— Mayor? Is that you?
— What are you doing here?
— I'm a vampire. What is your excuse? No, really.
"Vampires who pretend to be humans pretending to be vampires."
"How avant-garde."
The difference between how you look and how you see yourself is enough to kill most people.
And maybe the reason vampires don’t die is because they can never see themselves in photographs or mirrors.
— What are you?
— You know.
— No, I don't.
— Yes, you do, or you wouldn't be here.
— It's not possible. It can't be.
— Everything you know and every belief that you have is about to change. Are you ready for that?
— What are you?
— I'm a vampire.
When the last vampire is extinct, who will mourn our passing? Will she? Will anyone? Can anyone understand this pain, this loneliness?
There comes a time for every vampire when the idea of eternity becomes momentarily unbearable. Living in the shadows, feeding in the darkness with only your own company to keep, rots into a solitary, hollow existence. Immortality seems like a good idea, until you realize you're going to spend it alone. So I went to sleep, hoping that the sounds of the passing eras would fade out, and a sort of death might happen. But as I lay there, the world didn't sound like the place I had left, but something different. [rock music starts] Better. It became worthwhile to rise again as new gods were born and worshipped. Night and day, they were never alone. I would become one of them.
— Do you have anything you want to say to the other vampires listening out there?
— Yes, as a matter of fact, I do.
— What is that?
— Come out, come out, wherever you are.
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