Tea Time In An English Inn (FICTOID)
“I don’t like to brag,” said the vampire in the mauve waistcoat, “but I knew Hitler would be trouble right from the very beginning.”
He stirred the sugar in his tea with the elongated elegant nail on his little finger. “I left the continent and came here long before the Axis alliance arose.”
“I’m surprised you drink tea,” I said.
The vampire looked puzzled then smiled. “Oh, you mean Vlad. ‘I never drink wine.’ Poor dear is a raging alcoholic, that’s why he gets in so much trouble when he falls off the hearse.”
He took a sip and said, “The continent has turned into an empty badlands like something you see in a Hollywood cowboy movie. It’s hard finding nourishment there.”
“You visit Europe?”
“Oh, yes, quite regularly. One of the nice things about being able to turn into a bat. I cross the channel, ambush a German guard on his rounds, get my fill, and fly back.”
“Like a winged avenger, eh?”
“Oh, I wouldn’t call it vengeance; after all the Nazis have done nothing to me -- except eliminate competition.”
“No loyalty among blood fiends?”
“Oh, please. We constantly feud and fight among ourselves. I assure you at this very moment there’s a French vampire telling his human German friend the exact same thing I’m telling you.
“I am grateful to the Nazis for one thing, however: Even if humanity lasts a trillion years, they will always be the uberfiends.
“Now, care for an ice cream cone for dessert? My treat.”
© Buzz Dixon
