I think I am getting the hang of this eye pad. I'm still waiting for all these cookies that I keep accepting to arrive, but I am a patient man.

I have somethings I need your advice on. I have survived wars, mutinies, revolutions and uprisings. I have been chased by peasants with pitchforks, torn apart by dogs and burned at the stake. All of that I can handle, but there's one thing that I really struggle with.

Taxes.

Taxes.

My home, the Castle of Cove Town (You won’t have heard of it, and that’s because I meant it that way,) has been in my family history for centuries, and one would think that owning a property would be sufficient. The vampires you read of in books and in the motion pictures are depicted to have it all figured out. Well let me tell you, they must have fine accounting. Me? Not quite. Ergo, my subsidiary, was once the chancellor for a great king. But in death, he seems a little slower with his calculations and now the local mayor and his council are sucking me dry! (Pardon the pun).

Ergo informs me that due to complications in the east, our estates and investment wealth is being put on hold, like a strangle hold around a goose’s neck. So no, I have to find a way of paying the council or they can take my home!

It really is true what they say. The only certainties in life are death and taxes. Well, death is a walk in the park compared to this shit.

I asked Ergo if instead of paying the bills, we could just let the wolves roam around the grounds to stop the post man from delivering them? But, he reminded me that this wasn’t the dark ages, and wolves tearing people apart wasn’t just considered an ordinary Tuesday afternoon anymore.

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When did life get so complicated?

“Well, we can just say we didn’t get the letters?” I spoke. Ergo grunted a reply -

“Email.”

E-Mail? What in the devil’s name is eeeemail? Sounds like a type of skin issue, or something a feminist would shriek if a gentlemen offered to buy her a drink. So, I stated up the eye pad and searched the internet’s engine. Honestly, I don’t even ask questions about these things anymore. A huge world wide web holds everyone together and we search its engine for what we need om slabs eyes, and I’m considered the crazy one because I collect skulls. Go figure.

I found this eeeemail and it asked for my dress. Well, I must tell you, I felt my pale face flicker with bashfulness. A dress! Asking for a dress! Well with the help of Ergo, we got a dress ordered and it should be here within a few weeks. I hope its satin and has fine embroidery. You never know when you would need a spare garment.

Anyway –

I found all of these bills had come into my box of eeeemail and I was ashamed to admit that alas, feeding the mailman to the wolves wouldn’t solve the issue after all.

I’ll have to think of a way to create cash flow to pay the council man’s tax.

Maybe I could kill the mayor? Slip right under his door at night as a plume of mist and drink him while he slept. I could tear out his veins and use them to paint a picture on his walls, depicting my destruction of all dresses and giant webs, daring them to come for me with their tax.

Sorry, I was shouting again. Ergo just tapped me on the shoulder and again reminded me it isn’t the 1400’s, and simply killing the man in charge doesn’t change a thing. Still. I don’t have to kill him, just send him a message.

I wonder if he has a wife that I could seduce? Or a dog that would look better inside out…

I wonder, I wonder…

I could always open the castle for local history tours. I may even catch the odd stray wandering aimlessly around the halls. It could certainly make dinner a little less time consuming…

Until next time –

* R