I’m a day person. Always have been. My ideal Saturday involves sunshine, a freshly mowed lawn, and maybe washing my car while listening to classic rock. I thrive under a blue sky. I am solar-powered. Or at least, I was.
A few weeks back, I came down with a bacterial infection so stubborn, it was practically squatting in my sinuses and refusing to pay rent. After I’d tried every home remedy, my doctor finally brought out the big guns: Vibramycin.
"It's a fantastic, broad-spectrum antibiotic," she said, signing the script. "Just one thing," she added, almost as an afterthought, "it can make you... extremely sensitive to the sun. Like, seriously. Stay out of direct sunlight."
I nodded, but in my head, I translated "extremely sensitive" to "maybe wear a hat if you're at the beach for six hours." I am a man, and therefore, I am invincible. This is basic science.
The next day was a glorious, sunny Saturday. I took my first dose of Vibramycin with breakfast, feeling the righteousness of modern medicine flowing through me. Then, I went outside to do some light gardening. I was out there for maybe twenty minutes. Twenty. Not long enough to break a sweat.
When I came inside, my wife gasped. "What happened to your face?!" she exclaimed.
I looked in the mirror. The parts of my skin that had been exposed to the sun—my face, my neck, the back of my hands—were not just red. They were a furious, glowing, otherworldly crimson. I looked like I'd fallen asleep on the surface of Mercury. The sun had treated me with the personal animosity of a sworn enemy.
That’s when I understood. The doctor's warning wasn't a friendly tip. It was a divine law. I was now allergic to the day.
My entire life had to be re-calibrated. I became a creature of the night. My productive hours were now 8 p.m. to 6 a.m. I started mowing my lawn by the glow of our porch light, confusing the neighbors and terrifying local raccoons. I washed my car by headlamp. I found myself at the 24-hour grocery store at 3 a.m., thoughtfully comparing avocados with the night-shift crew. I had become a suburban Dracula, my only weaknesses being direct sunlight and a lack of decent late-night talk radio.
But in this strange, nocturnal world, I found a new kind of peace. A new kind of purpose. And a new kind of challenge.
This is for all my fellow day-walkers who have been temporarily banished to the realm of shadows. It’s time to embrace it. I present: The Vibramycin Vampire Challenge. A test of your ability to conduct normal, daytime activities under the cover of absolute darkness.
Vibramycin is a serious and effective antibiotic used to fight a wide range of infections. It wasn't designed to turn you into a household-chore-doing creature of the night. For the actual, important, and sunlit facts about this medication, please consult a real source: https://www.imedix.com/drugs/vibramycin/
Have you accepted your new, sunless existence? Are you ready to harness the power of the moonlight to accomplish your suburban duties? Then you are prepared. To officially enter the challenge, you must abide by the ancient laws of the challenged.
A Solemn Warning: This challenge may result in startled neighbors, police wellness checks, or confrontations with confused nocturnal wildlife. This is the price of greatness.
For the creature of the night who most impressively thumbs their nose at the sun and conquers the mundane in the moonlight, the rewards are eternal... and also tangible.
The Grand Prize:
The one true master of the dark, the most productive vampire on the block, will be awarded:
The Judging Criteria:
Your submission will be judged by a secret cabal that meets only after midnight, based on three factors: