DAY 1--I hate frogs.

Hello. My name is Yorick.

Shut up. It’s after the skull in Hamlet.

Damn it, I forgot that people always laugh harder when I say that.

Yes, the skull has a name! Or rather, its previous owner did. That’s why they’re all “Alas, poor Yorick…”

My mom named me it, okay?! It was cool back then. Back then being shortly after Shakespeare’s plays. Which, in case you can’t do math, was a very, very, very long time ago.

Because I’m a vampire.

Hell no, it is not cool!

…

Well, yes, possibly sexy. I don’t know why, but all vampires are sexy. Maybe all the wishes of all the sick, psychotic people in the world over all the years that humankind has existed made it so, but I am sexy, and, sadly, can’t deny it. You see, I’ve got:

--Greenish-grayish eyes

--Long black hair that’s long, as in the style when I was alive (it doesn’t grow but one inch a century and it’s as strong as steel, so I have no hairstyle choices, unless I take a diamond to it)

--sculpted chest

--other things…

--lots of physical capability

Which is, like, FREAKY weird, since I was a pudgy tub of a dude when I got bitten. Oh, and I forgot one other thing!

--Six feet five inches tall

And back in life? I was five foot ten.

Yeah. Weird.

ANYWAY.

Today was my first day—yet again—at a—yet again—high school. Since I was twenty-two when I was bitten and incredibly baby-faced (reduced quite a bit by the sexyfication, but still there), if I start out in my sophomore year at a place, I can actually stay there for, like, a good six or seven years. I’ve often found within the last century or so that people see a change in appearance where there isn’t, just to keep their brains from frying and having to get that itchy, insatiable urge to find out what sort of freak you are.

…the hell? Are you bringing up that sun thing again?

Seriously, why do I put up with this?

Oh, right. I have no life. :(

(Oh and one note: vampires from the late 1600s are sooo allowed to put frown smileys in stuff. Just because I died centuries ago doesn’t mean my hip sense is dead. In fact, I think it got worse when I got sexy.)

Ahem.

The sun thing.

Thing is: it’s utter myth. Yes, so am I, but I happen to be a very real myth. This is a plain old mythical myth, from back in my living days when vampires didn’t dare go outside for fear of their lives. It’s a bad habit, but few of the old vamps will bother to change their sleeping pattern.

Yes, I sleep. I may be sexy, but I am not Edward Cullen. Yes, I’ve read those books, shut up and leave me alone with my miserable life.

Speaking of miserable life…high school in the middle of February.

Scratch that, even more miserable: first day of a new high school that also happens to be Valentine’s Day.

That was what today was.

“Hell hath no fury like a woman scorned?” Damn straight!

Because, when you’re mysterious and sexy, a lot of girls try to give you valentines, and if you’re a vampire and cannot under any circumstance promote a relationship with a girl even if she is smokin’ hot, you have to scorn them all.

God damn it, I even got valentines on my first day there, ones that looked like they were highly personalized and well thought-out, probably as gifts to their boyfriends. One even tried to shove a teddy bear in my face that had BRAD scratched out and JAMES ANDERSON written on it, which for the intents and purposes of my stay here in the oh so lovely town of Merriweather, is my name. (I got my last name from “The Matrix,” because it is a rockin’ moving picture.)

That one got all trembly and ran away crying. Though, I saw her later snogging some buzz-haired dude that looked like he was on the football team and fit the name BRAD to a T, so my guess is that she wasn’t entirely crushed.

Jeez, girls can be so over-sensitive. Luckily, that was the only one to tear up.

So, my day passed without interest and with about ten girls or so walking off in a huff, when this semi-blond chick comes up to me with a stuffed frog in her hand.

(I hate frogs, and especially frog legs, due to my spite for the French. If you had lived through the shit I have as a Brit from those mainlanders, then you wouldn’t complain.)

I moaned slightly, in exasperation, of course. I didn’t expect her to hear it, being as she was no doubt in a giggly fit in her mind, assured that her relabeled gift would be the one that would make it into my hands without getting shoved back.

She noticed, because she smiled a little.

Do I have to explain myself to you at my every move?! She smiled a little, it meant she found it funny for some oddball reason! How did she smile?! Are you kidding?! I don’t know, she just did! Yes I know what she meant by it, without knowing exactly how she did it! I know because I’ve spent centuries watching people react to things, that’s why! LET’S BOTH SHUT UP AND GET ON WITH THE BLOODY STORY ALREADY!

“You’re James Anderson, right?” she asked me.

“Yes,” I replied, in an American accent. I learned early on while living in America that having a British accent does not help when you are trying to mute down your sexiness as much as possible. Assume from now on that whenever I speak, I am speaking like a Yank.

“Well, then would you please pretend to accept this?” She put the frog up in my face. Now that I looked at it closely, I saw it had red lipstick embroidered on its snout, which was curiously flat at the end. I also noticed the big red heart on its belly which said “Kiss Me” in it in white, semi-curly letters.

