Things were different back in the 80s. The 1480s and 1980s, I mean. Everyone just seemed to work really well together. We'd do month-long tours without blinking an eye. Well, Zombie actually never blinks, but that's beside the point. Man, Mummy was a maniac on the drums every night and he would hit the clubs after every show with a bunch of witches and we wouldn't see him until load-in the next day. There was no way you'd know by looking at him that he was without all of his internal organs—the kid was a machine. This was all before Swampy started getting really dried out on stage, too. I mean, now he keeps a spritzer bottle on his organ next to him, but how rock-n-roll is that, you know? Frank—I mean Frank is Frank, I guess. He just does his thing night after night, century after century. We have to sew a new arm on him every once in a while when one gets caught in a revolving door or when the rigor mortis makes it so he can't strum the bass any longer, but he's pretty much as mellow as he always was. I mean, yeah, he had a problem with the pain killers for a little while, but he's pretty much functioning in an eternal post-major operation state; how would you handle yourself? But Diablo, don't even get me started on that kid. I mean, playing tambourine for 1100 years can get a little boring, I get it, but he's really let himself go. He has no interest in keeping up with the vernacular and trends of the time. When Zombie asked him if he was going to get 'turned up' last night after our St. Louis show he just started bashing his maracas against Frank’s head, yelling "If I'm not playing them at an appropriate volume for you, then you chaps will need to turn up the gain at the front of house. I'm without a volume knob on these, you dig?" Most nights now we just hope Diablo misses our set time because he's found a young girl to possess near the venue. He keeps a book of their home addresses when corresponding with them through Ouija boards and Twitter. And Zombie, let’s see, I mean he's still as much fun as he used to be but he's really showing the signs of life on the road. Rancid flesh aside, the humidity on stage doesn't do great things for his complexion or his internal organs. Let's see, who else? Snake. Yeah, Snake is cool. He was Mummy's drum tech for years. I mean, those two were inseparable. Snake would even guard Mummy's sarcophagus while we did press interviews, but after we let him in the band as lead snare things haven't been the same between them. Mummy's always on him about flamming in the choruses or phasing in the mix if Snake's snare is tuned too similarly to his. Snake can't win, and the rest of us just let it happen. I feel bad about it because Snake has really molted into a fantastic drummer. Being without appendages is a state of mind, you know? What you feel inside when it comes to rhythms and back beats is what really matters. And the Bats-Girls backup singers—well, not many people know this, but we've gone through a number of them over the years. Some of them just get sick of the road and miss their caves, others go on to work with other musicians. Batsy Cline put out a few solo records on a country label, which I thought was great. She did a tour with The Blob and we haven't really heard from her since. I'm sure she's fine, though. Blob is certainly a danger to anyone on stage with that whole amophoric-digestive-parasitic-glob thing he has going on, but Batsy can fly so she could get out of the way if she saw him coming at her with ill intent.

And me? Well, what can I say? I'm Dracula. There is a never-ending parade of delicious goth girls at rock shows, so I never run out of beautiful company and youthful blood to drink. It's really not a bad gig. But the kids today are different—they aren't as into it as they once were. They're going to EDM shows and dancing to computers instead of summoning the dead by candlelight in their parents’ basements like the good old days. We'll keep banging along, though. We have a bunch of European dates coming up, which will bring us by my house in Romania. It'll be nice to sleep in my own coffin for a few nights, that's for sure.