canceled. Not that he was actually looking forward to spending time with Dad, but he was just so bored. He’d have done anything to get out of the house.

  Now, his sister was off with her friends, his mom was at work, and he was home alone again.

  School had been out nearly two weeks, and all he’d done is sit and simmer in the grueling summer heat. No fun days at the water park, backyard barbeques or crafts at camp, like he used to have. Since his parents split, finances were tighter, or so his mother explained.

  She told him not to leave the house that day. Yet, there he was, lifting the silver latch of the old gate, and leaving the backyard.

  He headed down to Priddy Street where his best friend, Rick, lived.

  As he walked, feelings of anger, pride, and loneliness battled inside him. On one hand, he never wanted to talk to Rick again, but on the other, it sucked not having any friends that summer. It was shameful that he was willing to simply forget the way he treated him, but now that school was over, maybe Rick would be different. Maybe he’d be kinder.

  Layton tried to forget that last week’s incident at school. Rick’s new friends threw handfuls of mashed potatoes at him as he walked past their table in the cafeteria. Rick laughed the loudest. And despite the humiliation of being picked on, it was his laugh that played itself over and over in his mind.

  Things would be better if his parents would let him throw away his stupid glasses and put some gel in his frizzy blond hair. Maybe he wasn’t as cute as Jeff Barley, the one who seemed to like making fun of him the most, but he had a girlfriend once.

  Cindy was a cute little brunette who always wore pretty barrettes in her hair. She had the shiniest lips. All the boys at school wanted her, and she was his until Jeff shorted him in front of the entire school. Cindy was too embarrassed to be seen with Layton, so she never spoke to him again.

  “Hey, Funk, show us your under pants!” he recalled.

  It wasn’t so bad, really, the kids knowing he wore underpants. After all, everybody wore them. He just wished he hadn’t picked out the Superman tighties that day.

  Fortunately, that stunt’s resulting torment died down. Jeff, eventually, moved on to bigger, better insults as well as methods of torture: like ripping up his homework so he couldn’t turn it in, or stabbing him in the buttocks with a pen.

  Layton wasn’t a total weakling though. He tried to stand up for himself once. Standing next to Rick, waiting in line for lunch was when Jeff decided it’d be funny to pour the contents of his plastic Kool Aid on his head. Angry, he turned and pushed him hard, but his buddies, fraternal twins, John and Brad Miller, caught him before he fell to the ground. They lifted Jeff back to his feet. Then he sent a nasty right hook at his face.

  The teachers took them both to the principal’s office, and then sent them home for the day.

  His hair retained a reddish glow because he didn’t rinse out the Kool Aid immediately, and the next day, everyone had something new to laugh at. But even worse than the humiliation was the hurt of being betrayed, because that was the day Rick turned on him.

  He walked with his head down to avoid the hot glare of the sun. When he was about to cross the street, he looked up to make sure no cars were coming. Instead, what he saw, just up ahead, made him freeze.

  Rick lived in a yellow house in the middle of the next block, and he already had company. There was Rick, Jeff, and the two twin brothers, John and Brad, all splashing and laughing as they took turns belly sliding on a water mat on Rick’s front lawn. His dad stood over a charcoal grill turning meat.

  Feeling hurt, Layton turned around and walked, fast, hoping they wouldn’t see him.

  Shame that he thought, even for a moment, that he and Rick could be friends for the summer made his flesh feel even hotter than the sun.

  Yet, at the same instant he felt shame, pure rage made him want to hurt Rick. To make him feel pain the way he did at that moment. He would have liked to have punched him in the face a million times.

