Читать книгу The Reluctant Vampire Omnibus - Gary Morecambe, Eric Morecambe - Страница 9

A Vampire family on the street;

A Werewolf with only crisps to eat.

Valentine suddenly stopped Igon by putting his hand out. The Doctor and the servant behind nearly bumped into them. Since they had left Valentine’s room the four had been walking along seemingly endless corridors. Now Valentine had spotted the motif of a bat biting the throat of another bat on a door. He turned to his new friends and nodded.

Slowly he opened the door and they all looked into a very large, beautifully furnished room. Even the coffin in the middle of the room was made from Japanese walnut and highly polished. The handles of the coffin were gold, as was a massive candelabra holding twelve sixteen-inch lighted candles on a round, exquisitely-made satinwood table.

‘Hello, Mum,’ Valentine smiled, directing the other five eyes to the coffin. ‘Mum?’ he called, ‘are you in there?’

Queen Valeeta’s head rose slowly out of the opened coffin. She saw Valentine and smiled.

‘Darling. My darling boy,’ she breathed heavily. ‘Give me a hand, there’s a good boy. It’s time I rose. I have to meet your father. He’s taking us out tonight. You, too, Valentine, if you are well enough.’

Valentine helped his mother out of the coffin. She stood on the floor and swayed for a moment, then quickly composed herself. She took three or four deep breaths then looked at Igon, Doctor Plump and the servant. She raised a quizzical eyebrow at Valentine which asked what these people were doing in her room. She was a strikingly beautiful woman and at the moment was striking Igon beautifully over the head with a lighted candle.

‘Who are these people?’ she hissed.

‘They are my friends,’ Valentine said. ‘Doctor Plump, Ronnoco Sed and Igon, who you have known since being a little girl.’

‘I’ve never been a little girl,’ Igon protested. Ronnoco Sed and Doctor Plump both hit him at the same time.

Vernon suddenly joined them in the room. He didn’t come in through the door. He didn’t come in through the window. He just appeared in the middle of the room behind a flash of bright blue smoke.

They all looked at Vernon, with a surprised look on their faces, including Vernon himself. This was the first time he had done the trick right. He had transported himself from the cellars up into his mother’s room.

He stood there, in the middle of the room, dazed and slightly on fire, trying to put himself out by patting himself hard and blowing on himself even harder. He was having little success. At the moment he was smouldering like an old bonfire.

Igon was the first to come to his senses. He picked up a pitcher of water and threw it at Vernon but, sadly, he let go of the pitcher too and it landed slap-bang on the back of Vernon’s head.

The pitcher broke on impact, covering him with water and therefore putting out the fire. It also put Vernon out, cold. The Doctor fainted on top of an already fainted Ronnoco Sed for the second time that evening.

Valentine could hardly hold back a smile while his mother laughed out loud and applauded. Igon knew he was in for it as soon as Vernon came round, so he tried to climb up the chimney.

Igon was a very lucky warped old man that night for, just as Vernon came to his senses and was just beginning to think of knocking the already minute senses completely out of Igon, Victor came into the room through the window. In this household Victor was the King. His word was law.

He looked at his family and the Doctor and the servant and then at Igon scrambling about in the fireplace among the ashes.

‘Igon,’ he hissed. ‘Vot are you doink? Are you arrivink or are you goink, ya?’

Vernon suddenly spoke. ‘He hit me, father. That stupid, stunted swine hit me. He hit me with a pitcher.’ Vernon, his eyes glowing with rage, glared at poor Igon but Victor’s satanic eyes slowly turned towards Vernon and Vernon knew he made a bad mistake in interrupting his father. Quickly and sullenly he murmured an apology. The King hissed softly in a voice filled with venom:

‘Since ven has it been permissible to interrupt your father?’ He hit Vernon with the flat of his hand across the cheek, leaving a blue mark across his white face. ‘Ant since ven,’ he continued, ‘has it been permissible to interrupt the Kink?’

Once again he slapped Vernon across the other cheek, leaving another blue mark that matched the first one. Vernon’s eyes, blood-red with anger, looked steadily at his father. Valentine looked at the ground while Valeeta looked at her husband, her eyes filled with pride and love. Doctor Plump and Ronnoco Sed slept soundly on in their faint.

Igon had stopped scrambling in the ashes and was now trying to cover himself with logs.

‘Igon, mine little filty frent. Come here,’ Victor commanded.

Igon did as he was told and came to Victor, expecting another powerful blow about his head. Victor put his hand out to rest gently on top of Igon’s head, saying:

‘Igon, you are the most beautiful ugly think I haff ever seen, ant I’ve seen a few ugly thinks in mine time. But I haff never seen anythink quite as beautifully ugly as you.’

Igon gave Victor the kind of look an obedient dog gives its master. Victor then playfully kicked Igon to the other side of the room and as Igon rolled over and over, the only thing he could hear was a deep-throated laugh coming from the direction of Victor, King of the Vampires. As Igon rolled to a stop, Victor continued to speak.

