When I first told my family about becoming a vampire, they didn’t believe me. Okay, I sometimes had friends that were reality-based challenged. And I got into a little trouble at school. Hey, I was seven, what kid my age hadn’t gotten into trouble? Honestly, did that mean I was making it up?

Mom gave me one of her “yes-dear-I-know” smiles. Then she whooshed, back into the kitchen leaving the funk of garlic and onions behind. How’s that for a blatant diss?

Dad tweaked my nose, “soooo first grade," and headed upstairs to change out of his work clothes.

The mistake - otherwise known as my little brother Bobby - flat-out called me a fibber before racing for the dinner table. That boy’s enough to make me go postal, seriously.

Mom made spaghetti with smoked sausages, French loaf dripping with garlic butter, and tropical punch Kool-Aid. Plus my all-time favorite dessert, banana cream cheesecake, loaded with real bananas and tubs of Cool Whip. As a fledgling vampire I realized this wouldn’t be my typical diet, but I managed to force it down. Unlike my parents who weren’t swallowing a word I said.

“Rachelle Elaine Patterson! I told you, no pretend playing at the table."

“I’m not pretending. I’m really becoming a vampire. Even my friends think so.”

“Watch your tone young lady, or we’ll see what your friends think of no dessert.”

“Hey Mom! Does that mean I can have two slices?" Bobby asked.

Upset by Mom’s obvious cruelty, I folded my arms across my chest, and slammed back against the chair hard enough to make it rock. We would see who got what. Just then, Mr. Can’t-we-all-get-along a.k.a. my Dad, chimed in. Guess he wanted to avoid another night hearing about his fatherly screw-ups.

“Rach, honey, you don’t want to be a vampire. Vampires are monsters, monsters are bad, and bad people don’t get into heaven. You want to be able to get into heaven, right honey? Besides, a good girl would never wanna drink anything as gross as blood.”

Dad was my all time favorite parent. He was tall like the elm in our front yard. He could make me laugh, even when I was mad, kept that woman I’m not speaking to happy and off my case, most of the time. He also had the prettiest browny-orange eyes in the entire world. But sometimes, like now, he was dumb as dishwater.

“Daddy, once a month we go to church to drink blood, and that’s supposed to make us good people. So how come vampires aren’t even more ‘gooder’ for drinking it every night?”

He turned to Mom and did that parent thing. You’ve seen it; they get this funny look on their faces, and then all of a sudden your dad knows what to say, because your mom put the answer directly into his head. Sometimes my parents were real freaks.

“Rach…hon, what makes you think you’re becoming a vampire?”

“Because, at night when everyone is really asleep; I go into the kitchen and get the big butcher’s knife. Then I sneak into Bobby’s room and practice cutting his throat without waking everyone. I really wanna see if his blood tastes the same as it does in church. But the really important part is I’m doing an experiment. I wanna find out if Bobby’s insides are warm and sticky like the neighbor’s puppy.”

Bobby threw up in his plate and ran to Mom. My parents went Casper pale and did that look thing again. Dad walked a little funny before he scooped me up, and gave me a big hug. Normally I loved my dad’s hugs, but his chest kept doing this shivering thing. It struck me then, “how stupid could I be.”

“Daddy, you’re right, I’m not becoming a vampire!”

He made the funniest noise, and his eyes were all red and watery. Dad even had a ridiculous smile on his face as he rubbed my back. Mom kept thanking someone…who, I couldn’t be sure; she was hiccupping too much. Bobby just clung to her like a baby chimp at the zoo.

“Vampires don’t eat flesh. I’m becoming a zombie!” I was so glad I’d figured it out before I embarrassed myself or something.

“And that's how I ended up at this hospital for the criminally insane. See it’s just a big misunderstanding. So doctor, when are my parents coming?“