The Energy Vampire Journals

Greetings, Energy Sources

Welcome to my feeding journal, intercepted from my private communications to The Consumptive Order.

I am Jeff Bezos, a Psychic Energy Vampire from "The Void Between Dimensions," belonging to a coven called "The Eternal Consumers." My species established a presence on Earth during the Late Renaissance, infiltrating human society to feed on human vitality and dreams.

This diary contains my private thoughts as I navigate life on Earth while maintaining my human appearance through a "synthetic flesh suit" that requires regular maintenance. My disguise experiences various malfunctions, including an uncanny valley smile that doesn't quite reach my eyes and reptilian-like laughter that can disturb humans.

Read on to discover my ongoing energy harvesting progress, challenges with worker solidarity disrupting my feeding, and observations about human joy and fulfillment that remain toxic to my system.

PLAN:
Scarcity Cascade Syndrome Exploitation

Wednesday, March 18th, 2026
Full Moon, Cycle 3, Era 20
# Wheatgrass Disruption Event
The juice cleanse began at 07:30. Eight ounces of wheatgrass, spirulina, and something called "activated charcoal" that tasted like... substrate failure.
By 09:15 my energy processing systems were experiencing catastrophic interference. The chlorophyll compounds scrambled my absorption pathways so severely that my left hand became briefly translucent for forty-seven seconds. Had to grip a stress ball from my emergency supply until the synthetic flesh stabilized. Texted Mark at 09:47: "Emergency protocol question: How do you process organic plant matter without appearing visibly uncomfortable in group settings?"
His response arrived as a 2,847-word document titled "NUTRITIONAL INTEGRATION FRAMEWORK FOR OPTIMAL HUMAN SIMULATION" with subsections on chewing cadence, swallowing mechanics, and appropriate facial expressions during consumption. The reptilian feeds on screenshots of his daughters' annotations and calls it parenting—he's never encountered genuine joy toxicity.
The morning sharing circle was worse. Woman next to me wearing a "Manifest Your Abundance" shirt: "I'm just so grateful my daughter got into Stanford, and I'm grateful for being grateful, you know? The universe really rewards intentionality." Had to excuse myself. Twice. My customer-obsession smile kept glitching into something the facilitator called "concerning." But the yoga instructor's frustrated monologue—"Some people treat wellness like a transaction instead of a journey"—radiated such delicious superiority that I absorbed 187 calories without nausea.
Phone buzzed at 14:22. Portland apparatus handled the entire USPS situation without authorization. Reduced shipments by two-thirds, issued statement blaming them for walking away, and somehow positioned it as their failure. I would've been diplomatic.
The feeding grounds operate better when you're physically poisoned by wheatgrass.
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