For one kiss

Oh, but for one kiss!

Never in my mortal life did a man (or a woman, for that matter) plant a lusty kiss upon my face. Daunted by my superior intellect, would-be suitors eschewed me. Nervously, they avoided me, fearful that I might deduce their dark secrets from the quiver of their lips.

The kiss of death

Waxy hairs puncture the soft flesh of his neck, sprouting in patches of wiry beard. Beneath the scrubby skinscape, a torrent of dark blood rushes. Leaning close to his throat, I inhale the scent of humanity.

As it turns out, humanity smells a lot like composting garbage.

I make my move.

"You psycho! You bit me!" He shrieks. One hand clutches his neck, the other flails wildly, knocking over trashcans as it gropes blindly for a handhold.

I retreat, spitting foul blood and scraping my tongue against my shirtsleeve. I should've gone for the kiss.

"I think I got a hair." I flash a toothy snarl. "Is there anything in my teeth?"

"You're crazy! You know that?" He stumbles back against the rough wall of the lecture hall. "Why did you bite me?"

I shrug. "It's what I do."

"I knew it," he declares. "The dark power reveals all. You're a vampire!"

"Yeah, and you're what--a fat Spiderman?"

Intensely, he stares. His voice assumes the goofy intonation of an entranced psychic. "You think I look like a superhero, but you wonder why I keep this rugged beard."

"Yes, but only because a piece of it is still wedged between my incisors. Are you sure you can't see it?"

"It's the curse of being a vampire. I shave, but in the course of the night the hair regrows to its former length." He postures. "Ah, where are my manners?"

"Who knows?" I grumble, but hope he doesn't hear. His manners and sense of personal hygiene have called a labor strike, apparently.

"Let me introduce myself. I am the Vampire Lazarus!" He curtsies...seriously, he curtsies, flourishing his wrinkled cape. "So, Deirdre, what's your story? No luck grabbing a bite to eat tonight?"

"None," I sigh. "How do you know my name?"

"I already told you; it's my dark power. Your thoughts aren't secret from me."

So he says, but I don't recall uttering my name...verbally or mentally. I wince. What if he heard that? Quickly, I sing out an oral response to cloak the twisting thoughts in my head. "Mind-reading is a useful talent. So far, my only vampire power seems to be accelerated bruising."

"Interesting," he muses. "I know a guy who can help you find your true gift. Walk with me." He scowls. "Or, limp with me, if you'd rather. That is, unless you can fly."

Already, I'm stripping out of my tacky, fast-food uniform. Yanking off my blood-stained shirt, I shake my head. "I can't fly. Can you?" On its way over my face, the plastic name badge snags my lip.

"I'm working on it." He responds, eyeing me as I discard my shirt. Snared on the edge of the dumpster, it sags like the tattered, yellow flag of a cholera epidemic.

"How does this look?" I smooth my red, pleated skirt and re-adjust my knee-high socks.

Lazarus ogles the bit of lace that peeps above my low-cut camisole. Then, his eyes linger on a margin of naked midriff. "Like a vampish schoolgirl," he admits.

"Great." I lament and toss another vestige of my uniform toward the fortress of rubbish. My greasy hat flutters in the breeze before it bounces against the dumpster.

"Too bad this isn't a costume party," he grins.

"It's funny you should say that," I remark. "Because, you seriously have to lose that cape!"


What is Deirdre's vampire power? You decide:
A. Superhuman speed
B. Preternatural vision
C. Accelerated bruising
D. Other (please explain)