Carlo had seen it on the television

and the movie screen.

Vampires, their fangs gleaming gold.

He went to the library

found a book about it.

This was before the internet.

The steps were fairly easy.

Carve shape of fangs into a block of toofah (a soft stone)

melt scrap metal in crucible

pour molten metal into mold.

Let cool and… voila.


He made several pairs out of pewter

one pair out of silver.

He decorated them with rhinestones and bits of broken glass.

Look, Brother, he said, Just like in the movies.

His brother said, Fuck fangs, fuck vampires.

That's all a waste of time.

His mom and dad said the fangs were Pretty neat.

But there were no vampires in the desert

As he'd once heard on a local NEWS program,

"The desert just isn't juicy enough."

In defeat, Carlo put his fangs in a paper sack

drove out to the desert

and threw them all into the hot sand.

Crestfallen, he went for a long walk.

And beyond the dunes,

a line of straight black highway

was etched into the sand.

It went near to the horizon

before disappearing into a valley between red mountains.

He knew where it led.

Somewhere "juicy."

He would call his parents from the road.