VAN HELSING AND THE VILLAGE PEOPLE
BY RANDOM BATTLECRY
Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, Dwenhamites, Jackman Girls, and Devotees of the Scottish Pout— I give you a completely random story, populated by the cast of "Van Helsing," the cast of "The Village," the cast of "Lord of the Rings," several hot men, Dash X, Rex Smith, Jack Sparrow, Geoffrey Rush (gets dizzy at this point and is unable to cope), which was originally posted on Fanfiction.net, which I took down as preventative measures since they started really cracking down on the no-script-fic thing. It had a wonderful run, I got about a hundred and twenty reviews, and it was my first ever fanfiction. And so I repost it here, to drive the rest of you insane. Enjoy.
(The night is dark. A pale moon shines over the quietly sleeping village, but doesn’t penetrate the dense cover of the woods that surround it, which is where our story begins. The camera swoops down, through the trees, and focuses on a hole in the ground— our perspective goes in, and we see it is very deep, and a figure lies at the bottom. Closeup of his face— a big nose, hazel eyes, eyelids fluttering over them, the mouth open in surprise, then suddenly closes in a smile. This is NOAH.
Noah: Lucky I got turned into the undead before I fell down that bloody big hole!
(Opening titles— shots of trees and bats flapping around them. No actor credits, but at the end a great big: Written, Directed, and Catered For By Britney Spears. The music soars frighteningly at this point and the audience wonders what it’s let itself in for.)
(Shot of the trees. There’s a crashing noise and some of the big ones begin to thrash wildly. We see townsfolk watching, mouths open, ready to run, breathing fast. The thrashing comes closer, the noise grows— then the undergrowth parts and a small SQUIRREL (the one from "The Emperor’s New Groove" by the way) emerges. He notices everyone watching him.)
Squirrel: Nah chu ha ha? (offers acorn) Bleh.
(Suddenly a cross-bow bolt pins the furred nut-bearing menace to the ground. The utterly disillusioned townsfolk turn to look at where it came from. There stands a stranger, tall, dark, and handsome, with a crossbow bolt over his shoulder, deeply engrossed in picking his nose. this is VAN HELSING. After a minute he looks up as though just now aware of the camera.
Van Helsing: Oh. Are we on?
Britney Spears: (off camera, sings) Oooops....
VH: Oops.
Britney Spears: You did it again!
VH: Fine. (flicks booger away) Sorry about that. (takes crossbow off his shoulder and adjusts it so it looks like he just used it on the squirrel.) It’s okay, folks. I have a permit.
Small Miscellaneous Boy In Crowd: That’s not your line!
VH: Well, that wasn’t your line, either.
SMBIC: You’re not setting a very good example for us child actors.
VH: Shut up or I’ll shoot you. Now say your line.
SMBIC: You just told me to shut up. How can I say my line if—
VH: (gestures menacingly with the crossbow) Say it!
SMBIC: Who are you?
VH: Gabriel "Mary" Van Helsing. Monster hunter, lover, movie stud, part-time masseuse, also available for children’s parties— would you like a card?
SMBIC: Yes.
VH: Too bad!
SMBIC: What are you doing here?
VH: (to crowd) Do you all just let him say everything? (crowd nods) Can’t you speak? (crowd shakes their heads) What’s the matter with you?
SMBIC: They’re robots.
Voice: Robots?
(the owner of the VOICE steps forward— he’s small and was completely hidden by Van Helsing. He has a stupid bowl haircut, but a likeable face, and looks likely at any minute to either trip over his robes or say, "I’m not a monk, I’m just a friar!" This is CARL.)
SMBIC: Friar Tuck?
Carl: I’m not a friar, I’m a monk!
VH: Carl— you’re a monk?
Carl: I got promoted. Did someone say something about robots?
SMBIC: Yes, I did.
Carl: And what did you say?
SMBIC: I said these are robots.
Carl: And how do you know?
SMBIC: Because they came with instructions.
Carl: If only everyone came with instructions—
SMBIC: Now what are you doing here?
VH: The Vatican sent us.
SMBIC: What’s a Vatican?
VH: (sighs) It’s a place with a lot of men in robes.
SMBIC: Like ancient Egypt?
VH: You know about ancient Egypt but not about the Vatican?
SMBIC: They only tell us things that are Not Dangerous To Ourselves and Others. (VH and Carl look at each other.)
VH: What?
Carl: Eh?
SMBIC: So like Egypt, then?
VH: No, not those kinds of robes.
SMBIC: Like a transvestite bar?
VH: Yes.
Carl: They dress like me, only with a little less taste. And more color. And sometimes gold fringes. And embroidery. And lots of expensive-looking-but-actually-relatively-cheap jewelry.
SMBIC: But why did they send you here?
(VH looks as dignified as possible while trying to surreptitiously get rid of a booger clinging to his finger. He flicks at it, scrapes with his fingernails, and ends up wiping it on an unsuspecting Carl.)
VH: We recieved word that you were being terrorized by some creature or creatures unknown or unknowns. Sorry. My knowledge of grammar disappeared along with the rest of my memories.
SMBIC: But who told you?
VH: A little bird.
SMBIC: (scornfully) A little bird? Look, I may be a small miscellaneous boy in the crowd, but I’m not stupid.
VH: (Sighs deeply and regrets that, due to contracts, he is unable to kill his fellow characters) Alright. You want proof? (digs in his satchel) Here. Proof. (He pulls something from his satchel and throws it to the SMBIC. It is feathered, brightly colored, and stiff as a board. It is the Monty Python DEAD PARROT.)
SMBIC: Ew! It’s dead!
