It is 11:36pm and the kids are still wide awake listening to Survivor’s Eye of the Tiger on our wireless speakers. They are pouncing and clawing each other and tumbling all over our couches. It is hard to know which one is predator and which one is prey. At least a few of them are laughing like hyenas. Some are weeping crocodile tears. Others are curled up playing dead on the living room carpet with their tongues sticking out like a group of possums. Did you know that a group of possums is called a passel? In the short time that it took me to look that fact up, the passel of children have come back to life like a horde of zombies. They crane their necks and sniff the air for fresh meat. Some of the other grown-ups are barricaded in the bathroom, praying that their movements haven’t been heard. I can’t believe it, a couple of them are even dabbing garlic behind their ears and on the inside of their wrists. I chuckle a little and shake my head from the comfort of our basement cold room, which I’ve blocked with spare folding chairs and stools. Silly parents, we’re not dealing with a coven of vampires. They’re just kids being kids. Dangerous, overstimulated, feral kids with a thirst for blood who can detect the slightest whiff of fear. Whatever you do, don’t open the door, no matter how many times the kiddos bang on it. If you stay the course, I am confident this birthday party sleepover will be a core memory of theirs for years to come.

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Greg Santos is a poet, editor, and educator. He is the author of Ghost Face (DC Books, 2020) and several other poetry collections. He is an adoptee of Cambodian, Portuguese, and Spanish heritage. He lives in Tiohtià:ke/Montréal with his family. Visit his author’s page at gregsantos.me