The Cupboard and the Phantom –I have no intention of ending the rant. Even if I have to start ranting about other movies. But I'm sure Van Helsing is a crappy enough movie that I'll have plenty to rant about for some time to come. Suggestions are welcome though. Btw…I know who the Phantom is…but what's the Cupboard?
Larnde Solen—Discworld Igor, out of all of the Igors that I have ever seen, is by far the most squishable. Therefore I am prejudiced heavily in his favor.
Eruannalaviriel—Yeah, chapter six was a little random, wasn't it. I actually have thought most of this out. Well maybe some of it. I spent a lot of time wondering how I could fall in love with a movie that was so …lame. Sorry that you don't understand the Australian argot. As I have said in the past, take it up with Dracula, Van Helsing, and Carl and the inability to get rid of their accents. And learn some new slang too! (See mom? My writing is educational!)
Joker() —I'm really really trying to update once a week. Really… No really. Busy world, busy life. If you want the real excuse, I'm searching the world for an agent for my comedy vampire novel series. It's a bloody hassle. If you know one, send him my way and I'll have my minions carry him to my foreboding castle deep in the forest.
Etherealfire—Oh yeah, the barmaid! I honestly forgot all about her…hmmm. (cackles maniacally) Thank you! Be assured that your suggestion will eventually (probably this chapter) find it's way into the tangled plot!
A/N: Dracula's Rant is about to get more complicated with location jumps, POV's and maybe even a plot! Since we've finished with how all of the characters suck we'll move on behind camera…perhaps even lay siege to Universal Studios or something. I think our gang could take out a whole passel of executive CEO producer hotshots. Actually I think Dracula could do it all by himself. And if we get done with all that and people actually still read this we can rip apart the other movies that Rox, Jackman, and Dwenham have made. It should be fun.
Disclaimer: Dracula, Van Helsing, Frankenstein's Creature, and The Wolfman are all in the public domain and have been for like half a century. So I DO OWN DRACULA! BOO YAA! AND SO DO YOU! YOU CAN SELL HIM AND MAKE MONEY! Anna Valerious, Velkan Valerious, Marishka, Verona, Aleera, Carl, and all the greasy little grey CG rat babies are all copyrighted by Universal so STEVEN SOMMERS DOESN'T OWN THEM EITHER! NYAH!
Contrary to most of my disclaimers all of the information in this one is actually correct.
……
interesting fact of the day: 'goodbye' in Egyptian Arabic sounds like 'My Salami'
interesting fact of yesterday: 'you're welcome' in Japanese sounds like 'Don't touch my mustache'
Non-interesting fact of life: the only country in the world that speaks English without an accent is Australia. (Oz-tralyer)
…..
gee can you tell I'm having trouble writing this or what? Ok, I'm actually starting now
Secret spy camera planted on Stephen Sommer's desk by the Pope blinks on.
Stephen Sommers is looking at his computer and giggling. He is not reading fanfiction (in case you were wondering) he is playing minesweeper. He doesn't even remember that he directed the movie Van Helsing because that was like, a whole year ago man. Strangely enough, up in the rafters on his ceiling, there is a little computer nook that the author is sitting in looking down on him and typing this. It may be a bizarre coincidence, but that's life.
All of the sudden (!) he opens his word processor…which is probably insanely expensive and specially made for writerly people…and begins typing furiously. He is muttering to himself and giggling.
"…ok and so when the whole planet is like gonna blow up man, it's so totatlly freaking everyone out and then they get this like creepy master race survival of the fittest thing going on and …oh man I forgot about the characters! Who should I have star in my new movie? Hmm…who's actually left…well there's Peter Pan,…oh yeah, I know, Peter Pan meets Sherlock Holmes and Anne of Green Gables and they all kill this one guy….yeah…."
Stephen Sommers names the file "The Zap Ray Aliens from Prince Edward Island Versus Captain Hook." After a few more hours of typing, he decides to call it "When Worlds Collide."
"Mummy I'm pretty sure that you're not supposed to be driving on this side of the road."
