Good grief!  It was those pesky villagers again, armed with their stakes and garlic and led by Von What's-his-name.
    "What is it this time?" I asked with admirable restraint. "Cows not giving milk?  Grasshoppers in the fields?  Just blame the kindly old count, eh?"
    "You can't wisecrack your way out of this one, Count!" snapped Von What's-his-name. "We've got you dead to rights!  Er, pardon the expression."
    "Look, Von What's-your-name," I began. "Uh, exactly what is your name, anyway?  I keep forgetting."
    "Von Kerry!  Von Kerry!" he snarled. "Don't play dumb with me, Count!  I know all of your tricks!  Um, what were we talking about?  Oh, yes!  Your little 'blood drive,' that's what!"
    "My blood drive?" I asked innocently. "The 'Give Until It Spurts' blood drive?  What?  Don't you think the name is clever?"
    "Yes, er, no!" he sputtered. "That's beside the point!  It isn't the name that matters!  It's the people whose blood you're stealing!"
    "Stealing?  I'm shocked!"  I was shocked. "Why, that blood drive is a boon to all the people.  Everyone who has blood benefits."
    "Nonsense!" spat Von What's-his-name. "All the blood is going to you and your vampire buddies.  You're bleeding the middle class dry!  Among others, of course."
    "So, you're against blood drives?" I asked Von What's-his-name.
    "No, no!  Of course not!" he fumed. "I support legitimate blood drives, but yours sucks, Count!"
    I immediately summoned my henchman Rehnquist.  It was essential that I take the high road.
    "Oooo, Von What's-your-name!" lisped Rehnquist. "What you said!"
    "That's Von Kerry!" shouted Von What's-his-name. "Er, what did I say?"
    "Oooo, you said the 's' word!" chided Rehnquist.
    "The ... you mean 'suck?'" asked Von What's-his-name.
    Rehnquist gasped and shook his head disapprovingly.  "Ok," he said. "Just like that!"  And, like a consummate band leader, he led the villagers in a gasping and head shaking.  "Very good!" he said.
    "Oh, come on!" pouted Von What's-his-name. "It's just a word.  But an accurate one!  Hey, I've heard all of you say, 'Dracula sucks.'  Come on, admit it!"
    The villagers were shaking their heads.
    "Oh, no!  I never say 'suck.'  Do you?" said one villager.
    "Me?  Say 'suck?'  No way!" said another.
    "All I did was accurately describe this monster's behavior," screamed Von What's-his-name. "That's behavior, meaning atrocities he actually committed.  How can you compare monstrous deeds to a word?"
    "Oh, no," muttered the villagers. "Such vulgar language!  When you say 'suck,' which we don't, that means we shouldn't listen to anything you have to say."
    And they all wandered off.  I, of course, slipped discreetly back to my coffin.
    I have never gone thirsty betting against the intelligence of the people.