Sherri and Terri enter the girl's locker room, wearing their gym cloths.

"So then I was like – Calvin Klein? That's so 1990's," says Sherri.

"Good one; I hope she cried," Terri says ad she works the combination lock on her locker, numbered A113.

"She did."

"Sweet," she opens the locker and a dead kid falls out. "AAAGGGHHH!"

.

Skinner writes the number "1" on a marker board that reads: Days without Mysterious Deaths.

"A little premature, aren't you, Seymour?" Edna says, sitting in his office eating while gym is finishing.

"There are no dead students here. This week."

The door bursts open.

Martin huffs, "Principle Skinner – the girls are screaming most profusely that they have found a dead student in the women's locker room! You must come post haste!" Martin hurries away.

Skinner takes a deep breath and exhales as she erases the "1" and draws the number zero in its place.

.

Lisa runs into the locker room and to the dead body. She looks at the neck and finds two holes.

"Oh, no, not again…" she says in a low voice.

Skinner comes running in; the school nurse waddles in casually after Skinner has already.

"Darn it – it's getting harder and harder to explain all these sudden parent/teacher meetings to the Super Intendant," says Skinner.

"Principle Skinner," says Terri, "Lisa was touching the body."

"Miss Simpsons, I'd prefer if you didn't touch the dead bodies. And make sure you wash your hands before heading back to class."

Lunch Lady Doris lets go of an arm she lifted up to feel the pulse of.

"Well, Lunch Lady Doris?" Skinner asks.

"In my professional opinion, this kid is dead."

"Are you sure?"

"What do I look like – a medical professional? Now if you'll excuse me, I have Grade B gruel to prepare," she leaves the locker room.

Lisa makes her way out of the locker room, too. As she exits, Chief Wiggum backs into the women's locker room.

"Okay, nothing to see here, nothing to see here, move along, nothing to s – WHOA! A dead body! Cool. Everybody crowd around and gawk at the blue cold dead body!"

.

Lisa whacks a library door open just as Bergstrom exits from a back room behind the main desk.

"Okay, Sherri and Terri found a stiff one in the locker room."

"Ah, well, Lisa, boys at a certain age-"

"The women's locker room."

"Oh. OH. I presume a student."

"Yes," Lisa answers.

"And he or she was completely dead?"

"As opposed to just a little dead dead?"

"If the child drank in turn, he or she will rise tonight."

"I know. To make you a vampire they have to suck your blood, then you have to suck their blood. It's like a whole big sucking thing."

"That's not quite how I would phrase it, but yes," says Bergstrom.

"Now Principle Skinner and chief Wiggum are dealing with it and my reputation isn't getting any better and why am I telling you this? I got a class to go to," she turns to leave.

Bergstrom follows her to the doors and grabs her by a shoulder, "Because you are the Slayer. Onto each generation a Slayer is born. One girl in all the world, a chosen one. One born with the strength and skill to hunt the vampires. With a sworn duty-"

"To vanquish all evil and protect mankind. Do all Watchers have that line memorized? It's not my problem anymore; find the next girl in line."

"It doesn't work that way, Lisa. In order for the next Slayer to be called, the active Slayer must die. Everything you ever dreaded was under your bed but told yourself couldn't be by the light of day … they're all real."

Lisa walks out one of the swinging double doors; Bergstrom follows her out.

Bart walks out from behind a bookshelf in a section marked the Occult.

"What?" he says in surprise.

He opens a book and ghostly head rise and fall from the pages.

"Evil…" one voice says.

"Evil…" a second voice says.

"Maaadnesss…" a third voice says.

"Beware…" the first voice says.

"Beware…" the second voice says.

He shuts the book.

"Ouch!"

"Ouch!"

"Ouch!"

.

Mr. Burns suits at his desk, sipping blood through a straw which is sticking out of a hole in the neck of a young man. Smithers enters the office and locks the door behind him.

"Today's copy of the New York Times, sir. Where do you want it?"

"Uuummm, just set it on top of the corpse. Ah, the New York Times – the paper of choice of vampires," he scans over it.

"Make sure you check out Ziggy today; it's particularly funny."

"Um, yes. You know, Smithers, I grow weary of the day-to-day monotony. Being limited to only the power plant and my mansion because of the wretched magical barrier from here to my secret underground tunnel to my mansion, has made me restless. Confound it, I'm sucking air again; Smithers, handle it."

"Yes, sir," Smithers says. One at-a-time he forcefully cracks each rigormortis-set leg on the corpse up so that the blood will drain down. He then wraps a couple of heating pads around them to keep the blood warm.

"I need some excitement," says Burns.

"Chinese checkers or domestic, sir?"