"What do you mean?" Dracula downshifts the bus expertly and weaves easily between the oncoming traffic on the Los Angeles Freeway 1. "Besides it's too late, I'm in the toll section, I can't get out of the lane because there are spikes on either side."
Anna looks up from her nailpolish, "Could you not hit so many cars? I'm trying to do a French manicure."
Monster puts down the roadmap, "Oh cool! Where'd you get that?"
"Van Helsing gave it to me."
"Besides, everyone knows that you should drive on the left side of the road. How do you expect to make left turns if you don't drive on the left side of the road." Dracula grumbles.
"But isn't Transylvania in the whole European Union thing with France?" Carl muses to no one in particular. "I thought they drove on the same side of the road as Americans did."
Dracula rolls his eyes, "You idiot. I don't actually drive cars in Transylvania. It's a horses only country. Decided by City Hall and everything. Says it creates ambiance." He swerves the bus around and over several other small California-style compact cars. There are crunching noises. Igor looks pleased.
Monster trudges to the back of the bus and sits down next to Van Helsing.
Van Helsing looks like he needs a drink. Monster pulls out a bottle of absinthe and hands it to him.
"I always wondered," Van Helsing says, "How you had the amazing good fortune to grow up in a brewery drinking, like, nothing but booze. I don't remember where I grew up, but I remember a whole bunch of Israelites committing suicide and killing their kids and stuff."
"Is this always how you start a conversation?"
"You asked." Van Helsing downs the entire bottle of absinthe, "Or wait…did you ask?"
"No."
"Well then I'm just reading your mind aren't I."
Monster leans in closer and whispers conspiratorially, "You know, the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem."
Van Helsing looks as perplexed as he possibly can. That is, without scrunching up his eyes or forehead because it's bad for his complextion and will make him get wrinkles in five years when he's fifty and stuff.
Monster takes this as encouragement, "I go to this great AA group. They really do things differently, and they can tell if you're cheating on the program because Dracula goes to and tastes everyone's blood to make sure there's no alchohol in it."
There are faint grinding noises as the mechanical parts in Van Helsings rusty little brain click into place, "Dracula's an alchoholic?"
"Only secondarily. He goes to the Bloodsuckers Anonymous meeting beforehand."
"Oh. That explains a lot."
"Like what? How does that explain anything?"
"Well his lousy temper. And the ponytail." Van Helsing licks the bottle of absinthe longingly, "I for one don't need AA. I can handle my liquor perfectly just instafantasextabulently."
Van Helsing falls into a coma and begins drooling.
Monster chuckles evilly, "Oh silly me!" He searches around in his pockets, "Here's the absinthe bottle. I accidently gave him a Pan Galactic Gargle Blaster."
There is no point to this exchange, except that the author really loves Hitchhikers Guide and is thrilled that they finally, finally, finally made an actual movie of the thing. With an actual plot. And actual characters. And puppets and none of this CG crap.
Back in the front of the bus Velkan is looking nervously out the window. "Anna? Anna? Anna? Anna? Anna?"
"DRACULA!" Anna hollers, "He's POKING ME AGAIN!"
"Look do I have to pull this car over and come back there?" Dracula growls and smashes over a brand new convertible corvette.
"But Anna it's important! Anna? Anna? Anna? Anna?"
Anna punches him in the head and starts to cry, "Stupid brother. Dracula's gonna SPANK you!" Anna begins tightening all the buckles on her corset another notch.
"Anna what do I do when it's daytime and you can see the moon?" Velkan asks just as the moon comes out from behind some random clouds. He starts turning into a werewolf.
Anna peels a strip of Velkan-skin off of her arm, looks at it with unmitigated horror, and begins to scream. Really really scream.
Velkan is so frightened that he only manages to turn halfway into a werewolf, then stops. Dracula is so frightened that he loses control of the bus, smashes off the edge of the freeway, over the edge of a cliff and crashes into the scrub. Some bushes catch on fire. Carl is in the bus during all of this, but he wasn't acting funny so he didn't get any lines.
