“And you willingly enslaved yourself to a vampire, as his human servant?”
“Well, yeah.”
She certainly wasn’t the first. “And now you’re unhappy because—”
“It isn’t how I thought it would be.” And Marie certainly wasn’t the first to discover this.
“Let me guess: There’s a lot more blood involved than you thought there would be. He makes you clean up after feeding orgies, doesn’t he?”
“Oh, no, the blood doesn’t bother me at all. It’s just that, well—he doesn’t drink from my neck. He prefers drinking from my thigh.”
“And you’re quibbling? You must have lovely thighs.”
“It’s supposed to be the neck. In all the stories it’s the neck.”
“There are some vampire legends where the vampire tears out the heart and laps up the blood. Be happy you didn’t hook up with one of those.”
“And he doesn’t wear silk.”
What could I say? The poor girl had had her illusions shattered.
“Does he make you eat houseflies?”
“No—”
“Marie, if you present your desires as a request, not a demand—make it sound as attractive as you think it is—your Master may surprise you. Buy him a silk shirt for his birthday. Hm?”
“Okay. I’ll try. Thanks, Kitty.”
“Good luck, Marie. Next caller, Pete, you’re on the air.”
“I’m a werewolf trapped in a human body.”
“Well, yeah, that’s kind of the definition.”
“No, really. I’m trapped.”
“Oh? When was the last time you shape-shifted?”
“That’s just it—I’ve never shape-shifted.”
“So you’re not really a werewolf.”
“Not yet. But I was meant to be one, I just know it. How do I get a werewolf to attack me?”
“Stand in the middle of a forest under a full moon with a raw steak tied to your face, holding a sign that says, ‘Eat me; I’m stupid’?”
“No, I’m serious.”
“So am I! Listen, you do not want to be attacked by a werewolf. You do not want to be a werewolf. You may think you do, but let me explain this one more time: Lycanthropy is a disease. It’s a chronic, life-altering disease that has no cure. Its victims may learn to live with it—some of them better than others—but it prevents them from living a normal life ever again. It greatly increases your odds of dying prematurely and horribly.”
“But I want fangs and claws. I want to hunt deer with my bare hands. That would be so cool!”
I rubbed my forehead and sighed. I got at least one of these calls every show. If I could convince just one of these jokers that being a werewolf was not all that cool, I’d consider the show a success.
“It’s a lot different when you hunt deer not because you want to but because you have to, because of your innate bloodlust, and because if you didn’t hunt deer you’d be hunting people, and that would get you in trouble. How do you feel about hunting people, Pete? How about eating people?”
“Um, I would get used to it?”