nobody recognizes a vampire from his picture on a milk carton

Well, it has been a virtual four-score since I last heard from Drake, my vampire roommate. Since his trip to visit the homeless who live underneath the New York subway system, I haven't received so much as a postcard written in the blood of his latest victim. I have been thinking of putting up "missing person" fliers, but I don't have any photographs of him. Let's just say that it is easier to steal the soul of an African tribesman than to catch a vampire on film. Plus, I doubt it would do any good, since Drake is in New York, and I can't throw a flier folded into a paper airplane that far.

I guess I'm just worried that one day the police will show up because of an anonymous tip from the neighbors, and they will find the amazing amounts of vampire porn Drake has hidden underneath his blood-stained coffin. They might mistake me for some wacko necrophiliac, or worse, a Smashing Pumpkins fan. One morning yonder, that could be me being led out in cuffs by the blue-boys, the fifties, the hogs. Madder than a pig stuck in a frozen mudhole, I would curse the day I met my vampire roommate, while they wrote down everything I said to be used against me in a court of law. Oedipus, our body-guard-dog, would be locked in a furious gun battle, raining bullets down on the squard cars from the upstairs window as policemen screamed for backup, because there must be, like, five more guys up there. Suddenly, we would hear a sharp crack from the roof of the apartment across the street, the initial sound echoing between the rows of houses, and the guns would fall silent. We all look up, and see the police sniper wearily climbing down from his perch. As the SWAT team stormed up the stairs, they would find no bodies, as they were expecting, only the bullet-riddled corpse of poor Oedipus, valiant friend-to-the-end. "It's only a puppy," one of the swatmen would say sadly, his heart broken because he thought he was fighting a hardened killer, and instead one so young died so needlessly.

All of this trouble, just so Drake could get his pecker some exercise. I'm going to burn those magazines right now.



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