He appeared in what seemed an instant.
Ever so alert, the two guards quickly crossed their spears to keep this strange newcomer from coming any further. The tallest weasel's eyes narrowed to slits. "Who are you and what is your purpose?"
His fat companion pushed him. "Bill, ye don't just ask people what their purpose is."
The taller weasel uttered an apology.
The stranger was a very tall, very old gray squirrel, though he looked like as if he once were red. He had a ridiculous, oldtimey hairdo and his face was covered in scars and stitches. Whenever he extended a bony hand to gesture, it could easily be noticed that that, too, was scarred.
It was as if he was some sort of monster made from various parts and bits and pieces by some crazy professor.
Since the weasels only knew one professor, one that didn't have many good associations, the thought made them shiver.
"I don't trust this man, Bob." Bill spoke quietly. "He looks like a ragdoll and he sounds like grandpa pants."
Bob rolled his eyes. He too didn't trust it at all, but felt like it would be better to hide his feelings.
The stranger spoke. "Veasels," he said. His accent was thick. Something northern. "May I ask the two of you a question? Vould you perhaps know, if the man by the name of Conker lives in this... this fortress?"
"No," said Bill.
"Yes," said Bob.
The two weasels glared at each other.
"That is to say," said Bill quickly, "he ordered us to stay put for everyone that isn't his mom, Candy Kong, or himself for the future. So unless you happen to be one of those, we cannot let you in, no."
He then whispered something to his fat companion about what Candy Kong looks like, and got a hushed insult hurled at him that he doubts that someone with a name like that would look like a zombie.
The stranger, meanwhile, just casually walked past while the two were arguing. He had such a light tread, it seemed as if he were floating. Needless to say, the weasels didn't notice him slipping past until he was inside.
Bob looked from the stranger to his companion and back again. "Did ya just-"
"Don't worry, Bob," said Bill. "I'm pretty sure that might just be Candy Kong."
Bob's hand slapped his face. "You. Stupid. Twat."
Conker was idly sitting on his throne, contemplating the thought of whether or not to touch himself. He did have a next-gen phone, at least, so boredom was never close by these days. He placed his bottle of beer on the table, only to remember a little too late that it still wasn't fixed - and a loud crash was next.
"Uuuuuugh."
This just wasn't his day. Conker clapped his hands twice. "Rodent! Oh, Rodent! I made a mess...!"
As soon as he clapped, his loyal advisor had appeared in front of him, wearing a full French maid outfit. Conker snorted audibly. "Rodent, what the heck?"
"I saw 'em wear these in a show I watch! Thought it'd be funny."
"Yeah, funny..." Conker guffawed. "You got that right."
As Rodent went to work on the mess, Conker couldn't help but lean over the armrest and swat at his tail, which made him blush.
"You're askin' for it, ya li'l dorky nerd."
Then, suddenly, this very tall and very pale man stood in front of him. He had his hands folded together pensively in utter silence and his bloodshot eyes stared. Judged.
Rodent quickly scurried off and Conker quickly regained a more kingly posture. "Wh- who let you in."
The stranger chuckled. "Hello, Conker."
It all came back to him. The haunted mansion on top of the hill, the villagers, the grinder - Count Conkula. The big fat vampire who used him for his little errands and didn't have any sort of inheritance.
With a frown, Conker placed his crown on his head and pointed. "What do you want, old man? Haven't you done enough when ya turned me? I still bite my tongue every other time."
Conkula smirked darkly, not moving from his position. "I have heard many zings about you, Conker. Zings zat you got rid of those Tediz pests. Zings..." he inhaled sharply. "Zings about your reign."
"Yeh, first of all, it's "things", and second of all, I did do all that, yes." Conker puffed out his chest and pushed his crown a bit forward. "And third of all, how are you even alive? I saw you get turned to mush by your own grinder." He chuckled a little. "I pooped in that thing."
"Vat?"
"Nothing!"
Conkula slid closer, examining the smaller squirrel thoughfully. He ran his bony hands through Conker's tail, who quickly pulled it back with a pout. "Yes... my suspicions were right. You, indeed, are part of my bloodline. Red squirrel. If you remember... a zertain man once said, us reds have as many lives... as zey zink they can get away with."
Conker's little nose twitched and his eyes darted from left to right. He was a little too close for comfort now. "But you're grey."
"I am merely grey... because of my age, yes?"
"Huh." That made sense. Conker slouched into his chair. "What do you want, anyway?"
He didn't have particularly fond memories of this guy. After all, you'd be hard-pressed to let someone back into your life who kinda wanted to kill you and drink your blood. And later used you for his personal gain.
Nope, this guy wasn't the first choice to come back into his life. And Conker wasn't about to get swayed very easily.
Yet, Conkula seemed a little sad now. He was all stitched up, and looked like he had seen much better days.
"I am sorry," the old vampire finally said. "I saw potenzial in you, Conker... and got a bit too caught up into it. You are a good squirrel, yes. Pray, let me into your inner sanctum. I will compensate for my presence with errands... the same way you did for me."
Conker couldn't help but chuckle. He waved a dismissive hand. The alcohol made him a lot more lax to new things. "Ah, y'know what, sure. Just don't poop in my fridge."
Lucky for him, he didn't stick around to listen to that last comment. Instead, he floated to a corner of the room and in a puff of smoke, turned into his bat form. He climbed higher and higher into the air with his tiny wings until he hung himself upside-down on a beam.
Rodent picked up the pile of clothes that the vampire left behind, and fancied them on himself. Conker laughed at that. "Much better look on ya, Rodent!"
Blushing, Rodent ran off while he giggled up a storm.
Conker took off his crown and looked at the big bat hanging upside-down from his ceiling. It was a freaky sight. And he might just put a lock on his bedroom door to avoid getting bitten again.
But yet, it gave him an odd sense of comfort. Like a grandpa he never had. A strange, old, immortal vampire grandpa.
It sounded like something from a cartoon. At least, if he tried anything bad, he'd have his General-slash-maid and guards to protect him.
The day was still young. Conker grabbed a bottle, uncorked it, and gulped a it down halfway. He wiped his mouth, and gazed at the label. That was one heck of a high alcohol content. He hiccuped, though it might as well have been a belch. "I might need to limit my beer intake..."