" Change it? I'm sorry, I...." My lips kept moving but no sound was coming out.I'm a we'll-spoken, articulate person, but I don't handle confrontation...well. My thoughts sort of freeze up on me sometimes, like some of those chat boxes on the internet.He gestured slightly with the cigar at the yellow legal pad in my lap, "Write these down. Juices, we already said that one. And add 'dancing.'" Dancing," I mumbled as I wrote."No more 'dancing eyes,' or 'our tongues danced together this and that'. The bar was not crowded yet as we were very early and we sat at the bar ordered a drink and just started talking. As the evening went on many drinks were ordered for me by different men, but I hadn't seen my prize yet and started to think he wouldn't show. I began to look around to try and find some hunk when Michael walked into the bar I saw him before he saw me and I instantly began to tingle down there. He saw me and smiled and he and another black friend came up to where we were sitting. I. Speaking in a more modern language a man asked me, “How is it you come to believe that we would accept you into any of our houses based on some form of linguistic trickery? Those who would bring death and ruin upon our families would spare no amount of effort to train an agent in our languages. Of course you would speak them clearly and with great skill. They would still be fresh in your mind. Is that all you have to convince us that you are not yet another agent brought into our midst to gain. Maybe they figured he was on his way to a private Halloween party. Definitely, in the way they fearlessly and obliviously walked by him on the same side of the sidewalk, so close that they could reach out and touch him, they never figured he was the real McCoy. Yet, there’s no such thing as a vampire, right? Count Dracula never existed or did he? In reality, having skulked around throughout the centuries, Count Dracula had been here, in your town and, of all places, in your neighborhood all.