A New Orleans moment

Wednesday night, Julie and I were getting on the elevator on the way to our room.  A group of women who had clearly just been on an Anne Rice tour said, “Wait a moment, how do we know you aren’t a vampire?”

“Ah,” I said, in my best Transylvanian accent, “Vat do you tink you could do if I vere?”

They laughed, and then the elevator got to my floor.  As Julie and I stepped out, I said, still in full-Drac: “But you ladies are lucky.  I have already chosen my meal for the evening,” and as they watched through the closing elevator door, I bit Julie on the neck.

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