Carl: It’s not dead, it’s resting!
SMBIC: Listen, monk— friar— whatever, this is a dead parrot if I ever saw one.
VH: You live in the middle of a forets. Where would you ever get to see a dead parrot?
(a silence while the SMBIC shuffles his feet and tries to think of an answer.)
SMBIC: Maybe it’s a rainforest.
VH: It’s not!
SMBIC: How do you know?
VH: What’s the average rainfall in this area, then? (SMBIC pretends not to hear, the way small kids do when they don’t want to answer any given question.)
SMBIC: What was that?
VH: What’s the average rainfall in this area!
SMBIC: Well, you don’t have to shout!
VH: I bloody well do! Now what is—
SMBIC: I don’t know. I’m a poor, simple village boy, we don’t go in for rainfall measures or things like that.
Carl: Really? I could whip one up for you if you like.
SMBIC: No thanks.
VH: Can we just get on to whatever I’m here for already? Can you tell me what exactly has been happening?
SMBIC: Why? Didn’t the Vatican clue you in?
VH: The Vatican is clueless. (sigh) Not for the first time, I’m afraid.
SMBIC: It’s stupid to run a superhero operation out of the Vatican, anyway. If I was a policeman that’s the first place I’d look!
VH: Right, I’m getting tired of you. Screw the contract. (raises crossbow and shoots him, squirrel style.)
Carl: Van Helsing! How could you!
VH: Shut up, Carl. (whaps him on the back of the head.) Now, lets get down to business. (truns to the villagers, who regard him with wide, empty, frightened eyes.) Now what can you tell me about what’s happening?
(the villagers all turn and run away, leaving SMBIC no longer IC. VH and Carl are left standing in an empty village. Eerie music plays. VH burps.)
Carl: (sighs) You know, if the producers weren’t so cheap, they could have hired real actors. Though you were kind of harsh on them.
VH: Shut up, Carl. (whaps him)
Carl: What’s got into you all of a sudden? I’ve never seen you so— peeved.
VH: (Sighs and turns up the "Angst" knob, located underneath his cloak right next to the ones marked "Peeved" "Anger" "Desire" "Werewolf" "Australian" and "Whap Carl.") I’m pining for the lost love of my life, Julia—
Carl: Anna.
VH: Anna. Anna Val— Vel— whatever her surname was. Oh, how I miss her! I miss her leather outfit! Oh, how I pine for her long brown wig, and her era-inappropriate spunky nature! I miss her artificial hand! Not many people know she had an artificial hand, but she did! She lost it in the wars. Oh, the pining! Oh, the misery, the glorious unmitigated angst of it all!
Carl: (reaches up and whaps him on the head.) Shut up, Van Helsing.
VH: (reaches down and whaps Carl on the head.) You shut up.
Carl: (whap) No, you.
VH: (Whap) No, you!
Carl: (whap) You!
VH: (whap) You!
Carl: (flustered and beginning to cry slightly) I demand that you shut up, as I am an intellectually superior human being who has firm hold on cherished childhood memories! Also I am blond and much cuter than you!
CH: (considers, then whaps) Shut up, Carl.
Carl: (helplessly) Grr.
VH: Now we have to figure out what exactly has been going on around here. I’m positive it has something to with Dracula.
Carl: Even though we killed him irrevocably in the first picture—
VH: Have you ever known cold hard facts to stop a franchise?
Carl: Where on earth did you learn a word like ‘franchise’?
VH: Shut up, Carl. (whap. VH sniffs the air.) Something wicked this way comes.
Carl: (frightened) Dracula?
VH: No. Another Harry Potter movie.
Carl: (more frightened) Get me out of here, Van Helsing!
VH: Come, we must walk this way.
Carl: I don’t think I can walk that way. I lack the neccessary—
VH: Panache?
Carl: Where did you learn a word like ‘panache’?
VH: Shut up. (whap) Come with me. (he begins to walk, Carl following him and moving awkwardly. He does lack the necessary panache— but his face makes up for it. Grin. Faramir is a stick, but Carl’s pretty cute.)
(they walk past empty village houses and to the edge of the woods, a place populated by something desperately, undeniably evil, as well as small animals.)
VH: Aaagh! (closeup on his face— his eyes are wide, his mouth open, and a small green booger clings to the lower rim of his left nostril. The entire effect is rather like a porcupine— or at least, someone who’s come into contact with one.)
Carl: Van Helsing! What’s wrong?
VH: I think I just stepped on a porcupine.
Carl: Oh no! Van Helsing is mortally wounded! He’ll die! Then the plot will rest on my shoulders! I’ll be the hero! It’ll all be up to me! (sudden evil grin. He begins to kick VH)
VH: Stop that!
Carl: What? I wasn’t doing anything.
(there is a definite noise in the bushes, and it comes closer...closer...closer... VH and Carl stay where they are and stare in terror.)Chapter Two: And Now A Word From Our Sponsor
(So Carl and VH are crouching in the woods staring at the trees around them. VH is gritting his teeth in pain as he clutches at his porcupine-injured foot. Carl is gritting his teeth in fear and wishing he’d taken an earlier opportunity to use the bathroom.)
Announcer: (stepping out from behind a nearby tree) This would be a perfect time, suspense-wise, to say ‘And Now a word from our sponsor,’ wouldn’t it?
Audience: This is a movie, you shouldn’t have a sponsor!
Announcer: Ah, but we got one on purpose, for moments such as this, to create tension.
Audience: Tension? What are you talking about, tension? It’s not like we actually think Van Helsing and Carl are in danger.
Announcer: Why not?
Audience: We all know the Writer loves them both. She’d never kill them off.
