They said nothing.
“Now I understand you may be confused,” Maria said, “but I’m here to help you. If you have any questions, I’ll answer them. If you need some advice, it shall be given. Think of me as your Mother.”
With a flat tone, Louisa said, “Our Mother is dead.”
Maria nodded. “That she is, Louisa, that she is.” She paused, then smiled. “But the good news is that you now have one dead mother, and one undead mother! Now how about you turn those frowns upside down, and let’s go and have some fun.”
“I don’t like any of this one bit,” Farta said, touching the gash on her neck. “I feel dreadful. So cold. So very, very cold.”
The bat version of Friedrich touched down directly in front of Farta, then morphed back into the Friedrich version of Friedrich. “You get used to it pretty quickly,” he said. “It’s … nice.”
Liesl said, “He’s right, Farta. Quit complaining. Embrace it. It isn’t like our life was so exciting before all this.”
Kurt wandered out the front door, munching on a raw steak. “Liesl has a point. What’s fun for us? Nothing. Father is a drunk. Frau Alice and Alfred are arschlochs…”
“Especially Frau Alice,” Brigitta said. “Why does she keep calling me Marcia Marcia Marcia?”
“… and all the shopkeepers in town have guns now,” Kurt continued, “so we have no place left to rob or vandalize. Our clothes make us look like fools. And except for Liesl, none of us have any friends, and her only friend is a nancy-boy…”
“Rolfe is no longer my friend,” Liesl said, looking in the direction of the destroyed gazebo.
“… so we should make the most of it,” Kurt continued. “Maria will show us what to do. Right?”
Maria beamed. “That’s right, Kurt. I love you most of all! Now children, all of you gather ’round! We’re going to show off your new state of being to the world! We shall frolic about the town! How does that sound?”
Liesl said, “Frolicking? Frolicking? That sounds simply horrible.”
“I knew you would all love it, I just knew it!” Maria said. After she picked up her saxophone case, she said, “Follow me,” then skipped toward the front gate.
None of the children moved a muscle. After ten skip-steps, Maria came to a screeching halt. “Are you coming, brats?” she asked.
Brigitta said, “That depends on where we’re going.”
“We’re going out and about! Hither and yon! Here and there! And we’re going to sing!”
Friedrich winced. “Ugh. Why?”
“Because,” Maria explained, “singing soothes the soul.”
Gretl raised her hand. “Governess?”
Maria rolled her eyes and thought, Here we go again. “Yes, Gretl?”
“I might be mistaken about this—and correct me if I’m wrong—but I believe that Vampires have no souls to soothe.”
Why did I make her undead when I could have killed her outright? Maria wondered, then took a deep breath, went to her happy place, and said, “We can do things other than sing.”
“Like what?” Kurt asked.
“Well, er, frolic.”
“You mentioned frolicking,” Louisa said, “and nobody was impressed.”
Friedrich grinned, his fangs shining in the morning sun. “I think we should test out our new Vampire powers. We might need them someday.”
“That’s foreshadowing if I’ve ever heard it,” Gretl mumbled. The tiny turd was ignored.
Maria said, “Okay, brats, you win. No singing. Just Vampire exercises.”
Gretl clapped her hands. “Oh, goody! That’s the best news I’ve ever…”
Before she could finish her sentence, Liesl shoved her to the ground and said, “Shut it, sunshine.” To Maria, she said, “So which way do we go?”
“This way,” Maria said, skipping speedily, her saxophone case banging against her legs. The children followed. None of them skipped. Eventually they ended up in the Salzburg business district, a bustling area filled with newfangled automobiles, horse-drawn carriages, and mortals who looked mighty tasty to the von Trapp Vampire brood.
Gazing hungrily at the masses, Louisa asked Maria, “Can we feast?”
Maria looked aghast. “Heavens no, Louisa. The repercussions of daytime mangling—especially in the middle of the busiest section in town—would be unspeakable…”
Liesl whispered under her breath, “The Nazi Undeath Squads might get us.”
“… so if you’re hungry, we must eat human food.”
Rubbing his jiggly belly, Kurt said, “Works for me.”
