Henry Fitzsimmons was your average guy—if your average guy fainted at the sight of blood. Paper cuts? Face-plant. A nosebleed? Gone. The thought of blood? Down for the count. He once passed out at a ketchup spill during a BBQ. It was… a thing.
So naturally, when Henry woke up one night in a dark, mysterious crypt with a cape on his shoulders, fangs in his mouth, and an overwhelming thirst for blood, his first thought was, “Oh no, I’m going to faint!”—and faint he did, right back into the coffin.
When he came to, groaning, he muttered, “Well, that’s just great. Fangs. I look like a dental experiment gone wrong.”
The next evening, he woke up again, slowly sitting up, trying to make sense of the situation. “Ok, Henry, deep breaths. Wait. Do vampires even breathe? Nope. Focus!”
Suddenly, the grand doors creaked open, and in walked a tall, elegant vampire named Count Viktor Von Sanguis. His voice echoed dramatically through the chamber.
“Welcome, fledgling! You have been chosen to join the ranks of the night! The blood of the ancient flows through you now, and—”
Henry raised a shaky hand. “Umm, I have a… slight problem”
Viktor frowned, “A problem? But you are now immortal, nothing can harm you!”
“Yea, it’s just that…. Well you see…blood..well… it makes me faint…..”
The count blinked. “You’re a vampire!”
“R..r..right, yes, but….” Stuttered Henry, “When I see blood…. Boom, Lights out!”
“Preposterous!” Viktor exclaimed “You’re a creature of the night, destined to drink the blood of the living. How can you faint at something so…… essential?”
Viktor sighed deeply, rubbing his temples. “Ok, we will have to train you. Start with something small…. Like..” He thought for a moment, his brows furrowed. A smile curled across his lips and his fangs glistened in the candle light. “How about a juice carton… I mean blood carton?”
“Do these exist?” Henry asked hopefully. “With a straw?”
“Not exactly,” Viktor muttered. “But let’s….. Improvise.”
A few nights later, after much trial and error (and more fainting), Henry and Viktor stood in front of a random guy in the park. The Count whispered to Henry, “Now, remember, no fainting. Just a small bite.”
Henry stared at the man’s neck. “Okay, okay, I can do this.” He leaned in, fangs out, concentrating hard on not thinking about blood. He opened his mouth— then immediately thought about blood gushing out.
Everything went black.
He came to with Viktor sighing loudly beside him. “This is becoming problematic,” Viktor said, dragging Henry off the pavement.
“I know,” Henry groaned. “But did I at least get a nibble?”
“Not even close”
Eventually Viktor got creative. He found a way to blend blood into smoothies. “To help Henry ease into things” He said to himself. But still, every time Henry took a sip, his face paled and down he went.
“Henry,” Viktor said one night, exasperated “I have never met a vampire quite like you.”
Henry grinned weakly “You mean charmingly unique?”
“I mean completely hopeless”
But Henry wasn’t ready to give up just yet. “Look, I know I am a terrible vampire, but maybe I can find another way! Do all vampires have to be bloodthirsty? Maybe I could… I dont know… be a vegan vampire?”
Viktor raised a sceptical eyebrow, his frown deepening “A what?”
Henry, ever the optimist, leaned in with the excitement of someone that had just solved world hunger. “You know, stick to tomato juice. Maybe throw in some beetroot for the colour? Pretend it’s blood, I could even start a whole new vampire trend—less biting—more smoothies.”
Viktors stare was the epitome of disbelief, as though he were witnessing a centuries-old tradition being slaughtered right before his eyes. “That is….. not how this works at all.”
“Doesn’t hurt to try!” Henry chirped, grinning like a man that clearly had not grasped the gravity of his situation. “Plus, it’ll mean I won’t pass out every time I see blood. Bonus!”
And so Henry the Vegan became the laughing-stock–no, let’s be fair– the legend of the vampire world. Among the suave, menacing undead who could drain a mortal with nothing more than a sultry glance, Henry stood out like…..well, a vegan at a steakhouse. He was utterly useless at biting—honestly, it was embarrassing—and always toted around an assortment of juice cartons, like some sort of eternally unprepared picnicker. Just in case, you know, he needed a quick beetroot juice fix whilst everyone else was sinking their teeth into a victim’s neck.
But, despite his unorthodox approach to vampirism, Henry’s un-life wasn’t half bad. While others were out hunting or worse, lounging in dark corners looking broody, Henry spent his evenings in the vampire equivalent of domestic bliss—happily sipping kale smoothies, attending the occasional late-night yoga session, and, most importantly, remaining upright and conscious at all times.
One evening as Henry slurped noisily on what looked suspiciously like a spinach and kiwi concoction, Viktor passed, shaking his head in sheer disbelief. “Worst vampire ever,” he muttered more to himself than anyone else.
Henry, not missing a beat, grinned around his straw. “Maybe. But at least I’m conscious, mate!” he replied, as though that was the single, greatest accomplishment a vampire could achieve.
And honestly? For Henry, it probably was.
By Eskarina
Nice. I couldn’t help but thinking I should re-read You Suck: A Love Story by Christopher Moore as I read this. I loved his vampire series. Thanks.