A Meal To Die For

I was in Transylvania

On a foolish holiday

When a vampire decided

To make me not ok.

I saw that he was hungry

But I sought to understand

What filled this monster’s heart

In this spooky far-off land.

He said when he was mortal

He had owned a ranch,

And the finest heads of cattle

Came from his European branch.

He longed for the days of yore

When cooking was an art,

So I cooked him up a ribeye.

It was a steak through his heart.

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