Once again, dear friend, we bring you to through the dismal fields, up into the gloomy Transylvanian mountains, to the very epicenter of Evil... Castle Duckula. Home to the dread vampire House of Duckula, this decaying dungeon resnates with the screams of former victims. And although the night is still young, already the still mountain air is rent by the tormented howling of a lost soul...
"AAAAAAHHH!!!" Duckula screamed, tearing at his hair and stamping his webbed feet on the cold stone of the castle floor.
From out in the hallway came the familiar cry of "Ducky-boos! Nanny's coming!". With a crash, the doorway to the master bedroom exploded in a cloud of dust, which eventually cleared to reveal a huge and befuddled hen standing in a huge hole where the doorway used to be. "Oh, dear" Nanny exclaimed "Now 'ow did that 'appen?"
Count Duckula couldn't even muster the strength for a sarcastic remark. Instead, the vegetarian lord of Transylvania gave a loud sigh and straightened his hair. "Never mind the door, Nanny! I need help!"
"Oh, don't worry me darlin' duck!" Nanny cried "Nanny's 'ere! What's so scary then? Is that naughty Towser chewin' on your slippers again?"
"No, Nanny, it's..."
"Oh, or is that nasty von Goosewing tryin' ta harm my little Duckyboos again?" Nanny interrupted, glaring around the room for the senile 'wampire hunter'.
"NO, Nanny..."
"Oh, save us, it's them nasty elves again! Oh no!" Nanny wailed.
"NANNY! It's nothing like that! It-" the green duck paused and reviewed his servant's last outburst. "Nanny, what elves?"
"Oh, you know Master, the little elves wot Mister Igor said was always sneakin' about in the old days. Used to steal the guests outta their rooms and off into the night! Never to be seen A-gain! Mind you, we 'aven't 'ad a problem with that since your father's day."
Duckula opened his mouth, and then shut it. Who was he to destroy the sweet old hens delusions? "Never mind, Nanny. It's Igor."
"Mister Igor's been carried away by the elves?! OH SAVE US!" wailed Nanny "They'll be after me next! Oooh 'elp!"
Duckula shut his eyes and counted to ten. "Nanny. Listen to me very closely. There are NO elves in this castle. We are in an elf-free zone. And you are certainly not going to be carried away into the night- at least not by anything less than a loading crane. We are in no danger. All right? I am yelling, because I am so FRUS-TRAY-TED trying to think of a gift for Igor. I can't think what to get him for Father's Day"
"Erm" Nanny said, bringing a finger to her beak in thought "'Ere, aren't YOU your Father, Duckyboos?"
"No! Well, I mean yes, but- It's" Duckula sighed. Nanny had an incredible talent for derailing his train of thought. He took a breath and began agian. "Igor was the one who gave me life- or gave me another life. I have decided that, on Father's Day, I get him something to thank him. Do you understand, Nanny?"
"Yes" Nanny said with a smile, which soon turned into a frown. "'Ere, what d'you mean 'by anything less than a crane'?"
An hour later, Duckula paced through the castle's dusty library, trying to think of something for Igor. The old butler really didn't have any interests apart from giving servive and doing Evil. Duckula sighed- neither of those presented a lot of gift possibilities. He couldn't just give Igor a new feather duster, or a new silver tray, could he? What kind of message would it send? 'Thanks for giving me life, Igor, now get on with the dusting'? Evil wasn't much better- you couldn't really gift wrap a murder, or tie a bow around a terrified village maiden. Well, obviously you COULD, but it wasn't the sort of thing HE did. As he wandered through the rows of ancient tomes, the count's eyes happened to spot an open book lying on the floor. Moving closer to get a good, look, he saw that even the open pages were caked in dust.
"This book must've been lying here for years!" he said to himself, picking the book up off the floor "Ugh! I really have to talk to Nanny about dusting in here. On second thought, given how Nanny dusts, maybe I'd better talk to Igor." Blowing on the pages to remove the dust, Duckula glanced at the text. "Hey! This is an old diary- My great-great-great Grandfather's diary! Well, it can't be wrong to read it, since he was me. Er, I mean, I was him. I mean we were me. Oh, whatever!"
Shaking his head at the convoluted nature of his family tree, Count Duckula began to read from the book. "Tuesday, October twelfth eighteen sixty four..." he stopped and looked around "What? No flashback? All right, I guess I'll have to read the whole thing myself! Ahem. Tuesday, October twelfth eighteen sixty four. My fangache persists tonight, and so I cannot attend to the village maidens as is my duty. Igor, my faithful and devoted family retainer, is most overwrought at this failing on my part, and is certain that the neighbors must be talking already. In order to assuage him, I have decided..." Duckula's voice traqiled off in surprise as he read on. After a moment he snapped the book shut. "That's IT! That's what I'll do!"