Announcer: (thinks about it) Yes, I suppose you’re right— (in the background, Carl keels over from a heart attack) Still, I guess we ought to go to commercial anyway. I mean, they did give us a lot of money. So (deep announcer voice) And now a word from our sponsor! (In the background, Van Helsing keels over, too— it was a poison porcupine.)
(Perspective switches to a shot of the slightly cloudy sky. A face appears in it— it is ANNA VAL— VEL— WHATEVER HER LAST NAME WAS, whom VH accidentally killed in the first movie and now pines over incessantly, despite the fact that he’s had three girlfriends since her death and its only been six months. She smiles for the camera.)
Anna: (preposterous accent so thick you can hardly tell what she’s saying) Hi there, ladies and gentlemen. Ever since my death six months ago and my subsequent winning of the Miss Lower-West-Side-Of-Heaven Everybody’s-Beautiful Pageant, I’ve been employed as spokesperson for the Golden Gates, Heaven’s premiere vacation resort. I’d like to take this opportunity to let you know about our openings this coming vacation season. Of course, here in heaven, all year round is vacation season, so we often are somewhat backed up. At present we would ask you to make your reservations at least three millennia in advance—
(EBERT AND ROEPER, movie critics, appear as very small men on chairs at the bottom of the screen and begin discussing the plot.)
Ebert: Now, my main problem with this film, apart from the fact that watching beautiful people makes my personality collapse because I know that even in my prime I was never as attractive as Carl’s eyes— or even as one sixteenth of Van Helsin’s pinky finger— or Dracula’s trousers— but my main problem really is the fact that it made me vomit. Projectilely. For a long time. Onto my wife and children.
Roeper: (pointing up at the still-blabbing Anna, now outlining the benefits of their spa treatment) Look! The Wendy-Lady! Shoot ‘er down, boys! (pulls out a slingshot and shoots ‘er down.)
Anna: Erk! (falls) Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa.... (lands on the dead Van Helsing)
Roeper: Criminey!
Ebert: You idiot! Now they’ll cancel our show! I can’t handle that! (pulls out a gun and shoots him, then himself. Fade to black.)
(Suddenly, a perky, big-nosed, extremely attractive blond man steps in front of the camera. You guessed it. It’s DAVID WENHAM)
DW: (Australian accent) Hi there! You probably know me as Faramir from Lord of the Rings, or Carl in Van Helsing, and a few of the more observant of you may even have recognised my negligible part as the cross-dressing songwriter Audrey in Moulin Rouge, despite the fact that I wasn’t at all recognizeable. However, in reality I am not any of those people. No! I am in fact a not-fully-appreciated character actor named David "Daisy" Wenham, who just happens to be blond, extremely attractive, and have funky teeth.. As has been mentioned, like all Australians I am extremely attractive. However I’d like you all, just for the moment, to tuck your tongue back in your mouth and stop drooling all over the carpet, because I’m also employed as a part-time janitor and I’m going to have to clean that up after. Good. now. I’m here on behalf of the Clinically Insane Writer, Random— that’s er, her name, by the way, not just a description. CIW Random. Anyway. You may think that killing all the characters off in the second chapter isn’t a good move. Well, guess what– you’re right! Obviously this is just a plea for attention, or alternately an act of desperation from someone who doesn’t want to write anymore. What’s up with this sheila anyway?
Writer: (tiny voice) I thought you were there on behalf of me, Daisy.
DW: I was, till I started to think things through. Now, logically—
(A giant Sign slams down on top of him. It says : Chapter Three: Carry On ScreamingChapter Three: Carry On Screaming
(Closeup on Carl— his eyelids flutter and open, and the perspective pulls away till we realize that he and Anna’s body are placed in a somewhat compromising position)
Carl: What—
Voice: I vas playing Puppets. You vere my Puppet— she vas my Puppet—
(Carl suddenly realized that he has strings tied around his wrists and ankles. He sits up and moves Anna away from him, noticing VH lying a little bit aways. He looks for the owner of the voice and discovers him, hanging upside-down from a tree branch above his head, peering at him.)
Carl: Dracula!
Dracula: Yes, it is I. Swoon, please, all fangirls.
(Across the FanFiction Universe, fangirls obediently swoon. Dracula smiles. The Writer rolls her eyes.)
Writer: Chuh!
Dracula: Is there a problem?
Writer: Just because I noticed when reading the other Van Helsing fics that everyone seems to love you, doesn’t mean you have to direct them. They’re not an orchestra, you know.
Dracula: You don’t love me?
Writer: Every time I see you, I think of the Duke from "Moulin Rouge" and start giggling.
Dracula: (beginning to be angry and hiss a little) Vhat?
Writer: Painful, I know, but it’s true.
Dracula: But— every time you see the monk you think of Faramir and start giggling and you love him regardless!
Writer: That’s different. He’s David Wenham.
Dracula: (still irritated) And vhen you see Van Helsing you think of that dead-from-birth version of ‘Oklahoma’.
Writer: (going suddenly quiet) I told you never to mention that.
Carl: Oklahoma?
Dracula: Yes, Oklahoma!
Writer: Whoever wrote those songs should be strung up by their cuticles.
Dracula: Regardless! You still like him! (points at Van Helsing)
Writer: If I hadn’t stopped watching before the intermission I wouldn’t. Anyway, I didn’t say I didn’t like you, I just don’t want to take you home in my pocket.
Dracula: (throws hands in the air) Vhatever! I don’t need you! I’ve got gazillions of fangirls waiting to fulfill my every sordid vhim! Fangirls! Er— (is unable to come up with a sordid whim on the spur of a moment)
Carl: (brightly, eagerly) Cover yourselves in whipped cream!
