“A sweet transvestite—”
“And he’s creating a man, Rocky. But then Rocky gets loose because Magenta—”
“—a maid—”
“And Riff Raff, a handyman, want to go back to their home planet. . . .”
“In the end Dr. Frank-N-Furter and Rocky die—”
“And the Transylvanians go back home!”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “And there’s dressing up? Like this?”
“Oh, yeah! And choreographed musical numbers.”
The vampires started singing a song about a sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania, and I considered asking them to drive me back to the cannibals. At least they didn’t sing.
The exit is coming soon, I
told myself over and over again.
“Hey, I’m thirsty,” Front-seat Guy said suddenly, when the never-ending song was finally done.
The vamp next to me reached behind us and pulled out a big blue cooler. Flipping open the top, he revealed a row of beer cans. “Want something?” he asked me.
“No,” I said. “Thanks.” Andy let me try his beer once, and I’d thrown up for two days straight.
“All the good stuff is at the bottom anyway,” he replied, removing the top tray to reveal a fake bottom. He lifted that up and showed me plastic bags filled with red liquid and packages of raw hamburger meat.
“Nice,” I said, impressed. “Regular human stuff on top in case you get pulled over?”
“Yup. The cops don’t give you a hard time if they see a cooler full of beer. A cooler full of blood, though, is harder to explain.” He reached in for a Baggie and tossed it up front. Then he pulled out a package of hamburger.
Ripping open the plastic, he pushed the meat aside and started slurping at blood left behind on the white Styrofoam tray.
“Dude, gross,” I said, trying to ignore the queasy feeling in my stomach caused by the slurping sounds. “That’s nasty.”
He paused and looked up at me. “How do you think we get our blood?”
“I thought you guys had access to blood banks or something like that.”
He snorted. “TV and movies get vampires all wrong. We don’t have inheritances or multimillion dollar fortunes to pay off the people who work at places like that. If you’re just a regular Joe like me, which is my name, coincidentally, you can’t get into a blood bank. They put your name on a list and do a bunch of background checks on you. Do you know what I was in my regular life?”
I shook my head.
“A dental assistant. Seriously, why the hell would a dental assistant need to get into a blood bank? I made twelve twenty-three an hour. Not enough to start a savings account for my eternal afterlife. Hamburger meat is easier. And cheaper. No one puts your name on a list if you buy fifty pounds of it.”
“I never thought about it like that.”
“This Vampire Public Service Announcement has been brought to you by The More You Know,” Joe said. Then he went back to licking his Styrofoam. “Vampires on TV give us all an unhealthy body image stereotype too. Do you know how hard you have to work out to get a body like those actors on True Blood, or The Vampire Diaries? Try doing it when your blood vessels don’t work anymore and your muscles are slowly starting to waste away.”
Like I want to talk about all the problems a vampire has. “Can someone turn on the radio?” I asked.
“I’ve got a better idea!” the girl vamp said. “‘Ninety-nine Bottles of Blood on the Wall’!”
“Ninety-nine bottles of blood on the wall,” Joe sang. “Ninety-nine bottles of blood . . .”
“Oh, God,” I muttered, “I’m stuck in a car full of vampires singing road trip songs. Somebody stake me now.”