I am a vampire. There, I’ve said it. It’s not easy. To be honest, I’d rather be a werewolf. Those guys kill people for fun, not for a living. The full moon rises, they go out and chew through some morons who don’t know any better than to walk around at night without a bodyguard. Wander in the woods, in the dark, who does that anymore?
Me, I have to suck their blood because it’s fucking nutritional, you know what I mean? If I don’t bite them, I don’t live. The werewolf, OK, I suppose he’s committed, in his own way, but it’s once a month, and he doesn’t remember. I’m out there every day, selling. Every night, I mean, I don’t go out during the day, the sunlight and all, that would hurt. Really hurt, like incinerate me. That’s the life. I accept it.
The werewolf, look, he’s got a part-time job, but me, I’m full-time, if I don’t suck somebody’s blood every day, what happens? I’m losing weight, I get dizzy, I can’t concentrate. I start eating potato chips, and I already know they make me sick.
So why am I telling you this? I want to come clean. All right, not exactly clean. When I’m done talking, I will bite you, I can’t help it, it’s what I do, I’m actually scared of myself, but for now I want you to know how this system works, yeah, you’re about to die, but you’re going to know why, you see what I mean?
I suck your blood because I have none, there’s nothing moving in there, you have value to me because you got this thing I don’t, and it makes you valuable, or edible, I don’t know there’s any difference. If I consume you, I stay alive, you see what I mean? I get what I pay for, you pay for what you get. The price is life, yours or mine. If I don’t kill you, I’m dead. I have no choice in the matter.
Now, consider the werewolf. He doesn’t have to worry about any of this. He’s excitable, OK, murderous, at a certain time of the month, but mainly he’s just a regular guy, maybe more hairy than most. He doesn’t have to ask about the relation between the supply and demand of blood every day, like I do, he just goes out there once in a while, all angry, and spills as much as he can, and then he goes home, he looks at that full moon and he wonders what happened.
Not me. I know how this thing works. The werewolf isn’t the problem. I am. You fear us both, and now you’ve also developed a taste for zombies, a distraction from everything that lives. But now you’ll die because I’ll suck you dry.