Dracula: (stares at him) I vas under the impression that you vere a man of God.
Carl: (shrugs innocently) There’s nothing in the Bible about abstaining from whipped cream, now, is there?
Writer: (runs off to get some whipped cream)
VH: (in his sleep) Chicks and ducks and geese better scurry, when I take you out in my surrey—
Carl: (turning to Dracula) Oklahoma? Really?
Dracula: I am afraid so.
Carl: I’d better wake him up then, that must be a terrible dream. (goes over to Van Helsing and slaps him around a bit) I’ve always wanted to do that.
VH: What? Carl? What are you— (grabs Carl’s hand to prevent him hitting him again)
Carl: (explaining) I was just waking you up!
VH: Oh. Okay. (punches Carl) Thanks. (looks around, sees Anna still lying asleep on the ground.) Anna! I thought I recognized your weight on my body!
Dracula: You couldn’t have, you vere dead by then.
VH: (to himself) Must have been a dream. (thinks deeply, then suddenly snaps alert.) Wait a minute, I recognize that voice!
Dracula: Hello, Gabriel. Ve meet— again.
VH: Wait a minute, I recognize that cliche! (looks up to see Dracula lightly dropping to his feet in front of him. Immediately VH starts throwing all his weaponry at him— a kind of instantaneous, deeply-ingrained reaction. Four knives, two daggers, swords, the Tojo blades, Mojo blades ((stolen from Austin Powers)) four rounds of ammunition from his pistols, all his arrows and, after only a moment’s hesitation, the hat pin that, unbeknownst to the audience, has been holding that marvellously ridiculous hat onto his head the whole time.)
Female Audience Members: (murmurs) A man so confident in his masculinity that he can wear a hat pin!
Male Audience Members: (murmurs) I suspected as much.
(Dracula now looks like a very tall pincushion.)
Dracula: (looks down at everything sticking out of him— sighs) Gabriel, Gabriel, Gabriel. You know you cannot kill me that way.
VH: Well, I felt obligated to try anyway.
(Dracula pulls everything out of him and tosses it in a heap. This takes a while and it’s quite a large heap when he finishes.)
VH: What are we doing here, anyway?
Dracula: I brought you here to entertain me.
VH: Entertain you?
Dracula: Yes. Also I was bored.
VH: (watches him coolly. Why don’t you just admit it, Dracula?
Dracula: Admit vhat?
VH: You were lonely!
Dracula: I vhas not!
VH: You vere— I mean, you were! You were lonely so somehow you contrived to get me and Carl—
Dracula: (correcting) Carl and me.
VH: No, Carl and me.
Dracula: (gives up) Fine, vhatever.
VH: So somehow you managed to get me and Carl assigned to come out here— because you were lonely!
Dracula: I was bored!
VH: Lonely!
Dracula: Bored!
VH: Lonely!
Dracula: Lonely!
Vh: Bored!
Dracula: Ha ha.
VH: Blast!
Dracula: It does not matter anymore, Gabriel. All that matters is that you’re here now. You and me, Gabriel— just like old times.
Carl: And me.
Dracula: Yes, and Carl.
Carl: And Anna.
Dracula: Yes, and Anna. Though I didn’t bring her back—
(Ebert and Roeper pop up in the corner of the screen again)
Ebert: And my problem wih this sequence is that Dracula died in the first movie. I mean, everyone knew he would be brought back, but still, it bothers me.
Roeper: (pings him with a pebble from his slingshot) Ha ha.
Carl: Whatever, she’s here.
Dracula: Fine. And Anna. You, me, Van Helsing, and Anna.
VH: Anna! I knew I forgot about something! (races to Anna and begins to try and bring her around with a series of light pats.) Anna— Anna!
Carl (pushes him aside) No, you have to do it like this... (gives her a hefty slap across the face. Carl’s hand is imprinted on her cheek but Anna doesn’t move.) Hmm. (Does it again, harder. Still no response.) Huh.
VH: Maybe we should—
Carl: No, no, no, no, let me try again. ( He does. Nothing. Again, harder. A long wind up this time. Still nothing. Frustrated, he lets loose a barrage of slaps, punches, pinches, and ending up with a kick.) You know, I think she’s in a coma.
(ANNA’S COMA: She is running away from a werewolf— she thinks she’s lost it to some extent. She races forward, then stops as she realizes she’s on the edge of a cliff. She turns— the werewolf wasn’t as far behind her as she thought.)
Anna: Oh crap!
(the werewolf crashes into her and they both go over the edge. A splash is heard. Back to the Main Story.)
Carl: (observing Anna’s face, which still has the imprint of his hand) She’s smiling. It must be a wonderful dream—
VH: (to Dracula) So you brought us here because you were, quote unquote, ‘bored’ is that it?
Dracula: I vas bored! Truly!
VH: (nods) Uh huh. We believe you. Well. How would you react if we— deprived you of your entertainment?
Dracula: Vhat?
(VH suddenly picks up a pistol with one bullet left in it. He uses it on Carl, then proceeds to beat himself to death with the pistol.)
Dracula: (staring at the now-silent carnage) Curses! Foiled again!Chapter Four: That’s a Nice Hat
(Closeup on Van Helsing— his eyelids flutter)
Dracula: Oh, Gabriel...
VH: Crap.
Dracula: You’d think you vould get this through your head. In the first movie, no matter how lethal your injuries were, nobody died until the ultimate moment. You swung through the air on misguided wires, you smashed through vindows, but you did not die. It’s like— effective death versus ineffective death. A writing trick.
