That Gig Was A Bust

Money's been a little tight lately.

Things have been too calm in the world of the undead.

Got sent down to some tiny red-neck piece of dirt in the deep south last week. By the time I rode into town, the damn bloodsuckers had cleared out. Bet they heard the I was comin'! There's not a vamp on either side of the Mississippi that doesn't quake in its fashionable suede shoes when it hears I'm comin'.

I'd rather they'd been there though. No vamps means no slayin' -- and that means no moola.

Don't worry about me -- I'm already signed up for the next gig.

I leave first thing tomorrow morning.

Puerto Rico.

Tune in for details --