Who's the Host with the Most?

I gave blood yesterday at the local blood sucker's union headed by the regional vampires. I've been in countless times to host my own whole blood. But this time a disillusioned spawn asked me if I would be interested in giving only red blood cells, which is much more efficient (And that was the only part they wanted anyway. Apparently vampires have little to do with white blood cells, platelets and plasma). So naturally entranced, I said, "Of course, anything to help the head vampire," or something like that.

So they rigged me up to this machine full of ticking dials and clicking cogs. The spawn gave me the needle which had not simply one, but three tubes coming off it. The machine started to beep and whir. And then it started to shake and rumble. This was not slight vibration mind you, but had I set a drink upon its surface it would be thrust on the floor by its gyrations. It was like a wild washing machine wobbling across the floor. I asked the lady if everything was alright. "Oh yes," she said, "it's supposed to do that."

I tried to calm myself. I saw a line of blood run along one of the tubes—the first draw. Soon a second line was drawn down the tubular triad. I followed it into the machine. I squeezed the pack of gauze that she had prepared for me (the FDA had disapproved that donors use the stress balls that were traditionally used in assisting of the blood pumping into the arm; they worried about swine flu and cross contamination). The machine, just beside and behind my bed, was looking over my shoulder, as if to judge how quickly and willingly I gave up my blood. It beeped in protest.

Then it stopped beeping and jumping. I looked over to a clear chamber in the machine that housed my blood. It was a lighter shade than the dark, thick fluid that came out of me. It was like cherry juice. Then my arm went cold and the cherry fluid, now cleansed of red blood cells, began pumping back into my arm along with a saline solution. I was unaware at the time of how this would be problematic upon returning home.

O how I wish I could say that this was the end of the ordeal, but the cycle continued for the better part of an hour, drawing and pumping, rumbling and criticizing, clicking and beeping, and I drained of my life force with my arm pulsating and throbbing.

When I got home I meekly crept into bed and slept for two hours. My intestines gurgled the saline solution and expelled the excess water from my body. I felt like Lucy in Bram Stoker's Dracula. I was in some dreamy stupor, and dying. I must recuperate. I only have two months until my next scheduled appointment with the dark ones.