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BACK TO TRANSYLVANIA
By George T. Philibin
Nighttime, New York City. As sunlight gets shoved over the horizon by darkness that now finds New York City, a lone bat lands on a chilly East Side wharf. After a moment, in the shadows of darkened buildings, the bat transforms into Count Dravvo, a distant descendent of that most famed and feared of his kind to ever exist in recorded history---- Count Dracula!
Count Dravvo swirled his cape around, and scanned and listened to his immediate surroundings. Deserted piers with docked cargo ships filled his eyes. Sounds of water slapping the hulls of the ships, blasts of horns from tugboats in the harbor, and occasional sirens in the distance found his ears.
But the anticipation of blood, and more blood to answer his need from the long voyage on a tramp steamer, just now arriving in dock, fueled his desire to find a victim. Any victim would do, at least for the first meal. And after that snack, the search for richer and thicker blood from a fair-maiden should be fruitful, since he had seen many crowds of people farther up from the harbor as he had sailed in.
A long voyage, but worth it, for he had heard about the abundant and diverse blood here in the Big Apple! Yes, Count Dravvo thought, as his fangs dripped saliva driven by the anticipation.
Transylvania had become no good anymore with its populace hiding in their homes from sundown to sunup, and holding on to crosses and eating garlic. No, the old country just didn't have it anymore, but this new place, America, held so much promise that Count Dravvo snarled and showed his fangs as he looked in and saw the bright lights of Broadway beam over buildings, down streets, and even down alleyways.
He entered a dimly lit alley, and after a few steps, he heard singing. "Oh, Give Me A Hommmme, Where The Bufffffalooo roammm..." A strange song to Count Dravvo's ears, and it was coming from a foolish man laying against a wall and drinking something out of a paper bag. Wine, of some sort, Count Dravvo reasoned; rich, well aged wine makes blood so much better for it can be sucked in quicker!
Count Dravvo swung his cape above his victim, and descended onto this poor helpless creature who looked like he wished to be let alone as he enjoyed a brief interlude from his miserable existence.
But after a few moments, the Count jumped up, spit the blood out, wiped off his mouth, then coughed up some mucus and barfed it out. The old wino grinned. "Hee, hee, hee. Can't take the hard stuff, huh? Well, too bad. I get this stuff for about a buck-fifty, they call it rot-gut, but I love it! How about a nice long swig? But only one!"
After wiping his mouth off again, Count Dravvo glared at this creature and hissed a powerful warning at him, but it was all in vain for the wino then added, "Ya start on beer first, then ya move up to this stuff. Don't ya know nothin' buddy, and remember ya heard that one from me, Ole Charley Bartholomew the second! Hee, hee, hee?"
After another snarl and hiss, Count Dravvo scampered up the alley toward a light that was hanging over a door. As he neared the light, four mortals, two ahead of him and two behind him, stopped him cold, so to say. Count Dravvo was taken aback by the insolence of these humans. Boldness! Disrespectfulness! And Stupidity all mixed together, the Count thought!
The Count moved to the side of a building, turned and saw the two behind him. "They know not what power I have or who I am," The Count thought. One of the guys flipped open a switch-blade. "Okay, dude, hand over your wallet!"
Count Dravvo didn't understand 'Wallet' but he understood highway-men who rob carriages and travelers. But these were the strangest highway-men the Count had ever seen: One black, one Asian, one white, and one had purple hair spiked straight up with some odd colors that the Count had never seen before on the sides of this one highway-man's head. An American Indian? What manner of gang was this? They looked ridiculous! But the Count saw something, something that struck fear into his very fiber. Crosses, small ones, dangled off the left ears of three of these highway men. And the one with purple hair, had a cross dangling off his nose!
The small Crosses didn't project much power, but if the highway-men got closer, the collective force of the Crosses might impel him to his knees.
Count Dravvo raised up his cap and hissed a long, even sigh of air that echoed up the alley. That struck fear into his assailants, apparently. One said, "Man, this dude is weird." Another said, "He must have aids, look how white he is!" Another one proclaimed, "Hey, I think he's from Bellevue---that nut house! Some nut must have escaped tonight--- I bet that's him!"
Count Dravvo hissed another loud sigh, and the four backed away. "Hey, man, everything's cool! Just relax man." one said while another added, "Chill out man, we're cool, everything's okay! Don't you go and try biting anybody now, hear me?"
After the four disappeared, the Count shrugged the encounter off and continued on his way, but he did start to look over his shoulder occasionally, not from fear but
wonderment.
The Count finally reached Broadway, and to his surprise, nobody paid him any attention. A string of white robed men with bald heads, but in the center on the top of their heads, a cluster of hair, long, snaked its way down their backs. They chanted something while one or two banged on tambourines!
After the entourage passed, the Count locked his eyes onto the race taking place. Yellow vehicles, many cutting one another off, sped along and chased other vehicles and passed them at the first chance. It must have been an international event, the Count thought, for so many different languages came from these vehicle as they screamed insults at one another.
As the Count watched the race, his eyes fell onto the very thing he sought. A fair-maiden, tall and blonde, waiting at the curb and looking around for her father or husband who would escort her home, maybe. And unlike fair-maidens back home, this one had little clothes on! Just a top--her neck very bare---and tight shorts, and her shoes those high-heels, and her blood must be very rich for her lips were so red that the Count had never seen a fair-maiden with lips as red as hers were. He approached.
She seen him, but didn't run! She waved him back into the alley a little! What luck! The Count thought as he followed her around the corner.
