"Vampire, nosferatu, creature of the night — whatever you call him — Jules Duchon has lived (so to speak) in New Orleans far longer than there have been drunk coeds on Bourbon Street. Weighing in at a whopping four hundred and fifty pounds, swelled up on the sweet, rich blood of people who consume the fattiest diet in the world, Jules is thankful he can't see his reflection in a mirror. When he turns into a bat, he can't get his big ol' butt off the ground." "What's worse, after more than a century of being undead, he's watched his neighborhood ...
