I do not own Dracula. I cavort with Dracula. But I do not own him. I also do not own Van Helsing. However, I don't cavort with him and really couldn't care less, so it doesn't really matter. I do have some claim to the ponytail, as I have been using it for years. I do not have any claim to the ponytail clip, but nobody's perfect.
Here is Dracula's Rant:
Camera focuses in and out, revealing a man in a fantastic coat that would take years to button, boots, several gallons of wig, and the worlds best ponytail clip. He is standing in front of a green screen and a microphone is stuck on his collar.
"Roight mates, is this on?" He says in what is meant to be an extremely Transylvanian accent. "G'day. Oi'm Dracula. An Oi just 'ave a few things to get orf me chest an fair dinkum Oi'm gunna do ut."
There is general clambering from offscreen and a someone's arm makes a 'cut' signal across the lens. The camera blinks and focuses again.
"Thith ith thutch an honor to be able to thschare my obtherwationth about the movie Wan Helthing."
"GET IT RIGHT OK?" yells someone, and the camera blinks once again.
"—or Oi'll do me block an knock off you smart-aleck galah."
"GAAAAAHHH" Shouts the camera man. "You mess up every time!"
Camera blinks.
"Good evening. My name is Dracula. I have a few statements to make regarding my recent film, Van Helsing." Dracula smiles then looks offscreen, "Did Oi do ut that time mate?"
"Just keep going."
"I remember, some years back, reading an expose of the classic fairy tale Little Red Riding Hood by none other than the Big, so-called Bad, Wolf." Dracula does the smile and turn sideways thing, "It explained that the wolf was merely trying to borrow a cup of sugar from Red Riding Hood's grandmother, with no dishonorable intentions whatsoever. Through a series of misrepresentations, and revisionist legal proceedings, the story became the fairy tale we know today. Now you may object, saying 'Vampires are necessarily evil, who could possibly convince me that the story of Dracula is anything but a tiresome compilation of horror?'"
Dracula leans forward and smiles again, "I could."
"Keep it up dude, we're getting you more props and something for you to sit on." The offscreen voice says. Dracula fidgets a little.
The camera blinks.
Dracula is now standing beside a movie projector with a paused screenshot from Van Helsing on it. He is holding a laser pen. "Now in this scene, we see the feudal occupants of my lands. My legal thralls, if you will, desperately charging up to a dark castle demanding the death of a alleged grave-robber. I think you will agree with me that this does indeed constitute a violation of the standard lease, which states, if I'm not mistaken that should the peasants revolt, I am legally charged with the suppression of the rebellion through military force so that it should not grow in substance enough to constitute a national threat. Fer all you Aussies, in plain-speak, that means the moment they jack up, they've gone a million an Oi can give the mob a belt in the lug and no mug cop can say any different."
There are suppressed snickers from offscreen.
Dracula starts fiddling with with one of his earrings, "Oi'm doin' me best, an if it's a rum job, go easy."
A hand reaches on and gives Dracula a script.
"Thanks mate," He opens it. "Now here is my story. I was sitting at home one evening, having a nice chat with my good friend Victor Frankenstein. He was doing a few experiments and such, and had brought along his only son, who was tragically afflicted with SSM, Severe Shakespearean Monologue. Now the poor unfortunates with this disease are in a constant state of what appears to be skin rot, and the fusing of the pelvic joints causes a most unlikely hobble which is only compounded by the irresistible desire to wear platform shoes."
Dracula looked up and tapped the laser pen against his chin thoughtfully. "Perhaps the worst manifestation of this disease is the involuntary compulsion to speak the King's English in grammatically perfect complete sentences." He shakes his head tragically, "Victor and I were discussing what might be done for poor Monster, as we called the lad, and who, I might add, was strapped to a table because of his propensity for violence."
"It is true, I was merely discussing the medical state of my friend's son. You see, I had even come up with a plan that might cure the dear lad. You might say, 'why should we believe you?' Well simply, I was there."
Camera blinks and Dracula is now sitting in an armchair with his hands steepled pensively, "Well we arrived at the conclusion that a severe electric shock might just be the thing to knock poor dear Monster back to his senses, but tragically, as we were positioning the electrodes, Monster broke free and dashed Victor's head against the table. The man was insensate, staggering around with blood dripping down from a gaping wound in his head.
'Monster,' he yelled, and terrified that the boy would do him further harm in his insanity, he grabbed a sword. 'I cannot hear!' was the next astonished cry from Victor, for the severity of the blow had dashed in his eardrums.
