![]() Oh, I was still a mild-mannered accountant, but the heartbeat was long gone. ![]() ![]() I’ll spare you the gory details, but one night I was a mild-mannered accountant with a heartbeat, and the next night I wasn’t. For those of you who are a little slow on the uptake, I am also a vampire. My name is Fredrick Frankford Fletcher, and yes, that name did get me beaten up quite frequently when I was a child. In the end, I forged a compromise, pouring the blood into my faux silver (obviously the real deal is off limits) flask, sealing it well, and then placing it between my freshly pressed shirts. I weighed the options for a few moments, pitting my desire for stylish secrecy against my nutritional needs. I mean, sure I needed it and all, but there’s always been something so garish about pulling a bag of O Negative from my little leather luggage. I was midway through packing when I paused to contemplate whether it was appropriate to bring the blood. ![]()
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