Not much more'n two weeks ago, you couldn't walk to a bloody 7-11 in this burg without gettin' nipped by a soddin' vamp or three.
These new wankers, they were sloppy. Never even tried t'hide that their victims were put upon by a vampire. Just rip their necks open an' have at 'em. Sloppy.
Catch 'em after th' deed, just follow 'em back to their nests, dust th' whole lot of 'em at once. Sloppy.
But now...all quiet on th' Western front.
Don't need t'remind nobody of what that means, when these rubes go quiet. Usually means troubles on th' horizon, if not already parked at th' local Holiday Inn.
Folks got quiet 'round th' time me an'
Dru first blew into town, long time ago. Got quiet when
that Stone wanker thought he was somethin' special, too. And Sunnydale went abso-friggin'-lutely silent when
Angelus showed up. Both times.
Come t'think of it, whenever somethin' bad's comin', that's usually when all the vamps crawl under a rock somewhere an' wait for a winner 'tween them an'
the Slayer.
Something's on th' wind. Can smell it in the air, feel it in my blood. Somethin' nasty on the way.
Bring it on, then. Tired of this waitin' bollocks.