“And then he said, ‘I’m bloodthirsty!’ Haha!” said the vampire comedian.
Timmy shook his head. He slowly walked out of the auditorium filled with fans of these alien vampire comedians who had descended from God-knows-where and had taken over the comedy industry, forcing Timmy, a pure-blood human, out of his job as a full-time stand-up comedian. Timmy knew the world was ending. He could smell it in the air.
On his way home, he ducked into an alley that was a shortcut. He saw a black cloak sweep around a corner. He smelled dried blood. Something glinted in a corner of the alley. At first glance, it looked like a fancy golf club. Then as he got closer, he realized it had spikes on it. This could kill a person with a flick of his wrist. As his hand touched it and picked it up, a thought echoed through his mind. I’m going to kill them, he thought. Every last one of them.
The very next night, he crouched in a corner of an alley, waiting. He saw a dark cloak, the telltale sign of a vampire. He leaped on the blurry shape with golf club in hand. Timmy stood and looked at the heap on the ground. He had done it! Timmy had gotten his first kill, and he was proud of himself. The smell of death and blood surrounded him, and it smelled good. There was blood oozing out of the vampire’s face, and his ribs were exposed. His blood was pooling on the ground, and his clothes were drenched in blood. All over the town of Ithaca, New York, the first sanctuary to vampires, the white snow was starting to turn red.
The policeman was doing his nightly patrol when he came across the body. John Miller noticed many things about the body, but the thing that really stood out to him was the golf club-like print across the dead man’s face. He immediately brought it back to the forensic research team, who determined that the man had been dead for over a day, and also confirmed that he was, in fact, a vampire, who were no different than immigrants and had every right to Ithaca. They also found fingerprints that led them to one man: Timmy Hawkins.
The police came to his house and arrested him at 4:30 AM on Saturday morning for the murder of one innocent vampire. He knew what he did was horrible, but vampires were ending the world slowly but surely by sucking people’s blood until it ran dry. Timmy’s job wasn’t done. There were 49 vampires left.
“No! NO! LET ME GO!!!” Timmy screamed at the police arresting him. They thought he was crazy, but he wasn’t. The police must have forgotten how many people died because of vampires. The total death count was 39. And how many vampires had been murdered? One! This was unjust! Timmy got put in a cell with a man named Jarell. As Timmy was thrown into the cell by the guards, Jarell looked at him.
“What’d you do?” Jarell asked.
“Murdered a vampire. How ‘bout you?”
“Nothing. I did nothing. I was arrested for murder as well, but I commited no crime. I was framed. I’ve had many people pass through this room, but they’ve all gone after a short time. How, you ask? Well, I’ll tell you how to escape too. But for a price. Gimme your cookie today at lunch. Then I’ll show you how to get out of this place.”
“Sure!” said Timmy.
That night, Jarell looked down the hallway for guards.
“Climb on my shoulders,” he said to Timmy.
“Um…” Timmy was hesitant.
“Just do it!” Jarell burst out. Timmy jumped onto Jarell’s shoulders and pulled out a vent from the ceiling. He climbed through the ventilation pipes and found another opening, which was on the side of the building. This was the only way out. Timmy would have to risk it. He climbed down the building and landed on the soft ground.
He went home, only to find his golf club had been confiscated. He would have to improvise. He went to his local sports store and bought a golf club. Then he went to the hardware store and bought some barbed wire, nails, and a hammer, and continued his rampage.
There was one left. One vampire left to kill, the kingpin of all vampires. He lived in an underground lair with the best security in the world and was surrounded by bodyguards at all times. Timmy’s first stop was the gun store. When he looked at the aisles and aisles of guns, he chose five. An RPG, two waist pistols, a shotgun, and a laser blaster. With all this and his golf club, he was ready to fight Trankio, the head vampire.
He then proceeded to look for the undisclosed location of Trankio’s vampire lair. He looked in the train tracks, but there was no hideout. He looked in various basements. He even looked in the bottom of trash cans. He was tired and dirty, so he stopped in the bathroom of a Subway sandwich shop to wash up, and when he leaned back on a certain part of the wall, it opened up to reveal a long set of spiral stairs. He quickly pulled out his guns and golf club, and tucked them into the proper holsters. He was ready. As he walked down the stairs, he tripped on a wire. The last thing Timmy Hawkins felt was a bullet go through his brain.
As John lay in bed, he looked out the window and saw Ithaca falling apart. The streets were drenched with blood. Corpses lay in the abandoned square, and there were only a couple people left. Everyone was wrong, including him. Vampires needed to die. He heard his bedroom door open, and then everything went black.
“Today, the vampires have declared Ithaca theirs. They have killed over 500, and we have found out there are almost a thousand vampires living in Trankio’s lair,” said the news anchor.
“Police have shifted their view about vampires from ‘Welcome to Ithaca!’ to ‘Definitely not welcome in Ithaca!’ They are trying to arrest all the vampires and have even brought the military in. Ahh! My neck! My neck!”
Those were the last words the news anchor said before vampires took over the TV station, and the rest of the world with it.