I knocked on Grandpa Clive's door, which he opened to let me in. I spilled my guts about everything, and as his expression grew stern, I couldn't help but ask, "Grandpa Clive, is there any hope for me? I'm only 400 years young; I'm not ready to kick the bucket!"
He pondered for a moment before asking, "Is he good-looking?"
"What?" I was floored. Was this really the time?
I should have known these old folks never take things too seriously.
I grabbed a cushion from the couch and threw it at him playfully.
"Stop scaring me! Just tell me what to do. I can't handle even one drop of his blood like I used to human blood, and animal blood is off the table. If this keeps up, I might have to move back here and you don't want me waking you up with megaphone drills every morning, do you?"
Grandpa Clive winced at the thought, then chuckled sheepishly, "Oh come on, it's not a big deal! Just sip his blood now and then. You don't need much, and you can square things away with him afterwards."
"Are you listening to yourself?" I was tempted to crack his head open and see if everything was wired right. "What if he finds out I'm a vampire?"