When I was a teen, I lived in the countryside on a farm that had just 1 animal, a gorgeous, fluffy, daring and adventurous Alsatian named Waffles, my dog (R.I.P). When we first got her, she was sitting in a box on the passenger side of my dad's car and she looked like a cat. When she looked up at us as we peered through the window, she had that little twinkle in her eye...the one that said: Behold! I am Mischief, bow before me as I seek adventure.

So, she was our animal on the farm. Granted, the land had rabbits and a whole ecosystem and she'd spend her afternoons trying to catch them. But come Sunday, we always knew that the troupe/herd/school of cyclistswere coming down our street because Waffles would absolutely lose her shit, make a beeline for the fence and then jump over (she was very energetic, think Border Collie insanity but in an all black shiny Alsatian) boundless energy heading for the shiny tights and shiny helmets whizzing by. Anyway, she'd go and try to sniff every. single. one. She'd run close to their wheels, tail wagging away then breakneck speed to the back of the herd and then dash to the front. She'd follow them for a while and turn back like she was heading back to the yard and only...ba-bam, the straggler/s of the troop would come down our street and she'd be off again. They didn't hate her, in fact, we could here them talking affectionately to her as they rode pass and this was the pattern for 2 years. Waffles and the Cyclist-Troupe.

See that...yeah that is a way more interesting story.

I finished reading this novelette on the other hand and just started remembering my dog and those cyclists - core memory I suppose. This Vampire does not inspire fear, just pity. This vampire who .... lives in a cave?, in the modern era, basically lives his undead life cycling down a mountain everyday. Okay, I get being a hermit and selective socialization and cycling is in your blood hoorah - but how about doing that foreverness in a mansion you undead sod. And apparently he stinks of death and sweat from cycling - ew, pungent.

Vampires choosing to slum it is right up there with jumping the shark. He doesn't have enough money to replace his decade old mountain bike. He is so unremarkable that he forgets his bike goggles on a tree where he drained two malicious idiots who were clearly trying to hurt cyclists. Then, he accepts charity from a human bloodbag (the narrator). Offers to turn him and the bloodbag refuses because he wants to reconnect with his ex (mmkay) and presumably grow old doing his chef thing in a restaurant that seems to be losing money and he wants to have a hard time cycling up the hill as the years go by. Did I get all of that? Yeah, this is not a horror story. This is a tragedy and not Greek Mythology tragic, more like missing the goalpost while standing right in front of the damn thing and then losing the ENTIRE game at half time tragic. This vampire is a putz.

On a serious note - what do we call a group of cyclists riding together. Is it group, troupe, troop, goof troops, school, murder, gathering, cycle bros maybe?

No bueno. rated it a 2 but gave it an extra 1 star for reminding me of Waffles.


*Book 2 from my Readathon*