A few years ago, a lady I know was getting home from work.

Her line of work involved elaborate costumes and nighttime hours and had to do with solo performances for single men with very odd desires. In that business you don't haul a bag around, you simply pull a cape over your costume and go your way. This particular late night had become an early morning and the sun was just rising as she the got out of the cab in front of her apartment building, one of a dozen identical dumpy apartment buildings along a pretty waterway in a provincial capital. As she got into the elevator to rise to her suite where she could finally clean off her makeup and get some sleep, she noticed that the elevator's other passenger was a small boy. The young lad was holding a folded newspaper which he had probably just retrieved from the lobby of the building for his family, probably something he did every morning at the same time, this early summer morning being no exception. As the doors closed and the elevator rose, the boy looked up at this pale skinned, black caped, wild haired woman wearing a red satin choker, blood red lips, and black, black, black eyeliner, in terror. She realized this and smiled down at him. The boy then looked like he would pass out. My friend happens to have nice, long, natural canines that rest gently on her lower lip when she smiles. Floor achieved, smiling done, she got off the elevator and went into her own apartment. There she drew back the blinds, slid open the glass doors, and stood on the porch to relax in the cool early air ... from where she could hear the little boy stammering to his mother that there were Vampires in the building! Really! I saw one!

That little boy will remember that summer for the rest of his life. The year We had Vampires in the Building.

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© 2000 Owen Briggs
last modified on 09dec00