  He walked back inside his plain white house on the corner. In his room, he threw himself on the bed and stared at his Harry Potter posters until he fell asleep.

  ~~~

  “Layton! Dinner’s here!” his sister, Heather, called from the living room.

  Feeling even worse than when he laid down, he crawled out of bed, and dragged his feet across the carpet.

  In the living room, a large pizza sat on the coffee table.

  “We rented the Boy Who Cried Wolf,” said his mother.

  She walked over and ruffed up his curly fro. Looking down at him, she asked, “Is anything wrong? How was your last week of fourth grade?”

  “We’ve been out nearly two weeks. Of course, you forgot, right? I mean, you haven’t even asked to see my report card.”

  “That’s because she doesn’t care about you, geek-dweeby,” said Heather.

  “Shut up, hoe.”

  His mother’s mouth dropped in a silent “O.” She set the plates, in her arm, on the coffee table, leaned over and slapped him.

  “Watch your mouth!” she said, pointing her finger in his face.

  Layton was furious. He ran back to his room where he slammed the door, as hard as he could.

  Laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, he wondered to himself why everyone always treated him like crap? Worse, why wasn’t he allowed to treat everyone like crap back? It wasn’t fair. Kids bullied him at school, yet if he defended himself, he was always punished. It didn’t make sense. Was there no one in the world who loved him? Would no one stand up for him?

  Moments later, his mother knocked on the door and entered with a plate of pizza and a soda.

  “I’m sorry,” she said as she set the food on the nightstand next to his bed. “You know I hate that word. Don’t say it anymore. I don’t care what your sister says to rile you.”

  She leaned over and kissed and hugged him. “Now I want you to eat your dinner, and then I want you to brush your teeth and go to bed.”

  Layton tried to do as she said. Instead, he tossed and turned for an hour. He tried to clear his mind and relax, like the school nurse said, but he was too angry.

  He sat up and turned on the television his mother put in his room.

  Since he was a child, he was prone to fits of insomnia. The doctor said it was stress and prescribed pills, but his mother was against medication, except for when legitimately sick. So she put an old television in his room. It was an old thirteen inch that wasn’t even compatible with digital signals. But it still got channels 3, 6, and 9. That was okay, thou
gh, because cartoons were on 3 in the mornings, and there were always movies on 9, albeit black and white.

  Layton loved the old movies because they were certain to help him sleep. In fact, it was already working.

  His eyes lids blinked more and more frequently.

  In between heavy blinks, some ugly old face came into view. His eyes were large and angry looking. The dimple in his chin was huge. Seeing him made Layton’s heart beat harder.

  His lids slid down, only letting in a bit of light from the television.

  He jumped when a man on the screen screamed.

  A guy in a suit was being attacked by a ring of women in white, flowing nightgowns. Fortunately, the man with the terrible eyes flung his cape, and the women scattered, whining like cats.

  Suddenly, one of the women in nightgowns was in a park, handing out chocolate bars to kids.

  Layton’s eyes closed again, but he didn’t realize he was dreaming this time.

  He reached out for a chocolate bar, but the woman dropped it to the ground, pulled him into her and bit him, deeply, on the neck.

  Layton struggled to get away, but she was too strong.

  When the woman released him, he turned into a powerful man that looked just like the one in the movie. He could fly, too!

  Everyone feared him, including Rick.

  They all called him Dracula.

  ~~~

  Next morning was Sunday. Layton got up and groggily walked into the kitchen to get some cereal.

  His mother stood over the counter, looking through her purse.

  “Layton,” she said. “I need you to go to the store today.”

  “Oh, mom! Why do I always have to go? Why can’t you send Heather?”

  “She’s gone to her friend’s house already. Besides, I don’t want you in the house all day alone. You need to get some fresh air and a walk.”

  She opened her wallet.

  “Here’s twenty dollars. I want you to get cereal, ravioli and paper towels, and then you can get something sweet for yourself.”

  She was right. The rest of the day, he lounged lazily about the house. Nothing was on television. He couldn’t have been more bored or depressed.

  He put off walking to the store for as long as he could because the heat peaked that day. When it was nearly five ‘o’ clock, he finally set out.

  Outside, he hopped from foot to foot and moaned, as the heat from the ground radiated through his shoes, painfully burning his feet.

  The worse part about walking to the store was that he’d have to pass Rick’s house, and he didn’t want to be seen. So this time, he walked through an alley right behind Rick’s house.

  He veered right into a clearing and made another right that led him down the alley.

  Layton saw a house ahead that had full bloomed rose bushes along a chain link fence. The flowers towered two feet above his head.

  In the very next yard, there was a black lab with a long tongue that watched him approach.

  Layton stopped for a moment to look at the house that belonged to the yard with the rose bushes. It was an old building with broken windows and a large hole in the door, and chunks missing from various parts of the walls. He jumped when, unexpectedly, he saw a woman with a feather in a baseball hat digging around in the dirt.

  “Hello,” said the woman, looking up and wiping her forehead with the back of her hand.

  “Is that your house?”

  “No, but it’s been condemned, so I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. I’m just using the yard to grow flowers.”

  “Why?”

  “I need extra cash. Sometimes, kids come over and play in the house, though. I can tell they’ve been messing with my flowers. You wouldn’t happen to be one of these kids?”

  “No, I would never.”

  “Good.”

  She leant over and continued her digging.

  The black lab in the next yard walked up, stood on its rear and put its legs on the fence. It whined for Layton to pet him.

  “That’s Mad Dog.”

  “Oh,” he said. He took a moment, walked over and stroked his head. “Well, I’d better be going. Nice to meet you.”

  “You, too.”

 

  Layton continued along the alleyway. Rick’s backyard was only two houses up from the rose bushes. From the backyard, he heard scraping noises, as if someone were raking leaves.

  He almost walked past, but then he heard voices.

  “Aww Mom! I don’t want to invite him!”