I stared at it. “Are you trying to send a message to me?” I asked, daring to poke the thing in its chest. Fortunately, it neither blew up nor started to play some sort of silly romantic tune when I did.

The girl glanced at the frog’s underside, then blushed. “Uhh, no.”

I could feel my face unbend a little. “Good. Now, just why do you want me to fake taking this from you?”

“Because I can’t go home with it still in my backpack,” the girl informed me, blinking once.

“And I can’t have it be believed that I might have some sort of weakness for the femal gender,” I retorted.

“Oh, misogynistic and a blood-sucking vampire, are we?” She glared at me, but almost immediately stopped, probably because I most likely had a shocked expression on my face. I don’t really know; I sort of was busy planning how best to get to the other side of this bloody evil, yet thankfully large, goddamned country. “Err, sorry, I didn’t mean it…”

I pulled myself together. “That’s okay,” I said, and dared smile appeasingly. On principle, I never smile, because…ah, there it was, the swoon from some girl down the hall. I flicked my eyes in that 

direction, and saw Crying Girl from before. Then I refocused my attention on the girl in front of me. “Now, why in hell can’t you take the frog home?”

“Because I bought it to make my parents think I had a boyfriend or something.” Her bald openness about it surprised me, although I detected a hint of the standard embarrassment somewhere underneath.

I was blunt, as my Brit blood calls me to be on almost every occasion. “That was stupid of you.”

The girl just nodded. “But now, if I bring it home, they’ll find it.”

I scoffed. “They’ll search your backpack?”

“Yes,” the girl retorted. “They will.”

There was too much truth in her eyes for me to doubt it. “Why don’t you just throw the thing away?”

She looked at me like I was crazy. “Throw it away?”

“Yes. You know, in that trash can, right there?” I pointed to the ugly brown one nearest me.

“And waste nonrenewable resources?”

“…That has something to do with recycling, right? Environmental stuff?”

“Basically.”

I shook my head. I always forgot how environmentally conscious people were trying to be within the last few decades… “What happens if I do take the frog?”

“You get my eternal gratitude,” the girl replied.

Great. Make things worse for me! “…That’s it?”

“Do you want something else?”

“Yes.” I find myself scrambling to think, because that one bloody word happened to be said, and said by me. “The frog.”

The girl’s eyes widen. “Ok, now you actually want it?”

“If I’m going to all the trouble to swipe it from you, then I might as well keep it,” I snapped. I don’t like snapping as a general rule, but as a vampire I tend to do it extremely often. “I shall do several absolutely heinous things to it, though.”

“Aww,” the girl said, back into a more joking mood. “But it’s got a boyfriend! See that flat bit? That’s cause it’s got a magnet in it, so that it can latch onto the guy one that comes with it.”

“And you’re not giving out both frogs because…?”

“Because I have a collection of stuffed frogs and I thought the guy one was cute,” the girl replied.

I was confused, so I decided to end the conversation right there. “Fine, I’ll take the frog,” I muttered. “But not now. Meet me out behind the…does this school have monkey bars?”

“Dude, it’s a high school.”

Dude?! What, is she being possessed by a hippie, come back from the grave to haunt me, or what? “Well, then, what shall we meet behind?”

The girl considered a moment. “Let’s meet by the big tree out around the front with the white flowers.”

“Fine.” I shook my head. “Why did you even ask me all this anyway?”

“Because you haven’t been in any of my classes so far and thus probably won’t be in any of my other classes, which means that after today, I won’t have to talk to you ever again,” the girl said, rather rapidly. I think her embarrassment about coming up to me was catching up to her, because she blurted out, “Well, see you,” and walked off very, very quickly.

To be honest, I felt…a little hurt. It had been a long time since anyone tried to use me in a scheme. Back in the 1950s, was it last? Yeah, probably.

So that was Day 1.

Me: Hey! I'm the author, so--

Yorick: Hey! I'm the author!

Me: It may be your friggin' diary, but I'm the one posting it, under the Fiction category, because knowing this is "real" would break their brains.

Yorick: ...True...

A/N: Oh noes! Why are hippies haunting Yorick? Has he been a very bad boy? How does his being a vampire and sexy have to do with anything? Is Yorick's burning desire to kill Edward Cullen by catapulting him into the sun affecting your affection for Yorick? Some of these questions just may be answered...in Day 2!

Oh, and just for the record, I love frogs :) Also, I cackled madly while writing this. Now review if you want some more of your favorite disgruntled sexy vampire (assuming that you have never met another disgruntled sexy vampire)!

EDIT: Damn, left the name "Cullen" in. You see, I initially had his last name be Cullen, and the joked was that he "stole the bastard's name because he stole my life," or at least according to Yorick. Then, Yorick and I realized that having Cullen as his last name would just attract more attention, he happened to mention his love for "The Matrix," and here we are.