Interlude
or, The Bigger Bloodsucker

Sean and Gerry follow Glava through the rows of headstones, 
watching the spirits of the cemetery reset the stage during 
intermission. Gerry notices the vampire sipping from a glass 
dripping with bright, viscous red.

"What's that?" asks Gerry, "virgin's blood?"

Glava finishes off the glass. "Tomato juice. It's high in sodium 
but I'm already dead, so, you know, not a problem. What do you 
think of the story so far, children? Is the Not-So-Long-Ago as 
boring as you once imagined?"

"No," says Sean reluctantly.

"How about you, Gerry?" asks Glava. "Is something on your mind?"

"My dad told me about these unions," says Gerry. "He told me most 
of them were really corrupt."

"Compared to who?" says Sean. "Who's paying people with fake 
money? Who's beating workers up when they ask for something 
better? The mine owners, not the unions."

Gerry shrugs. "My dad and uncle used to work for a big snack food 
company back east. He said the union wouldn't let you tie your own 
shoelaces if it wasn't in the job description. My dad got so sick 
of it we moved out here."

Sean can't believe it. "So I guess stuff like eight-hour work 
days, child labor laws, sick leave, companies just did that out 
the goodness of their hearts?"

"At least they could work," says Gerry, looking at the spirit's 
Columbine stage. "At least they had jobs!"

"Now you're sounding like the Rangers!" says Sean.

Gerry turns to Glava. "Maybe you can tell us, being a vampire: who 
was the bigger bloodsucker? The mines, or the unions?"

Glava shakes his mane of matted hair. "I speak for the spirits of 
this cemetery, who lived in a world far different from your own. 
It is up to you, children, to decide if this story is little more 
than the curiosities of a tired past... or holds lessons that will 
carry across time."