“Lester” Lestat’s response…

For the blood is the life, and
I would drain it from you in a heartbeat…

You know, I was thinking about what that
ass-wipe son-of-a (no, I won’t go there –
his mother was a noble creature, in her own
right; wasn’t her fault she was sold to a no-good-
son-of-a-french-whore – and I should know,
being French myself, and having had my share of whores)
drunken-lout-of-a-father, said about me, and I quote:

And Lestat was a guy named Lester
used to chew on pigeons to survive; couldn’t kill a bag of chips.

For the record, my name is Lestat, not Lester.
Lestat de Lioncourt, the seventh son of
the Marquis d’Auvergne, for hell’s sake!
Only dumbass, peckerwood, no-name, illiterates
who can’t pronounce the sublime glory which is my name,
would call me “Lester.” Imbecile!

BTW, I only know of one other vampire more noble
and glorious than myself (M., you’re a handsome devil).

And as for that “eating pigeons” nonsense…
well it sounds as if someone has been paying
too much heed to the lies spewed forth from
that worthless potboiling trash by my erstwhile
friend and fledgling, Louis de Pointe du Lac.
C’mon, get over it. Louis admitted long ago
that he made that shit up. Cease spreading
these baseless lies, or it won’t be a bag of crisps
which I will be killing…

Hang with your fat ass friends and their invisible dicks.
You are all impressed with Emile?
I can tell you what it is like to drink from Groucho Marx.
It is no wonder you drink alone. Ape.
Fake tits on Rue Bourbon? Horror!
At least it wasn’t silicone; that stuff tastes like shit.
I would definitely like to hear about the girl you love,
particularly where she resides…
Slayers? Ha! Try having two of your creations
poison you, slit your throat, stab you in the heart (almost),
and dump your ass in an alligator-infested swamp!
You talk big about snapping necks left and right like matchsticks,
but I bet you would piss your pants if really cornered.

Yes, I agree that Twilight is quite droll. After all, who ever
heard of a glittery vampire? Granted, I look like a marble statue of a god,
but I do not glitter. And contrary to what you say,
Despite the rain, Seattle has quite a decent undead population.
I should know, many are mine.

You, stay thirsty my friend, but my warning to you is this:

Remember, I can fly.

About Tim Keeton

Flashfiction published by Seedpod Pub. Poetry appears in Read Write Poem 2010 Anthology. Founder & creator of the Undead Poets Society
This entry was posted in Poems, Poetry and tagged , . Bookmark the permalink.

5 Responses to “Lester” Lestat’s response…

  1. Don’t make me go all “sparkly” on you now. ;-D

    Liked this:
    Slayers? Ha! Trying having two of your creations
    poison you, slit your throat, stab you in the heart (almost),
    and dump your ass in an alligator-infested swamp

    • Tim Keeton says:

      Is that another double-entendre, Ms. Jodi? 😉

      Also, thanks for helping me realize that Trying should have been Try (I changed it now). This was a flash poem, so it could have been worse…

  2. shakira says:

    This is absolutely hilariously marvelous!
    I love the “glitter vampire” and “dump your ass in an alligator-infested swamp!”

  3. waystationone says:

    nice. i grew up on Anne rice’s Lestat….a brilliant depiction…

  4. M. says:

    Intriguing response. I often considered the benefit of harnessing the power to fly. Still, my private jet and crew seem to serve me well. A fitting response, as I was compelled to retort. You were the last of the great ones, as I can say honestly.


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