Author's Note- Van Helsing was one of those movies that I probably should hate, but love. So, no, I am not writing this to offend the general public, I simply felt it would be fun to try a fresh approach. Review, and I'll love you forever.

Disclaimer-I don't own anything, though if I did, I'd want Dracula's hair piece. It's awesome.

Transylvania 1887

Villages in their drab villager garb and unkempt hair approach castle Frankenstein with jealous expressions. They have heard many tales of the secrets of hair care residing in this very castle, and greedily wish it for themselves.

"It's alive!" repeats Dr. Frankenstein several times. Once was apparently not enough. He hears the commotion outside, and is horrified at the sight in front of him. For no other reason than because the author thought it would be amusing, the village people break out into song. And, yes YMCA is the song of choice.

"Dear God! It's the Village People!" exclaims Dr. Frankenstein, apparently to himself.

Dracula, being the sneaky fellow that he is has come up behind the good doctor.

"No shit Sherlock. You didn't think that they would hear of your secret hair experiments and not want a piece of the pie?"

"But, why are you speaking so oddly? Who's Sherlock?" asked Dr. F, confused.

"Twit. Well, now that your experiments appear to be a success, I'm going to be taking him now."

"But, your hair is already quite nice..."

"Why, thank you. But I'm afraid I must have more. Now, for no other reason than the author likes the phrase, I will tell you of my 'fiendish plot'."

The Village people have grown tired of their song and dance hour, and have returned to beating down the flimsy gates of Castle Frankenstein.

"Good God! Not that!!" exclaimed the doctor. He pushed back his less than perfect hair from his face.

"Oh, yes. That." Said Dracula, a slight fiendish smile forming on his face.

"Do I have to?" asked DR. F.

"Yes."

"Well, all right, but don't tell me I didn't warn you..."

"Actually, you are becoming a bit superfluous." Admitted Dracula, a twinge of sadness in his undead voice.

Dr. F gapes at Dracula, "Oh, yeah, well I'll just run you through with this conveniently located weapon while my homeboy Victor distracts you."

"Actually, Victor is my homeboy now. But, go ahead, make my day bitch." Challenges Dracula, as he impales himself on Dr. F's handy weapon.

"Dude, that's disgusting."

"Now you've hurt my nonexistent feelings."

"Oh, I'm sorry." Apologized Dr. F, head hung in shame.

"That's okay." Said Dracula, understandingly, and promptly drains Dr. Frankenstein of his blood.

Frankenstein, who has been sitting on the table like a good little boy all this time, is shocked by his "father's" apparent demise. He has not yet learned his own strength, and accidentally knocks Dracula into the fireplace. "Oops!" he says, and promptly forgets all about it. He grabs his father, and dives out of the handy escape hatch.

"I'm so glad we installed that. Who knew it would be so useful?" said Frankenstein, in what appears to be a misplaced soliloquy. Finally, he realizes that this is not the time or place for such soul-searching thoughts, and runs toward the brewery. He had always felt safe there.

The Village People, warned by "homeboy" Victor, have spotted the monster and his master, and promptly run after them, shaking their pitchforks menacingly.

Dracula has emerged from the fire, and regenerates, checking his hair to make sure it was not harmed by the fiasco. To his relief, he finds every hair in place.

"That was a distinctly unkind thing to do. I'm afraid I will have to go after this bumbling fool." And so he does.

Frankenstein runs up the stairs of the brewery, and grabs a bottle of Absinthe, just in case. You never know when hard liquor will come in handy.

The Villager with a distinct resemblance to Cher, screams in a high-pitched voice "Burn it down, get the lousy scoundrels! They just want all the Absinthe to themselves!"

This enrages the Village People. How dare they! They had worked hard to produce such powerful drugs! They immediately begin showing the wooden brewery with their lit torches, though every so often, they forget and toss an unlit one in. One such torch hits Frankenstein on the head, and he let's out a scream. "WHY???????"

A Villager turns around for no real reason, and sees, to their terror, VAMPIRES.

"Agh! Vampires powered by Pantene Pro-V! Run for your lives! We don't stand a chance against their flawless tresses!" he screams, and The Village People run away to the sound of minstrels.

Alas, the fire aided by Absinthe, has burned down the brewery, taking both mortals down with it.

