"Yes, Doctor," Inga replied.
"You're the boss," Igor said. "It's been nice working with you," he added.
Dr. Frankenstein unlocked the door. He flung it open, strode bravely into the library, then slammed it shut behind him. He heard a click, as the door was relocked. There, standing before him, towering over him, was the monster. The doctor noticed that the flame of the candle he held was flickering. Further examination revealed that it was because the hand that held the candle was shaking so violently.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm!" the monster roared.
The doctor whipped around and began pounding furiously on the door. "Let me out!" he screamed. "Let me out of here! Jesus Mother! Open this goddamn door! You bastards! I'll kick your goddamn heads in! Let me out!"
"We're ignoring that," Igor called in.
"Forget what I told you! Let me out, you sons of bitches!"
"Mmmmmmmmmmm!" the monster roared again.
"I'll pay you!" the doctor screamed frantically. "Any price you ask! Name it, it's yours! Oh, Christ, let me out! Please! I'm begging!"
"We can't!" Inga called in.
"Forget my orders!"
"It's not that," she told him. "Frau Blucher has the gun on us!"
The doctor stopped pounding. "Oh . . ." he said weakly.
"Mmmmmmmmmm!"
The roar was not quite as fierce now. Warily, Dr. Frankenstein looked back over his shoulder. The monster was still standing in the same spot. Maybe he didn't intend to attack. Slowly, the doctor turned.
"Mmmmmmmmmm!" the monster roared, heading toward him.
Instinctively, Dr. Frankenstein raised the candle for protection.
The monster halted. He took a step back.
"Oho! Got your number," the doctor said. He stepped forward.
The monster retreated another step.
"You know, I didn't notice before," the doctor said, "but, at bottom, you're not a bad-looking fellow."
"Mmmmmmmm . . ." the monster replied appreciatively.
"Why do people fear you, I wonder?" the doctor went on. "Because they hate you, yes. But why do they hate you?"
"Mmmmmmmmm?" the monster responded.
"Why, because they're jealous," Dr. Frankenstein said, studying the monster more closely. "Look at that face-that boyish face. The sweet mouth. Want to talk about strength?" he exulted. "Sheer physical power? Want to talk about power? I'm putting my cards on the table, boy! You got it! You are a God!"
"Mmmmmmmmm," the monster wept, slipping to his knees.
From beyond the door came the strains of the eerie old Transylvanian lullaby, played on a violin.
Dr. Frankenstein put an arm around the docile monster. "This is a good boy!" he said. "This is a nice boy. This is a mother's angel. I want the world to know," he went on, raising his voice, "this boy is a lamb! I shout it to the heavens! I say it without shame! We love this boy!"
The monster broke. Tears flooded his eyes. He sobbed without shame.
"I'm going to make a man of you!" the doctor told him, shouting. "I'm going to teach you how to walk, how to move, how to think, how to speak! You and I are going to redefine the dreams of forgotten alchemists! Together-you and I-we'll make the single greatest contribution to science since the splitting of the atom!" He grasped the monster by the shoulders. "Do you understand? I'm going to make you a star!"
There was pounding at the door.
"Dr. Fronkonsteen! Dr. Fronkensteen!" Inga shouted. "Are you all right?"
He faced the door. He raised his head high. "My name," he shouted back, "is Frankenstein!"
"Oh, Doctor!"
The doctor turned to the monster again. "Star- phooey," he said. "A superstar!"
The monster rested his mammoth head against the doctor's chest. "Mrnmmmmmm . . . mmmmmm . . . mmmmmm . . . mmmmm . . ." he sang.
The doctor recognized the melody immediately. It was the eerie old Transylvanian lullaby.
"But can he dance?" the doctor wondered aloud.
Transforming a monster into a star cum superstar potential was no easy job. It took days. And it required the talents and dedication of all-Dr. Frankenstein, Inga, Igor, and Frau Blucher.
