And Foo’s all, “I did not!”

“Pervy and redundant, don’t you think?” I asked the big gay cop, who wouldn’t know a va-jay-jay if it bounced up to him and sang the “Star-Spangled Banner.” (You ever notice that hardly anything besides the “Star-Spangled Banner” is spangled? There’s no, like, the Raisin-Spangled Scone, or the Flea-Spangled Beagle. I’m just saying.) So, I, like, start to pull up my skirt to further freak him out, like I’m going to flash the beav, which was a bluff, because I am totally trimmed bat-shape and dyed lavender and I was wearing my hot-pink fishnets, which are full-on tights and put the PG-13 on my no-no place.

But instead of hiding his head and screaming like a little bitch, which is what I was going for, the big gay cop is across the room and has Foo in handcuffs in like seconds, cranking them down tight.

So Foo is all, “Ow! Ow! Ow!”

And I’m heartsick at his suffering, so I’m like, “Unhand him, you fascist-ass bear.”

And Rivera is all, “Allison, we need to come to an understanding, or your boyfriend is going to jail, and even if the charges don’t stick, he can kiss his master’s degree good-bye.”

Powned! I was forced to lower my skirt in defeat. Foo’s eyes were all anime-huge and started to get tear-spangled, and my noble love ninja looked all pleading to me like, “Please, do not abandon me, despite my obvious emo tendencies.”

So I’m like, “We’ll give you a hundred thousand dollars to leave our love lair like nothing happened.”

And Rivera is like, “We’re not interested in your money.”

And gay bear cop is like, “Wait, where did you get that kind of money, anyway?”

And Rivera is like, “Never mind, Nick, it’s not about money.”

And I’m like, “OMG Rivera, your bad cop skills suck ass. It’s always about the money. Don’t you have a TV?”

And he’s like, “What happened out there this morning?”

And I’m all, “You know, vampyre kitties, meter maid sucked to dust, samurai in orange socks, Abby’s kung-fu of solar ass-kicking.” Then to Foo: “Foo, the jacket is the sickest shit ever!”

“Which is a good thing,” Foo translated for the cops.

And Rivera is all, “Vampyre cats? That’s what the Emperor said.”

’Kayso, it’s clear that the cops have doubts, so I explain the whole battle, and Foo’s theory of how Chet is making vampyre kitties, and how we are pretty much fucked nine ways to Kwanzaa because it’s the end of the world and whatnot, and there are metric buttloads of kitties in the City, and only two fly, vampyre-frying solar jackets, mine and Foo’s, and we are being detained by law enforcement assbags instead of saving humanity.

So Rivera’s all, “What about Flood and the redhead? You helped them, right?”

Kudos to Inspector Obvious, we’re only living in their loft, spending their money, and hanging our damp towels on their bronzed bodies. I was all, “They left. All the vampyres left. Didn’t you talk to the Emperor? He saw them get on a boat at the Marina?”

“The Emperor isn’t the most dependable witness,” Rivera says. “And he didn’t say anything about those two, but I find it hard to believe that a cat, even a vampyre cat, even a gang of vampyre house cats took down a full-grown parking enforcement officer.”

So I was like, “Chet is not a normal vampyre kitty. He’s huge. More huge than normal. He’s getting huger. If you don’t let Foo work his mad science skills to cure him, by next week Chet might be dry-humping the Transamerica Pyramid.”

Foo was nodding like a manga-haired bobblehead. He was all, “Truth.”

The big gay Cavuto cop is all, “Can you do that, kid? Can you put this shit storm back in the box?”

“Absolutely,” says Foo, when he totally has no clue how to catch Chet. “I’ll need some time, but leave the handcuffs on, because that’s how I work best.”

Foo can be most sarcastic when faced with day dwellers less intelligent than himself, which is almost everyone.

’Kayso, Rivera takes the sleeve of my jacket and starts turning it over, looking at it, all Neanderthal discovers fire face. And he’s all, “Can you make one of these in a leather sport coat? Forty long?”

And I’m all, “Are you coming on to me?”

And he gagged a little (which was mean), and he’s all, “No. I am definitely not coming on to you, Allison. Not only are you the most irritating creature on the planet, you are a child.”

And I’m all, “A child?! A child?! Do these belong to a child?” And I pulled up my top and flashed him. And not just a flash, a full, glorious boobosity.

And he didn’t say anything. So I turned my headlights on Foo and the big gay cop.

And they’re all, “Um-uhr-uhr-um-”

I’m like, “Et tu, Foo?” Which is Shakespearean for, “You traitor!”

And I ran into the bedroom and locked the door. I was kind of wishing I’d taken a hostage, except really the only weapon I had was a jacket with little light warts all over it, so I was limited to being dangerous to vampyres and emos who get their feelings hurt really easily by my snarky wit.

’Kayso, then I stared into the dark abyss that is the meaninglessness of human existence, because there was nothing on cable. And in searching the depths of my soul, I saw that I must stop using sex as a weapon, and that I must only use my powers of seduction for good, unless Foo wants to do something freaky, in which case, I can have him sign a waiver. Now, I realize that the only way for me to righteously explore my strength as a woman is to become nosferatu. And since the Countess and Lord Flood wouldn’t bring me into the fold, I must find my own way to the blood power.

’Kayso, in a few minutes Rivera’s at the door all, “Allison, I think you’d better come out here.”

And I’m all, “Oh no, Inspector, I can’t open the door. I’ve taken all these pills and everything’s all wiggly. You’ll have to break the door down.”

Then Foo’s all, “Abby, please come out. I need you.” He used his I’m sad, wounded, and locked in the castle tower with all my powers gone voice, which I didn’t even know he had, but it was tragic and I had to come out and humble myself before the cops like a little bitch, despite my new resolve to partake of the dark gift.

So I’m all, “What?”

And Rivera is all, “Allison, we have an agreement with Mr. Wong. He will stay here and work on a solution to the cat problem, and in return for our not filing charges, you both will say nothing to anyone about our previous-uh-adventures, with Mr. Flood, Ms. Stroud, and any other persons of the blood-drinking persuasion. Nor will we mention any funds that may have changed hands, and who may be in possession of said funds. Agreed?”

I’m all, “Sweet!”

“And you have to go home and live with your mother and sister,” the evil Hispano cop continued.

And I’m all, “No way!”

And all three of them are shaking their heads at me. And Foo, who is out of handcuffs now, is all, “Abby, you have to go with them. You’re still a minor and your mom will chuck a spaz if they don’t bring you home.”

“And if that happens, we’ll have no choice but to drop a hammer on Mr. Wong,” said Cavuto.

And Foo’s all, “And to defend ourselves we’ll have to tell everyone about everything. So we’ll all be hosed and meanwhile, Chet the huge shaved cat will own the City, plus our relationship and stuff would be strained.”

And by “and stuff,” Foo meant that we would lose the love lair and no one would take care of Tommy and Jody, and Foo would have to become love ninja to some big guy in prison. We were owned.

I was all, “I blame my mother.”

I offered my wrists to Rivera for the cuffs.

And they were all nodding, and “Sure,” and “That works for me.” And “Yeah, I’m good with that.”

But Rivera didn’t put the cuffs on me.

And I’m all, “Can we have a minute to say good-bye?”

And Rivera nods, so I start to lead Foo into the bedroom.