Dracula and his brides land in the grass next to the flaming brewery. The brides, who have obviously never heard of the Spice Girls ("Girl Power!") collapse in a blubbering mess.

Dracula stares into the flames. Pantene had simply not been strong enough. He needed the secret methods of a dead man. Hwy did it always work out this way?

1888 Paris

Van Helsing stares at an unflattering picture on a wanted poster. It is himself, and he curses the artist. They didn't do his hair justice! Not only that, they were trying to hang the "Jack the Ripper" murders on him. Really, this is Paris! Not Whitechapel! Why are these crimes being committed in another country? He stared down at the unfortunate hooker, until his keen ears picked up the dulcet tones of the creature who had killed her. Spurred into action, our fearless hero rushes to pursue the villain.

In the bell tower of Notre Dame, which was picked for no other reason but for its scenic view, Van Helsing comes face to face with evil.

"Dear God save us! It's Fat Bastard!" he shrieks, his nice hat falling off to reveal flowing tresses. "What are you doing here?"

"I needed to make rent. Subway doesn't pay like they used to." Shrugs FB.

Van Helsing looks confused "But...You're fat again."

FB sighs. "Relapse. I couldn't help myself. There was this herd of cattle..."

"I don't want to hear about it. Try exercise."

"That exercise advise is shit. I've tried everything. Atkins is a bitch."

"Well, moving on...I'm supposed to bring you in, though I do accept decent bribes."

"Do you want my pants?" asked FB, hopefully.

"For the love of God, do not take off your pants! In the name of all that is holy!" shrieks Van Helsing in terror.

"I could promise never to do it again..." said FB, trying to look remorseful. Van Helsing, being a terrible judge of character/emotions thinks he is serious.

He sighs. "I suppose, but next time, I will have to maim you. See you at the pot luck."

"I love pot lucks! I always get lucky, you know what I mean?"

"No, and I can honestly say that I don't want to."

They go their separate ways, Van Helsing standing on top of the bell tower for dramatic affect. Townspeople have gathered around the dead hooker. "Van Helsing! You sicko!" yells one man.

Van Helsing has been deeply hurt by this accusation, and goes to Rome to nurse his feelings. He steps into the confession box, full prepared to talk about what happened that one time, in that place with the thing, but is interrupted.

"You let him go? And invited him to our super secret annual pot luck dinner? You will burn in hell for this, you do know that, right?"

"What about the golden rule, father?" asks Van Helsing, meekly.

"The Golden Rule is complete bull."

"Oh."

They go down to the "super secret lair"

"We have kept mankind safe for, like, ever."

"Really? For, like, ever?"

"Yes, it's a test of faith. You're supposed to kill the lousy fuckers." He admonished.

Van Helsing looks remorseful. "Oh."

Priest/Bishop/Father/whatever he is says "Cue my highly informative map of Transylvania!"

Magically, the map appears. He then proceeds to explain with handy illustrations the plots of Dracula, and the Valerius family.

"The Valerius Family will never enter heaven, until this son of a bitch is killed."

Van Helsing ponders the family photos with great interest. Seeing this, the Bishop guy feels inclined to add his two cents.

"Isn't Velkan hot?" he asks in wonder.

"Well, Anna's quite the looker, but I'm into Horace. Eye patches are sexy. Too bad he's dead." He sighs.

"Dracula's hair is said to outshine even yours. He eats lots of protein. You've never met one such as this before." Warns the Bishop guy.

"He thinks his hair is prettier than mine? I will teach that hair slut a lesson!" exclaims Van Helsing, pouting a bit.

"We can't let their 'Get out of Hell/Purgatory free card' expire. That would be very uncool. Besides, I won't be able to meet Velkan.

"A 'Get out of Hell/Purgatory free card'? That's handy, why don't I get one of those?" asked Van Helsing, a bit jealous now.

"Do you really think I want to see you every day when I die?" asked the Bishop, incredulously. "Anyway, Valerius the elder left this here four hundred years ago. The Latin inscription reads, 'In the name of God, tell me...' and look at the symbol...Yes, it matches you 'Hair Club for Men' Membership card. Perhaps Transylvania holds the hair secrets you seek."

So, will Van Helsing ever gain shinier hair than Dracula? Will the brides ever meet the Spice Girls? Review!