With blood streaming down his head at that rate, I knew that he would suffer an aneurism very soon, and so I tried to come to his aid. I called his name and tried to come near him, but he swung the sword at me and insisted that I was only Monster, trying to trick daddy once again." Dracula was cleaning the dirt from under the long pointy fingernail on the pinky of his right hand. "What would any self-respecting human being have done for his friend? I ran myself through on the sword in order to get close to him and tried to administer first aid. The wound was much deeper than I though, and right in one of the carotid arteries too.
I dimly remembered reading somewhere that vampire blood had healing properties not just for the vampire, but for other humans as well. So, holding Victor securely so he could not cut me with the sword any more than he already had, I bit my lip and placed my mouth over the wound in the carotid." Dracula shrugs, "It was quite a success really. The wound healed right up, but poor stupid Victor thought I had decided to vampirize him and promptly died of heart failure." Dracula massages one eyebrow, "I am surrounded by idiots." He folds his hands, "Well, Monster laughed evilly and gave me that speech from Macbeth that begins with 'Is this a dagger I see before me.' I tried to reason with him, but he insisted on taking his daddy to the mill, saying that he would make a flavorful addition to the absinthe brewery." Dracula frowned, "Me, I don't approve of alcohol, even the weak kind. I never drink…wine."
"Just get on with it!" the Cameramen shout.
Dracula gives them the 'go ahead and impale me see if I care' look. "Well Monster chucked me into the fireplace and took Dr. Frankenstein off to carry on with his evil plans. Of course I got out and regenerated, and then I transformed and flew off to find him.
Now, I have a few words to say about my transformed state. Some people have referred to it as the 'hell beast' and see it as the reflection of my true nature. I think this is clearly just jealousy because I can fly. They say the so-called ugliness of my transformed state is proof that I am at heart an evil creature. Now, ugliness is no reason to hate anybody. Look at all the things that are ugly in this world. Horses for one, and human babies. I've never seen anything as ugly as human babies. Just like little wrinkled old men. No one wants to send them to the pit of hell now do they?
I would also like to state that I have never made a pact of any kind with Satan. Oi had tea an buckjumpers with 'im once out in the bush, but—"
"Sir, your accent is slipping again." The offstage voice says again.
"Sorry mate," Dracula composes himself, "So off I went to the windmill to find poor little Monster. It really is quite exhilarating being able to fly. I rather enjoy it. All that lovely wind whistling through your hair." He primps his hair, "So I get to the windmill and it's been burned to the ground. Stupid peasants. They always go off like a loose cannon every full moon."
"What about the brides?" Several male voices call from offscreen.
"What brides?" Dracula turns around and looks at them.
"The brides in all the skimpy negligee!" There are excited noises and general clambering.
The camera zooms in on Dracula's face.
"Brides?" He says. "That's polygamy. What do you think I am, Mormon? Muslim?" Dracula begins grumbling under his breath about 'bloody Turks' and 'that mug queen brother of mine Radu.'
"But what about the brides?" A few voices moan forlornly.
"The three young ladies you are referring to," Dracula says sternly, "Are mental patients of mine, afflicted with a certain condition involving…well let's just say they are living proof that blonde comes in more than one color. Their parents wanted to give them more exposure to life than they would get in their normal shopping mall, so they sent them off to my Dracula's School of Vampires and Vampirism." Dracula was still glowering, "And I do have a license for it. It's registered under California's 9th precinct judicial district." Dracula looks finished for a second but launches in again, "And they don't wear negligee! They wear standard Los Angeles Unified School District school uniforms! And they are FIFTEEN! And they are the BANE OF MY EXISTENCE! You think I like them drooling all over me 'yes my lord' 'no my lord' 'whatever are we to do my lord'!"
Dracula's eyes do the blue shiny thing briefly, but he soon calms down enough to speak coherently. "The whole affair with Victor was terribly tragic. I couldn't even find his body. And who do you think showed up on my doorstep the very next day? Young Velkan Valarius." Dracula rolls his eyes, "Bloke got himself bit by a werewolf and was all wet and slobbery. Now I don't understand why these undead creatures always come crawling to me in their plight. I mean, don't I try to have a reputation for being the most slimy being to walk the planet? I try, honestly really I do. They just love me. Everyone loves me." Dracula primps his hair again. "So I took Velkan in and gave him some more stylish clothes. Tragic boy really. Desperately clumsy, for one thing. Always trying to perform heroics with not even a thought of a plan 'b'."
Dracula sighs.
The cameramen commiserate.
"And then do you know who shows up on my doorstep?" Dracula says, "That no-good two-timing phony amnesiac womanizer Abraham Van Helsing!" Dracula pauses for dramatic effect, "Of course, when I knew him, he was a transvestite cabaret dancer named Gabriel!" Dracula laughs maniacally for some time, looking off screen every once in a while.
