It all happened because we got bitten by an old man

A part two to my story “It all happened because Carson rammed into a tree”, which was also a collaboration between myself and my friend NabilaTheGreat InTheCorner. We haven’t talked in a while due to her moving to another country and school in general. This was also written in a bit of a rush, so if you see any mistakes please ignore them. Anyways, this is my take on part two, enjoy!

So here I was, once again waiting on Carson, my happy-go-lucky, overly optimistic, and always hungry friend, once again late to pick me up from my job since he was the one who often took the golf cart we shared to work. 

It was late at night, since we both worked the night shift, and it was also raining, so suffice to say that when a stupidly neon green golf cart decided to murder my eyeballs I wasn’t in a pleasant mood. One thing that I never thought twice about now however was the rain, which sure, was a mild inconvenience would have me sulking the whole day in the past. Now, it wasn’t much of a concern to me anymore. Of course, my friend turning up late was still the main reason for my sour mood. Why this change in opinion you may ask? Well, one, it was good for the apples in the orchard, and two.. Well, it might be easier to tell you the story. 

Beginning from where we left off last time, Carson had invited me to go apple picking with him, but had turned up late as always in a golf cart. A bright, bordering neon green golf cart that was probably part of a large behind the scenes scheme to blind occupants and leave them dependent on the company for the rest of their lives, but then again that’s just my theory.

Here, Carson decided to interrupt me and tell me even more ridiculous stuff.

“Hey c’mon Jerry! It’s amazingly green, plus, your contacts are probably preventing you from admiring the true beauty of the colour green.”

He turned to me and flashed a smile, red eyes much too focused on me when they should’ve been on the road. I sighed, Carson was too naive with our situation at hand, and despite wanting to wait until we were home to pop the contacts off, my eyes were tired and so I relented and carefully eased them off of my eyes. Red met red, and he giggled childishly before remarking

“See, you seem much more relaxed with them off!”

If you haven’t started asking, yes. We are vampires. When, where, how, and why we came to this you may ask? Well, let me continue;

When we reached the apple orchard (which was actually spelled WFICCNE TC IHF BECT URLHARD FAYN UCI’LI EUFR SEF instead of WELCOME TO THE BEST ORCHARD FARM YOU’LL EVER SEE), Carson was being Carson and he crashed the stupidly bright green golf cart into a stupidly placed tree. We had gone separate ways for help. I decided to go to a small house, which could only be described at best as a hut and at worst a shack a while away from the tree we had crashed into, which Carson had told me a seemingly ridiculous story about (It’s also apparently called Larry’s Hut) the story goes as such:

It started on a leisurely Thursday morning, not unlike this one when Larry decided to go apple picking by himself in his Uncle’s apple orchard. His uncle was away on a holiday, and so Larry took his chance to get some free apples from his orchard. It was told that he picked two basketfuls of apples before he heard it, a voice calling out to him-

Here I had stopped him to laugh at the fact he really believed I would pay attention and listen to a story which had a voice calling to a guy. He had shushed me however, and continued.

It was saying his name, over and over again. Larry, Larry, Larry, came to the voice. Larry was curious and reckless, so he tried to find the source of the voice, and he came upon an old cottage that was overgrown with vines. Larry hadn’t seen this the last time he'd been to his uncle's orchard, so he entered it. And he never came out again. Later it was told that his uncle had died within the day he had returned to his orchard.

Of course I didn’t listen and we split ways. To cut it short, he was enchanted by a pretty girl before finally coming to his senses and running to where I was, the small hut we now live in. Before us, there was an old man who lived there, and had offered me tea. As it turns out, he had drugged the tea and eventually managed to bite me. One down, one to go. Soon after Carson had burst through the door, panting and screaming as I rolled on the ground, eyes turning red and fangs growing. In my frantic state with lack of judgement, I took advantage of my friend’s shocked state and bit him. The old man had laughed like a maniac before falling silent and collapsing, eventually turning to ash. When the two of us were done freaking out and exchanging a series of frantic questions;

“You bit me!?”

“I bit you!?”

“Why are your eyes red?”

“Why are your eyes red?”

We decided to explore the house, which was small but cozy. We didn’t find much, but the kitchen had the bare minimum of tea supplies the old man kept to keep at least a resemblance of normalness. Forgetting we were now vampires, we prepared toast and tea to calm down, but it only added more shock as we choked on what tasted like burning styrofoam. How did we deal with this change you may ask? Well, we first called up our parents and made up a very weird story that we had gotten a free house from the other’s very distant great uncle all of a sudden and were now moving out, second we had both requested to work the nightshift at our jobs. Since we now had the day to ourselves, we often left nails and other small sharp objects on the roads leading to the orchard that would cause people’s cars to break down and these people would come looking for help. From there Carson would pull a Rapunzel and whack them in the head with a frying pan before carefully finding a decently hidden spot to bite. When done we would wake up the person and pretend they had passed out from the heat. Through some experimenting Carson and I figured out that for some odd reason tomatoes and apples were almost as good as blood, so whenever there were days where no prey fell into our trap we would go out into the apple orchard in a pinch.

Anyways, back to present time where Carson is still chatting cheerfully, driving us back to the house near the apple orchard, when he hits the very same tree that started the whole series of events that ended in us turning into humanized mosquitoes. Sighing, we simply left it there and went back home, Carson still smiling like an idiot with his hair plastered to his skull as I sulked.