I Am a Vampire

by pjmcbride

..according to a test on the Internet. I’m glad we have the Internet to decide such things for us. I’d been wondering what my nocturnal habits and lust for blood signified.

Nick refused to take this test, “because,” Rom said, “he’s afraid he’ll turn out to be a unicorn.”

“He only said that because I have long eyelashes,” Nick fumes. “I’m not a unicorn, am I?” he asks, laying his scaly head in my lap.

“Unicorns only lay their heads in the laps of virgins,” I assure him.

“Can I have a stinger on the end of my tail?”

“You may not. The barbs are problematic enough.”

“Can I set explosive charges under your porch?”

“I have it on good authority that you’re not allowed to handle explosive materials.” I make a mental note to keep an eye on the porch, though, because he is prone to burrowing.


–that termites eat each other’s poop? In spite of (or perhaps because of) this, they also spend a lot of time cleaning themselves.


Fiona, who, as we know, is three, told Rom that she was attacked by a witch, a shark, a Sharptooth (a/k/a T. Rex), and a big bad wolf, all on the same day. It is unknown at this time whether these attacks occurred simultaneously or sequentially.

Sign on empty lot: “Will Build to Suit.” I’m tempted to call the number and say, “You’ll build to suit? I’d like a trapezoid, painted bright blue.”

The house at the bus stop closest to my house has been TP’d. It’s the worst job of TPing I have ever seen. Two lackluster strands hang from the two trees, and then they gave up and just piled the rest of it on the lawn. Considering that these people never clean litter out of their yard, it will be interesting to observe how long it takes toilet paper to biodegrade in a natural setting.

“Can I TP your house?” Nick asks. Sigh.