"Now, then, Bart," said Angelina, turning a kind face to the boy, "do you think you can keep yourself from blabbing to all your friends about us being vampires, or would you rather I hypnotize you and make you forget what you've seen?"

Bart examined his soul for a moment, then replied, "I'll go with the hypnotism. While you're at it, could you make me forget that I ever kissed Vladimir?"

The redhead smiled and nodded. A wave of her hand sent Bart tumbling into a profound sleep…

…while atop Mount Springfield, Lisa and Vladimir, nestled among the honeysuckle bushes, kissed and caressed each other as if they would never have another chance to do so. "I can't resist you, Vladimir," said Lisa wistfully. "I don't want to resist you. I know I'm only eight, but when I look into your eyes I can see my life laid out, and there's nothing else like this, and nobody else like you."

"I also am unable to resist you, Lisa," said Vladimir. "More than a hundred years have passed since I became a vampire, yet I have never met a girl with a mind and heart like yours. You are my destiny, Lisa Simpson."

"Oh, Vladimir," said Lisa, and she once again united her lips with his. It's like my whole body is on fire, she thought. What did I do to be so lucky…to find true love, pure love, blinding love, at the tender age of eight?

"You will go home now," said Angelina to the glassy-eyed Bart. "When you get there, you will tell your parents how much you love them, and then you will remember nothing."

"I…will remember nothing," said Bart obliviously.

After reluctantly withdrawing her lips, Lisa asked the question that had burned in her brain. "You say you became a vampire. How does that work? What's the mechanism?"

Vladimir flashed her a toothy, pointy grin. "It is as your legends describe it," he related. "The instant a vampire pierces the neck of a mortal and begins to drain her blood, the transformation begins. The mortal may choose to surrender to it, in which case she is rendered undead, or she may fight it, in which case she typically develops flu-like symptoms or mild anemia."

"Does it hurt to be a vampire?" Lisa asked him.

Vladimir, puzzled, replied, "I do not understand the question. Vampires do feel pain like mortals do, but they cannot die, unless beheaded."

Lisa stared longingly at the handsome, sparkling lad. "Vladimir," she inquired seriously, "what if I asked you to turn me into a vampire?"

His jaw fell, revealing a cavernous throat. "L-Lisa," he stammered, "you do not know what you are asking. Once you become a vampire, you stay a vampire—you can never return to the life you knew."

"The life I know is a dead end," said Lisa with a scowl. "My father has had every job imaginable, except for one that pays well. Last week he interviewed for what he thought was a position as Alec Baldwin's personal assistant, only to find it was Stephen Baldwin instead. And he took it! At this rate I'll never make it into Bryn Mawr or Radcliffe. I'll end up instead at some lousy community college that only offers graduate degrees in home economics!"

Vladimir's expression became a downcast one. "No, Lisa," he said firmly. "I will not drink the blood of the girl I love."

"Then ask Angelina to do the dirty work," Lisa pressured him. "Or Spike, or Lestat, or whoever, I don't care." She scrutinized the boy's beautiful face. "Unless, of course, there's a downside to vampire life that you haven't told me about."

"Mortals will fear you," Vladimir warned her. "Those you call your family and friends will shun you. You will lust after their blood."

"But you told me that can be controlled," said Lisa.

The young vampire nodded.

"So what's stopping you?" said Lisa, carefully unhooking her pearl necklace. "C'mon, I know you want to sink your fangs into my bare neck. I can see it in your eyes."

"Cindy, why are you crying?"

"It's not fair, Mommy! All the other kids have complexes, but I don't!"

The front door opened, prompting Homer to turn his head away from The Brady Bunch. "Oh, hi, boy," he said flatly.

"Hi, Dad," said Bart as he trudged along. "I love you."

"Enough of that gay talk," said Homer.

Lisa followed soon after, her countenance filled with worry. "Lisa, honey," responded Homer to the sight. "What's biting you?"

"Fortunately, nothing," said the girl, her voice quivering with guilt.

"Siddown and talk to me," said Homer, patting the cushion next to his butt.

Lisa jumped onto the couch, crawled on her knees toward her father, and began to weep profusely. "Oh, Dad," she said tearfully. "I very nearly made the worst decision of my life!"

"Did you sleep with Milhouse?" Homer asked her.

"No, Dad," replied Lisa.

"Did you sell your soul to the Devil?"

"No, Dad."

"Are you sure you didn't sleep with Milhouse?"

"Yes, Dad."

"There, there," said Homer, pulling her to his ample bosom. "If you didn't sleep with Milhouse, and you didn't sell your soul to the Devil, then it's not worth crying about."

Lisa sniffled. "Thanks, Dad."

"In fact," Homer went on, "maybe it's not too late to go ahead and do it."

Lisa stared at him with moist, incredulous eyes. "Where's Mom?" she asked.

To be continued