The vampire mother tucked the vampire daughter into bed. The daughter was an adorable little thing, with pointed teeth, long flowing blonde hair, and cute pink fluffy pajamas.
“Goodnight, vampire daughter,” vampire mother said, and kissed vampire daughter on the forehead.
“Mother. Marien. Why don’t you ever use my name?” vampire daughter asked.
“Oh uh, right,” vampire mother furrowed her brow in thought. “Good night Sharon,” vampire mother said.
“Mother, it’s Victree,” vampire daughter said. “I don’t know how you could forget, you gave me the name.”
Vampire mother giggled. “That I did, that I did. I would never forget your name.”
Vampire mother turned to leave the room, but vampire daughter grabbed vampire mother’s arm. “Please don’t go. I’m scared. Can you turn on the night light?”
Vampire mother giggled. Again. She strode over to the little lantern plugged into the side of the wall. She whisped (whisped should totally be a real word) out a plate of cookies for her daughter from the infinite space of hell. “Here you are, my dearie~”
“Mother, I already brushed!” vampire daughter complained.
“Why, for a kid you’re too grown up. Have a cookie! Besides you’re a vampire, you grow new teeth every week,” vampire mother consoled. “Have a drink of blood too, then you won’t be scared at all.”
“The tooth fairy never visits me!” vampire daughter pouted.
“That’s because she isn’t real, hun.”
“Are monsters like zombies and werewolves and ghosts real?” vampire daughter asked.
“Of course not dear, now go to bed,” vampire mother turned the lights off, save for the tiny lantern. Vampire daughter hid beneath her sheets and soon fell asleep.
“Daddy, I’m scared, are zombies and werewolves and ghosts and vampires real?” asked zombie son.
“What are you talking about, you are a zombie!” zombie father roared and threw his son into his grave. “No go to sleep, the sun is rising.”
“And no they’re not real! Don’t be stupid! Except for vampires, they’re real,” zombie father said. Zombie father bent down and scooped the brains he dropped into his rotting arm back into his slimy head. “Disgusting monsters they are, heaven help you if you ever meet one.”
“I once met a salesman vampire, nasty piece o’ work he was,” zombie father rambled pointlessly. Zombie son already fell asleep a long time ago. “Tried to get me to buy his latest skin conditioner.”
Elsewhere a werewolf cried, wishing he actually existed and wasn’t just a fake, make-believe monster from a children’s fairy tale. Meanwhile, a ghost couldn’t cry because he wasn’t real.