As I made my way down from Harlem to Times Square to meet my friend, my excitement grew at the idea of a night of entertainment in Lower Manhattan. As I walked up the carpeted wooden stairs to his third floor apartment, I noticed a large amount of blood on the steps. Despite the disturbing sight, I arrived at his door, where he greeted me warmly and offered me a drink. When I asked him about the blood, he nonchalantly informed me about a murder that had taken place there a few hours before and we quickly changed the subject. As I waited for him to get ready, I couldn't help but notice the crisp yellow suit hanging from a pipe in the ceiling. At the same time, my friend struggled to put in his blue contact lenses, believing that they would make him irresistible to women. After half an hour of effort he succeeded, but his eyes had turned deep red from the strain. He turned to me and asked, "How do I look?" With a subtle smile, I replied, "Like the Vampire of Times Square ."