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Vampire Catering
by Sarah McKinley Oakes
Yesterday my housemates and I moved from our one bedroom apartment on
the ninth floor to a two bedroom apartment on the twelfth floor of the
same building. We figured it couldn't be all that difficult to move
things to and from the elevator, so we didn't bother to pack or get
anything ready until the day of the move. It took us seventeen hours.
By the end of the night, we were so tired -- and lazy -- that we were hauling
armloads of dirty dishes from the old apartment to the new one. We were worried
that we were going to run into fellow tenants on the elevator, but we decided
that they would just figure we were some sort of dirty dish delivery service.
Vampires often need to pose as mortals, right? Only, they drink blood instead
of eating food like the rest of us, so they never have any dirty dishes. How
can you pass yourself off as mortal if you don't have any dirty dishes?
So here's the deal: the vampire realizes that he has company coming over and the only
things in the sink are a few bloodstained rags. He calls us and we deliver dirty dishes
right to his door. He puts them in the sink and no one would ever guess his secret.
He could even wash the dishes in front of his guests, all the time making sparkling
comments such as "I sure am washing these dishes, which I ate food off of earlier!"
and "Dishes sure do get dirty when you eat food, which I do regularly!" and "The
other day I was eating some food and it sure did dirty some dishes!" Then, after
the guests leave, thorougly convinced that their host is Just A Normal Guy Certainly
Not A Vampire, we return, collect the (hopefully now clean) dishes, and take them
away with us. What vampire could resist? And if we can't find any real vampires,
we can sell our service to goths that think they're vampires. The only rule is they
have to live in our apartment building.
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