Arkham MA: Good evening, gentle readers. My name is Baron Von Hallens, and let me warn you, if I hear one more thing about some man named David Lee Roth, I will kill the entire state of Massachusetts, except Romney, who I feel a strange kindred to, but I digress. I have been an immortal for over five hundred years now and let me tell you one thing…your modern world sucks and that means something coming from me for I suck for a living.

Considering the current state of intelligence in your time, you are probably unaware that periodically Vampires slip into a state we call torpor where we sleep for a century or so. I have recently awakened from such a slumber and have found the world has become a horrible place in my absence, except for Survivor, I love that show. But again I digress.

As you can imagine, when I awoke, I felt depleted and starved, so I went on a killing rampage. I have just cornered my hundredth or so victim, a rather rotund man wearing some peasant cloth over his girth which read, ‘May The Fourth Be With You.’ I was intrigued for this is the date of my rebirth, so I allowed him to beg for a moment.

He told me he worked in the IT department, which I assumed had something to do with monsters. He begged for his life and in return promised to help me control a place he called the World Wide Web. Again, this sounded interesting and I assumed the IT they were raising mist be a nest of giant spiders.

Naturally, I was intrigued. So I allowed him to live and at once he started to build me an identity. I told him I already had one and he laughed until I tore off his finger. His whimpering and quaking form got back to work and he assured me that soon I would be able to control this web.

He set up site after site, but I was barely paying attention, because Survivor was on. He showed me his glowing signals that looked like a window into the abyss or one of those damn paintings my old friend Van Gogh used to spill over the canvas before I bit off his ear, but again I digress. Soon I knew this web would be mine and thousands of new victims would be caught in my Internet.

But there were problems. He spoke of such things as an army of Followers that would soon be mine, but when I looked the on the page with this little tweeting blue bird, I saw that only nineteen victims had followed me to their doom. And on the ‘Book of Faces,’ things proved even worse.

I demanded to know what the problem was, but my new ghoul only hid behind the sofa and tried to offer me something called True Blood, which tasted like sugar soaking in urine.

He explained that hundreds of people pretended to be creatures of the night and to the masses of fodder out there, I was just another of these poseurs. After teaching him to eat flies, rodents, and those disgusting creatures you call house cats, I made him get back to his task. My ghoul worked until his fingers bled over the squared letters, but when I awoke the next evening, I saw my followers had only risen to twenty-two.

I shaved him bald with a shard of glass, made him eat his own fingernails, and forced him to watch American Idol, but nothing seemed to work. He told me he would try Reddit, but they banned us for Spamming. How could this make sense, I haven’t eaten solid food for centuries?

We tired other sites, but most ignored us or turned us down. That is until we discovered The Daily Discord. Ahhhhh Discord, the floodlight of intelligence within a sea of flatulence jokes and pictures of your damned cats doing wacky hijinxs. With the Discord behind me and the creatures of IT… the Web will soon be mine! What is that you say? We have only gotten a hundred page views so far. Well, it is a start Mr. Gates, it is a start.

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