My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires

by Alan Goldsher

  Just then, the sky was broken with the evening’s brightest lightning bolt and loudest thunderclap. Maria’s door flew open, and in flew Gretl. Maria wiped the spider spew off of her hand, picked the bed sheet from the floor, and covered herself. “Gretl,” she said, “are you frightened?”

  “Fright is an interesting thing, Maria,” Gretl said. “There are countless ways to handle it. You can succumb to it, or you can embrace it, or you can stare it in the eye and say, Fright, I own you, you don’t own me. And of course there are multiple levels of fright, and they all have different effects on the body, primarily because the level of the fright and the level of adrenal secretion…”

  Then came an even brighter bolt and an even louder clap, at which Gretl ran into Maria’s arms, knocking her onto the bed.

  Maria patted her back. “There, there, there, you pretentious little know-it-all. Never you fear. Your level of fright is under your control. You can stay here.”

  “Thank you, Governess.”

  “Now answer me this, Gretl: Are your brothers and sisters this skittish? I ask because the last thing I’d expect from any of you brats is fear.”

  “You’re correct to feel that way, Governess. We fear nothing except for inclement weather. Why, you might ask? Well, it’s a long story.” She took a deep breath and said, “It was June 19, 1937. A Tuesday, I believe. The day started out sunny, but soon after lunch, things began to change for the worse…”

  “Do shut up, Gretl.” And then, more thunder, and more lightning … and more von Trapps burst into Maria’s bedroom, this time in the form of Louisa, Brigitta, and Farta. Maria mumbled, “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.”

  From outside came a faint scream of, “Wrong musical, whore!”

  Maria yelled back, “Pirates of Penzance isn’t a musical, it’s an opera!” She looked at the other three girls and said, “Get over here.”

  All the girls huddled onto the bed and buried their faces into various parts of Maria’s body. Maria held them tight, and said, “Now, all we have to do is to wait for the boys.”

  Louisa said, “They’ll be here momentarily. Show them rain and they turn into a bunch of bedwetters.”

  Sure enough, after the next lightning/thunder combo—which, admittedly, was insanely bright and loud, and would cause even the sturdiest bladder to take stock of itself—in came Kurt and Friedrich. Their respective pajama bottoms were soaked, Kurt’s from fright, and Friedrich’s from … other things.

  At the sight of Maria’s barely covered body, Friedrich gasped. Maria smiled, showing the slightest bit of fang. “Were you scared, boys?” Staring Friedrich dead in the eye, she said, “Or did you want to pay me a visit?”

  Kurt said, “Scared.”

  Friedrich said, “Pay you a visit.”

  “Get over here, both of you.”

  While Kurt jumped into the von Trapp pile, Friedrich snatched a pillow from the bed, sat on the floor, covered his crotch with said pillow, and said, “I think I’ll stay down here.”

  Maria whispered, “Are you sure? You can join us up here, if you would like.”

  “Maybe another time?” he asked hopefully.

  “Maybe, Friedrich. Maybe.”

  Another flash, another boom. Farta whined, “Why does it do that?”

  Maria said, “Well, the lightning and the thunder are having a conversation about … about … about sailor suits!”

  Gretl said, “That’s one of the most ridiculous things I’ve ever heard in my life.”

  Louisa said, “You’re only five, Gretl. You haven’t heard much.”

  “Living with you idiots, I’ve heard more ridiculous things than your average five-year-old. For that matter, living with you idiots, I’ve heard more ridiculous things than your average fifty-five-year-old.”

  Brigitta cuffed Gretl on the ear and growled, “Can it, shrimp.”

  Maria held up her hands and said, “All of you, stop it. We’re all unhappy, and we’re all annoyed, and when anything annoys me and I’m feeling sad, I try and think of nice things.”

  At once, Louisa and Farta asked, “What kind of things?”

  “Nice things. Like daffodils.”

  Kurt said, “What’s so nice about daffodils? Yellow flowers? So what?”

  “Alright,” Maria said, “how about green meadows?”

  Farta said, “I have allergies. Next.”

  “Um, okay, skies full of stars.”

  Brigitta said, “What’s the point of that, Governess? You can’t see the stars right now. Duh.”

