Damon puts on really dark sunglasses even though it is nighttime. A crucifix necklace dangles around his neck. Driving a sporty convertible with a girl barely in her twenties, he pulls up to his friends.
His behavior perplexes his friends.
“What has gotten into him?” asks one.
“You don’t suppose…No. It couldn’t be.”
“What?”
“You don’t suppose he’s going through a midlife crisis, do you?”
They laugh. Vampires do not go through midlife crises.
“Hey Damon, you’re 800 years old. Act your age.”
Damon smiles, exposing his fangs. He flips off his friends before racing off with his dinner date.
His behavior perplexes his friends.
“What has gotten into him?” asks one.
“You don’t suppose…No. It couldn’t be.”
“What?”
“You don’t suppose he’s going through a midlife crisis, do you?”
They laugh. Vampires do not go through midlife crises.
“Hey Damon, you’re 800 years old. Act your age.”
Damon smiles, exposing his fangs. He flips off his friends before racing off with his dinner date.