Maria skipped and the children trudged to an outdoor market, where the town’s farmers were hawking their wares. Maria nodded a greeting to one of the farmers, then snatched up three tomatoes from his wooden baskets. “Watch me, children,” she said, then juggled the tomatoes … for six seconds … before she dropped them and they splattered all over the streets.
The farmer glared at Maria. “Are you planning to pay for those, Skippy?”
Maria pointed at her cat suit. “I’m afraid this outfit doesn’t have any pockets in which to house coins. And I have not yet received my first paycheck, so I don’t have any coins to put in there anyhow. Can I come back tomorrow and reimburse you?”
Sneering, the farmer said, “I’m not letting you out of my sight until you pay for those vegetables.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Two shillings, please.”
Maria said, “I don’t have it.”
“Then get it. I’ve got a family to feed.” Maria thought she heard him say, Whore, but that might have been her ears playing tricks on her.
“If you don’t behave yourself,” Maria hissed, “I’ll do some feeding myself.” And then she showed the farmer her fangs. The farmer backed up a few steps, knocking over baskets of tomatoes, zucchini, eggplant, and strawberries. Maria said to the farmer, “So are we good here?”
Nodding eagerly, the farmer said, “We’re wonderful here.” He picked up a tomato. “Take this as a token of my apology.”
Maria beamed. “Why thank you, sir! What a lovely gesture.” She handed the tomato to Louisa. “If I’m not mistaken, you mentioned that you were hungry, darling?”
“Not for this,” Louisa said, before hurling the tomato into the farmer’s face.
Breathing heavily, the farmer reached into the waistband of his pants and pulled out a gun. “Get out of my sight, all of you,” he whispered.
Maria laughed. “We’ll get out of your sight, sir, because we’re a polite group, but for future reference, guns basically have no effect on our kind.” Again, she bared her teeth and hissed, then added, “You have a lovely day!”
As the clan walked away, Gretl turned around and growled at the farmer. For the first time in his life, Friedrich simultaneously put his arm around his little sister and smiled.
Once they were away from the masses, Maria said, “Please, children, please can we please skip? It would mean ever so much to me!”
Friedrich turned to his siblings and said, “For the love of Gott, let’s skip just so she’ll shut up about it already.”
With the biggest (and falsest) of smiles, the kids joined hands and skipped, and skipped, and skipped until Farta screeched to a halt and said, “Does anybody else hear music, or is it just me?”
The brats all stopped skipping, after which Kurt asked, “What kind of music?”
Farta closed her eyes. “Horns, and strings, and drums. It’s jaunty, almost happy. Perfect for a montage. And frankly, it’s painful. It hurts my soul.”
Gretl said, “You have no soul.”
“Forget the awful montage music,” Maria said, “for there’s more skipping to be done!” She pointed to the north. “Look, brats, a flatbed truck! Let’s jump on and let it take us where it will!”
The children groaned. “Can we go home?” Brigitta whined. “If we can’t dine on human flesh, what’s the point of being out?”
Friedrich said, “Vampire exercises, remember?”
“We can do Vampire exercises in our yard,” Brigitta said. “The smell of flesh out here is dizzying, and if I can’t indulge, I’ll explode.”
Maria said, “The truck will drive us away from these people. Skip with me!”
Sure enough, the truck did take them away from these people. After they jumped off of the moving vehicle, Maria and the brats skipped to a grassy meadow at the foot of Maria’s favorite stomping (and singing) (and skipping) (and flying) (and self-pleasuring) grounds, the Alps. Once they found what Maria called, “… the grass I love most of all,” she plopped down onto the grass and directed the kids through a series of acrobatics and feats of strength.
“Friedrich,” she called, “bend over and stand on one finger!” He did. For five minutes.
“Gretl,” she called, “jump as high as you can!” She did. To the tune of fifteen meters.
“Brigitta,” she called, “scream at the top of your lungs!” She did. Five kilometers away, a window shattered.
“Kurt,” she called, “rip that tree up from the ground!” He did. Without even breaking a sweat.
“Louisa,” she called, “do ten cartwheels, one right after the other!” She did. And another ten after that.
