Tag: vampire

Goldberg

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In all my centuries as a creature of the night, there is one thing of which I am certain.
I hate Bach.
I hate Mozart and Beethoven, too.
Oh, how my ears ache to hear Goldberg just once more.
You have never heard of Goldberg. I know this.
I heard him, long ago.
One symphony to his credit. After its first performance, I was so inspired that I drank him dry.
Dead. Gone.
The city watch caught and nearly killed me.
I escaped, but returned to the burnt-out husk of a concert hall.
Not a single note remained. Gone forever.

The Feeding

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With horror bubbling in her throat, Lisa ran a finger along the last wrinkle in her face.
“One more child should do it,” she told her servants. “Not too young. I do not want to overfeed.”
That night, in a burlap sack, they dragged a peasant boy up from the village into Blackmoor Manor.
“Still alive. Good,” said Lisa. “Lock the door. No visitors.”
As Lisa cleansed the ritual knife, the angry mob made its way up the stone path to the manor.
Looking at the pitchforks and torches, her servants decided they were no visitors, and made their escape.

Turned

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Willy turned after the sun went down.
We staked him the moment he opened his eyes.
They were brown. After he turned, they became bright blue.
See for yourself.
It’s not easy to stake friends. I guess that’s why he was so easy to stake.
He was a pathetic whiny bitch.
Nobody on the team liked him.
Hell, I don’t remember why we let him join.
I guess he just tagged along while we were busy
Dixon says he might have given Willy a dud dose of the serum so he’d turn.
Good. More serum for the rest of us.

Vlad

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They called Count Vlad a crossdressing pervert.
He likes to wrap himself in bandages and sleep in an Egyptian-style coffin.
“They think I am a mummy,” he laughs. “While my assassins hunt for canopic jars with my vitals or try to torch my body, I just laugh and smile.”
I asked him about the dress, heels, and lipstick.
“That’s none of your business!” he hissed.
Tonight, he goes with a red wig.
“It’s my lucky hair,” he says, and walks out into the night.
He won’t have much trouble getting blood tonight at the bar.
Crossdressers eat that look up.

And Then What

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Bobby was the one who pounded the stake through the vampire’s heart.
The vampire had gasped, clutched the stake, and died.
“Isn’t he supposed to turn into dust?” said Bobby. “Or burst into flames?”
The Vampire just sat there. Dead.
“I dunno,” I said. “What else are we supposed to do?”
We stuffed his mouth with holy wafers and garlic.
Turned the hose on him.
“Running water,” said Bobby. “And sunlight.”
Crosses, holy water, and even six silver bullets didn’t seem to do anything.
I checked the address.
“Isn’t 37 next door?” I asked.
The sun was setting.
We ran.

The Hunt

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When the sun goes down, vampires wake up from their slumber and roam the countryside.
Here’s my question: do the vampire hunters come out and hunt them?
Back in the romantic days of vampire hunting, yes. They would face off with the vampires under the moonlight.
But then, vampire hunters started to use technology to seek out and hunt vampires during the day, rooting out their hiding places and destroying them while they were defenseless.
Now, it’s a mix of those daytime operations and some highly sophisticated tracking methods at night.
One day, all the vampires will be defeated.
Hallelujah.

Vampire News

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My neighbor is a very old German vampire. His English isn’t so good, so he’s always calling me over to explain things to him.
Tonight, it’s the news that’s confusing him.
“What is this NO BLOOD FOR OIL signs they carry?” he says, pointing at a war protest on the screen.
“They think this war is not worth the lives of the soldiers fighting it,” I said. “And they think it’s being fought for cheap oil.”
“Ah,” said the vampire. “I agree. Less blood for oil, more blood for Count Victor.”
He smiles, coughs, and goes back to watching golf.

Fabio Sucks

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I’m just as stunned as you are. Fabio was a great spokesman for “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter.”
I guess his vampiric transformation was just too gruesome.
Such a waste.
And that’s what fooled us all – the hair, the muscles. Who knew he was so brilliant with chemistry?
It didn’t take him long to get labspace at Unilever to develop a cruetly-free food source for himself.
Not only will “I Can’t Believe It’s Not Blood!” eliminate any fear of transfusion-related ailments like AIDS and Hep-C, but it’s damn tasty, too.
Still, every now and then I miss draining someone.

Nosferatu

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Want to know the truth about Nosferatu?
He wasn’t a vampire. He was just really pissed off.
Imagine, going to the carnival or a gift shop and looking for a personalized mug with your name on it… they have John and Mary and Susan and Joe, and Bob and Kent and…
And no Nosferatu.
If you ask the salesman, he asks you to repeat it. So you have to repeat it. Twice. Pretty soon, you’re shouting it and waving your hands around crazily.
See? That’s how it happens.
Now get me a fucking Laurence mug! Not W, with a U!

Vampire Insurance

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Some guy at a garlic processing plant claimed to have been bitten by a vampire and turned into one of them, on his disability claim form.
We suggested that he change to the night shift. You know, because that way he’d stay out of the sun.
Not good enough, he said. Vampires hate garlic at any time of the day, it seems.
So we asked him to prove that he’s a vampire. Turning into a bat or a vapor cloud or something like that. Not giving a reflection would be good enough for us, too.
Claimants can be such bloodsuckers.