Oh my God it’s hard work being a vampire. I mean, so totally not-cool.
I know what everyone says. They’re all like, “Wow, the black leather, the chic hair, the eternal youth, the sexy fangs,” and I’m like, “Darling, do you know what that jacket is made from, and babe, do you think I’m putting that gunk in my hair, and sweetheart, these fangs, they ain’t just for fashion.” You know what I’m saying?
And you get these freaky people! These freaky people who are all like, “Bite me, sexy,” and I’m like, “Hello? Your breath stinks, your skin is covered in other dudes’ saliva, your blood-alcohol content is way over the legal limit for driving, and I don’t want to wake up with your hangover in the morning, and besides, I don’t know where your blood has been! You could be shooting up with stuff, you could be infectious, you could have a fungal disease or something, and I am not going there. Eternity is a really long time to be a vampire, and I’ve gotta look after myself, you know what I’m saying? Sure, maybe once I’ve got a full medical history and the test has come back from the lab on a reasonable sample, maybe then I’ll have a little nip but, Jesus, you gotta let me sterilise first!”
The others say I’m letting the side down. They’re like, “We’ve got an image problem,” and I’m like, “Hell, yeah, of course we’ve got an image problem; when was the last time you flossed after you ate?”