I think I was almost killed last night.

I was working the cash register at the Store 24 near my house, when I non-chalantly said to one of my regular customers, who happens to be a vampire, "Have a nice day!" He stared at me for a second and said, "Come again?" in this voice that said, "Fuck you, Daywalker!"

He lept over the counter, his fangs gleaming in the fluorescent overhead lights. He poked a lean finger at my chest and told me that if I wasn't the night manager at the only all-night convenience store in the metropolitan area that carried "Martha Stewart Living", he would have sucked every last drop of blood from my limp, mortal body.

I found it kind of amusing that this normally quiet vampire would blow up over my attempt to wish him well. It's not like I was attempting to conjure up memories of his dead brother, who burned like old newspaper and flew apart like a clump of dry leaves after being caught in the sun a few years ago. I'm not that kind of person.

It has become rapidly apparent to me, talking with my fellow co-workers about my encounter, that some vampires are so jealous of us daywalkers, that they will almost consider it a personal attack against them if you say anything nice related to the daytime.

I respect the fact that vampires have issues with going out in the sun. What I don't respect are vampires that are so closed-minded, that they don't appreciate the immortality bestowed upon them, and instead harp upon the fact that being struck by even a single ray of warm sunlight will kill them. Those vampires need to chill the hell out....

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