The guy’s sign said WILL WORK FOR FOOD.
“Any good at raking leaves?” I asked.
He nodded.
Turns out, he was really good at it. He raked the front and back yards, and bagged everything.
“Well done,” I said. “What do you want to eat?”
He sank his fangs into my neck and drank my blood.
I almost laughed at the cleverness of his sign. After all, he had done work for me, his food.
Somehow, I managed to jam the rake handle through his chest to kill him.
Thank goodness I didn’t ask him to mow the lawn, too.