Freaking Vampires. Dude, they really suck.

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Vampires!

Where on earth had they come from?

Monroe Daggit had lived in this town for fifteen years and never saw a vampire.

But Smiley Lukos, from down at the mill, said he knowed for sure that what he saw was a VAMPIRE and Monroe had no choice but to believe him.

Smiley warent the top dawg yet, but he was close to it. Monroe knew that one day Smiley

would turn on Mr. Ranger, and that would be the end of that. Every wolf in this town would scatter

when that partic'lar argument started, and Monroe didn't want to be within two hunnerd

miles until the dust settled back down.

Didn't matter one way or t'other to Monroe. He wasn't interested in politics. No one listened to

him anyhow. All's he cared about was someone to sign his paycheck every week. He just kept his head down, did his work, and brought his

check home to the Mrs.

But vampires? Here in Douglas Hollow? Downstate, maybe: New York City, or Jersey, for gawdsake. Not here... And when there was one, there'd be a hunnerd. Damn it all.

But vampires? Here in Douglas Hollow? Downstate, maybe: New York City, or Jersey, for gawd sake. Not

here... And when there was one, there'd be a hunnerd. Damn it all.

Monroe wasn't scared a no vampires. Vampires and werewolves were not sworn enemies. They didn't kill

each other. Couldn't kill each other, 'matter of fact. But they were bitter rivals, nonetheless.

Because those idiot vampires would protect humans, like a farmer protects cattle. But, blast it, they both

needed to eat! Wolf and vampire.

But here's all these namby-pamby vampires running around, “Green this. Sustainable that. Globalwarming...” Oh, my gawd, ENOUGH already!! He saw it on the news every day, some“environmental group” saying this or that. Everyone knew they were just the puppets of thefreaking vampires! Everyone knew it and didn't say a blasted thing. Just like the Smiley/Rangerthing, no one wanted to get in the cross hairs of an all-out turf war.

Vampires were like roaches, they would never go away. Vampires in Douglas Hollow could mean

But here's all these namby-pamby vampires running around, “Green this. Sustainable that. Globalwarming...” Oh, my gawd, ENOUGH already!! He saw it on the news every day, some“environmental group” saying this or that. Everyone knew they were just the puppets of thefreaking vampires! Everyone knew it and didn't say a blasted thing. Just like the Smiley/Rangerthing, no one wanted to get in the cross hairs of an all-out turf war.

Vampires were like roaches, they would never go away. Vampires in Douglas Hollow could mean

But here's all these namby-pamby vampires running around, “Green this. Sustainable that. Globalwarming...” Oh, my gawd, ENOUGH already!! He saw it on the news every day, some“environmental group” saying this or that. Everyone knew they were just the puppets of thefreaking vampires! Everyone knew it and didn't say a blasted thing. Just like the Smiley/Rangerthing, no one wanted to get in the cross hairs of an all-out turf war.

Vampires were like roaches, they would never go away. Vampires in Douglas Hollow could mean

But here's all these namby-pamby vampires running around, “Green this. Sustainable that. Global warming...” Oh, my gawd, ENOUGH

already!! He saw it on the news every day, some “environmental group” saying this or that.

Everyone knew they were just the puppets of the freaking vampires! Everyone knew it and didn't say a blasted thing. Just like the Smiley/Ranger thing, no one wanted to get in the cross hairs of

an all-out turf war.

Vampires were like roaches, they would never go away. Vampires in Douglas Hollow could

mean the beginning of the end for Monroe and his family. For all the werewolves in these parts, matter of fact. It was enough to make him wake

up howling, two mornings in a row. Damn daymares!

But one thing Monroe hated worse than vampires, and that was moving. Oh my gawd, what a freaking chore! Packing all the boxes, loading them on the

vans. U-hauls full of furniture. Trying to get back the freaking cleaning deposit...

This was highly unlikely, because every werewolf spilt a little blood here and a speck there, and it was

almost impossible to get the brain matter off the ceiling, but Dorothy tried. Every stinking time.

Monroe tried to talk to her. “Dot,” he said, “Just let it go. We gotta pick up and move on. Nevermind the

$750 security deposit.” “Even if the place was spotless,” he said, “we would still have to go through the trustees of the estate, and that would take years!”

But would she listen? No.

So every time they had to move it was not only a pain in the neck – and the back!- but then he had to listen to her howling, not to mention the kids. No one knows what it's like to have to drive three hours, out to Timbutktu and beyond, listening to fourteen snarling brats who didn't want to leave

their friends.

Well, the three oldest were gonna be on their own, from here on out. It was high time they found their

own den. He'd have to talk to the Bailey's or ole Buck Alvarez, to see what direction they were fixin' to go. He needed to get his daughter, Naomi, married off before she fell for some damn fool human like that

Dyson Whatsisname.

End of Blog(keep checking back for the next installment)