I Love You, Asshole by Amy Lane

Wanna-be vampires beware!  You have been misled by Bram Stoker and all those paranormal vampire series that abound these days. Throw out everything you’ve ever learned and heard about these creatures of the night and immerse yourself in the truth…

Once upon a time there was a guy named Marcus.  His last name doesn’t matter, he’s forgotten it anyway and we don’t need to know. Anyway, the main thing was that he was a man and straight as an arrow. And I’m not talking about honesty.  You get the drift.

One fateful night a former student of his, Gina Victorine, swoops in front of his car and a body thunks onto the hood. Hers or someone else’s?  His car crunches and his steering column breaks in half and punches into his femoral artery.  He begins to die.

But he only begins to die. He finds himself in someplace cold, silent as a frozen sea but with the faint promise of warmth and light. Who knew that becoming a vampire is sort of like being a TV dinner? Bram Stoker never said anything about that did he? Shut up—the fact that TV dinners weren’t invented until 1954 isn’t pertinent.

Cold and frozen quickly segues into a fiery burning along his veins. I am assuming that it is burning inside his veins rather than burning along outside them, but I could be wrong.  It does happen.  Occasionally.  OK, frequently. But that’s another story.  We’re talking vampires here.

To continue, that fiery burning pulls him back through that sea, causing it to splinter and scathe. Scathe?  What, the author couldn’t just say scorch? I guess “scathe” sounds more mysterious. So the icy sea is splintering and scorching and then begins to scrape and flay the skin from his flesh.  This is a far cry from mundanely dying and waking up three days later as an undead creature.  But it’s scarier, don’t you think?

But wait!  As if being frozen and then scorched and flayed by that fiery something wasn’t enough, the fire now puts his flesh back together with a penetrating icy cold. But wait again! That cold makes Marcus feel like his blood is lined with blistering pustules bursting with scorching, raw pain.

Let’s ignore the fact that veins can be lined but blood can’t and pustules form on the skin.  Icy and cold.  Fiery and scorched.  Bet you never knew that becoming a vampire equates with Icy Hot, a pain relief ointment for muscles.  And that Icy Hot is a lot like needing to come while someone has your cock in a vise.  And the author is not talking about a rooster.  Putting a rooster in a vise would be inhumane. Putting a cock in a vise is either BDSM or Marcus never learned the facts of life properly when he and his father had the Talk.

So when your rooster is in a vice you naturally scream and bite down on cold flesh, pulling blood into your body in an orgy of carnage until your stomach is full and you come. Then you pant.  Well, you’d pant too if you discovered that a man is pulling his thigh away from your face. And that he’s licking at your naked thigh. Or is he suckling your thigh?  The author can’t decide.  Or Marcus can’t. Either way, it is being done to his naked thigh. The guy is grinning and has flashing, whirling red eyes. Have you ever had a nightmare in which you’re naked in front of a group of people? Marcus’s nightmare is that he’s lying on the side of the road naked from the waist down.  If his pants weren’t removed by the grinning man with the whirling, flashing red eyes to get to his thigh in order to suckle on it, then Marcus was driving around like that before the accident.  In which case he has more serious issues than becoming a vampire.

At this point we are given a hint that other things are changing for Marcus in addition to being undead.  He watches closely while the grinning man with the whirling, flashing red eyes tucks his equipment in his jeans and buttons up, commando style. This begs the question:  is the man going commando, or is he buttoning his jeans like a commando?

Anyway, being a vampire was difficult at first. Before all this weirdness, Marcus was a gentle person, a man so bashful that he dated his girlfriend for nearly six months before getting laid. When you think about his knowing all about how a rooster being clamped in a vise feels, either he was a fast learner or he’s lying.

Five minutes after Gina and Adrian (the grinning man with flashing, whirling red eyes) take him home and get him out of the shower–how did he get into that shower?–Marcus ripped Adrian’s jeans off his body to gobble his rooster and suck blood from his thigh.  Adrian came on his ear. By this we know that Adrian is not well endowed.  Think about it.  Marcus is sucking on his thigh but Adrian’s rooster only reaches his ear. Rooster is a euphemism.  You know what I meant.  Marcus is mortified. And he needs another shower.  Also, you can now forget about Gina for the length of this sample because we don’t see her again.

Another commonly held fact about vampires bites the dust.  The neck just isn’t the “in” thing.  Remember that, wanna-be vampires.  Go for the thigh—and watch out for that rooster in your ear.

In the coming days Marcus will be taking a lot of showers.  Young, warm, naked male bodies parade through his room on an hourly basis.  Most of them are shapeshifters.  What they shift into isn’t mentioned in this sample.  It is enough that they don’t mind being gnawed on or f—ed into oblivion.  I used f—ed in order to spare the sensibilities of any delicate souls who may read this.  You can thank me later.

And these visitors are all men. Marcus is disturbed because, as noted at the beginning, he is straight.  Adrian explains that it is because Marcus would feel guilty later if he had rough sex with women now and males can fight back if they want to.