VH: How would you know?
Dracula: College.
VH: You went to college?
Dracula: Yes.
VH: When, four hundred years ago when you were still alive?
Dracula: (defiantly) Yes, four hundred years ago vhen I vas still alive.
VH: Oh. So I can’t die?
Dracula: No.
VH: Well, that’s unfortunate.
Carl: (waking up) Blast you, Van Helsing, you bloody, bloody— thingamajig!
VH: Thingamajig?
Carl: I’m a monk! I’m not allowed to swear!
VH: ‘Bloody’ is a swearword.
Carl: I’m in a transitional phase. Don’t— bugger me!
VH: (laughs)
Carl: What gives you the right to shoot me?
VH: The fact that I was the one with the gun.
Carl: (who can’t disagree with that) Oh— well— I resent it!
VH: Anyway, it’s nothing personal. I was just trying to thwart Dracula’s will. That’s what we’re supposed to do, isn’t it? Has Anna woken up yet?
Carl: (holds Anna’s hand up, then lets it go. It flops to the ground) Out cold.
VH: Right. Has it been forgotten that we’re in somewhat of a crossover with ‘the Village?’
Writer: Oh, yeah. I forgot. I meant to resolve some of my anger at that movie.
Dracula: What about your anger at our movie?
Writer: That too.
Carl: What angered you about ‘The Village?’
Writer: That Adrien Brody died.
Dracula: The Pianist guy?
Writer: Yeah.
VH: (thinks) Oh, yeah, the one who kissed Halle Berry at the Oscars a few years ago.
Writer: How did you know about the Oscars?
VH: The Vatican knows everything.
Writer: (rolls eyes) And God told you about an awards ceremony?
VH: No, Entertainment Tonight.
Carl: I’ve been on that show.
Dracula: I’m going to wander off for a bit.
Carl: Why?
Dracula: I just realized I left my libido over there, under a tree. (wanders off)
Carl: (looking at Van Helsing) It’s detachable?
VH: Well— (shrugs) He’s been dead a long time.
Carl: Oh. Do you think he brought us here for an evil purpose?
VH: I think entertaining Dracula is pretty evil, don’t you?
Carl: I meant apart from that.
VH: Um— nah. I think he’s pretty honest, he’d tell us the truth, don’t you think?
Carl: Hmm—
VH: Of course, he could be planning on bringing Frankenstein’s Monster Theory to fruition again....
Carl: Hmm?
VH: Come on.
(He runs back into the village and starts throwing open the doors of the simple cottages. One reveals a living room, another a kitchen, and a third appears to be a portal to Africa as a lion looks startled and then starts running towards them. Van Helsing slams the door quickly. Another door reveals a laboratory.)
VH: Aha!
Carl: What, ‘aha?’ ‘Aha’ what?
VH: A lab-oratory.
Carl: So?
VH: Use your head.
Carl: What for? What is it good for? I mean, really, when you think about it—
VH: Shut up, Carl. (whaps him) This is a lab-oratory.
Carl: A lab-oratory with nothing in it but a lot of chome.
VH: Yes. Suggestive, wouldn’t you say?
Carl: Well, a negligee would be more to the point but chrome certainly is very—
VH: This is where Dracula plans to implement his Evil Plan.
Carl: What is this evil plan, exactly?
VH: I don’t know. (spies something on a table) But I know how we can find out. (picks the something up and hands it to Carl. It’s a book.)
Carl: (reads) My Evil Plan, by Count Vladislaus Dragulia. Hmm.
VH: You read it to me. My knowledge of letters disappeared with the rest of my memories, if indeed I ever learnt.
Carl: (reads to himself) I can’t believe it!
VH: What?
Carl: Well, I knew Dracula was evil, but I didn’t know he’d go this far!
VH: What!
Carl: I can’t believe it, it’s beyond apalling!
CH: What is it! (whaps him)
Carl: Don’t hit me! He’s planning on refilming the entire original movie with his own ending!
(There is a crash of lightning. Van Helsing and Carl look at each other, confused.)
VH: It was sunny out when we came in— (walks to the door and looks out)— and it’s still sunny....
Carl: Creepy.
VH: Lightning? Out of nowhere?
Carl: I said Creepy. ‘Creepy,’ I said, just like that. What more of a reaction do you want?
VH: I think we’d better get out of here. Take that with us, too.
Carl: Fine.
(meanwhile, back at the ranch— Dracula emerges from the woods, and sights Van Helsing and Carl walking away from his lab. His eyes glow and he approaches them.)
Dracula: Hello, my friends.
VH: Hello— Vlad.
Dracula: Vlad?
VH: (defiantly) Vlad.
Dracula: (shrugs) Oh.
Carl: Hello— Vlad.
Dracula: Shut up, friar.
Carl: (miffed) Monk!
Dracula: I said shut up! (whaps him) I have found some new brides.
VH: Have you. Where from?
Dracula: Never mind that, I found some.
VH: Where are they?
Dracula: (gestures behind him) Here.
(Three pretty women dressed in peasanty kind of clothes, walking together, and absolutely silent enter from the woods.)
Dracula: (introducing them) Verona, Himalayan, and French Roast.
Carl: (looks up) Er, Writer? Do you think anybody is going to get that joke?
Writer: People who know the names of his brides and who drink Starbucks coffee will.
Carl: And that would be a healthy— 0.26 of the population.
Writer: Just as long as someone other than me gets it, I’m happy.
Carl: I get it.
Writer: I’m happy.
Dracula: Anyvay. Verona, Himalayan, and French Roast.
VH: Wait a second! Those are some of the villagers from the first chapter!
