Gothic Halloween Scare

An unkempt man approached me one dark evening 'In pursuit', he said, 'of a favour' 'A drink' he explained, but I was unsure of his meaning When he specified it should be of a refined yet peculiar flavour Then as he percieved I was not repelled, he moved nearer to enhance his rapport Until in the light of a streetlamp I could see the bottle he held And I wondered what fate had in store It was clear now he was dressed in strange clothing Of a style that one rarely meets Except for perhaps if roving, in a town of Dickensian streets I failed not to judge as I leaned closer to hear just what he might suggest I thought 'how gracious of me to humour this poseur In his pale make-up, black bowler and velvet overvest' On the bottle he held his black fingernails drummed They were varnished as per his morbid fashion And in his throat the tune he hummed Spoke of past revels and passion Until at last had mustered his confidence and a pleasing tone In which he proceeded to intimate his desire That alas, he possessed no blood he could call his own, so therefore he was forced to enquire As to the possibility of a small donation, it would not take much time just a tick The procedure requiring just two things worthy of mention Those being a vein and a slit Of course I recoiled aghast, and vainly attempted to call As I found I could not make a sound Then it was only when my head lolled down that I saw His feet hovering an inch from the ground I was unable to engage any muscles as a fingernail pierced my left wrist Or when he filled his bottle with a pint of my best red corpuscles Then pocketed it with a hiss He said he could see why he might be reviled For the comtempt he had treated me with Then he parted his lips and smiled To allude to the fiendish alternative It was a smile of rapacious appearance, that made my heart shiver and shudder For as anyone could tell from even that quick glance His smile was a smile like no other Then with a doff a wink and a smirk He smoothly departed our puddle of light And melting into the inky black murk He receded into the night Now whenever I am about after dark I determine to not be so too late And ever since that experience left it's cruel mark I portage garlic cloves, holy water and a stake