"But how can I get that big romance scene in zero gravity if I don't have Hercule Poirot make it onto the rockety space thing? How? Then Anne of Green Gables would never be discovered as the murderer! Poirot has to get on the ship. But no one likes him so then he'd have to sneak on. Yeah! He'd kill the guards and sneak onto the ship and hide out in the laundry room! Yeah, that's totally Poirot right there! A little sneaky, a little devious. I'll cast a really skinny actor in the part. He should be blonde too. I'll make a note of that."
The telephone rings.
Stephen Sommers looks exasperated, gives his keyboard one last lusty sentence, and swivels his chair over to pick up the phone, "Yello poopsie?"
"Uh….sir?"
"Oh dahling, just tell me all about it?"
"Um this is the Los Angeles Police. We just received a death threat against you."
"Mahvelous. Who was it from?"
"Well it was written in gothic blackletter font and the ink is sorta reddish brownish and smells like alcohol. We're running a DNA sample on it right now." There is a slight pause, "It appears to be a man by the name of….Hubert Jackman."
"My word! How fascinating. By the way do you like the accent? I always thought Peter Pan would be cool with a Talullah Bankhead accent."
"We'll be in touch, Mr. Sommers." The police officer hangs up.
Stephen Sommers rubs his hands together gleefully, "Oh this is such fun! I love writing screenplays."
Out in the middle of nowhere, on a not so busy afternoon, a group of straggly and sometimes rather hairy beings wander up to U.S. Border Checkpoint 428.
"I'll have to see some identification?" The very tall, very muscular, very pro-basketball-football-rugby-esque guard says amiably to Dracula.
Dracula thinks for a minute. Then the sky goes black, thunder crashes mightily, and an ominous wind begins to sweep through the canyon. "I am Prince Vladislaus Draculea the Third. Born 1431, assassinated by Basarab cel Battrin Laiota in 1476."
"Wait that's not how they did it in the movie." Carl protests, counting on his fingers, "In the movie it rhymed. It was like this cool little poem."
Dracula glares at him, "I would think that I would know when I was born and not some poet." He waves his hands and the sky goes back to normal.
The guard shakes his head and sighs, "Now that's not a government issued ID there is it now?"
"How about I fry your guard shack with a bolt of lightning?"
"Now now," The guard does a blurry military movement thing and Dracula is securely handcuffed, "I don't want to hear any hostility, so I'll just have to take you all down to do a routine check on you." He looks up and surveys the motley crew. "You in the corset, and you the hairy dude, and the tall one in the rubber suit, who is that guy you're carrying?" The guard walks up to Van Helsing and yells at him until he wakes up. "What is your country of citizenship?"
Van Helsing's eyes are wobbling around out of sync, "Mi amigo. No tengo frijoles hue."
The guard snaps his fingers and a SWAT team moves out of the bushes and handcuffs everyone. "Take all of the dark haired ones to the checkup center."
"Hey but I'm not Mexican!" Carl protests. "I'm only a blonde!"
"Yeah me too!" Anna whispers in a weak ashamed little voice.
The guard looks at her and laughs. "Ok, any more blondes that would like to register the fact before I run security checks on all of you?"
Dracula gulps. "Actually…."
"I'm sorry sir, but I don't register any Vladislaus Draculea III in the census records."
"Wait," Carl says incredulously, "You're blonde?"
Dracula is turning red. "Well look under Richard Roxburgh."
The guard smiles and laughs good naturedly, "Yeah, I saw him in a movie once, Van Helsing. No dice Hernando, I need some government issued ID or you get to cool your heels in jail for a couple months."
"Wait," Anna says incredulously, "You're blonde?"
"What if I make you a deal?" Dracula grinds his teeth together, "I'll not lose my temper and kill everyone in sight if you let us go."
"What if I make you a deal?" The guard continues typing unconcernedly, "You shut up and I won't duct tape your mouth closed?"
"Wait," Velkan says incredulously, "You're blonde?"
"How about I send you on a free trip to Cuba with three gorgeous fifteen-year old mental patients one of whom is my wife?"
"How about you let me do my job, and I'll let you do your job. Everyone will be happy. And by the way, you're not blonde."
"Wait," Monster says incredulously, "You're blonde?"