"No, I'm thinking of something apocalyptic."

"Well, there's always the tried-and-true plague or pestilence."

"Oh, those are so passé. Every two-bit demon with some kind of power or sway tries them at some point. No, I have something more nefarious in motion."

"Sir, you started an evil dastardly plan without me? But I love evil dastardly plans."

"Oh, soon you will know exactly what I have in mind. Smithers, can you get me a lime wedge to go with this blood?"

"As you wish, sir," Smithers turns quickly to fetch one.

Mr. Burns hears a squeaking at one of the darkened sun-blocking balcony doors. He gets up and opens the door, staying behind it so as to not be in direct contact with sun light. A small black bad flies in and Burns closes the door.

"Oh, why hello my fellow blood-sucking creature of the night; how are you?"

"squeak squeak squeak squeak."

"Threw rocks at you? Where?"

"squeak squeak squeak."

"I see. And who was the culprit?"

"squeakhouse squeak!"

"I see…"

.

Bart and Lisa exit the school bus.

"Bye, Otto," says Bart.

"Catch you later, Bart dude."

The bus drives off. Bart catches up to Lisa as they walk up to their home.

"Hey, Lis'."

"No, Bart, I'm not going to do your homework for you, even if you bribe me again with five dollars."

"Nah, I'll half-ass it as usual. Earlier today in school you dropped your stake," he pulls the thick wooden stake out of his backpack.

"Huh – Mr. Pointy!"

"Earth to Lisa: Don't name you murder weapon – eventually you'll have to ditch it."

"Gimmie that!" she yanks it from his hand and shoves it in her backpack.

"You became a superhero and didn't' tell me?"

"That's because I'm not supposed to. And you can't tell anybody, not even mom and dad."

"So, when do we get to go out and kill things?"

"Evil things," Lisa corrects.

"Right, kill evil things."

"You don't," she opens the front door and enters; Bart follows and closes the door.

Abe is on the couch watching TV.

"Hi, Bart, I accidentally used your toothbrush as a back scratcher."

"Eyhuhuhu…" Bart shudders as Lisa runs upstairs; he follows.

"Hi kids!" Marge calls out from elsewhere in the house.

Bart follows Lisa into her room, "If nobody can know, then how come cowboy hat guy in the library knows?"

"You were spying on me?"

"No, I was in the Occult section learning how to turn Milhouse into a frog and I overheard you two talking."

"Well, he's different; he's my Watcher."

"So he just stands around and watches while you do all the hard work? Pretty sweet gig."

"No, he guides me and trains me."

"Oh. Because I was going to say: if you need somebody to just watch you, I see groundkeeper Willie watching people from behind bushes sometimes."

"Bart, I alone must kill the demons. And I have homework to do, so get out!" she shoves him out.

"Fine then. I don't want to be in your-" she slams the door on him, "stupid Slayerette's club anyway," he grumbles annoyedly as he walks off.

Bart enters his room and takes his backpack off.

"Stupid Lisa and her stupid Hee Haw Watcher. I don't need any of them."

"Milhouse to Bart, Milhouse to Bart," Milhouse's voice sounds off from Bart's Krusty the Clown walkie talkie.

Bart picks up the walkie talkie and presses down the SEND button, "Hey, Milhouse, what's up?"

"Bart, you'll never guess what!"

"What?"

"No, guess."

"You found a bag of money?"

"No, guess again."

"You touched a boobie?"

"Even better!"

"Milhouse, just tell me already."

"Okay. I won a dirt bike!"

"Whoa, how'd you do that?"

"From some contest Mr. Burns ran that I don't recall even entering. Yeah, I'm going over to his mansion now to collect it."

"Cool, can I come?"

"Sorry, Bart, Mr. Burns specifically said not to tell anybody, especially my parents. And to wash my neck. Gotta go!"

"Oh. Well, have fun," he then switches off his walkie talkie. "Stupid Milhouse and his stupid free bike," he grumbles.

.

Milhouse stops at the front doors to Mr. Burns mansion. He rings the doorbell and hops up and down excitedly. He impatiently rings it again. One of the doors opens to reveal Mr. Smithers.

"Montgomery Burns' residence. Can I help you?"

"Yeah, Milhouse Van Houten. I'm here for the free dirt bike!"

"Oh, yes," he steps to a side, "come right in."

Milhouse enters, "So, where is it?"

"It's downstairs, in…" we hear a dramatic music built and get a dramatic close up of his face with moody light, "the basement…" he then shuts the door and the moody light and close up goes reverts back to normal.

"Cool!"

Milhouse follows Smithers.

CUT TO: Milhouse walking down a winding cement staircase.

"Yeah! Everything's coming up Milhouse!"