  Layton knew that voice. He didn’t want to hear anymore, so he kept on.

  Every year about that time, Layton would get an invitation to Rick’s birthday party. He supposed he wouldn’t be getting one that year.

  A few minutes later, he was relieved to feel the air conditioned store where he got the ravioli, and what else was he supposed to get?

  He walked over into the cereal aisle and looked at all the prices. His mother always complained that it was so expensive. “Five dollars for a little box,” but Layton wanted his favorite: Count Chocula.

  The box was brown with a wide eyed, long chinned vampire who, so delightedly, poured milk into a bowl of cereal. With the way he was feeling, he needed a “pick me up” as Dad always said. He pulled the box from the shelf knowing what his mother would say, later.

  He wandered over to the candy section in which there were two kids laughing and playing with candy trucks. They were large gummies shaped like semis, and boxed in painted cardboard.

  Immediately, he recognized the two boys from school. They were in the classroom next to his.

  “Cool trucks,” Layton said, trying to be friendly.

  “Get away glass face,” said the one with freckles.

  “Yeah, you’re ugly,” said a dark haired boy.

  Taken aback, Layton walked out of the store without paying for the items. What was it about him that made kids want to pick on him? His mother said he needed confidence, but why would people pick on someone for not having confidence?

  And really, what was confidence anyway? How was he supposed to get it? Was not saying ‘hello’ a form of confidence?

  Suddenly, the store’s proprietor approached him, yelling at the top of his lungs. Layton apologized and gave him the $20, and then walked off.

  “Waait,” said the man.

  Layton didn’t want to wait. He wanted to get far, far away.

  Walking back through the alleyway, he came across Mad Dog again. Layton stopped and petted him for a moment.

  The woman from the rose bush closed the gate to the condemned house.

  “Are you alright?” she asked. “You look kind of down.”

  Layton didn’t say anything as he continued to pet the dog.

  “Why don’t you come in for a moment and have a soda. Come on,” she opened the gate right next to the yard with the rose bushes. It was her side of the property. “My name’s Molly.”

  He followed her inside. She pulled off her ball cap and laid it on the living room table.

  Molly had long curly medium brown hair and tan skin.

  “Take a seat.”

  Layton did as she suggested. Mad Dog followed him to the couch, and laid his head in Layton’s lap.

  “My nephews are coming over in a bit. Their names are Billy and Bob. Bob’s more your age, and Billy’s a little bit older than you. My sister and I want to go shopping at the Planks Mall. They get really bored, but maybe you guys can hang out and watch some movies? Mind you, the neighbor might check in with you from time to time. He’s a good friend of mine.”

  “Sure,” said Layton. “I’d love to hang out. It’s so boring at home alone.”

  “So I guess you and Rick aren’t friends anymore?”

  “How do you know about us?”

  “I used to see you over there, playing, before they put up the fence.”

  Layton took a sip of cola.

  “Oh, look. Chasing’s on.”

 
She sat down in the chair opposite the couch.

  Layton remained still in his seat as they watched the police car chase a bank robber around a corner.

  “Well, I guess I should go. My mom will be back from work soon. I’ll ask her if I can come back and hang out.”

  “Yeah, okay. Just come on by, anytime, tonight. Apparently, they’re at the rental store. I know they wanted to watch Fantasmo and Trixter. My nephews will be here, alone, most of the evening, but Billy’s twelve and very responsible.”

  “Okay, thanks Molly.”

  Layton walked home in the cooling twilight. Up the driveway, his mother’s car was already parked.

  “Where have you been?”

  “I went to the store, and then this woman named Molly invited me to hang out with her nephews and watch movies. Can I go?”

  “I don’t know who this Molly is. Until I meet her, you can’t go over there.”

  “But she’s real nice, and she thinks her nephew and I will get along. Why don’t we go over there and you can meet her? I’m so bored and I’m sick of not having any friends. It’s been two weeks and I’ve spent every day alone.”

  “I’m too tired. Wash up and make yourself some dinner.”

  She went and sat on the couch.

  “Where’s Heather? How come she gets to go out all the time?”

  “I don’t know where she’s at, but she’s older than you.”

  She flipped through television channels.

  “So you trust her but not me? I’m way more responsible than she is.”

  “When you prove that to me, then we can talk.”

 

  Layton shut his mouth, went in his room and shut the door. He didn’t want to argue further because he was very close to telling her what he really knew about Heather, which was she hadn’t even been going over to Charlotte’s, her best friend’s, house to hang out at all. She’d been going to the bald spot where there was a river hidden by a line of trees. Her friends would sit on the bank and do things that they weren’t supposed to.

  He was always torn between wanting to get Heather into trouble and the relief he got from her being gone a lot. In the end, he decided her absence was far more valuable.