Vampires, aren't pretty. Vampires, aren't nice. Vampires, don't shine in sunlight. Vampires, aren't all pale and broody.

Vampires are cursed. Vampires hide in the night. Vampires are predators. Vampires, aren't what they used to be.

"Time is a big fucking asshole with a cocky smile on its round moustachioed face. Time finds the utmost satisfaction in watching what its existence does to everything. Now, you'd imagine such an asshole grumbling at the thought of someone living forever, this is not the case. What could be more fun than watching someone rot from the inside out forever? Vampires are gods' gift to time as well as an example to all those that would dare question him. Were not quite bad enough to go to hell and get pitchforks up the arse, lungs full of sulphur but an example we will be!
I'm sure a lot of you think I'm being an old fool, ranting away at you young idealistic bloodsuckers. Your wrong, I'm warning you. You fucked up, you wouldn't be here right now if you hadn't and you will find no sympathy. Whether you crossed god or you were left an unfinished meal, no one cares. When you take your first bite you will hate yourself, when you take the second you'll hate yourself a little less. After oh so many years of draining you'll become so desensitised you'll start day dreaming when you drink. After that, like me, you might get to liking it and taking pride in a good kill, who knows. Anyway, get back to your little delusions, I'm done trying to teach you all something."

John scratched his shaven head and sighed as he turned back to the bar, they did what he said they'd do. What Americans call alcohol went down without a fight as he wandered what piece of fiction each new person thought being a vampire was about. He could tell the "Interview with a Vampire" fool from any distance, dressed like they'd challenge him to a duel. "Twilight" enthusiasts were always clean-shaven and trying to be distant, and usually the victim of a vampire who had used their enthusiasm to get at there necks.

He didn't know why he bothered, they never listened. John sighed again as he put his scarf back on and stepped upon a table. "One last warning, don't try and eat anything that doesn't come from a neck." That said, he stepped back down and left the bar. His throat was starting to sting again, he'd tried too hard not to growl as he talked. Hopefully the icy air of a December night would soothe his scarred throat. Though something warm to drink would be far more effective, he thought with a sinister grin on his face. At 4 in the morning his best chance of an almost alcohol free victim was O'Malleys, they always got the youngsters in there. Hell, he might even get a virgin, his grin widening. He stopped grinning and hung his head slightly as he wondered down the road, thinking anyone in a bar at 4 in the morning was still a virgin was very foolish.

He had just turned into the alley at the right of O'Malleys when he was greeted with the sight of one of his fellow vampires wetting his whistle on some poor bar crawler. Sure, such a sight was something he had seen countless times before but it was still a slight shock when he was greeted with it while deep in thought. He was in no mood for taking the long way so he waited for the boy to finish yet his patience was quickly used up. "Could you hurry up? I'm looking to grab a bite myself." He requested, the grumble of his scarred throat bleeding into it. The feeder dropped his victim and slowly stepped back in fright before turning and running away, nearly tripping over his own feet as he did. Oh shit, thought Varney, I've interrupted a first timer! He stepped forward, looking at the poor man slumped on the floor, killed in his prime. He mused at the classic mistake that vampires make there first time, multiple bite marks on the neck where they've tried to drink from the jugular. The klutz must have tried six or seven times.

Suddenly, the man took a huge breath and stared at John in horror. Oh shit, he thought again, the poor bugger isn't dead! As the poor man was trying to come down from the shock, John was getting more and more annoyed, this was the equivalent of a baby being left at your door with a "please look after it" letter. Except there wasn't an orphanage to take this guy too, there wasn't any chance of him having a good time tonight. "Help me! I need to get to a hospital!" The guy was trying his hardest to cling to John's trousers but barely keeping from passing out. John knelt down and got the guy onto his feet. "You don't need a hospital, you just need a sit down and something alcoholic to drink…and maybe a bandage for that neck." The guy probably didn't agree but was in no shape to argue, or ask what was wrong with his saviours voice.

O'Malleys, it hasn't lost its charm in nearly 60 years.  Full of smoke and memories, the good and the drowning. Budding alcoholics loved the novelty of it, and the owner not giving a crap if you smoked helped to bring in the customers to.