"But, milord, I really don't understand!" Igor protested, his low voice tinged with confusion. "Why are we going into the village? Why are we going to the tavern? And why am I wearing THIS?" He pointed to the red stocking cap and false beard that had beeb forced upon him. "This is hardly the proper attire for the servant of the wickedest being in all of Transylvania"
"Igor, hush, it's the closest thing to a disguise the village pawnshop had. Now, park the car in this alley" Duckula said, and waited as his servant complied. Once the menacing motorcar had been parked, the count got out, clutching the small bag he had taken with him from the castle. "Listen Igor, here is what I want you to do. Go into the tavern and take a seat- somewhere out of the way, but with a good view of the bar. Remember: when you see me drink, your line is 'what is that my lord?', got it? And Igor- this is important- no matter what you hear from outside, no matter what happens inside, stay in the tavern until it's over."
"Until WHAT is over, milord?" Igor cried, still trying to figure out what was happening.
"You'll know it when it happens. Now GO, Igor"
Igor heaved a deep sigh, and turned to enter Ye Tooth And Jugular Tavern. "Very good milord"
The small tavern was every bit as bad as Igor had anticipated. It was filled with light and music and laughter, with neighbors enjoying one anothers company and passing the time in a friendly and happy manner. As if all that weren't bad enough, the villagers had hung garlic from every rafter and wall in the room. Igor sighed- just an hour ago, he'd been relaxing in the dungeons, letting the various torture devices carry his memories back to happier times. Then the young master had appeared and urged him to follow him into the village for some secret project. There was a time when such a trip would have been the start of a most enjoyable night of villainy and wickedness, but those days were gone. Now, he waited to see what new disgrace the master would heap upon the once proud name of Duckula.
Suddenly, a horrifying shriek tore the air, causing the villagers to cease their carousing to listen. Igor, who recognized the voice as his masters, smiled to himself. 'No doubt the young master has run into some difficulty' he thought 'Since Doctor Von Goosewing is away in Paris at the moment, I think I shall stay here for a moment. After all, he did tell me to wait here...'
The screaming went on for a few moments, and Igor was beginning to worry, when it stopped altogether. A flash of lightning lit the tavern and a crack of thunder echoed, as a small cloud deposited Count Duckula directly onto the bar. However, Igor noticed, the master did not look the same as he had a few minutes ago. His feathers were a much paler shade of green, and his eyes were a yellowish color. His normal expression of good-natured bewilderment had ben replaced with a look of malevolence that warmed Igor's black heart. Most noticeable of all, however, were the long fangs which protruded from either side of his beak.
Count Duckula looked around the room, letting his appearance register with the townsfolk, before he spoke.
"Good evening" he said, his voice much deeper and more gravelly than was normal. "I trust you are all...enjoying yourselves? Taking time for a little cameraderaderie? Oh and what's this?" Long, pale fingers reached up to pluck a single bulb of garlic from the wall. Bringing it to his nose, the vampire sniffed deeply before closing his fist around the garlic. "Ah, wild garlic. Supposed to protect against vampires isn't it? Oh well, I suppose you can't believe everything you read" Opening his hand, the lord of castle Duckula let the crushed garlic fall to the floor.
Shocked silence reigned in the tavern, as all the peasants stared at their nightmare incarnate. Finally, one of the bolder (or stupider) villagers spoke up. " Here, aren't you that there Duckula what lives in that there castle up on that there hill?"
With an animalistic roar, Duckula leaped off the bar and shoved his face directly into that of the villager. "WHAT did you call me?!" he growled, his yellow eyes never waivering from the peasant's.
"I-I-I..." stammered the poor wretch, clearly too frightened to speak.
Duckula snarled and slapped the man's drink from his hand, sending the mug flying into the wall. "I am your COUNT you ignorant peasant! You will address me as MY LORD!" The vicious monster punctuated this outburst by shoving the larger man backwards. Stunned and terrified, the peasant put up no resistance and fell down before scrabbling away on his hands and knees.
Turning to face the room once more, Duckula gave a slow smile which revealed a mouthful of very sharp fangs. From somewhere within his cape, he produced a clear glass filled with a thick red liquid. Slowly, he held it up to the light for inspection before taking a sip. Igor, who had been absolutely entranced by the magnificent display, nevertheless remembered his master's instructions. "er," he called out "What is that my lord?"
Duckula wiped his bill with his hand, taking away a small smear of red. "Not what....Who."
From somewhere in the back came a groan, followed by a thud as some poor farmer passed out from sheer terror.
Duckula leapt back onto the bar top and drained his glass. "Hear me, peasants" he declared "Know that your time of ease and peace has come to an end! For I, Count Duckula of the House of Duckula, have returned! I bring with me Despair! Desolation! Doom! And...and... Devastation! Mwahahahaha, HAHAHAHAHAAAHAHA!" In a crack of thunder, the vampire count vanished.
