Posted by Childe on October 15, 2000 at 17:37:59:
...yes I does. I gots a nice birftday. I am not 10. Sam says I still gotta drink some of Ginger's Wonderful Ale or maybe have a big mug of Beer O the Root though. Besides it is to high to reach the bar at Sam's Place.
And now I got a 'tory for Halloween.... maybe. Maybe not. It is different.
by
Several hundred years ago when Frankenstein was just a boy and Egypt’s mummies (not to mention
daddies) were moldering peacefully under ground, there existed four ageless vampires. They had become rather tired of attending morning Mass preferring Vespers instead. Of course, they had some problems with crosses. And splinters caused great concern terrifying them so much that when they lost their only pair of tweezers, Renfield (whose grandson would play a prominent part in Bram’s Gothic tale) had to run to the local blacksmith and get a new pair made. This cause a bit of friction in the town since Russ, the blacksmith, was known to bathe his weaponry in a bit of blood. Because of this the local town people finally drew up enough courage to request that the four leechers find residences elsewhere.
Some say that the town’s people did not request their departure but that the senior-most bloodsucker expressed his view that they needed a change of diet which until that time had consisted mainly of steak (shudder), which though rare still unnerved them, and turnips which though abundant gave little nourishment to the four fiends. Some also say that the four fanged furies flew from their resting place to a mountain
overlooking a small chaste village in the Alps and that this happened on October 31st causing the date to be called from that day forth Hollow Evening because their fangs were hollow and the time of day they arrived. Over the years this meaning has been lost and the spelling altered. What is factually known is that they settled in a lovely graveyard on the side of a nice black mountain near a beautifully resplendent and
red-blooded village.
They each sighed and smiled looking over the lovely village nestled in the valley. Each one had to comment of course.
“Now here’s something we can sink our teeth into,” said one.
“Maybe they’ll ask us in for a bite,” chuckled a second.
“Or maybe they’ll let us have a midneck snack,” added a third.
Well not all. The fourth one was silent, rustling his cape. Only his belly rumbled. He really did miss his boiled turnips.
And so the four vein vampires flew into the village for lunch even though it was eleven P.M. local and they hadn’t been invited. Still it was Mountain and not Atlantic. But this was Europe and Greenwich Mean hadn’t been invented yet. Days passed and nights, too. Actually quite a few knights passed by - or through. Renfield, when scouting out the locale, had made friends with a rather large dragon called Max. And when knights did visit the castle on the mountain, the host vampire always took him to meet Max (or was that
meat Max?) who being rather friendly would strike up a conversation. Always, the knight would get into an argument with Max over such silly things as lances and swordfighting or something like that and Max would get a tad upset. Immediately thereafter he would be sorry for he was a gentle dragon after all. However the knight wouldn’t be in a position to find fault being rather toasty. So what was a poor dragon to do but to devour the evidence. Thus, when knights knocked at the castle door asking if they had seen other knights,
the vampires answered truthfully that other knights had indeed been there but they had also passed through (Max that is). Those curious enough to stay, also visited Max who left no evidence other than a bit of steamy armor and bones. Poor dragon had indigestion when that happened.
The dragon’s presence was the reason that several months passed before the local citizens flocked to the Mayor complaining about the flock on the mountain.
“Mr. Mayor,” one complained, “we must get rid of those lechers.”
“Leaches, don’t you mean.”
“Those, too. The first ones take our daughters’ virginity and the second take our daughters’ blood. Both are sucking the lifeblood from our village. There’s not enough for a mosquito to live on.”
“Yes, of course. But what can we do? What can we do? They represent the Government hereabouts. And being the Government, it is they’re duty to suck us dry.”
“Better you than us, your Mayoriness,” Another villager chimed in.
“What’s that?” asked the Mayor with a knowing wink. Then added, “Yes. Oh, yes. What can we do.
They’re a blasted pain in the neck.”
“I got it. Well call in that piper fellow who killed all those cats, bats, and gnats.” shouted a third villager
“Heard the guy’s busy in some burg called Hamelin charming with some rats.” a fourth villager added.
The Mayor thought on it long and hard his chin clamped tightly, his brow furrowed, his brain hurt. All at once a light bulb appeared above him. Of course no one knew what it was so they simple said “Awe” and the Mayor asked, “Why can’t we be a little cross with them?”
“Cause we’re Jewish?” Another voice noted.
“Then let’s make kosher meat of them and point out what we have at stake (or was that steak, medium rare?).” continued the Mayor.
“Ha! Ha! We’ll humor, er hammer, the point home.”
The villagers in a body entreated the local blacksmith, Gus (brother to Russ), to provide them with four well sharpened wooden stakes. Took him most of the night and half the day. Gus was rather dim witted but he did take his job seriously. Soon a peculiar party consisting of Gus, the Mayor and most of the town (minus all the lovely girls) left for the mausoleum where the batboys slept all day - I say ‘peculiar’ because it was early afternoon and the townsfolk carried lighted torches. Why, I don’t know. Near sunset, they arrived at the graveyard and proceeded to open the first coffin. Gus frantically began hammering the stake into his
first client (the one who still dreamed about boiled turnips).
Max was rather curious but Gus was a nice friend and so he was contented to watch. After all it was not often that a dragon gets to watch a vampire being staked out.
“Hurry,” cried the Mayor, “The other three are going batty.”
“’M tryin’ but I’ve gotten into a bit of trouble nailin’ this one. Just won’t let me get a good bead on his heart.” A good deal of hammering ensued but the vampire wouldn’t stay still.
“Damn, Gus” the Mayor cried, “You’re too late. The other three have flipped their lids and flown the crypt.”
“God Almighty, got carried away, Mr. Mayor. Just couldn’t stop hammerin’. This one’s dead though. But I used up all my stakes makin’ him so.”
And that was how the blacksmith and the dragon .... What?! You want a point to all this?! Really!!? Well - the moral of this Halloween tale is: Don’t put all your pegs in one casket.
Please don’t groan too loudly on the way out or Max will become upset.
Hope you like the story.
And now for a riddle maybe. Why does Mrs. Frankenstein not got some childes of her own?? Because Mr. Frandenstein has a Halloweeeeenie.
Maybe that is REAL bad so....
Bye, bye,
Childe