Dracula: (innocent) Yes?
VH: You can’t turn robots into vampires!
Dracula: Why not?
VH: They don’t have any blood to begin with!
Dracula: (stiffly) It does not matter. I have enthralled their minds.
VH: They don’t have minds either, they’re robots!
Dracula: (upset) It still does not matter! I have gazillions of fangirls all across the nation! Fangrils! Hark to me! Fangirls! Faint!
(There’s a tremendous thud as most of the fangirls faint in tandem, and a sigh from the writer. Dracula smiles, and the few fangirls that didn’t faint, faint.)
Carl: (suddenly inspired) Fangirls! Faint!
Writer: I can’t. I’m writing.
Carl: Oh. Sorry to bother you, won’t do it again.
Dracula: (announcing) Now I will conjure into existence a werewolf! (raises hands, in which appear a top hat) Presto Obligato Muldero! (He plunges his hand into the hat and draws forth Agent Mulder from the X Files.)
Mulder: Hey, what is this, a crossover fic?
Carl: How did you know?
Mulder: Because I wasn’t in the Village, or in Van Helsing, and here I am. (notices Dracula standing by him) Hey, that’s a nice hat.
Dracula: Who are you?
Mulder: Agent Fox Mulder, FBI. You’re— you’re Dracula, aren’t you?
Dracula: Yes, I am.
Mulder: Wow. Hey, would you mind if I put handcuffs on you and took you back to the FBI headquarters? My partner will never believe this.
Dracula: I do mind— (Mulder looks crestfallen) But they say that there are creatures in these voods— unlike anything ever known to mankind— except me, of course, but then I am not technically a part of mankind.
Mulder: Gee, really? Huh— I guess I’d better check it out, huh?
Dracula: Yes, now go avay, funny tall man. (Mulder wanders off into the woods, pulling out his ever present little flashlight) I did not mean to bring him into this.
Writer: But I did. (quietly follows Mulder into the woods)
Dracula: (waves a hand over the hat) I vill try again. Presto pesto pasta hasta la vista baby! (this time he pulls out a very surprised-looking werewolf) Ha! It vorked! I vasn’t really expecting that.
VH: Don’t go any further, Dracula, I know all about your evil plan!
Dracula: How?
VH: I read the book.
Dracula: But it was not yet ready for publication!
VH: I ignored the spelling errors.
Dracula: (to himself) I swore I vould kill the man who read my book—
VH: (quickly) Actually, Carl read it.
Carl: Oh, sure! Blame it on Carl!
(surreal shot: Van Helsing and Carl in school)
Teacher: Gabriel, now, where is your homework?
VH: (points at the monk) Carl ate it.)
Carl: (indignantly) Hey!
(end surreal shot. That was fun, wasn’t it?)
Dracula: Vait! (blushes deeply) Did you read— all of the book?
VH: No, just the ‘Evil Plan’ segment. Why?
Dracula: No reason.
Writer: Because he used the rest of it for a diary.
(Dracula blazes eyes at the writer)
Writer: Shutting up.
VH: Anyway, we know that in order to put your evil plan into operation, you need Frankenstein and his monster.
Dracula: Ah, yes, thank you for reminding me. (to himself) I am going to need a bigger hat. (looks at Van Helsing and Carl) I’m going to find a bigger hat. Excuse me, vill you? (leaves, dragging the complacent coffee-named robot brides behind him)
Carl: What do we do, Van Helsing?
VH: It’s time to—
Carl: Yes?
VH: Take a nap. (flops down on the ground) Is Anna awake yet?
Carl: I don’t think so—
(Anna’s Coma— she stands on a stump like the stupid boys from the Village, back to the woods, arms spread)
Anna: I’m not afraid of the forces of darkness! I am fearless! I bow to no man! I need no one’s help! I have never seen the sea! I stand alone!
(there’s a violent crashing in the trees behind her)
Anna: Oh, crap!
(Hands pull her backwards off the stump. Back to the storyline, if you can call it that)
Carl: Yes, it must be a wonderful dream. She doesn’t seem to want to wake up.
VH: Well, at leat she’s breathing. (pause) Right? She is breathing, right, Carl?
Carl: (hurriedly removing the pillow he was trying to smother her with) Oh, yes, of course. What a silly question.
Writer: Did you guys see which way Mulder went?
Carl: Over there somewhere— (waves distantly)
Writer: Oh, well. He’s fixated on Scully anyway. (sighs) I guess its just you and me huh?
Carl: (somewhat nervously) Yes....
Writer: Cause, I mean, Van Helsing’s asleep, Dracula’s searching for a larger hat with his robot brides, the werewolf’s off with him, Adrien Brody hasn’t gotten out of the hole yet— someone should really go help him, you know? (neither of them move)
(Shot of Noah, climbing up out of the very deep hole. He is breathing hard, he’s been climbing for a long time. He reaches the top— he reaches out for a root on the edge— he catches it and breathes a sigh of relief. The root breaks. He falls down the hole.)
Noah: Oh crrrrraaaaaaaaaaaaaaapppp....
Writer: Soooo... would you like to talk about something?
Carl: Sure.
Writer: What about?
Carl: Well— I just saw the new Hitch Hiker’s Guide to the Galaxy movie....
Writer: That’s not out till next spring though.
Carl: Time is subjective. Reality is only a secondary consideration.
Writer: Ah, yes, I forgot. So was it good?
Carl: Wonderful. Except for John Malkovich.
Writer: Oh, yeah, I don’t like that guy.
Carl: Me neither.
(loooooooooooooooooooooong pause.)
Writer: Well, something’s due to happen soon.