“Farta,” she called, “turn into a bat and fly to the sun.” She did. She didn’t, however, hit the sun … but she came darn close.
“Liesl,” she called, “come to me!”
Liesl jogged over. “Yes, Governess?”
“Liesl, I want you to lick your own lady-parts.”
“Pardon me?”
“Lick your lady-parts. Since you can now do it, I’d recommend doing it every chance you get. Once you figure out what’s going on down there, you’ll thank me. Profusely.”
“If you say so,” Liesl said, then, after making sure none of her siblings were paying attention—they were not—she lifted the hem of her sailor skirt, pushed aside her panties, then contorted herself so her tongue was directly in front of her hallowed ground. After a tentative lick, she coughed, taken aback by the metallic taste. But a few seconds later, she got used to it, and a few seconds after that, she grew to like it, and a few seconds after that, she knew Maria was right. Someday, she would thank the Governess. Profusely.
Just when it was getting hot and heavy down South, Louisa cartwheeled over and said, “Fraulein Maria?”
Maria, who was sitting on the grass and fondling her own lady-parts, tore her gaze away from Liesl and said, “Hmmmm?”
Noticing the guilty looks on both Liesl and Maria’s faces, she asked, “What’s going on here?”
Clearing her throat, Maria said, “Nothing, dear. What can I help you with?”
“Can we do Vampire exercises every day?” she asked.
Liesl wiped her lips. “Yes, Fraulein Maria. Can we?”
Kurt wandered over, still carrying the tree. “I haven’t had this much fun since the day we rolled those drunk Frenchmen in the square last spring.”
“I don’t understand how kids as wonderful as you can play such mean tricks,” Maria said.
Friedrich lay down on the grass, then rolled over so his face was in Maria’s lap. “Who says we’re wonderful?”
Maria pushed him away. “Back off, pal. Access is by invitation only.”
Liesl said, “This sort of behavior is the only way we can get Father to pay attention to us.”
Farta said, “But the truth is, that rarely works. Nothing works.”
“Because he’s always drunk on his wacky juice,” Kurt said.
“Well, maybe he’ll be more lucid when he returns with the Baroness,” Maria said.
“Doubtful,” Gretl said. “The man is a full-blown alcoholic. His blood is probably half juniper berries, one-quarter erythrocytes, and one-quarter leukocytes.” Nobody asked what erythrocytes and leukocytes were, because nobody cared.
“Let’s be optimistic, children,” Maria said. “Maybe he’ll be in good shape when he returns. Maybe we can do something to get him to notice you, something to make the Baroness love and respect you. Like … like … like singing!” Each of the kids ripped up a handful of grass and dirt from the ground and threw it at Maria. Wiping the mud from her eyes, the Governess said, “I guess singing is out. Any other suggestions?”
Brigitta said, “A puppet show! A von Trapp family puppet show!”
Liesl gawked at her little sister. “Puppets? In Austria? Are you insane?”
Friedrich said, “Brigitta, I scheisse on your puppets! No puppets!”
Brigitta nodded as if it had been decided. “Puppets.”
(In the midst of all the puppet discussion, Maria heard a distant noise from the North. It sounded like Mother Zombie’s nightly benediction: Lady, oh the lady, oh the lay hee hoo. And then once the talk of puppets ceased, so did the chant. Odd, Maria thought, quite odd.)
“We shall do Vampire exercises for them,” Friedrich continued. “That’s the only thing we should be doing. The only thing.”
“Fine,” Maria said, “but you have to start at the very beginning. Which, as you might guess, is a very good place to start.”
“Beginning?” Gretl asked. “What do you mean beginning? Like the beginning of the alphabet? Like A, and B, and C?”
Friedrich said, “Why would she mean the beginning of the alphabet, shrimp?”
Maria held up a single finger. “It just so happens, Friedrich, that Gretl is sort of right…”
“She’s always right,” Louisa said, “the little twit.”
“… but not entirely right. We start at the beginning of the alphabet … but not the human alphabet. The Vampire alphabet.”
Liesl gave her a skeptical look. “There’s a Vampire alphabet?”
