There's a reason we wear leather.

So, I'm back after another unexpected leave of absence. I haven't felt much like typing in a while, considering that I'm recovering from major lacerations on my right forearm due to an attack from a "wild dog."

I should probably start by telling you about this ridiculous package I received about a week after that fucking book came in the mail. This one contained this shitty black stretchy cotton/spandex type deal with what looked like a ballistic nylon snow vest with a high collar.

It was my new "uniform."

First let me say that it is 150 de-fucking-grees in San Marcos.

But what the hell, y'know? I've gotten enough grief from the damn Guild over the past few months, I figured I'd play along and wear their ridiculous outfit for a hunt or two.

And that's what got me bit.

First of all, wearing this thing, I looked like an extra from Better Off Dead. If you've never heard of this movie, then you should fuck off - you're too young to be reading about vampyrs and stuff. The collar - apparently designed to keep vamps from biting your neck - made me feel as though I was being constantly strangled by someone with the upper-body strength of an 85-year-old woman.

Whoever designed this thing has been watching the movie Monster Squad far too often. Vamps only go for the neck as a matter of convenience, because it's the anatomical location most akin to the tap on a beer keg. If they cannot get at the throat, however, they'll cheerfully bite your leg or your shoulder or your... arm. Fuckers.

See, I usually wear a beat-up leather jacket, which serves three purposes:

1. It's black, so it provides some degree of camo at night. Not against vamps, which go more by sense of smell than anything else, but from cops and people who call cops and other people who might ask you for money or something.


2. It provides a modicum of protection against asphalt, brambles, fangs, and fingernails. Most importantly, it keeps your skin from burning when a vamp goes up in flames.


3. It's much easier to get vampyr ash off of leather than any other textile I've tried.

So I'm out day-hunting in my shiny new Guild fag-vest, and I come across this sleeping vamp. Normally, I'd drag his unconcious ass out to get a tan, but this guy's at least 350 lbs. I could Jeep-winch him out, but that would probably drag him through at least four crumbling drywall partitions and a plate glass window, which might attract some unwanted attention.

So I get out the mallet and stake. I figured this guy was about 72% lard, so it'd slide right in. Unfortunately, the guy was denser than I thought, and the stake didn't make it all the way in the first time. He woke up, screamed like a little girl, and lunged at me with a mouth in desperate need of Listerine.

Instinctively, I blocked with my arm, thinking about the leather cuff that was supposed to be there. Oops.

What made it worse is that the guy's fangs got caught in the stretchy Latino dancer undershirt the Guild included with their useless vest. So he's caught in my sleeve, and I'm trying to use that hand to hammer the stake in. I finally managed to switch mallet hands and clumsily club Shamu into submission, but not before he'd put about 42 stitches worth of bite marks on my arm. Dick.

Needless to say, I'm back in my jacket, and that goddamned "uniform" is being used to clean my toilet... left-handed.