Hot for a Vampire Slayer

L azlo’s response to the hordes of kids wearing costumes, adults sitting on their stoops giving out candy, and jack-o’-lanterns casting rich golden light across the neighborhood is a simple, unfazed, straightforward nod.

I’m not sure whether he remembers what Halloween is or just thinks that this is what goes on every night in the West Village, but he’s game, and I cannot help but laugh.

“What sharp teeth you have,” he tells a group of little vampires who hold out their baskets to him. Then he distributes some of the cash I found in the back pocket of his jeans before washing them—all one-hundred-dollar bills.

I mouth Sorry to the children’s baffled mothers and quickly pull Lazlo away.