Hello fellow creatures of the night,
It is I, your favorite editorialist, Count D. Today I wish to talk about a game that has dominated the world of bars and in-house entertainment for the rich, a game which I have recently got the opportunity to play. Pool. Indeed I cannot stress how much this game has infected the minds of the living. There are even tournaments surrounding it. The game is played thusly: fifteen balls are placed in the middle of a specialized table in a triangular shape. Then, a white ball is used to knock those balls into holes surrounding the table. But don’t hit the 8 ball in! If you do, that will surely spell your doom(meaning you lose the game). But I’m not here writing this piece to talk about the rules of pool, I wish to talk about the time I played it.
It was a cold dark night out, perfect weather for the hunt. My eyes were transfixed on a large and noisy house in the middle of what was called Nook Farm. The noise was coming from the third floor, and I quickly noticed there was an inordinate amount of smoke emanating from the room. Before I could enter to scope out my prey though, I had to get invited in. I knocked on the door three times (ha ha ha), and I was met by a kind man of the name George Griffin. The man must have got me confused for someone else, for he proclaimed I must be the missing Mister Samuels (who I may or may not have already fed on that very night), and let me in.
I was quickly escorted up to the third floor. Here I found the source of the noise and smoke. There were a large number of men, some thin, some fat, all smelled delicious and all smoking huge cigars. In the center of this blob of people was a man with insane hair and an amazing mustache (I was quite jealous of that mustache (I had tried them once, it did not work out too well(blood in the hair))). He came up to me and introduced himself as Mr. Twain. Yes that Twain my fellow night dwellers. He has recently come back up in popularity for his Tom Sawyer novels, but at the time he was much more well known for his travel works. Anyways he pulled me in close to the group and offered me a huge cigar and some whiskey. After seeing that I was taken care of, he asked if I wanted to play the game Pool. I had never played before at this point, so I asked to watch my first round, both to scope out who would be the best man to make a dinner out of night and because I did truly wish to play.
The game went quite quickly. I regret to inform you that while Twain was a gifted writer, he was not quite so gifted in the playing of pool. By the end of the game though, I had already chosen my target. One Mister Matthews. He seemed to not be a rich man, and it did not look like Twain liked him so much so I decided he would make the perfect prey. However when I was about to leave Twain stopped me. “Why are you leaving so early friend,” He called out laughing, “You said you wanted to play.” I realized that it was probably smarter for me to play the game as to not look quite so suspicious, then leave gracefully after losing the game. However when I received the cue stick to play the game, something came over me that I am not happy to admit. A competitive drive to win.
The games were over before they even started. I was far too good at finding all the perfect angles to hit my balls without aiding the other players. They were all in shock at my play. The first game I won, they patted me on the back. Third, they began to tell me to take it easy. By the eighth, they were swearing at me to leave the table. Finally after one of the larger fellows forcefully pulled me away from the table I stopped playing. By the time I ended however I found that my Mister Matthews had already left the party. Melancholic at losing my dinner, and overall no longer welcome near the pool table I decided to leave.
Before I could exit the room however I was intercepted by Mr. Twain. He told me there was something we needed to discuss and he brought me to his outside balcony. There I had a conversation that to this day has shocked me to my very cold and empty core. “You are not Mister Samuels sir,” is how he started
I was obviously caught off guard by this statement, but seeing no other course of action (also seeing that I could easily kill him and all his guests if I truly needed to) I replied “yes”.
“Then you must be a Vampire,” He announced, with such certainty that I had never heard from a daywalker since.
I was honestly floored by this and had no idea how to reply. I didn’t have to, however, because he said, “Look, I know of your kind from my many travels throughout the world. You guys aren’t very secretive.” He turned to look at me with such delight, “Will you do me a favor, if you don’t that fine, but I might be forced to reveal your secret”
Still utterly shaken by the man’s statements, I just shook my head yes. “Amazing,” he then pointed at a man in the room, and stated, “Could you please eat that one. I don’t like him very much, and he’s been stealing some of my ideas for short stories.”
I said okay, and together we reentered the room. After saying my goodbyes, I finally left that madhouse of a room, and returned to our beloved night. I have to say despite how insane he was talking to a vampire with such frankness, Mr. Twain had good taste, that man was an easy 9/10 on the blood department. Let’s just be glad he isn’t alive to reveal our secrets to anyone, though I don’t think he would have if he was still alive. He was willing to keep secrets, just as I was willing to keep his, at least as long as he was alive. With this being said, that is the story of how I first played pool, a sport I play to this day. Come back next month readers, and you will hear the story of how I handled my first cruise on the ship Demeter. Till next time!
Sincerely,
Count D.