I was hanging out in the cemetary the other night, practicing my smoke rings and  blending into the shadows pretty well.  Cemetaries are great places for dragons to hang out, ya know… not many people come to them, and most wouldn’t admit to seeing a dragon while in the grips of their grief.  Too easy to brush it off as some sort of psychotic reaction.  People are funny about death.

But that’s off the point.

So, I was hanging out behind the grave stones and up walked this kid.  Dyed black hair.  Greasy.  Baggy pants with chains and crap dangling off em.  He perched on a stone near me and lit a cigarette.  I kept quiet, just kept blowing smoke rings.  He tried one.  Failed miserably, and I couldn’t keep from laughing a bit.

"Do vampires really exist?" he says, peering out at me from under a fall of hair.  "I mean… like the undead?"

I raised an eyebrow and glared at him, but he just sat there.

"Yeah kid," I muttered at last, and his face cracked into a grin.

Idiot.

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