"Really officer, I can explain everything." Dracula frowns, looks off into the distance and waves his hands. Lightning cracks. Dracula pulls a wallet out of his pocket. "Look, here's my drivers license."
Somewhere in the world, Richard Roxburgh notices that his wallet has been stolen.
"Wow," the guard is not impressed, "After all that time, you finally come up with an ID, amazing! Magic trick I suppose?"
"Sorta."
"Wow, that's good." The guard says sarcastically, "Richard Roxburgh eh? However, it doesn't say that you were born in 1431, so it's no good. I'm going to have to ask you to come with me."
"Look I tried, I really tried." Dracula says to everyone. "I really really tried and it did no good."
Van Helsing's brain groggily registers the fact that Dracula is a natural blonde. It is too much for his sanity. He pops out his Wolverine claws and starts slashing up the border guard's computer. "NOOOOO It's not TRUEEEE it's ALL TOO HORRIBLE! AAAAAHAHAAHAAHA! Oh gosh I feel better!"
Dracula teleports them all to Stephen Sommers front lawn. "Get a grip, mate."
"Wait, if you could do that, why didn't you do that before?" Velkan gurgles hairily from his half-werewolf state.
"As I told you before, I am a law-abiding citizen! I'm a good guy! Events conspire against me! I have been vilified by the media! All I want to do is live a normal life with my wife and kids! Do you understand?"
Everyone looks at Dracula blankly. Then they nod.
"Good." Dracula claps his hands together, "Right then. Let's go kill Stephen Sommers."
Back at the Border Patrol Unit, the guard sends out an APB for one Vladislaus Draculea III, aka. Richard Roxburgh, black hair, blue eyes, 5'11" accompanied by a large man in a rubber suit, a dominatrix chick in a corset, a Catholic Priest, and a hideous dog. He does not mention Van Helsing, and instead puts a top secret call through to Weapon X project in Washington. Then he picks up the phone.
"Hi, Rox, we've got your wallet again in case you were wondering."
"Thanks mate, third time this arvo. Any explanations?"
"You must just be unlucky. Either that or a fanfic writer just has it in for you."
"Thanks mate, oi'll be over after the audition."
"And after the cream-pie fight we should have the whole spaceship get blown up when they steal the cars and ram through the walls and fly across the sky and then land on the one guy's house and then they go and kill him and unlock the mystical army which they have to kill." Stephen Sommers is obviously on a roll. His muse is musing. His budget department probably hates him, but what's new? Everything's been Sommersized. Only the latest crappy CG will do. And he has to blow up atleast one million dollar set. Stephen Sommers makes the decision that this time he'll really outdo himself. He'll blow up all of his sets. With digital zombie exploding alien that he'll have to digitally recreate each member of the cast in order to make.
At the highest moment of his genius, there is an annoying knock on the front door.
"Would you get that Trixie?" Stephen Sommers says absently.
"They say you are what you eat," says the Van Helsing barmaid heretofore named Trixie, emerging from the bedroom. "And I'm fast, cheap, and easy."
She flounces to the door and opens it. Carl is standing there open-mouthed.
"Who are you?" she asks with all the Van Helsing Patented Long Lost Lover's Passion.
Carl smiles, "I'm only a friar…hey haven't I seen you somewhere before?"
Trixie shakes her head, "'Fraid I don't remember. Did you order the lap dance or the full special?"
Dracula pushes by them both, "Carl you should definitely become a monk. Why hello my old friend Stephen Sommers! Looking corpulent and lugubrious as always!" He walks up to the man puts a fist through his computer screen, and spins the swivel chair around to face the rest of the VH cast. "Do you have any last words?"
Stephen Sommers looks confused, "Happy Birthday?"
Dracula whacks him upside the head.
"I meant...Surprise Anniversary?" Stephen Sommers rubs his head, "Say what's gotten into you Rox? What happened to 'no worries mate no worries at all'?"
"I'm not Richard Roxburgh, I'm Prince Vladislaus Draculea, born 1431, slanderously hashed 2004."