Carl: (interested) Really?
Writer: Yeah.
Carl: What, exactly?
Writer: Something exciting, I hope. Something to you know, keep the reader’s interest. If there are any readers.
Carl: (helpfully) If they have any interest.
Writer: (sharply) That’s quite enough out of you.
(A rustling is heard in the bushes. Despite the fact that the last few times this happened it turned out to be a squirrel and an announcer, respectively, Carl looks immediately scared and tense. The rustling comes closer, and then a figure steps into the clearing. He’s got a cute but otherwordly face, green eyes, fair hair. It is BILLY BOYD.)
BB: (Scottish accent)Hello! How are you? Glad to hear it! Do you like cats? I like cat, do you like cats? Cats are fun. If I had a cat I’d name him Emily. I had a girlfriend named Emily once— rather a rough young lady— would you rather be a parrot with no wings or a dog with no legs? I played a hobbit in a movie once. I still bear a striking resemblance to him. Do you pick your nose? Also I am cute and friendly. People like me. The Writer had a poster of me on her door for two years. Nearly two years, anyway. Also one of Rik Mayall. She’s completely gone on Rik Mayall. Do you know who Rik Mayall is? English bloke, comedian, left-handed. Am I boring you? Where did Mulder go?
Carl: Uh—
BB: Ah well, mustn’t stand about chatting all day. I can see I’m boring you so I’ll just carry on blathering shall I? It’s a medical condition, you see, I’m incurably friendly. My doctor calls it Yadda-Yadda-Yadda-itis. (laughs) My doctor thinks he’s funny. He’s not really, but I laugh anyway, to encourage him and also because I’m an extremely happy person who has undergone quite a lot of sadness in his life and was once a bookbinder but managed to rise above all that and now girls think about me and wish I didn’t have a girlfriend. Well. See you later, so glad to talk with you we must do this some time again, bye bye! (leaves)
Carl: (in awe) Wow.
(Dracula’s werewolf, who’d snuck into the clearing behind Carl under cover of BB’s rambling, bites him on the ankle and then runs away.)
Carl: (watching it) Didn’t see that coming. (thinks about it) Ow.Chapter Five: Absolute Mortification
(Van Helsing wakes to find Cark kicking him urgently)
Carl: Van Helsing! Van Helsing!
VH: (groggily) Did Anna wake up yet?
Carl: No, but I’ve just been bitten by a werewolf!
VH: A what wolf?
Carl: A werewolf!
VH: What?
Carl: (kicking him with each word) I’ve! Just! Been! Bitten! By! A! Werewolf! I! Tell! You!
VH: Well, why didn’t you say so? (grabs Carl’s leg to stop him kicking and pulls his feet out from under him. Carl sits down very abruptly and yelps.)
Carl: That’s where he bit me!
VH: Oh. (examines Carl’s ankle) Do you shave your legs?
Carl: No!
VH: No?
Carl: They’re just naturally like that!
VH: Huh. (examines werewolf bite) Hmm... hope that doesn’t come back to haunt us.
Carl: Well, when’s the next full moon?
VH: Erm— tonight.
Carl: Ack!
VH: Also two days from now, and two days from then, and two days from then....
Carl: Ack! Ack!
VH: Yeah, good going Carl. (stands up and whaps him on the head)
Carl: Well, I couldn’t help it! What do I do, Van Helsing? What do I do? (struggles to his feet)
VH: Try not to move too quickly. (Carl goes very, very still) And whatever you do, don’t panic.
Carl: Er— uh— Van Helsing! I’m panicking! I’m panicking! I’m—
(Van Helsing slaps him across the face. Pause.)
Carl: I’m panicking and my face hurts! I’m panicking and my face hurts! I’m—
(Van Helsing sighs deeply, opens his canteen and dumps his water over Carl’s head)
Carl: My face hurts! And I’m wet! And I’m still panicking! Van Helsing! Don’t leave me, where are you going?
VH: To find Dracula before he brings Frankenstein’s monster to life and refilms history.
Carl: (calming down somewhat) Well you’ll need weapons.
VH: (brief wolfish grin, of the kind he’s so good at) Right on.
(We now pause for an Intellectual Interlude)
Voice of Doom: It was the best of times, it was the worst of times— as a matter of fact it still is, and I can’t quite comprehend why everyone hasn’t committed suicide.
(MICHAEL PALIN walks in and starts a commentary on the scenery. Unfortunately the scenery consists of a Nevada highway— which, researchers have proved over the past few yerars, is the least interesting sight in the universe.)
MP: Well, this is Nevada, then— the, er, highway— um— I’ve been to Nevada before, you know, several times. Once I came with John Cleese, to gamble. Not here on the highway, obviously, in a casino. Um. Don’t recall which one, exactly. Um. Interestingly enough, Nevada starts with an ‘N’ and goes on from there—
(End of Intellectual Interlude. That was Intellecual, wasn’t it? Van Helsing and Carl rush to the door of the place which houses Dracula’s laboratory— or used to, anyway. It’s cleared out.)
VH: Crap. Does the book say anything about this, Carl?
Carl: (opens book) Well, it—
VH: (whaps him) Shut up, Carl. Oops. Sorry, pure reflex.
Carl: (glares at him then reads to himself) It says something about a secret lab.
VH: (claps a hand to his forehead) Egad! Of course! They must have taken all the equipment from Dracula’s lab to Dracula’s secret lab!
(Surreal Sequence: cut to a Traditional Laboratory, full of bubbling stuff in glass tubes and bottles. Dracula, in a white coat and goggles, holds up a beaker of something green.)
