I never really lent much credence to the idea of vampires in New Orleans until it was too late and I was one. Forty-five hours after I stormed out on a bad date, I woke up parched, pale, sans reflection, and sensitive to sunlight. I guess that’s what I get for waiting for my taxi in front of a cemetery.
Now I’m getting training in Vampire 101 from a hot vampire cop, slathering on SPF 100 sunscreen, and ordering my blood online. Things could be worse.