“There sure is,” Maria said, unpacking her saxophone. After she put the reed in the mouthpiece, and the mouthpiece on the sax, she honked out an E Phrygian scale, then said, “The Vampire alphabet is only seven letters, and those letters are do, ray, me, fah, so, la, tee. Seven letters. No more, no less.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Brigitta said. “What can you spell with seven letters?”
“Plenty,” Maria said. “Like you can spell meeraytee.”
“What’s meeraytee?” Farta asked.
“A dead deer that’s ready to be eaten.”
All at once, the brats said, “Meeraytee.”
“That’s right,” Maria said. “You can also spell solafah.”
Liesl asked, “And what, Governess, pray tell, is solafah?”
“Why everybody knows that solafah is a drop of acid rain.”
“And what, Governess, pray tell, is acid rain?”
“Never you mind. You can also spell fahdoe.”
“Fine, I’ll bite,” Kurt said. “What’s fahdoe?”
“A long, long way to fly, naturally. And we Vampires often-times have a long, long way to fly.”
“Right, naturally,” Liesl said, “what else would fahdoe be? Let me do one. Is, um, dorayme a word?”
“Of course it is,” Maria said. “It means ‘disjointed plot line.’”
“So you could use dorayme to describe the genesis of this book?”
Maria grinned. “You’re correct, Liesl! I love you most of all!”
At that, the children simultaneously rolled their eyes.
Farta said, “My turn, my turn! Lalateeray!”
Maria clapped once. “Very good, dear. Lalateeray is what you do after you finish with your dorayme.”
Gretl asked, “And what exactly does one do after dorayme?”
“You lalateeray.”
“I understand,” Gretl said, “but what specifically is lalateeray?”
“It’s what you do after dorayme. Now shut it, so I can tell you the last word of the day, which is teeteeteedoe, which means dinner. A meager dinner, granted—we’re talking jam and bread, and maybe some lukewarm tea to wash it down with—but dinner nonetheless.” At that, Kurt’s stomach rumbled.
“Governess?” Friedrich asked.
“Yes, F
riedrich?”
“The Vampire alphabet is a stupid, stupid alphabet.”
Maria said, “I didn’t make it up. It was here when I was transformed, and it will be here long after I’m gone. Not that I’ll ever be gone, but you know what I mean. But if you look at it the right way, it isn’t that bad. Once you have those letters in your heads, you can spell a million different words by mixing them up. Like sodola.”
“Or fahmeedo,” Farta said.
“Or sodofahfah,” Louisa said.
“Or dolahdolatee,” Kurt said.
For the next hour, the children sang thousands of words in Vampire, some of which meant nothing, to which we say, Doedoerayfah meemeemee. And we mean it.
INTERLUDE #2
HANDSOME BOY POINTED to Felt Face and said, “You must be loving all this bollocks about puppets, mate.”
Giggling, Brown Cape said, “Oooh, watch it, limey, you don’t want to make him mad. You wouldn’t want to imply that he himself is a puppet. Because if he’s a puppet, then he’s not a living being, and he really, really, really thinks he’s a living being.”
Felt Face said, “One, two. I count two obnoxious jerks whose cars I’ll be egging on Halloween.”
Dracula glared at Handsome Boy and Brown Cape, and growled, “Lay off of him, you twinks.” After a lengthy staring contest which the two younger Vampires lost by a mile, Dracula turned to Felt Face and said, “Listen, buddy, there’s nothing wrong with not being a living being. Living’s overrated. Maria von Trapp knows that. That’s why she turned all the kids into Vampires. She was being nice.”
“Give me a bloody break,” Handsome Boy said. “She turned them because she was hungry.” Pointing an accusatory, pointy-nailed finger at Dracula, he said, “And if anybody would know about turning innocents due to hunger, it’s you, you sloppy git.” He grabbed some Fritos, then said, “You know what? The first two chapters were bloody good, but now I’m bloody tired of this bloody book. Can’t we just discuss some bloody Franzen like every other bloody book club in the world? He’s a boring fuck, but I always feel superior when I tell people I’ve read his stuff.”
My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires Page 9