Inga taught the monster how to walk, how to move. He had trouble at first, thinking that he had to shake his big bazooms when he walked and realizing that he didn't have any big bazooms. Inga solved the problem by wearing a tight bra while she taught. Soon, not only was he walking correctly, but, on his own, he was experimenting with the dance they call the old soft shoe.
Igor and Frau Blucher took over his musical education. The frau taught violin. Igor showed him how to play the horn. Before long, they had him performing on both at once-and wearing a harmonica rig around his neck, preparing for the future.
To the doctor fell the job of teaching the monster to speak. He began with basics, instructing him in the alphabet, then in the sounds that represented the individual letters.
"Now, let's put it all together," the doctor said. "Try this for me: Say, 'Dr. Frankenstein.' "
"Igg maud blip," the monster responded.
"Close enough," the doctor said. "Let's get the show on the road."
A few days later, a poster appeared at the entrance to the Bucharest Academy of Science:
TONIGHT ONLY
Dr. F. Frankenstein
presents THE CREATURE
in
"A Startling New
Experiment in Reanimation"
Presented
in Cooperation with
TNS
(Transylvania Neurological Society)
There was a SOLD OUT sticker across the poster.
The Academy's theater auditorium was jammed with excited scientists that evening when Dr. Frankenstein peeked out from behind the ornate stage curtain. Anticipation was in the air. Being a scientist himself, the doctor knew what the other scientists were feeling. The sons of bitches were praying for a flop.
But they would be disappointed, he told himself, as he left the stage and walked back toward the dressing-room area. The monster would be a hit. How could he miss? Hell, anything a monster did had to be a show-stopper.
"Dr. Frankenstein, I presume," a familiar male voice said.
The doctor found himself face to face with Inspector Kemp. Behind the inspector, at attention, stood a squad of riot police.
"What's this?" the doctor asked. "Why are you here?"
"Happened to be passing by," the inspector told him. "Thought we'd drop in-as a precaution. An ounce of prevention, sir, is worth a pound of cure-when there's a monster on the bill."
"Monster? What monster?"
"This 'Creature,' sir."
"Oh, all right, stick around if you want to," the doctor said. "But don't get in the way."
The stage manager called to Dr. Frankenstein. "Two minutes, sir!"
"We're ready," the doctor told him, hurrying on toward the dressing rooms.
When he returned with the monster and Igor and Inga, the houselights were dimming. They stopped in the wings. The footlights came up. The curtain began rising and the audience fell quiet.
The Academy's director stepped out onto the stage.
"Distinguished colleagues, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "Tonight, I have the special privilege of introducing to you a man whose family name is at once both famous and infamous-"
A murmur rose from the audience.
"-but who embodies today," the Director went on, "the highest aspirations of a new generation and a new world. It gives me great pleasure to bring you . . . Doktor Baron Friedrich von Frankenstein!"
There was applause, enthusiastic but polite, as the director left the stage and Dr. Frankenstein took his place.
"My fellow scientists and neurosurgeons," the doctor began. "A few short weeks ago, coming from a background, believe me, as conservative and traditionally grounded in scientific fact as any of you, I began an experiment in-incredible as it may sound-the reani-mation of dead tissue."
There were sounds of disbeli
ef.
"I have constructed, from medically proven dead human components, a living creature!"
A stunned silence.
"That this creature might, for a day or an hour or a minute, lie in some liquid solution and pulsate-that would be a revolutionary breakthrough," Dr. Frankenstein went on. "But not quite worthy of so distinguished a gathering. What I have to offer you ,.. might possibly be ... the gateway to immortality. May I present: The Creature!"
From stage right came the monster, dressed in a tentlike surgical gown.
Some members of the audience rose from their seats. One member screamed.
"Please!" the doctor said, "Remain seated. We're not children here! We're scientists! I assure you, there is nothing to fear!"
The scientists resumed their seats.
Reaching the center of the stage, the monster stood beside the doctor, then stiffly bowed to the audience. There was a smattering of applause.
