Met Monica on a dating site. She made the
BS claim that she was Dracula’s daughter,
though she did have the required
Romanian accent or she was good at
faking it, and she wore the requisite
black cape.
And her canines did seem a bit too protruded.
As she talked dribble in a real or fake Romanian
accent, I was getting bored, had to leave
Just when I was trying to find an excuse to split,
my work friend Mark, who brags about
bedding 100 women, strolled over to the table
where I was sitting with Monica.
The way he was eyeballing her with what he
calls “his bedroom eyes”, I knew he wanted
her for number 101.
To my relief, he charmed Monica and didn’t
seem bothered when she told him
she was Dracula’s daughter. As the saying
goes, he was “keeping his eye on the prize”
and wasn’t distracted by her nonsense.
I took that opportunity to make my escape.
The next day Mark turned up dead, two
punctures wounds in his neck.
Not vampiric, the coroner deduced. He reported
Mark had been stabbed twice in the neck
with a poisoned needle.
Monica had vanished after that, maybe to eerie
Erie, PA, where she’d fit in, given her peculiar
propensities.
Days after Mark was waked and buried in
Green Hill Cemetery here in Greensboro, NC –
I saw him weird-eyed and hovering in the air
outside my second floor apartment bedroom
window minutes before the sun rose,
his canines a bit too protruded.
The sun rose and Mark was gone. Maybe I
was dreaming or seeing things, but I bought
some Vampire Off Spray at Ace Hardware,
just in case.
Bob Boyd