But they don’t seem to want to.  Which is good because Marcus’s rooster completely takes over when he’s handed a bottle of lube. I won’t go into details—if you don’t know how lube is used in this situation, I’m not going to educate you.  I’m a reviewer, not a sex instructor.

Marcus notices that blushes coat him when he is filled with other people’s blood. His blushes must be awfully thick.  He also notices that Adrian has blessedly blue, sky-spangled eyes.  Sky spangled? Let’s see…spangles…his blue eyes are filled with small sparkly objects…sky…aha—his eyes are filled with stars, which must be painful.  Hey wait a minute. Just a few paragraphs ago Adrian had flashing, whirling red eyes.  So vampires have interchangeable eyes, which is great for matching your outfit and your shoes.

But it seems there are advantages. Blood and sex, baby.  Imagine the thrill of sucking someone’s blood and they in turn give you a blowjob.  It isn’t a comfortable obsession for Marcus at first, but he gets into it eventually.

I was misled at the beginning.  At this point I learned that it wasn’t hitting Gina that smashed his car.  He didn’t hit her at all.  She swooped in front of him and he swerved off the road and down a gully where he hit a tree. She didn’t thunk on his hood, either. Don’t you hate it when authors conceal facts?  Good thing this is not a mystery. And just how did a road get down into that gully?  Wasn’t he lying next to a road and naked from the waist down?

A month passes by during which Marcus drinks a lot of blood and eats a lot of roosters. He’s pretty much forgotten that he used to like women, back when he was alive.  He’d certainly never been f—ed into the mattress by another man back then, or sucked another man’s rooster (wasn’t it hard sucking on his own rooster? Vampires must be very flexible), fingered a tightened sphincter, f—ed a willing mouth or a willing donkey. But he liked it now. A lot. I used donkey as another euphemism  to protect the sensibilities of prudish readers.  Although I don’t know why—after all there are Wild Asses living in Asia and Africa.  And it might be best to keep them away from Marcus.

Then Marcus is taken to see Green.  Not the color, the being.  Green isn’t a vampire or a shapeshifter.  We are coyly told he has pointed ears. Wanna guess?  No, he’s not a Vulcan.  He has attenuated fingers and toes which is a fancy way of saying they are long and thin.  He’s a poet and don’t know it, but his toes show it—they’re Longfellows.  A poem from my childhood which I couldn’t resist sharing with you.  And there’s more where that came from.  Tell you later, maybe.

Green tells Marcus that there are things he doesn’t know.  The first thing he doesn’t know is that making love to Green is like making love to sunshine on a summer’s day.  Try that in public and see how fast you are arrested by the Po-Po. Marcus really enjoys it.  It is heartbreaking and precious.  Hey, did you know that elves bleed sugar-sweet ichor?

The second thing Marcus doesn’t know is…everything.  But doesn’t that mean that he doesn’t know that making love to Green is like making love to sunshine on a summer day? Let’s move on.  It seems that Adrian’s house is underneath Green’s hill and that his house is a commune. There are no hippies, but there are vampires, shapeshifters, sprites, pixies, nixies, fairies, gnomes, trolls, ogres, yawknawpsatawni and every other creature from folklore.  It must be crowded in there.  Or maybe Adrian’s house is like Doctor Who’s Tardis, bigger on the inside than the outside.  Green doesn’t give a shit because they are all his children.  I feel sorry for his wife. Or maybe he has a large harem like the King of Siam.

Green licks Marcus’s rooster quite a bit and his body washes hot and cold with orgasm while he thinks about his girlfriend.  Hope he didn’t call out her name—sex partners tend to hate that.  Green wipes his mouth politely and uses a tissue to wipe away Marcus’s blood-brine tears.

The next day Marcus wakes up to find a shapeshifter of the female persuasion in his room who purrs and shivers in his arms.  My he’s good, ladies! And it wasn’t until they’d brought the act of feeding to a natural—and mutually satisfying—sexual conclusion that Marcus realized something else.

***

And by now wanna-be vampires will realize something too.  The life of a vampire is far from what we’ve been told.  There’s blood, sure.  But there’s also sex, sex, sex.  Every hour of the night.  With people of the same sex because that’s what becoming a vampire is about. To be truthful, it isn’t that a vampire becomes homosexual.  It’s just that a vampire will screw anything that moves in his or her vicinity.  Hide the sheep!

I’ve been thinking about this epic’s title.  It isn’t Marcus saying “I love you, asshole” to someone.  It is Marcus saying “I love you, asshole” to his asshole.  With it he’ll never be alone.  Hand him the bottle of lube, someone.

12 Responses to I Love You, Asshole by Amy Lane

  1. beesknees says:

    goodness, that does make being a vampire sound rather more exciting than moping about looking for muggers to feed from and being all pale and wan because you can’t go out during the day :P

  2. Breeze says:

    LOL at your review. Although the cover on the asshole book is truly frightening, sounds like the contents are even more so.

  3. Vianca says:

    No more s***. All posts of this qaultiy from now on

  4. Judy says:

    Hey, that post leaevs me feeling foolish. Kudos to you!

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  7. pepi says:

    That was so refreshing.Very funny.Thanks!

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