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Why.   Hello.  

In fact, good morning, my friend.

What a very interesting development.

Johnny boy is sleeping like the dead, appropriately enough.   Too tired to even wipe the blood stains from the corners of his mouth.   Endearing, no?  

And look.   He’s left his computer logged in.   Tut, tut, Johnny boy.   You never know who might start reading your little posts here and feel moved to write a little something of his own.

 

 

Violating?  

Oh, perhaps.   But I’ve got a little theory that transgressing is the only solace for immortality, Johnny.   Naughtiness makes the time fly and the fun fulfilling.   And when you leave the key in the door like this, you have to expect the occasional rape of the lock, champ.   Weakness is not our way.   It’s only humanity who should go around asking for it.   Write that down.

Never mind.

I’ll do it for you.

It is lucky for you, Johnny boy, that I stop in every now and then to check up on you.   I have to say, sometimes I don’t know how you’ve made it this long.   And I’m fearing you’re getting soft, champ.   Forgetting your heritage, hanging around with the foodstuffs for too long, starting to hesitate and reconsider when you should already have struck and slaughtered.   You know fully well that some of the kills last night were slovenly, Johnny.   You did warm up after a while, but you knew that you were slipping up early on, slow on the reflexes, out of training.   Off your game.   And we just can’t have that, can we?   Because one weak link can bring down the whole food chain.   It’s taken centuries to establish and maintain ourselves among the sheep.   It only takes one of us captured or – hell forbid – killed, for the word to get out into the news instead of the novels, and then it wouldn’t be a witch hunt that we’d have on our hands.

I’ll say this only once.  

You need to stay sharp, Johnny boy.   Focussed.   I really would hate for you to become a liability.

 

Now.   Enough of the preaching.

It was a delectable night though, all things considered.   These quaint unsuspecting locals of yours are so sincerely surprised when we choose them!   Sweet.   That initial rush of adrenaline through their flesh is scintillating.   A regional delicacy of sorts.   And in that car park with the girl who we actually gave time to scream – that was a lovely touch.   Wonderful sport.

I’m really quite sated, which is unusual for me, is it not?   A sincere compliment to you as tour guide and host, my friend!   I’m a little concerned that your appetiser before I arrived was ill-advised.   I hope nothing there comes back to bite you.   I will say this though.   Once you get going Johnny, you really know how to party hard.   I do love a good celebration of sin.

Goodness, Johnny boy, I’ve been so busy talking to you that I’ve been completely neglecting your little readers out there, haven’t I?   How rude.   I didn’t even introduce myself.   Not that I make a habit of introducing myself to mortals.   It always seems so redundant so quickly.   But nonetheless, I’ve been reading here what you’ve been prattling off, and you seem to be getting quite cosy with these little lower-life voyeurs.   Now baiting is always fun.   I enjoyed the little lies you keep slipping in here, the little inaccuracies and deliberate fictions.   Keeping the prey fascinated but uneasy and guessing can be an effective predatory technique – throwing them off the scent while keeping them in your sights.  

But then again, you have responsibilities to us and to yourself.   Never forget this.   I don’t want to read any real secrets making their way in here, you understand?  

There would be hell for you to pay, and I don’t want to be collecting.

 

Well now.   I think the time has come.   Goodbye, Johnny.   Thanks for showing me the sights, and for ‘inviting’ me in here.   It’s been illuminating.   I’ve enjoyed this little chat.  

In recompense for your hospitality, I’ve left you a little going-away snack upstairs, in case you wake up feeling peckish.   He might even still be warm by then.    And Johnny?   Remember what I’ve said.   Next time should be just for me to play again, not to chastise.   You know how I hate that.

Be good, Johnny boy.   Hunt well, and hurt better.

Until next time,

Py.

 

P.S. I killed your cat.

 

NEXT ENTRY…

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One Comment

  1. Really? Why the cat fu…. ba…?


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