Liesl roared, “Never mention the name Rolfe Mueller in my presence again! Never, ever, ever, ever, ever!” She took a calming breath, then added, “If you do, I won’t be responsible for my actions.”
“Boy, somebody is in a mood. Probably that time of the month.” Brigitta called out to the lake, “Gretl, do Vampires get premenstrual?”
Gretl called back, “I don’t know.”
The three girls stared at one another. Louisa said, “There’s actually something on this Earth that Gretl doesn’t know?”
“Who knew?” Brigitta said.
Liesl said, “I suppose there’s a first time for everything.”
Friedrich wandered by, bent down on one knee in front of Liesl, and said, “May I have this dance?”
Smiling, Liesl said, “That’s very kind of you, Friedrich.”
“Wait,” Louisa said, “Friedrich is doing something kind?”
“Goodness, this is an evening of firsts,” Brigitta said.
Ignoring her sisters, Liesl said, “I’d be thrilled to cut some rug, brother dear.”
Friedrich said to Louisa and Brigitta, “Could you crack the door, so we can hear the muzak, er, music?” Louisa obeyed.
As the strain of another Straus waltz floated from the house—and we don’t know which one it was, dear reader, because, as previously noted, they all sound the same—Friedrich and Liesl chuckled and twirled as if they had not a care in the world.
“Another first,” Brigitta said. “Liesl and Friedrich laughing together about something that doesn’t involve them doing violence upon one of our bodies.”
And speaking of laughing, it was then that the Baroness produced another of her man-enchanting chuckles. Friedrich heard the laugh loud and clear, and, as was the case with every other man within earshot, dots of sweat sprouted from his forehead, he grew short of breath, his legs turned to jelly, and his man-parts became engorged with blood … right against his older sister’s thigh.
Friedrich let out an involuntary moan—and an even more involuntary emission of his seed—after which Liesl screamed, “Ewwwwwwwwwwwww,” then picked up her brother and threw him into the lake, where he landed right next to Gretl.
Once Friedrich came up for air, Gretl said, “What did you do to her?”
“Got excited against her leg. You?”
“I talked.”
Friedrich nodded. “I could see that setting her off.” He pulled his sister from the water and put her on his shoulders. “Come on. We should get into some dry clothes.”
By the time they returned to the shore, there were two new developments: Maria had arrived on the scene; and the string quartet had dived into a familiar-sounding folk song. Maria smiled. “Ah, the Ländler. I love this dance most of all.”
Kurt asked, “What the fick is the Ländler?”
Maria turned to Gretl. “Would you care to field this one, my dear?”
Gretl stared sullenly at Liesl. “No. If I do, she’ll hurt me, I just know it.”
Liesl said, “Go ahead, shrimp. I promise I’ll be nice.”
“Really? You promise?” Liesl nodded, then Gretl smiled. “Wonderful. So. The Ländler is a folk dance involving stomping and hopping that was popularized in the nineteenth century. The dance is quite herky-jerky, and this odd rhythmic attack is reflected in the music, which many consider to be reminiscent of the compositions of…”
Before she could complete the sentence, Liesl shoved her into the lake.
After they heard the splash, Brigitta said, “Governess, do you know the Ländler?”
“Of course I do,” Maria said, smiling. “I learned it from Beethoven, before I took away his hearing.”
Liesl asked, “Wait, you made Beethoven deaf?”
Maria blinked. “What? No. Of course not. That’s simply ridiculous. Who told you that?”
“You did. Two paragraphs ago.”
“What do you mean, paragraph?”
“Forget it,” Liesl said. “Just do the stupid dance, already.”
Here’s a little-known fact about elderly Austrian Vampires: They’re completely devoid of rhythm. Now the Ländler is filled with awkward motions to begin with, but in Maria’s hands (and feet), it became a spastic dance of death. Literally. By the time she got to her second stomp-and-hop variation, every duck in the lake had met its maker.
Needless to say, the von Trapp brats loved it.
When Maria finally ran out of steam some fifteen minutes later, she opened her eyes and found herself surrounded by von Trapps … the family patriarch included.
The Captain clapped and slurred, “Brrrrravo, Messina…”
“Maria, sir.”
