We sleep away the hot daylight hours which are poison to us. Then when the sun descends, we arise and take to the hunt. Our victims are blissfully unaware of our stealthy approach. They go about their mundane worldly business, perhaps working on their pet projects, perhaps congregating to socialize with others. It does not matter, their activities mean nothing to me. Their only value to those like me is the life fluid within their veins, that precious liquid which I intend to savor. The blood thirst is almost overpowering now. I feel it like a shrill buzz inside my head, commanding me to feed. And so I set out.

This night I have chosen a dark wooded area for my sport. Thru the trees, I can see a campfire and hear their laughing voices. The hunger urges me to rush in and take what I need, but I still have enough control to await the proper moment. Like a wolf stalking the herd, I must wait until a single animal strays from the rest and makes itself vulnerable. I stand little chance against the entire group should I be discovered. So I watch and plan.

I count three of them in the glow cast by the fire. A trio of humans brimming with the warm elixer I so crave. My requirements are not so great. A single victim will satisfy my appetite this night. Perhaps I shall return again to feast upon the others, but that will be another hunt. I dare not approach their light, lest it betray my presence and raise their guard. But I have noticed that in turn, each leaves the safety of the group and walks into the shadows behind a thicket of brush. That is where I now go to wait.

The waiting seems eternal, blood thirst gnawing at my belly. I try to distract myself with idle speculation as to which of the three shall be my unfortunate victim. Will it be the taller dark haired one? Perhaps the fat balding one. Footsteps intrude upon my thoughts, and I see it is the one with a hat. No matter, he approaches and I make ready. Silently I move to put myself behind a nearby tree.

He is in position now. The aroma of alcohol is all around him. Tho others of my kind may disdain anything but pure nectar, I have developed a taste for blood imbibed with alcohol. Tho its effect on us is not the drunken stupor so typical of humans, I find it fills me with an unusual warmth which adds to the experience. My anticipation grows as he fumbles with his zipper, preparing to relieve himself. Soon... so soon.

Quietly I make my move. His neck is so inviting, so delicious looking. Closer. I pierce his flesh and begin to feed. My hunger gives way to euphoria as I feel his lifeblood flow into me. I drink deep of it's nourishment and feel...

)))SMACK(((

"Damn! Skeeters are out in force tonight!"

"Yeah, no shit! Hey grab me a brewsky on your way back, I'm feeling mighty thirsty!"