The blood of a fair maiden tastes even better after it boils in fear for a moment or two, and after the Count and this fair maiden faced each other around the corner, the Count raised up his cape, glared a red hot stare, and hissed a piercing sigh that always froze other maiden into speechlessness. But not this one. No, this one actually spoke to him. "I see you like to hiss. Okay, for fifty-bucks, you can hiss all over me, and I'll even throw i
a scream or two. You into anything else? For a hundred and fifty, I can dress up like Elvira, and we can party at your place--but I'll have to get my black wig.
"You know big Al over on thirty-third street. Well, big Al and that bunch have these Vampire parties, and they always want me. You know why?" The Count became awe-struck at this maiden who he now considered not so fair! "Well, I'll show you. I keep these with me just in case."
The Hooker turned around, hid her face next to a building, reached into her purse and put something into her mouth, then, as Count Dravvo looked with wide eyes and a mouth slightly dropped open, she turned around growled, "GRRRRRRRRR!" The Count nearly tripped as he took two steps backwards and dropped his mouth even more because all his strength seemed to vacate his body as he looked at two false fangs protruding
from this not so fair maiden's mouth.
"They like me to wear these and dance around nude! Hey, I get two hundred and fifty an hour for that performance, and I'm really in demand. Now, at the Strar Trek convention...."
"AHHHHH--" the Count screamed as he walked out of the alley and into the bright lights of Broadway again, but he kept looking over his shoulder at this, this, whatever this thing was that pretended to be a fair maiden.
As he rapidly walked down the street, he hears "Screw you buddy!" come from the maiden's mouth. He didn't turn around to see if she had her fake fangs in, yet!
"Friend," Count Dravvo hears from a doorway. He stops, looks in and sees a man plainly dressed with no Crosses or straight purple hair or anything other than long pants on and Nikes on his feet. The Count had seen advertisements on Transylvanian TV about Nikes running shoes, and even considered getting a pair once.
This small and friendly man didn't seem aggressive and appeared to be the obedient type who might be a perfect 'Renfield' or 'servant' to him. Yes, he needed a servant here in this new world and this guy just might do!
"Are you a lost soul who has been led astray? Do you need comfort and love as we all do?" the man said. Then added, "Call me Nazareth, my friend and follow me, for I will teach you the truth about our existence."
The Count looked around and saw a tall black man with a headdress of feathers who hid under a scarlet robe, had scandals on, and a radiant smile. As Count Dravvo looked, the black man winked at him and smacked his lips! The Count immediately concluded that he needed some help here in this new land, and a servant, bound to him, obedient to his every wish, was a must now.
The Count turned around to Nazareth and said, "I need you!" Count Dravvo hoped that Nazareth would lead him into a room where both would be alone, for in a minute or two the Count knew that he could make Nazareth into a servant for all eternity, at least he hoped so. The Count's hunt for victims in this land had started to make him sweat, something he hasn't done since being alive!
Nazareth waved the Count to follow him, and the Count thought what luck, finally.
Count Dravvo followed Nazareth down a dim corridor, and Nazareth stopped at a door, locked, with a sign that proclaimed "We are All Brother's in the Universe." The Count didn't hear voices or any other sounds coming from the door. Good, he thought, at last things are going my way!
Once in the room, the Count thought how bare it was. Some chairs in front of an altar! but the Count quickly concluded that this couldn't be a church, for no pictures depicting the Saints or the Last Supper aligned the walls, and no Crosses hung for all to see. But a lone picture illustrating a beam of light coming down from saucer type vehicle caught his eye, for the faces of the crew had extremely large eyes, and their bodies slim and green!
The Count decided that he would not attack one of those beings if he ran into it. A little caution here was needed!
Behind the altar, a very large cabinet, wooden, with doors that swung out, caught the Count's eye, for if it were placed on its back, it would make a nice coffin to rest in during the days! Yes, what luck.
"Please friend, have a seat," Nazareth said.
The Count didn't answer; he just stood in anticipation of his next move.
"Listen to me, my child for you will see the light that chases away the darkness upon the earth..." Nazareth started to say.
The Count became baffled. What manner of place was this? Like a church, yes, but no Crosses or Saints, or even Bibles. Only that lone picture on the wall.
The Count became mesmerized by what Nazareth said next, " And the son of man who flew down here in his space ships and found an audience of pagans awaiting his arrival upon the lands of Jeremiah..."
Before the Count had time to react, he heard a song blast from the walls. "Jere-miah was- a bullfrog-- was a good friend of mine...." Speakers were strategically placed in corners for maximum effectiveness.
The Count just about broke his neck looking around when lights started to flash, and little figures of the beings in the picture dropped from the ceiling on strings, and, to the Count's already bewilderment, the cabinet exploded open, and a cross seven feet tall, flashing with lights that embroidered it--- bright, apparently a high wattage type--- struck the Count's eyes like a strobe light does when first encountered!
And as the Count stood frozen at the sight of such sacrilege to Christendom, and as his bewilderment increased ten-fold with each flash from the Cross, Count Dravvo finally screamed out, "AHHHHHHHH" again and fled down the corridor and hoped that Nazareth wasn't following! He had enough of this Big Apple!
Once on the street, he swirled his cape over himself, and a moment later he transformed into a bat and immediately ascended at a steep angle for he wanted to distance himself from, well, from whatever this place was! But as he sailed higher, he heard, "Buddy, come on back! That's one hell of a trick! We could make a fortune with that one! I never heard of Houdini doing that!--- and I never even seen David Copperfield do something like that!" But count Dravvo kept sailing higher and higher and he headed out to the ocean in the direction of Transylvania where fair-maidens were still fair, and nobody had purple hair and....
The End
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