"Say you got the dates wrong there buddy." Stephen Sommers smirks. "You look like Richard Roxburgh."
"Only because that was the image that you forced upon the unsuspecting public. I used to look like Bela Lugosi. Once I even looked like Gerard Butler."
Stephen Sommers blinks, "And you are complaining about this…why?"
"Because you made me into a polygamist! And you murdered my children with your computers! And you hired the Wolverine to kill me! Why should I not complain?"
Van Helsing sloshes slowly upright. As has not been previously explained, since he is Wolverine, he really can't get drunk, but also since he is the Left Hand of God, (Archangel Gabriel? Hazard a guess) just smelling alcohol makes him swoon. And to combine these two natures, he can or can not get drunk depending on which costume he's wearing. Don't ask me.
Right now he's slammed.
"Stevie boy!" He lurches forward, falls on his face and promptly goes to sleep.
"And look what you've done to him." Dracula points out.
"But what did I do?"
"You directed the movie."
"But what did I do?"
"You directed and wrote the movie." Dracula leans forward and sneers, "What was reading the Bram Stoker novel too difficult for you, was it?"
"Well I did get sorta bored with the shopping lists. Have you read the Bram Stoker novel?"
Dracula takes a deep breath, "That's beside the point! I hereby sentence you to death for slanderous defamation of character."
"Couldn't you sentence me to slanderous defamation of character for killing you in the movie?" Stephen Sommers suggest.
"What do you think the author is doing right now?"
"How about I lead you to the lost secret goldmine of the pirates of the lost secret order of the knights of the first crusades champion of arms monks of the Egyptian desert's hidden tomb of lost souls!"
"Let me guess, is this the plot to your next movie?"
Stephen Sommers shakes his head, "No my next movie has all that and aliens and a government conspiracy and Canadians and Peter Pan."
Dracula groans.
"And a flaming asteroid of death."
Dracula walks to the nearest wall, grabs the nearest sword of the nearest family crest on the wall and stalks back toward Stephen Sommers.
"No Stop!" Anna throws herself dramatically around, Pocahontas style, "If you kill him, you will ruin our chance to get to the lost secret island of buried treasure! He's the only one who has a map."
"He's intentionally ripping of Robert Louis Stevenson and you want me to let him live?" Dracula does the angry-Dracula face and frightens the author's socks off.
Anna does the Bambi-Eyes.
"Fine."
"And now you're ripping off Lilo and Stitch." Anna points out.
Dracula glares at her and grabs Stephen Sommers by the shirt, "Mate you'd better take us to wherever, and quick as a lick."
"Sure, sure Mr. Drag-u-lee-ah."
"And pronounce my name right. It's Draculea."
"Maybe I should call you Vlad."
"No, I think not."
Dracula makes a dramatic gesture and everone is magically sober and listening to him, "Orright mates. We got a treasure to find."
"You know I was thinking of becoming a nun," Trixies muses to Monster.
"I'm a nun." Carl says. "It's fun. You can make cupcakes."
"Ok we're leaving now." Dracula pulls Stephen Sommers out of the door.
"Hey we can take my spaceship, it's parked out back." Stephen Sommers suggests in a weasily manner.
Dracula squashes the weasily manner. He points with his finger, "Everyone follow me!"
The strains of a Sousa march played by the New York Philharmonic accompany Dracula's heroic hand pointing.
They walk out back and climb into a bus that doesn't look anything like the Electric Mayhem bus. Except for the small furry animals inside and the name Electric Mayhem painted on the outside in psychedelic colors.
Van Helsing and Monster squash the furry little sock puppets.
Monster cries over their poor little squashed bodies. Van Helsing doesn't care, and instead tries to squash Anna too.
"Now where are we going?" Dracula starts the engine.
"Universal Studios, just follow the signs to the theme park." Stephen Sommers makes blastoff noises and pretends to be talking to 'mission control'
What will happen when the cast of Van Helsing appears at Universal Studios Theme Park? How can we possibly pretend not to know the answer? Do you spell pandemonium with one or two u's? Does it matter?
Find out next time in The Sound and the Fury, or It's a Hard Knock Life For Us.