“Right. Maria. That was one Hölle of a display. Never seen anything quite like it. Elsha … I mean Elsa … I mean the Baroness most certainly doesn’t move like that.”
Their eyes met. “You like the way I move, sir?”
“I do, Melody.”
“Maria, sir.”
“Right. Maria. I like the way you move a whole lot.” He then took her by her waist and pulled her close. They stared deeply into each other’s eyes; when their respective parts brushed against one another, they smiled.
The Ländler music came to a halt, and the children scattered. The Captain looked around, surprised. “Brats,” he called, “you don’t have to leave! Nothing is happening here!”
They heard somebody say, “It doesn’t look like nothing to me.”
It was the Baroness. The red-eyed Baroness. The red-eyed Baroness who had multi-colored smoke pouring from her ears.
Maria and the Captain separated. “It isn’t what it looks like,” the Captain said.
“What do you think I think it looks like?” the Baroness asked.
“What do you think that I think that you think that I think it looks like?” the Captain countered.
Ignoring him, the Baroness said to Maria, “That was lovely dancing, Maria, simply lovely.” She took the Governess by the elbow. “You must teach me how to Ländler. Dare I say, you’re the finest female Ländlerer I’ve ever seen.” The Baroness squeezed Maria’s arm, causing Maria to imperceptibly flinch. “Come with me. A Ländler lesson is in order. That’s to say you and I, Vampire, are going to dance.”
Maria’s eyes found the Captain’s. She said, “Your ladyfriend wants a dance lesson.”
“So I see.” He asked the Baroness, “Darling, Maria is a Vampire. Do you think this is a wise idea, to dance with the undead?”
The Baroness’s ear smoke turned red. “I think it’s a wonderful idea. The best idea I’ve had all evening. Now go get a drink or three, and I shall see you posthaste.”
After the Captain took his leave, the two women strolled over to the lake, saying nothing. Finally, when they reached the sand, the Baroness spoke: “Reveal your true self, Maria, and I shall do the same.”
Maria said, “I am what you see, Baroness.” She paused. “I can take off my dress, if you would like,” she said.
“I will if you will,” the Baroness said.
They stripped off their respective clothes, and even though their bodies were drastically different—where Maria was tall, lithe, and muscular, Elsa was short, soft and curvy—each was perfect. Had Colonel von Beckbaw gotten a gander of their pulchritude, his conservative-leaning, Bush-loving, working-folk-hating brain fluid would have oozed from his conservative-leaning, Bush-loving, working-folk-hating ears, and his conservative-leaning, Bush-loving, working-folk-hating heart would have exploded in his conservative-leaning, Bush-loving, working-folk-hating chest.
Maria said, “Now that you’re bare, I defy you to once again take your true form, Baroness. Or should I call you Lillin, daughter of Lillith and Adam?”
Cocking an eyebrow, the Baroness said, “I see you know your Succubus history.”
“Not really,” Maria said. “After I found out what you were, I looked up Succubus on Wikipedia.”
“Wikipedia?” the Baroness asked.
“Never mind. Just sh
ut your mouth and take your true form.”
“If you insist.” She lifted her right arm above her head. The sky turned bright blue, and the wind gusted so strongly that a miniature tsunami formed in the lake. The Baroness’s skin gradually darkened until it was as black as the darkest night, then it began to glow as if lit from inside. The whites of her eyes burnt red, and her pupils disappeared entirely. Her fingernails grew, and grew, and grew, then, when they had grown to three centimeters, their tips took the shape of a triangle, after which her breasts ballooned until they could balloon no more. A wing sprung from each of her shoulder blades, and she began to grow … and grow … and grow some more … until she stood ten meters tall, at once hideous and beautiful.
“I can’t lie,” Maria said. “That’s one impressive transformation. Puts my bat thing to shame.”
The Baroness roared, “Let’s begin the dance, Vampire!” She crouched into a defensive stance. “Strike the first blow!”
Maria shrugged. “If you insist.” Then she cocked her fist and threw a haymaker at the Baroness’s midsection.
She hit air. The Baroness was gone.
