I was sitting on a stool in my neighborhood pub drinking a pint of my favorite brew when a black-haired, swarthy man of middle height approached me. I looked at him while he stared at me. I turned away, hoping he would disappear into the men's room. Unfortunately, I could feel his eyes boring into my back, and I knew he wouldn't go away.

I turned to him and asked, "Is there something you want?"

He continued staring at me without showing any indication he had heard what I had said.

"Okay, stare away," I said, and glared at him. After a while, the intensity of his gaze became disconcerting.

"You are the person that wrote the article stating that psychic vampirism is nonsense?" he asked in a strange foreign accent.

"I wrote a post on my blog to that effect," I replied.

"Same thing," he said. "You think psychic vampirism is a joke?"

"I don't know if it's a joke, but it's certainly not real." His intense gaze continued to bother me.

"Perhaps you need to learn a lesson in humility," he said tersely.

"Life has humbled me many times, but I don't see you as tonight's teacher."

"Perhaps a demonstration is in order," he said as he opened his eyes wider.

Suddenly, I began to feel dizzy and leaned forward. I wasn't sure what was happening, but I needed to steady myself. So, I took a deep breath, closed my eyes, and visualized a peaceful blue sky. I slowed my breathing until I felt relaxed and noted that the dizziness had disappeared. Time to face this character down.

I raised my head and he maneuvered his so that his eyes were in contact with mine. I continued my slow rhythmic breathing and returned his stare. This time it had no effect on me.

He squinted and his forehead furrowed as if he were trying to intensify his stare. Beads of perspiration broke out on his forehead and above his upper lip.

Feeling more confident, I smiled at him.

"Grrrhh," he said as he leaned forward, bringing his face closer to mine.

"Enough is enough I said," as I put the palm of my hand against his chest and shoved him backward.

He had difficulty maintaining his balance and bumped into a large, muscular blonde-haired man. The Nordic-looking fellow pushed him away. The swarthy stranger opened his mouth without saying anything. He righted himself, but when he looked at me all of his confidence was gone, and his eyes were confused.

By this time he had attracted the attention of Mike, the bartender. "Hey, buddy. We don't need any trouble around here. If you wanna drink, fine. If not, get out," Mike said.

The swarthy man shook his head, turned, and walked out the door.

"Neil, who the hell was that guy?" asked Mike.

"A wannabe psychic vampire," I said, and laughed.

"A what?" Mike asked with raised eyebrows.

"Never mind," I said, and picked up my mug to finish my beer.

As Mike walked away, I called out to him. "Another beer please."