Chapter Eight: Van Helsing!
With a sigh, Van Helsing stared into the sky after the cheesy moment of 'oh-look-she's-with-her-family-made-of-clouds-so-she-must-be-happy-but-is-she-dum-dum-dum' and replaced his little Indy Jones hat.
"Well, Carl," he sighed…again, "it's time to head on home."
"Home?" chirped the fruity little monk. "What do you mean home? We don't…live anywhere."
"Haven't you heard of the YMCA?"
Carl blinked. "Yes." He grinned.
"Come on." Van Helsing held out his hand and the little monky took it and together they headed down the hill and rode into the sunset, pseudo-romantically.
The end.
Just kidding, you loser.
Actually, they WERE going to ride into the sunset, but in that case, they would've ridden straight into the ocean and collided with Frankenstein who was paddling out to get some ice cubes from the pack of flesh-eating penguins in New Zealand, which he was going the wrong direction anyways because he was going north and NZ is south, but he didn't care, he was going to get ice cubes because he couldn't have his ice tea without ice cubes, raspberry, and he wanted some frickin' cooling units for his beverage and he wasn't going to die without it!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
But they didn't. They went the other way.
Along the little path they took to their horses, they passed a semi giant boulder in which the rather mangled looking Count Dracula emerged and grinned.
"April foooooools! And now I shall finish what I started!" he hissed.
Since Van Helsing didn't bring his buzz saw doohickie with him, or any weapons for that matter except for a flower that looked rather dangerous, he was totally unprepared and resorted to doing the first thing that came to his noggin.
A disembodied beat kicked and Carl and Van Helsing began doing the Macarena, shaking their little tushes like nobody's business.
Dracula…
Dracula checked his watch.
"Heeeeey Macarena! Ah-ya!" they both finished landing in an imposing stance in front of him.
There was a very long silence.
During the silence, an owl hooted and swooped down to nab a mouse who was trying to do the Macarena as well. …What?
"Yeah…that was great," Dracula congratulated. "Anyways, back to what I was doing."
Ominous and suspenseful music filled the air as he reached behind his back and stared at them under his eyebrow…s. Carl and Van Helsing held each other and shook like Furbies on crack cocaine, waiting for him to whip out his weapon of choice.
"How would you two like to…purchase some of these fine quality hair clips?" he demanded, displaying a rather large assortment that he magically grabbed from behind his back.
"Oooooo…" Carl's eyes grew four times larger than their previous size.
Van Helsing resisted the urge to drool over the shiny shininess that were the hairclips and said something along the lines of, "Dracula, you're the most notorious gangster I have ever had the unfortunate privilege of meeting."
With that, he grabbed the flower and sliced off Dracula's head in one clean motion.
"Ohhh…" Carl groaned, extremely disappointed. "I wanted to buy a hairclip."
"Shut up, Carl. You don't even have enough hair to clip it with."
"Who said I was using the hair on my HEAD?"
The mothers reading this all screamed and covered their children's ears.
"I meant my pits!" Carl said defensively.
"Well, anyways, let's go…home."
Suddenly, Dracula's hand shot out from its withered up position on the ground and grabbed Van Helsing's leg.
"Let go, dude," he grumbled, wrenching his leg away and stomping on the arm.
"Hey, if HE can come back to life," Carl mused, sticking a finger on his nose and the other in his ear, "maybe Anna can come back to life!"
Dramatic music of hopes and dreams swelled in the air.
Van Helsing rolled his eyes and continued walking down the hill. Carl watched him go.
"I was just kidding!" he giggled nervously.
Strangely, Carl felt something begin to slide up his back. He whirled around to find the headless corpse had somehow found its way…
"It's the dead thing that crawled onto my back and died," Carl said, rather calmly before peeling off the corpse that obviously had no intention of killing him, unless it was to bleed on him, and tossed it lightly over the edge of the cliff where it then smashed to itsy bitsy bite-sized pieces on the rocks below like a blooming red flower, opening its petals to the world around it.
Or like that bear in Cold Mountain.
Carl giggled giddily at his heroic deed but received nothing in appreciation but a pellet in the eye from the owl.
