I'm baffled. The only explanation I can come up with for this whole mess is that Twinkies have magical powers.

Do you remember that vampire from my last postcard? He attacked me on the street and I confined him in the isolation chamber until I could get some samples from him. The only food I left in there were Twinkies, which he sucked the filling out of. He then escaped.

The funny thing is, he didn't go far at all. In fact, he never even left the ship. When I searched the premises I was astonished to find two types of foot prints: the large muddy ones which were inarguably made by the vampire's heavy boots, and foot prints of tiny bare feet.

I found the culprit in the kitchen, curled up under the table. The hideous creature that had tried to suck me dry the night before had morphed into an adorable little boy. His dry, bony limbs had grown over with baby fat and blushed a faint creamy pink under the florescent lighting. His long, knobby fingers were now plump and stubby, and he’d even grown a thick thatch of chestnut curls on his once bald noggin. He was fast asleep, wrapped up in the now too-large frock he had been wearing before. But the strangest thing was that he had sprouted a pair of delicate alabaster wings from his back. Before he woke up, I checked his mouth for fangs, and there were none. My vampire had turned into a cherub.

I didn't have the heart to put him back into the isolation chamber, so I constructed him a makeshift bed and left him in the guest bedroom. See, I told you there was a purpose for a guest bedroom on a time travel ship.

There is no way to tell what exactly prompted this transformation, but I think that the creamy goodness he drained from the Twinkies had more than a little to do with it. You know, Flo, maybe I can get a book out of all this.

Until next pulse,
Stephan.