Episode 5: The Plan

When I got back to my apartment later that night, I couldn’t calm down. Whenever I closed my eyes, the vision of that Rascal was there, waiting for me. I had to have it. But ten grand?

Wal-mart greeters don’t get that kind of cash.

What was I supposed to do, then? Steal it?

I paused in mid-pace, thinking wildly.

Steal it.

Why not?

I rushed over to my desk, took out a piece of paper and a pen, then worked on writing down my thoughts. Here’s what I came up with:

I’ll be honest: being a vampire isn’t the greatest deal in the world. But it’s not without its merits. I just had to know how to look at it in the right light. For one thing, the law hasn’t quite figured out what to do with vampires yet. Repeat after me:

Red tape is my friend.

That’s right. The only way anyone can get anything done legally is to jump through hoop after endless hoop. For example, there are only a select number of ways a person can be executed in the United States, historically speaking. You have hanging, firing squad, gas chamber, lethal injection and the electric chair. None of those do much of anything to a vampire. To get an alternative method of execution approved--say, death by beheading and a stake through the heart--you need to get it done legally. The only way that’s ever going to happen is by rewriting the Constitution.

Ever hear of the eighth amendment?

“Excessive bail shall not be required, nor excessive fines imposed, nor cruel and unusual punishments inflicted.”

So if the government ever wanted to actually be able to execute vampires, they’d have to first publicly acknowledge us--something they really don’t want to do, as I understand it. Public relations nightmare. Then, they’d have to win support from the people for execution by stake, something which the ACLU would have a field day with. Add to that the fact that most vampires are members of AARP, and you have a real problem.

So that puts the death penalty pretty much off the table. Besides, even if they actually went through all those other hoops, there would still be one very large pitfall remaining.

Vampires are dead, legally speaking.

The standard operating procedure for the penal system in the United States is that it stops covering criminals after they die. Thus, whenever one of us gets pinched, all we have to do is fake a heart attack, have the paramedics all gather round and try to resuscitate us until they get bored, then go through the rigmarole of having a phony burial. Once we’re under the ground long enough for the workers to go away, we just break out of the coffin (shouldn’t be that hard--vampires had been doing it for centuries) tunnel up through the fresh earth, cover our tracks by putting the dirt back down, and then viola: one dry cleaning bill later, we’re back in business.

I sat back from the table and smiled. Perfect. A logical work of art. Only a few hours ago, I hadn’t had an idea in the world of how I’d get the money for the Rascal. Now, all that was changed. I got a fresh piece of paper.

Step One: Find a bank

Step Two: Rob it

Step Three: Hide money

Step Four: Turn myself in

Step Five: Fake my death

Step Six: Escape from coffin

Step Seven: Get money back and buy Rascal

I put the cap back on my pen, picked up the to-do list and kissed it. Seven steps, seven days. In no time, I’d be cruising the Bingo parlor in style, picking up the women left and right. First the Rascal, then the world.

When I went to sleep that morning, I was the most optimistic vampire I’d been in decades.

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