He stops when he sees a metal sign with black lettering and a lever. It reads: SUPER FUN HAPPY SLIDE.

"Super fun happy slide,," he reads it aloud. "Huh. Well, I'll be the judge of that!"

He pulls the lever down and the staircase steps move and create a single flat surface, which he falls backwards on and slides down.

"Wooowww! Yeah-ha-ha! Wwweeeee!" he sees Mr. Burns standing at the end with his fangs out and in his red robe, fingers touching each other and a small soccer net at the end to catch him. "Ut oh!"

Milhouse slides into the net.

"Goal!" Smithers yells out from behind Burns, having taken an elevator down.

"So my fat little friend, like throwing rocks at bats, do you?"

"I'm not fat, I suffer from regular bloating!"

"Oh hoho, you're the fattest kid I've ever seen, and I've been on Lion King safari at Disneyland. Now hold still while I suck your blood."

"Huh – is this the untimely end of Milhouse?" Milhouse says aloud.

"Yes!" Burns bends down and tries to bite Milhouse on the neck through the net, "Uhahaha, uha. Uuuunnnaaahhh. Smithers, can't … break … the … epidermis."

"Here, sir, use my Hawaiian Punch drink box sippy straw."

"Ooph! Ooph! Ooph! Go … in! UUUMPH!" he finally stabs into Milhouse's neck.

"Ow! You've penetrated me!"

"Uuummm…" Smithers grumbles disapprovingly.

Burns sips, "Um, got that youthful pizzazz."

"Say, this isn't that bad. Feels pretty good," says Milhouse.

"Stop enjoying it!" Smithers blurts out, whacking Milhouse with a candle-lighting rod aide.

Burns stops, "Ah, yes, I can feel the youth and innocence flowing through my veins."

Milhouse makes his way out from the net, "Okay, now let me suck you!"

"Oh, very well. Normally I don't sire."

Milhouse bites in and sucks on one of Mr. Burns' wrists, "Delicious. Wow, I could do every day!"

"All right, that's enough!" Smithers bellows.

"Now go forth and multiply my fat little friend!"

"Yeah!" Milhouse exclaims. He runs up the staircase after pushing a lever up at the bottom of the stairs.

.

Bart tosses and turns in his sleep; he mumbles.

"Everything is stupid…"

Outside his bedroom window a thick airy cloud of white smoke appears. Milhouse appears through the smoke and scratches at Bart's bedroom window.

Bart wakes up and sees Milhouse still scratching at the window, "Batman?" he then rubs his eyes to look again.

He gets out of bed and slowly walks to the window and opens it slowly as well. He backs off a few feet and Milhouse flies in.

"Hey, Bart."

"Whoooaaa! You can fly now? That must have been some dirt bike. Speaking of the dirt bike, where's the dirt bike?"

"Screw the dirt bike! I've got something way cooler," says Milhouse.

"I seriously doubt it," says Bart.

"Check this out!" Milhouse says. He opens his mouth and two fangs slide down.

"Cool – you're a vampire."

"I'm living, but I'm dead. I'm grammatically incongruent!"

"Say, now that you can fly, you probably won't be needing that dirt bike, huh?"

"There wasn't a dirt bike, Bart," Milhouse says as he lands on the floor.

"Oh," Bart says in a disappointed voice.

"How'd you like to be a vampire, too?"

"Will I be able to fly?"

"Yeah."

"Cool, I could poop on people's cars like a bird…"

"All you have to do is let me suck your blood. Then afterwards you suck mine."

"I guess…"

"Hold still while I bite you."

"Isn't that like getting two shots at once?" asks Bart.

"Here I go…"

"Hey. On the neck? Are you gonna give me a hickey?"

"Bart, that's where one of the major arteries is. Weren't you paying attention in biology class?"

"Un, not really."

"Well, I could bite a thigh."

"Keep it above the belt, vamp boy. OW! Quit it!" he draws away.

Milhouse tries again.

"OW! Quit it," he draws away again.

"Stop moving!"

The door to Bart's room opens and Lisa walks in, also in her pajamas.

"Bart, what's going on in here, I can hear you—HUH!" she sees Milhouse and his fangs.

"Oh, hey Lisa," Milhouse casually comments.

Lisa reaches down her pajamas and grabs on to a Christian cross hanging around her neck; she pulls it over her head and holds the cross out at Milhouse, commanding, "Get off my brother!"

Milhouse turns his head and hisses, "Does this mean we can't go out sometime?"

"Get out! Get out! Get out!" she commands, chasing him out the window. She locks it.

"Bart, vampires can only come in if you invite them. Now Milhouse can come in whenever he wants."

"Oops. Sorry."