Dracula: (smiles pleasantly into the camera) Hello, good evening, and welcome to another edition of Dracula’s Lab. Tonight we’ll be discussing the flow of time in a time warp, the flow of a river when the Earth is upside down, and the flow of your blood through my teeth.
(end SS.)
Carl: Well, this is embarrassing, isn’t it?
VH: What, letting them snatch the equipment from under our very noses?
Carl: Well, that, and your use of the word ‘egad.’
VH: (blushes) I never said that.
Carl: You did too.
VH: I never.
Carl: Writer, verification, please?
Writer: Sorry, Van Helsing.
VH: (to self) Crap! Must be getting soft. (to Carl) Surely someone who can’t swear would approve of that.
Carl: I can swear.
VH: Fine, but you can’t curse.
Carl: I can curse.
VH: You can’t, you’re a monk!
Carl: Friar.
VH: You— (stares) You were a monk a little bit ago.
Carl: Well, yes, but the fax came through from the Vatican while you were asleep— and then they text- messaged me on my cell to make sure I got the gist of it.
VH: (stares again) I don’t believe it.
Carl: Well—
VH: You get a cell signal out here? Mine’s on roaming.
Writer: (to self) It’s good to work for the Vatican.
Carl: Anyway, I got demoted.
VH: Why?
Carl: (blushes) Well apparently the little incident with the Transylvanian barmaid came out somehow—
VH: Ahh....
Carl: Also the one in Nevada— the one in New York— the one in Canada— Guam— Siam— the Czech Republic— Gondor—
VH: Carl?
Carl: (dreamily) Sydney Australia, Melbourne Australia— Tazmania— Hawaii— Venice— Rome— Palm Beach— Antartica— Greenland— Scotland— Ireland— Surrey— Sussex— Sheffield—
VH: Carl.
Carl: British Columbia— Hobbiton— Madagascar— Weaverville, California— Russia— Mazatlan— Holland— Sweden— Spain— the Pope’s sister—
VH: Carl!
Carl: (startled) Yes? Oh, sorry. Um. So I’m now a friar and I can curse all I want to. (Van Helsing and the audience wait for the inevitable conclusion to this.)
VH: Well?
Carl: (piously) I don’t feel like it.
VH: Fine. (looks around) Getting dark, isn’t it?
Dracula: Ye it is.
(the other men both jump)
Carl: (indignantly) Don’t do that!
Dracula: I have come to conduct you to my secret la-bora-tory so we can have our climactic fight.
VH: (grits teeth) Good idea.
Dracula: (casually) Oh, look, the moon is out.
Carl: Ack! (begins to change into werewolf) Ack! Ack! Aaaaaaaagh!
VH: (fascinated) That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen!
Dracula: (disdainful) Oh, there’s nothing special about it.
(Surreal sequence: A werewolf mother talking to her werewolf child)
WM: Listen, dear, there’s nothing to be afraid of.
WC: But Ma...
WM: The Change is a wonderful thing the first time. It’s very special for each and every werewolf. It’s a part of life.
WC: But Ma, why should it keep me from swimming for a week?
WM: Because otherwise you’ll smell like wet dog.
(End SS. Carl completes his transformation.)
Carl: Aaaaaaabark. Bark. Bark! Yip. Yip yip yip yip bark!
VH: He’s a werepoodle!
(Yes, folks, Carl has transformed into one of the most vicious little anklebiters you ever saw, the kind an elderly vampiress would keep as a lapdog. A blonde one, too. With floppy ears and wavy hair.)
Dracula: More like a were-Shi Tzu.
VH: Lets not quibble over terms. Supposing he were to bite me.
Dracula: So?
VH: So it’d hurt, wouldn’t it?
Carl: Aaaaoooo!
Dracula: Ah, look, he’s trying to howl. How cute.
Carl: Yip! Bark! Yip! Bark! Bark! Yip!
VH: (bends down) I think he’s trying to tell us something. What is it? What is it, boy? What— aaaaaaaaaaaaaaargh!
Dracula: (mildly interested) What happened?
VH: (nasally) He’d got by node! He’d got by node!
Carl: (muffled) Barf! Barf barf! Yurp! Ark! (translation: That’ll teach you to be all condescending to a werewolf, ha ha.)
(Van Helsing pulls a gun out of his cloak and shoots Carl with a silver bullet, who backs off and makes horrible dying noises. Meanwhile, the Writer has learnt the art of the Effective Death vs. Ineffective Death, and she decrees that despite everything, Van Helsing must die from the werewolf puncture wounds in his nostrils.)
VH: (Dies)
Dracula: (looks at carnage and realizes he’s alone again) Ack! Boredom!
(Fade briefly to black. When the light comes back up, everyone’s alive again, with the exception of Dracula of course. Carl’s normal— well, normal for Carl, and he and Van Helsing are looking at each other warily. Dracula looks much happier.)
VH: Well, that was embarrassing.
Carl: I’m absolutely mortified. (actually, though, he looks kind of pleased with himself.)
VH: Is Anna awake yet?
(Anna’s coma— she’s being menaced by the Balrog from the Lord of the Rings.)
Anna: I’m not afraid of you!
(Balrog disappears to be replaced by a twenty-foot hologram of Oprah Winfrey.)
Oprah: (reaches for her)
Anna: Eep!
Oprah: Hello, Anna, welcome to the show.
Anna: Oh crap!
(end Anna’s Coma. Carl shakes his head.)
Carl: No. But I think you should check her for yourself from now on.
VH: Why?
Carl: Because I’m tired of being your errand boy— or, your check-if-Anna’s-awake-yet boy anyway.
VH: (whap) Shut up, Carl.
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