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“I was reading the paper, apparently there are a bunch of homeless people reported missing.”

“Yeah, Tommy mentioned that at work today.”

“I assumed vampire, is that what you were thinking too?”

“Yeah. So I guess that means we’re going to work?”

“I guess so. Let me change first, I don’t want to get my suit dirty.”

 

We search for hours. We walk up and down Main, shining our flashlights down alleys hoping to see some greasy looking guy tearing into another, more attractive greasy guy. No luck. In fact, we don’t see any homeless people out at all. And it’s a nice warm night, so it makes sense that there would be more out. Ashley keeps telling me to call Linds, get her insight into things but I can’t. There are too many people around. Someone might see her. After a while of searching Ashley wants us to stop and grab a drink, but I know that’ll turn into several and I don’t want to fight a vampire while hammered.

 

We play fearless vampire hunters for a few more nights then we stop because we’re bored. Hey, don’t judge, we’re two guys in our late 20s. We have five minute attention spans thanks to youtube. Three if we’re looking at porn, thanks to youporn.

 

We go out at night, not vampire hunting, but drinking and Ashley will occasionally bring someone home and I will drunk call Linds and she’ll come over, tsk, tsk me and then send me to bed.

 

One morning I smell coffee before I get out of bed. That makes me uncomfortable, and I start to think that some strange girl that slept with Ashley is using my coffee maker. She’s going to make it wrong and I’ll have to drink it because I don’t want to waste it but it’s not going to be good. This is the worst day of my life.

 

When I get to the kitchen there’s no strange girl there, just Ashley. Drinking coffee. That he made.

 

“Richard my dear, why is the paper reporting that all the homeless people have returned?”

“I didn’t know that. That’s not good, that’s not good at all.”

“So now I’m not thinking single vampire, now I’m thinking vampire army, Richard, are you?”

“Yeah, now. Crap. Fucking vampires.”

 

Okay, so I know I said that vampires aren’t much to be afraid of. Neither are grasshoppers. But imagine a thousand grasshoppers coming at you. You’d be pretty freaked out and a little over-whelmed. Same thing with vampires. One vampire you could handle. Seriously, anyone can handle a vampire. Just push it down and walk away. They’re usually too weak to do much. They don’t have super strength either. Remember, they’re walking corpses. All being undead means is you’re dead but walking. But an army of vampires can muster enough strength to eat a lot. And they’ll stay intact for a while. And they’ll do some serious damage while they’re up and about. Vampires can either turn you or kill you. Usually, they’ll just drain you, kill you right out. It’s easier for them and they like it because they’re full for a couple of days. The only way to turn you is to drain you until you’re almost dead. Then you’re a vampire. Easy.

 

You might be wondering why would a vampire make more vampires? Wouldn’t that just mean there’s more competition for food? Well I figure a vampire makes more vampires for the same reason my fucking neighbours think it’s okay to let their dogs shit on my front lawn and not pick it up. Because they’re both assholes.

 

Ash and I weren’t always the fearless supernatural monster fighters we are now. We actually had a pretty good scam going. It was an incredibly good scam actually.

 

We held séances.

 

It was easy. Ash played the role of the cultured British medium and I’d supply him with the info. People would come in with an item belonging to their dearly departed. Ash would ask them to leave it with him for a week while he became “attuned” to it.

The next week they’d come back and I would have spent some time with their dead relative, getting to know them, hanging out with them and generally getting all the dirt on them that they had.

 

At our busiest, I’d have 10 spirits walking around our apartment, talking about their lives, interacting with each other, walking through each other.  I’d have to write everything down to keep it straight, but Ash would read the notes and pull off a dazzling show the next week.

 

They’d come in, old ladies, old men, young women, whatever and they’d hand me five hundred dollars in cash. I solemnly walk them into the living room, a room that Ash had dressed up to look like a whore’s bedroom with silk scarves, dark woods, and big overstuffed pillows strewn all over the place. He greets them with open arms, gives them a hug or a kiss on both cheeks and directs them to sit on a nice wingback chair, a chair that we picked up from someone’s house on garbage day.

 

He’d make small talk, I’d bring in tea, then he’d tell them everything we’d learnt about their family member the week before. We’d tell them they’re happy where they were, that everything is fine. Then Ash would hint at maybe, if they wanted, if it was really important to them, then maybe, just maybe, we could call them forth and they could have a minute with them. And it would only cost another five hundred dollars and yes, a cheque was fine.

 

As they scrambled to write the cheque, I’d bring in the personal item of their dearly departed. Ash would explain that I was there to act as his focal point. To bring him back from the other side if he got too deep into the spirit world. Let me tell you, there were a few times were Ash had a pretty close call but I was able to bring him back. And when you almost don’t come back from the spirit world, people tend to leave a nice tip.