Shrines are a great outlet for the Vampire Grandmas. They’re a way to see the wild inner landscape of a vampire grandma soul. When one of the vampire grandmas got upset, here’s how a shrine worked:

Diane DeKay said, “Put your obsession about Wylie into my shrine. Here—write his name on this paper.” Lucy Furr wrote the name, folder the paper, wiped yet another tear, and licked up a line of snot that had dribbled down onto her upper lip. The taste was surprisingly good.

Diane held out her hand and led Lucy to the niche in the wall, filled with a wild assortment of objects—statues of Guadalupe, an elegant Virgin Mary, three Kuan Yins, a shiny Buddha, strings of bright beads, Barbie parts, wishbones, plastic pigs and chickens on nests, words to live by, postcards from odd places, ribbons and little scraps of folded paper. A snake hovered over the top. Lucy put her paper into it.

Shrines are a part of vampire culture. They symbolize, energize, and externalize the wild internal states of the vampire grandmas. For a social treat, the vampire grandmas get together for a shrine-making afternoon.  But shrine-building is a little weirder than knitting or scrapbooking. Take a look at this Fang Baby Shrine. Look familiar? It shouldn’t.

My friend Mo made the doll for me. The fangs are toothpicks.

Cute!