The annual town blood drive. Every year it's held, and every year my BBQ restaurant sponsors it. I offer 50% off all purchases at my BBQ restaurant across the street to anyone who donates blood. My buddy John runs the blood drive for a charity called The Crimson Hope. Only one small thing, John's a vampire.

The Crimson Hope is a foundation with the secret goal of ending vampire discrimination, but that's not to say there aren't some bad apples in the bunch.

I'm sitting at the counter in my restaurant, the blood drive is almost over, so at the moment the restaurant is empty. As soon as it's over through, that's when people tend to come. John walks in, with something under his coat.

"One rack of ribs," he requests.

"Sure," I smile, getting the ribs, "so what's in your jacket?"

"Well, in exchange for running the blood drive," John explains revealing a sack of blood, "we get a small commission."

"Don't you just drink animal blood?" I ask.

"Well," John replies, "kinda. This commission is the only time of year us dry throats drink human blood."

Dry throats, a term used to refer to vampires who do not take blood by force. They tend to take the excess from slaughter houses and places of the like. There's a whole secret society for this sort of thing.

"So," I ask out of a sudden curiosity, "how you taking yours?"

John looks around the western themed restaurant, making sure no one else is around. "Why use barbecue sauce," he asks, "when blood is so much better?" He covers his ribs in blood and starts eating. I turn away. It's as gross looking as it sounds.

Jeff, a vampire who tends to be more... Aggressive walks in.

"Whatcha eating?" He asks John.

"BBBQ," John explains.

"BBBQ?" Jeff asks, "where'd you get the blood?"

John looks at me, and smiles. The kind of smile he gets when he wants to help, but his plan is outright shit. Whatever he's gonna say, it can't be good.

"My buddy Barry runs the place," John lies, "he can hook you up with the good stuff, if you catch my drift."

Jeff walks up to me. "How much for the BBBQ?" He asks.

"My supply got cut off," I explain glaring at John, "it's off the menu."

Jeff grabs me by the collar. "I haven't had BBQ in seventy years," he growls, his pale skin under the light, his yellow eyes piercing my soul, "I can't eat it. Without blood, it makes me sick, so, figure something out!"

John gets up, "woah Jeff! Not cool!"

Jeff drops me. "Now," he glares with his yellow, piercing stare, "I am going to pay you one hundred dollars, and when I get back here in half an hour, I expect a BBBQ sandwich. Understand?"

I reach for my stake launcher under the counter. "You're out of line Jeff," I warn.

"Well," he smirks, "Ben Franklin disagrees. Just get me my sandwich."

Jeff hands me two hundred dollars and leaves. I look at the money, it's a good amount for a sandwich, and it would put me on better terms with vampire community than I already am. Problem is, I have no way to get a steady supply of blood.

"Well John," I ask, "what do I do now? Where am I gonna get the blood?"

"Take some of my commission," he smiles, "this is my fault anyways."

John hands me what's left of his commission. Not much, but enough for a sandwich.

"Thanks man," I reply, "but seriously, don't go advertising this."

John grabs the two hundred dollars.

"Dude," he explains, "look at this. This is some serious dough. Even if you were to serve BBBQ for just one day you'd make the big bucks. Listien, I can go out, and pick up some more blood. I'm sure someone's willing to sell their commission. Trust me Barry, you can handle this."

I get the impression going through with this is a bad idea, but fear doesn't pay the bills so...

"OK, get some beast blood to sell you their commission. Beast bloods don't drink human blood anyways, only animal blood. Should get a good deal. Pay with the two hundred dollars, and tell everyone I'll be serving BBBQ tonight only."

"Sure," John smiles, "what about the guzzlers?"

Guzzlers, your standard murderous vampire stereotype. They have a ring for killing humans for their blood. Best to stay away from them.

"Above all else," I reply, "the guzzlers must not find out. You saw how Jeff took it, and he's not even a guzzler. If the guzzlers catch wind of this, they may be more forceful."

"OK," John smiles, his yellow eyes more calm than Jeff's, his pale skin and silver hair reflecting the light of the rising moon in the distance. His outfit casual, with blue jeans and a gray jacket.

He leaves. After the rush of normal people taking advantage of the discount, a second rush begins. A rush of vampires. John arrives just in time with some bags of blood.

The rush goes great, I make thousands. Then I hear the door open. I see a police officer in the doorway. Uh oh, this could be bad.

He approaches me. I see his yellow eyes. He's a vampire, oh thank god.

"I have associates," he begins to explain, "who are rather interested in making a purchase."

"OK," I reply, "who's ordering?"

The cop sets a wad of cash on the counter. "The guzzlers," he explains, "and they want you to cater to a wedding a week from now."

I look at John handling the blood in the back. He mouthes the words, "not enough."

"Sorry officer," I reply, "but this is a one night offer."

The officer chuckles. "Let me rephrase that," he glares, staring into my soul, bearing his fangs, "they won't take no for an answer, so accept their generous payment, or YOU'LL be on the menu."