"First," Dr. Frankenstein said, "may I offer for your consideration a neurological demonstration of the primary cerebellar functions. That is, balance and coordination." He addressed the monster. "Stand . . . on . . . your . . . toes."
The monster raised himself up.
"Down."
The monster stood flat-footed again.
"Stand . . . on .. . your ... heels."
Back on his heels the monster went.
"Down."
Flat-footed.
Murmurs of amazement rose from the audience.
"Now .. . walk . .. heel. .. to . .. toe."
The monster performed the exercise perfectly.
"Backwards."
The monster returned in the same manner.
Applause. And it was loud and appreciative.
"And . . . now . . . stand . . . heel. . . to . . . toe . .. and . . . shut . .. your . . . eyes . .. and .. . extend ... your . . . arms."
Once more, the monster was perfect.
The applause was loud and spirited.
"The milk bottles, please," the doctor said, speaking toward offstage left.
Igor appeared, wearing tails and carrying two milk bottles, one empty, the other full.
"You're doing beautiful," Igor whispered to the doctor. "Tighten up your pauses and don't lose your energy. You're killing them."
Dr. Frankenstein looked at him closely. Somehow, he was different. "Your hump," the doctor said, "where is it?"
"Never with tails," Igor replied. Then he retreated to the wings.
The doctor placed the empty milk bottle in the monster's extended left hand.
Applause.
He put the full bottle in the monster's extended right hand. The right arm sagged for a second, but then came back up.
More applause.
Dr. Frankenstein relieved the monster of the milk bottles. Igor returned, took the bottles from the doctor, then departed again.
"Until now," the doctor said, addressing the audience once more, "you have seen the creature perform the simple mechanics of motor activity. But for what you are about to see next, we must enter, quietly, into the realm of genius. And believe me when I say that I am--myself-as in awe of the gifts I possess as if I were merely observing them in some other person. Are you ready?"
Igor rolled a grand piano onto the stage. Inga brought the stool.
"Mesdames et messieurs, damen and herren!" the doctor said. "From what was once an inarticulate mass of lifeless tissue, may I now present-"
Igor sat down at the piano.
"-a civilized, cultured, man-about-town!"
Igor played a trill on the keys. At the same time, the stage went dark.
"Hit it!" the doctor shouted.
From the piano, Igor at the keyboard, came a familiar old standard.
A spotlight focused on Dr. Frankenstein and the monster. They had been supplied with top hats and canes. Together, they broke into a soft shoe. The doctor sang out the first verse of the famous old song. Then he gave the spotlight to the monster. The monster haltingly sang the short refrain.
The audience gasped, awestruck. The monster could actually talk.
From the doctor came another stanza. And the monster repeated his line, bolstered by his initial success.
Dr. Frankenstein took the cue and continued the song. The monster ad-libbed while doing some fancy footwork.
The members of the audience rose to their feet again, this time to rattle the auditorium with their applause.
As the doctor swung into another verse, a thin trail of smoke curled up from one of the footlights.
As the monster began to deliver his now-perfect line his delivery was interrupted by a sudden explosion at the front of the stage. The footlight had burst into flame.
There was a momentary hush.
The monster stared at the fire.
The audience stared at the monster.
Dr. Frankenstein rushed to the front of the stage. Trying to stomp out the fire, he broke into song again.
But all that came from the monster was a terrified, "Mmmmmmmmm!" as the fire flashed higher.
A scientist in the audience screamed.
Dr. Frankenstein kept stomping and singing, motioning urgently to the monster to come in with the next line.
"Mmmmmmmmm," the monster moaned.
"I gave you your cue!" the doctor raged at him. "Go on! This fire is nothing! Nothing, I tell you! Go on- sing!"
"Mmmmmmmm," the monster groaned.
The cheers from the audience turned to jeers. A tomato came flying over the footlights and struck the monster full in the face.
"Mmmmmmmmmmm!" the monster roared.
