When life is like a movie... or not.

I was sitting in the mall-- which, let me tell you, is about as fun for me as a root canal-- while my husband stared open-mouthed at some sort of electronic doodad in some electronics store when I heard a familiar voice over my left shoulder. It was the Nightstalker.

The Nightstalker is a former student who says that he is a vampire. I mean it.

Really.

He has even sharpened two of his teeth to resemble fangs.

I swear I don't make this stuff up.

Anyway, for some reason, you know that this kid took a shine to me, whyohwhy I do not know, but since he spent most of his time wandering the hallways trying to fascinate girls who didn't normally garner a lot of teenaged-boy attention, and he didn't actually do too well with the whole grade thing, and then he got one of his ghoulfriends girlfriends pregnant and dropped out of school permanently. He complained about the fact that the girlfriend's parents hated him and wouldn't let him see the baby, and I tried gently to explain to him that maybe-just-maybe it was because he talked about drinking blood. A lot. And yeah, THERE'S a conversation I never envisioned having when I was training to be a teacher. Just goes to show ya.

But anyway, there at Retail Hell, there he was. I surreptitiously quick-checked to make sure I still had a pulse and delicately sniffed the air for traces of sulphur as he slid onto the bench beside me. I barely recognized him. Previously, he had modeled his hair on a character from that '80s Kiefer Sutherland flick The Lost Boys. But of course, unless you've been living under a preteen-free rock for the last several months, you should know that there're some new bloodsuckers in town. So guess what he looked like now?


Muh-huh. It was too dark to see if he's covered his skin with glitter, but I'll bet you anything...

There IS one thing I'd like to see him emulate about Edward Cullen though-- and that would be the stack of mortarboards indicating graduation from high school.

I think online shopping is great, don't you?