  “Okay, how about raindrops on roses? Or whiskers on kittens?”

  Farta said, “Allergic and allergic.”

  “Wow, tough room. Let me try this: Bright copper kettles!”

  “Governess, I’ll give you five shillings if you can make bright copper kettles even the tiniest bit interesting,” Louisa said. “No, ten shillings.”

  Ignoring her, Maria said, “What about warm woolen mittens?”

  Gretl said, “I have horrible circulation in my extremities, and my hands are always cold—they call it Peripheral Vascular Disease, I believe—so I admit to having a healthy appreciation for warm woolen mittens.”

  Friedrich said, “And I have a healthy appreciation for shoving warm woolen mittens down your throat. Next.”

  Maria sighed. “Alright, how about brown paper packages?”

  “Seriously?” Friedrich said. “Brown paper packages? That’s the best you can come up with?”

  “You didn’t let me finish, Friedrich. Brown paper packages tied up with string!”

  Kurt scoffed, “Ohhhh, that’s much better, Maria. Because nothing is more fun than string.”

  Maria glared at the boy, then said, “How about horses? Do you brats like horses? Every kid likes horses.”

  After a moment of silence, Farta said, “I like horses.”

  “I knew it! What about cream-colored ponies? I bet you love cream-colored ponies!”

  Farta winced. “Oh, no, I was bitten by a cream-colored pony last year.”

  “I remember that,” Kurt said, “That was fantastic. She bled everywhere.”

  Maria looked at Kurt. “I have one for you, chubby: Crisp apple strudel. And schnitzel with noodles. All eaten to the sound of doorbells and sleigh bells. I bet that’s your idea of heaven!”

  Kurt’s stomach audibly rumbled. “I’ll admit, the food sounds lovely, Maria. But why in Gott’s name…”

  At once, Maria and Friedrich mumbled, “There’s no Gott.”

  “… would I want to have dinner with all that … that … that incorrigible doorbell and sleigh bell ringing going on? That’s stupid. For that matter, you’re stupid. And I hate you.”

  “And I, you.” To Friedrich, she purred, “I know something you like.”

  He adjusted the pillow on his lap. “What’s that?” he croaked.

  “Girls in white dresses.”

  Nodding, he admitted, “I do like girls in white dresses. But you know what I like even more?”

  “Blue satin sashes?”

  “Oh, no, I was going to say breasts. But sashes are okay, I suppose.”

  “You know what else I like?” Maria asked.

  Louisa said, “Something stupid, probably.”

  “You’re right … if you think snowflakes are stupid. But I know you don’t think snowflakes are stupid, because you know as well as I do that anybody who thinks snowflakes are stupid is stupid … especially if you’re referring to snowflakes that stay on your nose and eyelashes.”

  Gretl said, “The human body is thirty-seven degrees Celsius, and water will only stay frozen at a temperature of zero degrees Celsius or below, so it’s empirically impossible for snowflakes to stay on one’s nose and eyelashes. They’ll remain in their flake form for three seconds at the most. So in this instance, stay is a relative term.”

  Friedrich said, “You know what would make me feel better, Gretl?”

  “No. What?”

  “If you got bitten by a d
og and stung by a bee. That would be two of my favorite things. That would make me feel considerably less bad. Considerably.”

  Maria extricated herself from the clutches of the von Trapp brood and said, “Alright, people, you tell me: What makes you feel better?”

  Farta said, “Pussy willows!”

  Friedrich whispered, “Pussy.”

  Louisa said, “Christmas!”

  Friedrich whispered, “What’s the point of Christmas? There’s no Gott.”

  Gretl said, “Bunny rabbits?”

  Friedrich whispered, “Dead bunny rabbits.”

  Kurt said, “Snakes!”

  Friedrich said, “Snakes! Now that would make anybody feel better.”

  The door flew open, and in came Liesl. “I agree with Friedrich! Pussy!”

  Maria made a shushing motion.

  Liesl said, “Er, I mean telegrams!”

  Kurt asked, “Why telegrams?”

  “Because Hammerstein said so,” Liesl said.

  “Who’s Hammerstein?” Farta asked.

  Simultaneously, Maria and Liesl said, “No comment.”