A wailing moan swept the room, as the poor townsfolk voiced their shared horror. They'd all heard stories of how it used to be- how the Counts of Duckula had menaced the village since time out of mind. They'd all heard of relatives who would vanish in the night, of travelers found drained of blood, of unholy abominations loosed on the world. For years, though, it had been quiet- the current Count Duckula hadn't seemed to be interested in them, and they'd counted their blessings. But now, it seemed that those days were over. Not a few proud men began to cry as they thought of the dark days to come.
Barely able to contain himself, Igor rose from his seat and slowly made his way out the door. Once in the street, the ancient butler broke into a run towards the alley. 'Oh happy, happy day!' he thought to himself 'The master has rediscovered his proud heritage! He has taken up the mantle of Evil worn by his father, and his father's father, and his father's father's father! And WHAT a display of evil! Such grace! Such skill! Such TERROR! Oh, I can hardly wait to begin'
However, when he reached the car, he found his employer looking as he always did. Gone were the fangs, the yellow eyes and the malevolent glare. Instead, his master was giving him a happy smile. "Well, Igor what did you think?"
"I- I thought it was magnificent, milord, but what- what happened to your fangs?" Igor stammered, not wanting to believe his eyes.
"Oh, I took them out" Duckula said dismissively.
"You...took them out?" Igor asked, his voice numb. Surely it couldn't be over so soon? Not after all the years of hard work and patience?
"Yes, Igor. Anyway, they were pinching my gums. That's the last time I buy such cheap plastic fangs! Ruined the taste of my tomato juice" the count rubbed his bill gently.
"Plastic...Fangs?" Igor repeated, crestfallen. "Then you haven't embraced the ways of your forefathers?"
"No, Igor, I have not embraced the ways of my forefathers. Or even my eightfathers, heh heh heh heh." Duckula replied, handing his butler a card. "Here. This will explain everything"
Igor took the card gingerly, not sure what to make of it. The front said
To the one who made me what I am,
And gave to me my name,
I think it's only fair to tell you
Igor opened the card to read the rest. The printed text inside the card ran
You're getting half the blame!
Happy Father's day!
Igor stood quietly for a moment, greatly moved. Teh card was rubbish, a joking piece of nonsense, but the message behind it was touching. Igor rarely received thanks for his work, even in the best days of his old masters. When he actually received it... "Thank you, milord" he said when he trusted himself to speak.
"no thank YOU, Igor, for bringing me to life. Or back to life. Or whatever" Duckula said "I'm glad to hear you enjoyed your present. I got the idea from my great-great-great grandfather's diary. He wrote about how, one night when his fangs were aching, he went down to the village to just scare everyone. He wrote that it made you really happy to see that, so I thought it would be a good present for you and a nice tradition for Father's Day. Now, let's get in the car and go home- this whole village stinks of garlic"
"Certainly sir. Oh milord, I can hardly wait for your next performance this Christmas! We can raid the village maidens, dig up some friends in the graveyard, sample the local bloods..." Igor said, his enthusiasm growing.
"Oh, yuck! Igor!"
"Then there's my birthday a few months after that, we can set fire to a few homes and have a real hot time..."
"Igor..."
"Then there's HALLOWEEN! Oh the fun we shall have!"
"IGOR!" Duckula yelled.
"Milord?" Igor replied in a puzzled tone.
"I a gree with you completely. We'll make this a regular event" As Igor began to grin broadly, Duckula placed one hand in his shirt pocket. "You know, Igor, it's a funny thing. When I was in the village pawnshop, I happened to see this in the display case." The count withdrew from his pocket a small, gleaming silver teaspoon, embossed with an ornate Gothic D. "I thought it looked familiar, so I asked about it, and the storekeeper told me he had a complete set of silverware all from the same source. Now, I was in a bit of a rush getting the things together for my little performance, so I didn't really have time to ask too many questions. But now that I'll be going back to the village so often, I might as well find out why my ancestral silverware is in a village pawnshop. Don't you think?"
Igor stood for a moment staring at the spoon. When he spoke again, it was in his usual depressed monotone. "On the other hand, milord, it is possible to have too much of a bad thing. Perhaps we had best limit ourselves to one trip per year."
"Really? Oh, well, if you say so Igor. Now, let's go home." duckula stepped into the car, and his butler began to close the door. Without seeing this, the count stuck his hand out "Say Igor, could you give me back the card for a sec-"
CRUNCH!
"NYAAAAAAAGH! OW! OW! AAAAAAAGH!!!"
And so, as screams of unbearable agony echo across the dreary Transylvanian landscape, we once more take our leave of this cursed place and its demonic denizens. Good night out there... Whatever you are.
(cue unbelievably catchy end music)
A/N
My little tribute to one of the best cartoons ever made.
I always saw Igor as less of an overbearing monster and more as a disappointed father figure. You know, the big sucess who can't stand to see his only son wasting his time as an artis or whatever.
cameraderaderie was intentional.