Unlike people who get 'turned', I don't hunt for blood or flesh. My unholy craving is for whatever drug I can get my hands on. And, I don't mind paying. But, sometimes a dealer will give me a hard time. That's when I let my fangs sprout. You know- - to let them know that I could just take the drugs from them and be on my batty way. The other unmentionables think I'm crazy and weak. The elder ones call me stupid all the time. They think I'm mocking the society or somethin'. I'm not like those self-hating Mangetsuos or those pompous, stuck-up Mayonakans. They don't know what it's like to be like me. Vampires are always spreading their wings like a peacock. Always so arrogent- - -showin' off. That's why the hunters come after them and love to kill them off. Mayonakans are like those flashy drug dealer kids who run out and spend all their money on gold chains and ground effects on their 'pimpy' Cadillacs. Ssshh. Half- -no, most of the time - - they deserve to get slayed.

My grandfolks made the decision for me. So, I do as many drugs as I can to cope. Well, at first I got into drugs to kill myself; but it didn't work. That damned vampire's immortality. I tried to let slayers and other unmentionables off me, too. My Martian side always kicked in, though, and automatically protected me. I wish my mom'd been from Venus! So, I have been damned to an afterlife or undeadness of a special unique kind. Lucky me.

I hate my grandfather. They called his brother Vlad the Impaler, the king of all vampires. I'm here to tell yuh: the historians got it wrong. The church tried to cover it up. (God knows why). Granduncle Vlad was NEVER a vampire! My grandfather was the one that Dr. Van Helsing and Mr. Harker were fighting the whole time. Granddad's mistresses used their 'glamour effect' to convince the people that Vlad was the one murdering them and that he killed Lucy Westenra and turned her into a Mayonakan. But, it was good ol' grandpop that did it. It was also my grandpa that hooked up with the queen of Mars, when her ship crash-landed in Romania. Even in the 1400's you couldn't believe the media.

But, getting back to my favorite times, the 80's, the Mangetsuos were O.K., compared to those A-hole Mayonakans. They only changed when the moon was full; and some of them who studied eastern philosophy managed to control their minds when they got hairy. I rolled with the packs from time to time to keep them from killing any 'truly' innocent people. Sometimes I did have to turn a blind eye, though. I didn't have much choice. Half the time I was too high to stop them. Other times I knew they'd have just kicked my----. And, it's not cool, when you get a chunk of your arse chopped off by some pissed off werewolf, when he's in attack mode. It's really hard to restrain a werewolf when he's already downed a case or two of beer, before wolfing out, and you are overdosing- - - or trying to overdose on acid and shrooms and angel dust. I always mixed my media. You know, to impress the heavier drinkers among the pack. It's pretty sad, when the alpha member of the pack is chosen, because of the number of cases of beer he can down. But, that's how it was in the eighties.

From what I remember, I never needed to fear monster-hunters. They always would beat me up, when I was high, like they were cops. Sometimes........