  At that, the children began spitting out more than a few of their theoretical favorite things: Birthday presents, bugs, cats, rats, sneezes, spiders (naturally), and dart guns. After they ran out of steam, Brigitta asked, “None of this made me feel any better, Maria.”

  “For that matter,” Louisa said, “I feel worse.”

  Staring at a figure loitering in the doorway, Maria said, “Well, blondie, you’re about to feel even worse than that.”

  They all turned to check out who Maria was checking out: The Captain.

  Maria threw the kids off of the bed, then grabbed the pillow from Friedrich and used it to cover her breasts. The lump in his pants visible for all to see, Friedrich yelped, then lay on the ground, face down.

  Giving him what she believed to be her most seductive look, Maria said, “Hi, Captain. What’s a nice guy like you doing in a place like this?”

  Gretl said, “He lives here.”

  At once, everybody in the room roared, “Do shut up, Gretl!”

  The Captain cleared his throat, belched, and said, “Well, Fraulein Mandarin…”

  “Maria.”

  “Right. Maria. Didn’t I tell you that bedtime is set in stone in this house?”

  “You said a lot of things, Captain. About half of which I understood.”

  Von Trapp nodded. “I get that a lot,” he said. “So what in the name of Gott are all of you doing in here?”

  Friedrich mumbled, “There’s no Gott.”

  Louisa said, “The storm scared us.”

  The Captain nodded. “Off to bed, wimps. Leave your Governess alone.” As they scurried out, he said to Maria, “Fraulein, you are aware that I’m going on a business trip, yes?”

  Friedrich mumbled, “A business trip with your schvantz.”

  After Maria nodded, von Trapp said, “Good. Do you also recall that one of the edicts of the house is that the children be disciplined early and often?” After she nodded again, he said, “Good. Then I trust before I return, you’ll do some disciplining?”

  Recalling the lump that jutted from Friedrich’s jammies, she said, “Nothing would make me happier.” And then, seemingly out of nowhere, she added, “Just in case Alice forgets to mention this, I’d like to make the kids some more clothes, and for that, I need more fabric.”

  He glared at her. “That fabric was for you. The brats already have plenty of clothes. Thirty sailor suits each, one for every day of the month.”

  She thought, You mean one for every gay of the month. And then she pushed that thought away, because using the word gay to trivialize an inanimate object is rude, and Maria liked to think of herself as a polite Vampire.

  “So no more fabric?”

  “Correct. No more fabric.”

  She shook her head sadly. “Captain von Trapp, I’ll ask you to leave. You’re not one of my favorite things.”

  “You know what, Moronica?”

  “Maria.”

  “I couldn’t care less.” And then he turned on his heel and stomped out of the room.

  Dejected, Maria tore all the fabric to bits, then ate the remnants. Stomach filled, she trudged to the window, seeking solace from the rain, but, much to her chagrin, the downpour had come to a halt, and the sun was taking its rightful place in the sky. “The light was never this bright at the Abbey,” she sighed. “I’ll never enjoy such darkness again. I guess there isn’t a thing to do but whistle a happy tune.”

  The bummed-out Vampire waited for the cry of, Wrong musical, whore, but it never came. This only increased her bummed-out-ed-ness, so she did what she always did when she was feeling blue: Unsheathed her reliable tenor saxophone.

  Was Maria a good saxophonist, one might ask? Considering her Vampire-like powers, one would expect that answer to be a resounding yes, but the fact of the matter was, while she was technically proficient, she lacked the one thing that all saxophonists need to transcend: A soul. Sure, she could let loose with a series of arpeggios that would knock saxophone inventor Adolphe Sax onto his Belgian backside. And sure, she could hold an F-sharp that would send tendrils of smoke from her instrument’s bell. But could she play the blues? Absolutely not. Not even when she was feeling blue. Like right at this very moment.

  Maria tooted a few etudes to warm up her lips and fangs, and then, from the saxophone bell emerged another saxophone bell, followed by another saxophone, followed by another saxophonist: John Coltrane.

  The Vampire dropped her horn and gasped, “Chocolate Thunder! I thought I wouldn’t see you again until the epilogue.”

  “And yet, here I am.”