Dr. Frankenstein addressed the audience. "Please! I beg you! For safety's sake, don't humiliate him!"
"Here's your cue again, for God's sake!" he shouted to the terrified monster. "Are you trying to make me look like a fool? Sing, you amateur-sing!"
Trying desperately to measure up, the monster opened his mouth. A raw egg came flying out of the audience and hit him square in the teeth.
"Mmmmmmmmmm!" the monster raged.
"Boooooo!" the audience responded.
"Get him off!" a scientist shouted.
"Fake," another scientist cried.
"What else can your toy do?" a particularly unkind scientist shrieked.
"Mmmmmmmmmm!" the monster roared, stomping toward the front of the stage, going after his tormentors.
Dr. Frankenstein leaped in front of him. "Stop!" he commanded. "I say stop!"
The monster hesitated.
"Go back!" the doctor ordered. "Do you understand? I will not let you destroy my work! As your master, as your creator, I command you-Go Back!"
The monster responded with a colossal whack that sent the doctor sailing off in the general director of stage right, then, with a mighty roar, he charged the audience.
Screams!
A police whistle!
The riot police, with Inspector Kemp in command, appeared from the wings. With clubs swinging, they attacked the monster and quickly beat him and a few innocent bystanders into submission. In minutes, the monster, a mighty mass of force and strength-and nascent superstar-became a helpless prisoner.
Inga and Igor were waiting for the doctor in the entrance hall when he returned from visiting the monster at the jail. Dr. Frankenstein's face was drawn. His eyes were glazed. There was a telltale dampness on his cheeks, suggesting that he had been weeping.
"Is is bad?" Inga asked.
"Worse than can be imagined," the doctor replied. "They have that poor, dumb beast locked up in a cell. Never again will he walk in the sunlight. Never again will he hear the chirping of the birds." He turned away as his eyes began to fill once more with tears of pity.
"We could send him a canary," Igor said.
"Chained!" the doctor sobbed. "Chained like a beast in a cage!"
"If you think about it, that's what he is," Igor said,
"He doesn't have to be a beast," Dr. Frankenstein said, drying his eyes. "If I could just equalize the
imbalance in his cerebrospinal fluid ...if I could find a way to do that, why he'd be as right as rain. But how? How?"
"If you're asking me, forget it," Igor said.
"I think I'll go down to the laboratory," the doctor said. "The answer exists ... if I can just find it. . ."
"I think I'll go up on the roof and play the horn," Igor said, departing.
Dr. Frankenstein set out for the laboratory, followed by Inga.
"Oh, Frederick," she said sadly, "if only I could relieve this torture you're going through."
He took her hand. "Thank you, my dear."
"If only I could help you relax," she said. "If only there were some way that I could give you ... a little peace."
He glanced at her as they descended the stairs. "It can never be," he said stiffly. "You know that."
"Yes ... I know that..."
"There is a very strong physiochemical reaction between us, of course," he said. "I mean, let's face facts."
"Yes, Frederick."
They entered the laboratory and halted. Smiling softly, Inga raised her arms and rested her hands on the doctor's shoulders.
"But we're not children," he said.
"No, Frederick."
Her big bazooms were pressing against his chest.
"We know very well what we can and what we cannot . . . have . . ." he said.
"I think so ... yes ..."
"It's terrible, the price society demands in the name of fidelity," the doctor told her. "After all, in the final analysis, what is fidelity?"
"Not fooling around."
"Yes, of course," the doctor said, taking her hand and leading her toward the operating table, "but what I mean is, not fooling around physically? Or not fooling around intellectually?"
"I see what you mean."
The doctor put his hands at her waist and lifted her up onto the table.
"Doctor," she said, "I've always wanted to know: exactly how fast is the speed of light?"
"A hundred and eighty-six thousand miles per second," he replied, crawling up onto the table.
Inga lay back. "That's awfully fast."
Young Frankenstein Page 9