From directly behind her, Maria heard a casual chuckle. “Did this Wikipedia of yours tell you that Succubi can move like a will o’ the wisp?” And then she kicked Maria on the small of her back; Maria fell facedown into the sand with such force that her head was buried entirely. “Did this Wikipedia of yours tell you that Succubi can kick like a flibbertijibbet?”
The Vampire extricated her head from the Earth, spit out a mouthful of sand, and said, “No. But it did tell me that there are two kinds of women in the world: Those who fick, and those who get ficked. And I’m about to fick you like you have never been ficked before.”
Maria hopped up and, anticipating the Baroness’s next move, kicked just to the left of her head. Sure enough, the Succubus leaned into the kick, and found herself on the ground, on her back, staring up at the sky. The Baroness rolled to her left and onto her side, narrowly avoiding Maria’s heel. Pushing the ground with her wings, the Baroness raised herself to a standing position, and backhanded Maria in the face, opening a gash on her cheek that oozed a thick, blue substance that, when it dripped to the ground, turned the sand into rock. Maria snatched up one of the newly-formed stones and hurled it at the Baroness’s face. The Baroness ducked and leaned right, but Maria again anticipated her move, and the rock struck her in the ear. Again, the Baroness fell onto the sand, her wings splayed out on either side of her. Maria leapt seven meters in the air and landed squarely on the Baroness’s left wing. The Baroness let out a screech that caused every male within a ten-kilometer radius to spew their seed, and every woman in the same range to drip from their lady-parts … Maria included. The warm feeling down below so overtook the Vampire that she lay down on her back, spread her legs wide, raised her hips, and touched that area. With some difficulty, the Baroness pulled herself to a sitting position, and found herself face-to-lady-parts with Maria. She was so disconcerted by the Vampire’s hand-action that she transformed back into her human form.
“This isn’t over, Maria,” the Baroness said.
Breathing heavily, Maria gasped and moaned, “You’re correct.” Gasp. “It isn’t over yet.” Moan. “But give me about ten seconds.” Gasp. “Oh, there it is.” Sigh. “It’s now over.” Contented smile.
Baroness Elsa Schrader limped away, shaking her head and muttering, “How the Hölle do you solve a problem like Maria? How the Hölle do you solve a problem like Maria? How the Hölle do you solve a problem like Maria?…”
INTERLUDE #3
“CAN’T LIE, DRAC,” Handsome Boy said. “All this Vampire-on-Succubus sexual subtext ain’t a bad thing.”
“It’s not subtext,” Dracula pointed out. “It’s text.”
“The Vampire-on-Vampire lesbian sex was pretty hot, too,” Felt Face said. “One, two, three, four. I’ve popped four boners.”
“Do Muppets have the ability to pop boners?” Brown Cape asked.
“Don’t know and don’t care, because I’m not a Muppet. Can cartoon cereal characters pop boners?”
“Don’t know and don’t care, because I’m not a cartoon cereal character.” Brown Cape stood up and said, “I’m grabbing a drink. You guys want anything from the fridge?”
“Blood,” Dracula said.
“Ditto,” Handsome Boy said.
Felt Face said, “One, two. Two. In other words, make mine a double.”
After Brown Cape returned with the libations, Dracula asked, “Which begs the question, does all this sex and sexual tension advance the plot?”
Handsome Boy said, “Plot advancement? Ha! Even the characters in the book bitch about plot advancement, or lack thereof. The sex is strictly for the sake of titillation.”
Brown Cape said, “Maybe it’s a metaphor. Or an allegory. Or a simile. Or a homonym. Or a synonym. Or a…”
“Oh, cut the crap, General Mills,” Handsome Boy said. “You’re making an ass out of yourself.”
“How’s that?”
“One, because you didn’t read the book, and B) because you have no clue what any of those literary devices mean.”
“Apparently,” Brown Cape sneered, “neither does the author.”
“Guys, guys, guys, settle down,” Dracula said. “Believe it or not, General Mills here is right. It’s all a bunch of metaphors … ham-handed metaphors, granted, but metaphors nonetheless. The point is, in the movie, Maria and the Baroness are vying for the Captain’s affection, but it’s all hiding beneath a veneer of faux-politeness. Goldsher’s using sex to heighten and exaggerate the rivalry.”
“So it’s not really a metaphor,” Handsome Boy said. “It’s heightening and exaggeration.”
