Back in the day, we never had a problem with these pesky sparkly vampires. Oh, we would get an occasional deer in the yard, or a squirrel, or even a raccoon, but never vampires. It was a peaceful, quiet little town in the Pacific Northwest called Spoon. We never caused anyone any trouble and they left us well enough alone.

But those days are gone. Now these emo vampires are everywhere. Not to mention those dang waxing werewolves. It’s getting to the point where you can’t even have a beer in the backyard without some blood sucking freak moping about.

The last time I was in a coma my BFF read me every single Potter book, hoping they would give me the will to live. They didn’t, but I woke up anyway. Still delirious from the dragon bites, I demanded paper and wrote down Harry’s story as best as I could recall. I lit that one on fire.

Then I tried again… writing from right to left, upside down, and backwards. That version sucked ass, so I wadded it up and shot it out of a cannon.

The third time I wrote it in Latin, then scanned it in and ran it through Babblefish. That one wasn’t too bad, so I sent it to Penguin with a ransom note.

Against all odds, the fourth time was the charm! I typed that one into a dusty laptop in Comic Sans while guzzling whiskey.

And thus the story you have before you came to be….