• It's amazing how many people in this day and age believe that there really are vampires walking around in their neighborhood. Take my friend Terry, for example--he dresses in black all the time, he doesn't like the sun, and he likes to mess with people's minds now and again. One particular incident from a few years ago stands out in my mind as an excellent example of his warped sense of humor.

    To set the story, it was a late summer day, and we had just got back from taking some of his stuff from his storage unit to his apartment. As I mentioned, Terry likes to stay out of the sun and wear black--and I mean black, as in black jeans, black T-shirt, black boots, black duster when the weather's cooler... About the only thing he doesn't own that is white is his underwear and his socks, and that's only because nobody ever sees those anyway. So, he could often be seen walking around in the wee hours of the morning when very few people were around. Trouble is, he was living in a not-so-good neighborhood at the time (he's since moved to a better one), complete with a crackhouse a block away and the usual collection of drug dealers, gangbangers, and other lowlifes not far enough away, so walking around late at night is not usually the healthiest of activities in such a locale.

    Anyway, we had his car roughly half unloaded when a group of local troublemakers walks over, looking as though they were going to try to sell us drugs or something. Terry and I each grabbed a load and proceeded to head inside with the stuff when one of the local riffraff asked him for the time. Well, not being the sort to cause trouble for people if he can help it, Terry told him the time, about 6:30 in the evening if I remember correctly. We then headed toward his apartment when one of the locals asked Terry if he was a vampire. We were almost inside when this happened, so we continued into his apartment, where he set down the stuff he was carrying, gave me an evil grin, and pulled out his vampire fangs--a pair of realistic dental acrylic caps that fit over his own (admittedly slightly prominent normally) eyeteeth, and looked like they were his natural teeth. (He got them from a local costumer and fang maker because at the time, we were both members of a local vampire fan club and live-action RPG club, and he enjoyed wearing them at night to discourage would-be muggers after we both heard of another person who was attacked from behind while wearing a pair of vampire tooth caps, bit his attacker, and scared the living daylights out of the scumbucket.) As we sauntered back out for another load, one of them asked him, "Hey, man, are you a vampire?"

    Terry just grinned at him, showing his fangs, and said as casually as you please, "Who told you that? Don't you know there are no such things as vampires?"

    The very second we leaned down to grab the last of the stuff from his car, the gangbangers who had approached us--the entire group--turned pale and ran off as fast as they could, obviously convinced that Terry was the real deal! I nearly busted my guts trying not to laugh until after he had secured his now empty car and we were both safely inside his apartment, but the minute we were (and I'd set my load down safely), we both cracked up laughing so hard that we were gasping for breath before long. Even now, when I mention this to him, we both end up laughing for several minutes at the gullibility of the local riffraff in that neighborhood.

    Oh yeah, I should mention one other thing about that incident--for the next six months afterward, nobody--and I mean nobody--messed with either of us at all. In fact, Terry was probably one of the few people who could walk down dark alleys in that neighborhood, day or night, with $100 bills hanging out of his pockets and be safer than the gold in Fort Knox. As Puck said in Shakespeare's A Midsummer Night's Dream, "Lord, what fools these mortals be!" twisted