If it wouldn’t get me sent away to prison for life, I’d round up every sci-fi author, every young adult novelist, plus every television and movie script writer who has ever written about vampires and kill them all. I hesitate to do this – not because of the moral implications, but because of the punishment. A life sentence for me would literally stretch into forever, seeing as how I, a vampire myself, am not able to die.
That’s what every single one of those writers don’t understand about vampires: you can’t kill us. Well, you could, if you actually knew what you were doing, but none of you do. Why? Because of those stupid writers. They’ve filled your head with lies such as how exposing us to sunlight will do us in, or how driving a stake through our hearts, setting us on fire, or other such nonsense will. Those dramatic methods sound super impressive, but they don’t faze us one bit. I’ll tell you what does, though: bagpipes.
It sounds crazy, I know, but here’s the thing about bagpipes – the sound that comes from them drives us crazy, so much so that by the time someone’s done playing Scotland the Brave, our heads will have exploded into a million pieces.
No one ever thinks about bagpipes. Judging by the stories I’ve read on us, they don’t give much thought either to how freaking awful it is to actually be a vampire. They make it sound all romantic and mysterious. I assure you, it’s not. Let’s say you were turned into a vampire at the age of four back in 1823. You would remain four years of age forever! So even though nearly two hundred years have passed – enough time for you to acquire way more knowledge than any adult non-vampire today has, people would always treat you like a four year old. If you became one at fifteen, you would never get out of high school. If you were turned during your working years, you would never get to retire because who could ever save up enough to cover their expenses from here to forever? If it happened after you retired, then you would go through eternity as an arthritic, saggy-skinned, curmudgeon. Who wants that?!
You pretty much have to move to a different city every five to ten years as well, because after a certain period of time people are going to question how come your looks never change. You can forget about dating, too. Not only will your beloved grill you about your lack of aging, they’re also going to wonder why you insist on moving so often. You could tell them the truth, I suppose, but one of two things will happen if you do: you’ll be locked up in a psych ward for saying the crazy thing that you just did, or your sweetheart will insist on you turning him or her into a vampire so that the two of you can be together forever. Okay, first off, you have to question the sanity of a person who thinks being turned into a vampire would be, like, the greatest thing ever. Then you have to consider whether or not you really love this person enough to spend what is truly forever with them. Then you have to decide if you’re willing to listen to them blame you over and over again for ruining their life, because that’s what they’ll do once they realize being a vampire isn’t anything like it is in books or movies.
Anyway, I guess my point is being a vampire really sucks. Ba rum pum! Thank you, I’ll be here all week and every week after that. Be sure to try the veal. But if you still think you want to live forever, give me a call and I’ll come see you. Just not in Scotland or at a Highland Games Festival. Vampires have a strict code about suicide.