The Utterly Uninteresting and Unadventurous Tales of Fred, the Vampire Accountant

I got into magic because I got into alchemy. Which I got into because I was into chemistry, which I was learning about because I wanted to get better with botany, which I had taken up studying in an effort to grow some killer weed

I missed the days when I would silently judge seemingly crazy people in a park, instead of being one of them.

This book is dedicated to the uncool, uncoordinated, unexceptional, uncharming, uninteresting, and especially the unashamed. To everyone from the Awkwards to the Zeroes, living as the proud oddballs they are. This book is dedicated to my people.

Krystal snorted out a laugh. “Hit on me? Freddy, Bubba is gay. Like really gay. Gayer than a unicorn butt-fucking a rainbow. You’re the one he has a little crush on.

It’s curious that children can either be expert liars or utterly incapable of hiding their emotions, and the classification changes from minute to minute.

Vampire strength might not let me lift cars, but I will tear up some shrubbery all day long.

You’re a good man who happens to be a vampire. We aren’t human, but that doesn’t make us monsters.

Are you telling me that vampires and werewolves are the reason America won the Revolutionary War?,” I asked, dumbfounded.

My unlife was so boring that even the woman who hunted monsters saw me as harmless.

Look, I’ll tell you what I do, but you won’t believe me.” … “Given that I just found you bound and gagged, my mind is somewhat more receptive than it might normally be.” “Well then, here’s the deal,” Krystal said as she sat down next to me. “Everything you think you know about monsters is a lie. Ghouls, ghosts, werewolves and more are real and hiding out behind the scenes in our world. Officially, they are known as parahumans.

You will eventually discover that under the movie stereotypes, imposed mystique, and overall inflated expectations, each and every one of us is at least a touch more boring than our images would indicate. And that is not a bad thing.

Albert died in an unfortunate accident sometime ago and was raised as a zombie by his amateur necromancer friend, Neil. Bubba was a new friend we had acquired in Vegas when helping him gain back the freedom he had previously gambled away. The fourth member of our group, a government agent and my girlfriend named Krystal, was out of town for work this week, thus I was conducting my first weekly scrabble tournament with just the three of us. Which leaves only me to be accounted for in the explanation. My name. which I hope you know by now. is Frederick Frankford Fletcher and I am a vampire, though still not the type that inspires swooning or terror.

In retrospect, that was the first of many mistakes.

Everything you think you know about monsters is a lie.

It’s the damn holidays,” Krystal said. “If all you have is an addiction, then seeing everyone connecting with friends and family will leave you feeling lonely. So running off to the only thing that seems to give you joy and validation sounds like a good idea.

the worst kind of criminal,” Bubba said. “Smuggler?” Albert asked. “Gun-runner?” Neil ventured. “Assassin?” I guessed. Bubba shook his head. “Politician.” We “oooohed” collectively as a group as understanding set in.

Everything you think you know about monsters is a lie. Ghouls, ghosts, werewolves, all of them and more are real and hiding out behind the scenes in our world. Officially, they are known as ‘parahumans,’ and part of my job is to hunt down the ones that get out of hand.

Even though Krystal and I had begun dating after our high school reunion a few weeks back, we had only formalized our relationship as being committed a few days ago. I suppose that doesn’t sound like much, but when the majority of your mortal life was spent cuddling up to a tub of ice cream and a classic film, getting a girlfriend still held something of a primordial thrill.

Working with dracolings requires a two year long certification process that has to be renewed annually. That’s how complicated interacting with them is.

The morning after being turned into a vampire, I instantly knew some things were going to have to change. I would no longer be able to make it into work at the accounting firm, I would have to forgo any walks in the sunshine, and I would need to get used to a far more liquid-based diet.

these men looked as though trouble would be sleeping with the light on for a week and double bolting its doors after even a brief encounter with them.