  She gulped, then reached out to touch the hem of his suit jacket and huskily whispered, “How about a jam session? First I blow. Then you blow. Then I blow. Then you blow. Then…”

  Coltrane gave the Vampire an indulgent chuckle. “Oh, Maria, come talk to me when you can handle a diminished cycle.”

  Sighing, Maria said, “I’m still stuck on my cycle of fifths.”

  Coltrane nodded. “No surprise. Vampires and musical theory don’t get along. But that’s neither here nor there. According to the movie’s timeline, you have some transformations to do, correct?”

  “Movie? Timeline? Transformations?”

  “It’s time to turn those damn brats into Vampires.”

  “Oh. Right. Any thoughts on how I might do that?”

  “Well, as you’re well aware, Vampires don’t transform humans if they’re asleep, so…” And then tapped her saxophone.

  Nodding knowingly, Maria took a deep breath, jammed the tenor’s mouthpiece in between her lips, and blew a low and loud E-flat that killed the five innocent bluebirds who had been hovering outside the window.

  Coltrane winced, said, “That ought to do it,” then cocked his ear. “Ah, sure enough, I hear something from the other room. The sound of a boy. The sound of a chunky boy. The sound of a chunky boy awakening. The sound of a chunky boy awakening, then wiping the drool from his face. And the sound of another boy. The sound of a boy who’s, as we say in the jazz world, tuning his clarinet.”

  “That would be Kurt and Friedrich.”

  “And they need transforming.”

  “Yes.”

  “Have you ever transformed young boys before?”

  With a small smile, Maria said, “Only in my dreams, Chocolate Thunder. Only in my dreams.”

  “Well, you should probably know that when you bite a boy’s neck, a yellow acidic bile will jet from his nose and burn a hole in his mattress.”

  “Ooooh,” Maria squealed happily.

  “And a chunky, odoriferous red discharge will flow from your lady-parts and stain the floor.”

  “Oooooooooooooh,” Maria squealed even more happily, then skipped into the boys’ bedroom.

  A quarter of an hour later, after Maria had finished feeding, and after the boys had finished bleeding, Friedrich sat up and grimaced, his new fa
ngs growing—and growing sharper—by the second. He touched his front teeth and asked, “Did you just do what I think you did?”

  “What do you think I did?”

  “I think you turned me into a Vampire.”

  “And I think you’re correct.”

  He cried a single wordless syllable, then punched a hole in the wall.

  Maria blanched. “Oh. My. Did I misread you, Friedrich? I thought this might be something you would enjoy. If that’s the case, I apologize.” She scratched her head. “The problem here is that, well, I am unable to undo what has been done.”

  Another wordless syllable. Another hole in the wall.

  “Friedrich, I’m so sorry. Say something, please!”

  Friedrich’s grimace became a grin. “You have nothing to be sorry about, Governess. My screams are joyful! My punching is a celebration! I can now live forever, and feed in the night, and make passionate love to the Vampire of my dreams.” He made a motion to touch her breasts. “Right?”

  She swatted his hand away and stood up. “Well, Friedrich, now that I think about it, fourteen might be a tad young for me.”

  “But … but … but I shall now be fourteen forever!”

  Maria said, “Riiiiiiight. So. Um. What do you say we touch base on this one in a few decades?”

  He pouted. “At least can you give me some hand relief?”

  She glanced at the imaginary watch on her wrist. “Goodness, look at the time! We must start the day. What’s the best way to awaken your sisters?”

  Sullenly, Friedrich said, “Turn them into Vampires, for all I care.”

  Which is exactly what Maria did.

  Later that morning, while Liesl sharpened her front fangs with a fingernail file, and while Friedrich transformed back and forth from bat to human, and while Kurt wandered around the kitchen looking for something to eat, Louisa, Farta, Brigitta, and Gretl lay on the lawn, staring blankly into outer space, the bite marks on their respective necks trickling a thin stream of blood. After a few minutes, their wounds closed, leaving a shilling-sized splotch, and several minutes after that, they each sat up, at once paler and more beautiful than they had ever been.

  Maria gave the newly undead foursome a benevolent smile. “Welcome, children. Welcome to my family. You’re now in a family that I believe you will find to be more nurturing and fulfilling to you than your own.”