“Heightening and exaggeration,” Felt Face said. “I count one, two. Two of the most important properties of parody.”
Dracula pointed at Felt Face. “What he said. I stand corrected. Now wait’ll you check out the sex stuff at the end of chapter seven…”
“Screw that,” Handsome Boy said. “Let’s just watch the movie and call it a night.”
Throwing his book onto the coffee table, Dracula said, “You want to watch the movie? Fine, we’ll watch the movie.”
As the host searched through his DVD collection, Handsome Boy looked at his watch and said, “Get moving, bloke,” then, under his breath, added, “Can’t let that Jacob arsehole start sniffing around Bella.”
CHAPTER 7
MARIA WAS EXHAUSTED, as exhausted as she had ever been, even more exhausted than after her feeding frenzy of 1697, a frenzy that lasted three months, and lead to the deaths, and/or the undeaths of 201 people, thus turning the tiny town of Gosch into Austria’s first Vampire colony.
That exhaustion was physical, but this, this was mental. Overseeing the von Trapp children, even for this brief amount of time, was all-consuming, plus, the Captain was childlike in his own right, and there was only so much babysitting Frau Alice and Alfred could do by themselves. So Maria was compelled to help when and where she could … which, for the most part, meant cleaning up the Captain’s empty bottles, empty glasses, and regurgitate.
And then there was the Baroness. Ah, the Baroness, the Succubus from Hölle, the nemesis she’d never asked for. (Why would anybody want to be my nemesis? Maria wondered. I’m a nice creature, always kind to everybody … except for the periodic disembowelment, but I never disemboweled anybody who didn’t more or less deserve it.) As far as Maria knew, she had never said or done anything to merit Elsa’s ire—Alright, stepping on the Baroness’s wing wasn’t necessarily the kindest of gestures, Maria admitted to herself, but she started it. And sure, she had had that nice moment with the Captain down by the lake after the Ländler, but there had been no kissing or fondling involved, so that shouldn’t have upset the Baroness. Maybe she’s simply insecure, Maria thought. But why on Earth would a Succubus be insecure about keeping a gentleman pleased? Pleasing gentlemen is theoretically their expertise. It was all very confusing
… and exhausting.
Maria opened her bedroom window, taking in the stars and their awful beauty, wishing she were back at the Abbey, where life was far less complex. Yes, the Abbey had its downsides—Cinnamon and Brandi, for instance, were busybody tattletales, which Maria always found odd, because one would think that centuries-old Zombies would have more to keep their minds occupied than reporting her comings and goings to Mother Zombie—but she had her cramped, fetid room, and she had Mother Zombie beating her regularly, and she had easy access to the Untersberg, so all in all, it was a lovely place for a Vampire to spend her undeath.
On the other hand, there were certain aspects of the von Trapp mansion that made for a nice existence. There was … there was … there was … well, truth be told, aside from the wonderful acoustics in the ground-floor bathroom—acoustics that allowed for some quite fulfilling saxophonics and fantasies about John Coltrane—there was only one thing that got Maria excited: Captain Georg von Trapp.
There was something about the old lush that caught Maria’s fancy. It wasn’t his looks—he was probably a handsome man back before he became a single father and started drinking gin for breakfast. It wasn’t his money—like most Vampires of her era, Maria cared little for material goods, and besides, if there was something she really wanted, she could kill its owner and steal it. No, it was the Captain’s bearing: The way he staggered across the floor, the way he spoke down to people, the way he handled his children with a drunken iron fist. It all added up to the kind of flawed man that any female Vampire would happily allow into their lady-parts time and time again.
Bored with looking at the stars, Maria began to disrobe, but she was so tired that stripping was proving to be problematic. And then, a light knock at the door: “Good evening, Vampire. May I come in?” Then, without receiving an answer, Baroness Elsa Schrader opened the door and walked across the threshold. “It seems you’re having some trouble with your outfit. Might I lend you a hand?” Cat-like, Maria hissed, and bared both her fangs and nails at the Succubus. The Baroness held up her hands in what appeared to be a conciliatory manner. “I come in peace, Maria. I mean you no harm. I’d just like to speak. Can we do that?”
My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires Page 15
