Howdy, Homo Sapiens.
V the Vampire here.
So, this is my first blog post on this so called ‘Thunder Poet’s’ blog.
(Seriously, I’m posting on this weirdo’s blog just ’cause I still don’t know how to manage this internet crap and somehow, this neanderthal is the only contact I have with the Human World. But I’ll be creating my own blog soon, ’cause I can’t stick with this lunatic for long, even though I’ve got along with some very reckless suckers in my 208 years of life)
So, I am starting to write blog posts ’cause I believe that we vampires need a voice of our own too. Especially us V.V.s (short for Vegan Vampires): y’know, the Clean Ones. We really don’t hurt, trust me.
It’s not that we don’t loathe the sight of the blood like those humans who occasionally go, “Ughh, mah gerd. Dass naaeesty.”
But to be honest, we just don’t like to hunt for any of that shi…..
(Oh, my. So, now this weirdo also has a strict ‘no cursing’ rule on this blog. What a pu$$%)
Now, I’m also here to clear off some air about we being into this lovey-dovey crap. Seriously, this Twilight thingy has destroyed our bad-a$$ image of Blood Sucking Immortals.
(Even though us V.V.s never get into the hunting part, you get the point)
And how that movie has shown the abs-solutely wrong image of those werewolves!
Those murky Werewolves.
I mean, I’m fond of doggos and everything. But how, in the Vampire hell, can those itchy, hairy creatures ever live happily, rolling in that poopy mud?
(I just happen know that the mud near their shelters is poopy because my cousin Mark shat there once for fun and caught every other Werewolf rolling in it, but that’s for another time….)
Anyway, their shape-shifting process is even more horrendous.
My sister, Em, once saw their Beta, Stinkin’ Steve, shape-shifting back to his human form, but somehow his one half didn’t fully transform and it was left, like, super hairy. It was like goblins had a baby with Chewbacca and the hybrid literally contained half of them both.
The other day, I witnessed their Alpha Gary’s daughter Victoria, so called ‘refining her shape- shifting’ in the woods.
(It’s ‘so called’ because everybody knows she goes there to, y’know, ‘play ball’ with Ryan, that human’s son)
So when she saw her father coming and she decided to shift her form for real, her snout didn’t really go quite in.
I can only imagine him beside that face at night, y’know, ‘playing ball‘.
Thunder Poet: Uhhh…. Mr. V, Me not interrupting you never meant I approved of everything you wrote here on my bal…. I mean… blog.
Please try to keep it clean.
Yeah, yeah. Whatever. I was ending this, anyway.
So, all I’m tryna say is, the Vamps rule, be wary of those hairy bastards, and I’m really starting to hate this blog owner’s guts.
Well, this wraps it up, and I’ll see you homo sapiens in my next blog post.
(Until then, I would have to work it out with this Loon)
Yours true V.V.,