The vampire of the potsticker house has a strange little craving for humans that are built like potstickers. They are full of ridges and bumps and are juicy here but chewy there. However, she very rarely finds a human of this kind. The last time the vampire ate one was 17 years ago. Normally she could keep a human alive for several nights, but potsticker humans tend to be quite delicate. For example, the potsticker human’s blood type does not allow for vinegar or soy sauce to be placed upon its person. The vampire doesn’t mind, though. She likes the natural flavor of the potsticker-human. This is why she works the night shift at the local potsticker house. Here, she can eat normal humans with potsticker essence. This means they have potstickers in their hair and bloodstream and belly, but not in their being. They aren’t real potsticker humans, but they will have to suffice for now.
The vampire is currently working her 6205th night at the potsticker house. She feels very frustrated. A long scroll of paper lies on the counter in front of her, detailing various experiments and their results. The vampire reviews her most recent ones: if you feed a human 62 potstickers, they erupt; if you bathe a human in a tub of 526 potstickers, they taste greasy (not potsticker-y); if you bathe a human in a tub of 525 potstickers, they taste almost like a real potsticker human. She begins to draft her 6205th experiment, but it’s hopeless. She can’t seem to make a real potsticker human no matter what she does.
They have a potsticker for a torso. Normal human limbs. A neck with a head on top of it. Delicious insides of ground meat and vegetables and delicious seasonings like soy sauce, fish sauce, MSG, hoisin sauce, salt white pepper ginger GARLIC – (depending on the human’s diet, the insides can be pescatarian or vegetarian or even vegan. The vampire likes pork and cabbage the most) – beautifully folded skins with cute little crimps, a perfect curve to the body, neatly pinched edges that hold in the overflowing insides, a deliciously crispy crunchy oily bottom that always falls apart in the vampire’s mouth yum – the vampire stops fantasizing. She can’t live like this, constantly yearning for a human that she can’t find!
The vampire goes back to brainstorming. She eats a few disgusting normal potstickers. She drinks some red vinegar to wash them down. She is struck with sudden inspiration! Today, she will wrap a human in potsticker skin and throw it on the pan. The vampire gleefully begins to roll out a piece of dough that will be 60 inches in radius.
The potsticker house stands at the end of a dark alleyway. Its facade is simple and strong: a low, low doorway is framed by two thick red columns, which support an awning that curls like a sheep’s horn. When it rains, the awning collects water and pours it back onto those entering the small potsticker house, leaving them dripping wet and shaking like dogs when they emerge inside. The vampire loves to greet customers on rainy days. Their dampness brings out an organic human scent that she absolutely adores, and she likes to wring rainwater out of their hair for sealing the edges of her potstickers.
As the vampire rolls her dough, the scent of fresh potstickers leaves her body. It drifts out of the potsticker house, into the alleyway, and onto the main street, where a short balding man walks alone in the dark. Fragrant tendrils snake up his body and curl into his nostrils before dissipating. He begins to walk towards the potsticker house.
Generasian 
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