Tuesday's Facebook feature: "Sucks in the City"

Rachel Weber

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It's a question every girl has asked herself at some time or another – why is a good vampire minion so hard to find? Fine, it's probably only girls who hang out at horror conventions or those of us hooked on Facebook game Bite Me that have. And yes, I'm addicted to it like it's some cheap Twilight branded heroin. As if a mormon housewife hadn't ruined the bloodsuckers enough with her tube of glitter glue and chastity rings, Bite Me has managed to turn even running a house of vampire slaves

into a sort of nightmarish babysitting service. With added microtransactions.

Hear the words vampire slave and you think pale looking girls in flimsy nighties or boys with impossible hair and brooding eyes. Maybe you even think of Alexander Skarsgard holding a bottle of baby oil and beckoning. (No? Just me? Oh.) You don't think Red Bull addicted teenagers (or the vampire equivalent, Elder Blood) who laze around the flat, leaving only to have a fight and then pass out for hours. That's not a vampire slave, that's some kid with an ASBO from a BBC Three documentary. The idea is that my “thralls” Annabelle (blood, skinny, pouty) and Isaac (dark, skinny, pouty) help me complete missions set by more powerful vamps, battling demon dogs by my side and collecting items. In reality I spend more time playing blood cell mini games to try and wipe the sulky looks of their sun deprived faces, buying them gifts and watching them work their way through my Facebook friends list like a particular virulent STD. I can't help feeling there's been a serious misunderstanding of the slave master relationship. It's starting to make Edward and Bella sexless co-dependency look like quite the positive relationship.

Lately I think they're trying to spice things up, Annabelle keeps bringing cute friends home, asking if they can join the gang, but what the poor girl doesn't realise is that keeping her in tiaras and boots means we can't afford a bigger place. And when Isaac bit my mother, well, that was the final nail in the suspiciously duvet lined coffin. No, it's time to make a new start, get some closure and find a new gang to visit the old abandoned church with. If you'll excuse me, I'm off to buy a loaf of garlic bread and a sun lamp.

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