"Aren't you going to do that cool lightning effect, mate?" He asks.
"Sorry sir," there is a faint rustling noise, and then a tremendous crack of thunder and lightning.
"AHAHAHAHA!" Dracula laughs again for quite some time. "All you devoted fans of Gabriel out there, why did you think he had such girly hair? He spends three hours in the bathroom every morning curling it! AHAHAHA!" Dracula wipes a humorous tear out of his eye.
"Excuse me," says a cameraman, "But how would you know what goes on in Van Helsing's bathroom in the morning, sir?"
Dracula glares at him, "Are you suggesting….?"
Suddenly a figure on fire staggers across the camera and falls to the ground on the other side, writhing in agony. Two on-set firefighters put him out.
"Peasant." Dracula comments.
"I would also like to protest the slanderous character defamation I have repeatedly suffered." Dracula turns back to the camera and smiles. "There is a serious misconception even among my adoring public that I am the villain, and Van Helsing is the good guy." He sighs dramatically. "Honestly the entire vampire school only killed one or two people a month, and that was mostly Aleera. She's just out of control that one. Her parents told me put her in a sack and drown her."
Dracula stares at the ceiling and taps his feet. "Oi just forgot what Oi was goin' to soaiy."
He starts muttering about kangaroos and waltzing matilda. "Oh yeah. Oi remember naow."
He clears his throat and fast forwards the movie to a screen shot of him laughing his head off. "Some people have mistaken this whole scene. I do have feelings, as this picture proves. This is my 10:00 drama class, and that is me demonstrating for Aleera, Verona, and Marishka that famous 'hollow' monologue of Harry the Panda in the famous play, 'Bob and the Killer Pumpkins.'" He looks up at the sky and yells, "Hey mate, can you give 'em a dekko at that picture?"
"Oi'll give her a go." The author types frantically in Microsoft Word.
(for picture-less it's the shot at 36 min 45 seconds on a dvd player)
"There, how's that, mate?" the author says.
"It's a beut, mate."
"Nice shot up the conk, mate."
"Strewth, Oi hadn't noticed."
"Isn't Australian vernacular amusing?"
"Oi'm Wallachian." Dracula says, "And I think you're looking everything up in a dictionary as we go along. I've never had anyone keep up this long."
Author looks angry and pushes the 'smite' button on the keyboard a few times. "I'm Australian by blood if not by geography!" the author yells as thunder and lighning crash in the background. There's a zapping sound and the Author falls off the chair that h/s/I is sitting on.
"Where was I?" Dracula asks. He looks admiringly at the picture. "Oh yeah. Emotions. Well, I think this picture says it all. I love my life." He scratches his head and manages not to mess up a single strand of wig, "That was a hilarious play. Marishka played the evil panda legion of doom and Verona was Bob, the hero who saved the world from torture by pumpkins. Really entertaining, if you ask me. We were going to wait until the kids were born and have them be the pumpkins."
Dracula's lower lip starts to tremble. He sniffles a bit.
"What's the matter sir?" the handy dialogue-filling cameramen say. In unison.
Dracula breaks down, "My children," he blubbers tragically into a handkerchief marked with a big red D on one corner.
"Aw." Says everyone.
"I don't know what I did." Dracula wipes his nose on his sleeve, "I just come home one day and this man was shooting them in front of me one by one." Tears stream down his face, "First was Anastasia, then Fernando, Sveyn and Hubert one after another."
"…" says everyone, in shock, realizing that 'aw' was rather inappropriate.
"And then the twins. And they had just started piano lessons." Dracula slumps back and sobs, "I can still see their startled faces as they were ripped apart limb from limp." He stares at his shaking hands, "I can still see their blood on my hands, and the tiny feet and hands lying strewn across the floor, their fragile skulls dripping brains through my fingers. And…that man….just did it to get my attention. Without a thought of their lives. They were just nuisances to be crushed to him. My precious children." His breath catches in his throat, "My precious children."
Dracula leans his head into his hands. He slowly shuts his eyes tight.
Everyone stands shell-shocked for a minute. Then they unanimously turn and grab a weapon to attack Van Helsing with. Some are armed only with pencils, paperclips, and an iron will. Quietly, silently, they organize themselves into a lynch mob and march to the next studio where Van Helsing is also filming a 'commentary about the movie' and drag him away.
Will vigilante justice be done? Will Dracula ever become a father? What does all the Australian dialect actually mean? Find out next time in….
A Dance of Pants, or, You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore.
Author: Hope you like it, there will be more ranting in the future.I had to stop here because it was getting a little macabre. I really empathize with Drac if you couldn't tell by now. Now I'm going to go off and cry for him. Poor guy. Sniff.