He should not have had that third trick-or-treater.
Back in Transylvania, in the old days? Yes, the peasants were lean muscle and sinews. Meat and bones that had hearty blood. These were different times, sugar filled bodies, veins chugging along with viscid, unpronounceable preservatives. My kingdom for a farmer's blood!
What came up was mostly a serum of candy corn and red cell grume. There was a sound like a drain being unclogged by a mule.
And down in the wet dark under the sod, something with no manners whatsoever smelled sugar coming through the topsoil and thought: finally. The dead had little in the way of manners these days.
Vlad felt so much better. He thought to himself, perhaps he'd try one of those neighborhoods that handed out apples and other fruits instead of candy...
