The twenty-first century is quite the horrifying eye-opener for a Vampyre warrior whose been in a magical coma for a thousand years. The Vampyre in question would be me. I’m so damned confused by the modern world, and getting electrocuted for being misogynistic—whatever that means—is getting old. It’s insanity. Apparently, there’s a species called Karens running in the wild. The Tube of You and the Book of the Faces are alarming. From what I understand, the Karens gather there. I much prefer homing pigeons to the small rectangular metal box the undead of today seem to favor. Although, I am enamored with the horseless metal chariots. The good old days of skin peeling and ripping out entrails are over. So be it. I’ll fit in. Getting set aflame sucks. Plus, there’s a beautiful blonde who’s in my every waking thought. She might not know it yet, but we’re destined to be. Although, every time I cop a feel, I get my nards kneed up into my esophagus. My wooing skills might be a little rusty… Armed with the magic word, please, and the challenge of using my words instead of my sword, I shall succeed. I’m fierce. I’m fabulous. And I’m in love.