‘Vell, mine beloved family. Tonight ve vill go out together. How gutt it is to see you lookink so vell, Valentine.’

The Doctor stirred.

‘Ah, Doctor. I’m glat to see you. I’m thankink you for curink mine son, Valentine, from the vapours. You see, I knew you could do it.’

The Doctor, who was still not quite himself, got shakily to his feet. Valentine spoke before the Doctor could say anything.

‘Yes, Father. The Doctor was very good and also very quick. He found out the cause and the cure too.’

‘Vot was the cause?’

‘Er … too much blood, Father. I’ve been drinking too much blood,’ Valentine lied, looking sideways at the Doctor, hoping he wouldn’t be fool enough to say something else.

‘Ant the cure?’ Victor asked his son.

‘Blood oranges.’

‘Blood oranges?’

‘Yes Father. From now on I have only to eat blood oranges. Isn’t that correct, Doctor?’

Doctor Plump half smiled and half nodded.

‘The Doctor said that blood oranges would be better than real blood if I want to stay cured of the dreaded Vampire vapours, and you know how contagious they are, Father.’

‘Blood oranges are contagious?’ asked his Father.

‘No Father, the vapours are contagious,’ Valentine corrected.

‘I see,’ said Victor, almost to himself. ‘Vell, iff you haff to haff blood oranges, then blood oranges it vill be.’ He looked at his wife, who knowing Valentine’s feelings about blood, nodded her head in agreement.

‘But I’m tellink you this, mine son. Blood oranges vill eventually rot your teeth. Come everyvon. Ve vill all go into the village to celebrate Valentine’s recovery.’ He led the way to the window.

Valentine didn’t want to go out of the window and neither did the Doctor. Nor would Ronnoco Sed when he came round.

‘Er … Father.’

‘Yes, mine son.’

‘Maybe I should take the others out by the front door.’

‘Vy?’

‘Well, they are not like us. They can’t turn into bats and fly out of the window.’

‘Throw Igon out of the window. Please let me throw Igon out of the window, Father,’ Vernon begged.

‘There, there, dear,’ his mother said. ‘Not tonight. Maybe some other night. Now do as your Father asks.’

Victor fixed his eyes on his wife. ‘Asks?’ he said loudly. ‘Asks,’ he said even louder. ‘Do as your Father tells him, not asks. I am the Kink ant you all do as I command. All off you. Unterstant?’

Vernon and the King of the Vampires looked at each other. The air in the room crackled with electric hate. Vernon backed down under his father’s gaze. Victor, knowing he had beaten his son, gave a smile that could freeze two flames together. He looked around the room, his gaze resting on his other son, Valentine.

‘Very vell, you take the others out through the front door.’ He looked at the Doctor and the servant. ‘I vould take you out that vay mineself, but I’m afraid I don’t know vere the front door is.’

With that he gathered his wife and Vernon close to him, put his hand inside his cloak pocket, bringing out the ex-mayor of Katchem, and put him on his shoulder. He led them to the window, saying before they all jumped.

‘Ve vill see you in the main street, in the doorvay off Motherscares, ya?’

It took Ronnoco Sed a little while to come round fully. The three of them then made their way to the door. Then Valentine looked round and saw Igon huddled in a corner of the room with tears of sadness welling up in his eye.

‘Come on,’ Valentine called. ‘We can’t go without you, can we? You are the only one who knows the way.’

Igon wiped the tears away from his eye with his sleeve and ran after his hero, Valentine.

It took them forty minutes to get to the front door and that was at speed. It took Igon forty seconds to get to the same door. He had found a shortcut. To be perfectly honest, the shortcut found him.

He was leaning against a wooden panel along the corridor, trying to get his breath back, when suddenly the panel opened and he fell straight down, landing on the stone flags below, just outside the front door.

Lady Luck continued to be with him that night and luckily the fall was broken by his legs. He didn’t cry out in pain, having been taught from the beatings given to him by his lovely and much-missed Mummy to be impervious to pain. He always used to say she had the best left hook he had ever felt and she could have been the world champion heavyweight boxer if she hadn’t been disqualified in the tenth for consistent butting.

Igon lay there, thinking of Mummsy and what the other lads would think of him being there before them. They were quite surprised.

Meanwhile, King Victor, Queen Valeeta and Prince Vernon stood in the doorway of Motherscares, sheltering from the rain. They were huddled together, trying very hard not to attract the attention of Wilf the Werewolf who was across the street, also sheltering from the rain in the doorway of Boots the Cobbler, whose son was in England learning to be a chemist. Of course, everyone wondered what good that would do him.

Wilf stood there, leaning near the window, loudly eating the last of his smokey bacon crisps. It was two in the morning and the rain was still pouring down. Wilf normally wasn’t bothered about rain but tonight he wasn’t too happy as it was affecting his hard pad and as most of you realise, there’s nothing worse for a werewolf than a wet hard pad.

A lonely, huddled figure walked nervously along the pavement. Wilf squeezed back against the shop doorway, trying to press himself against it so as to be almost invisible.

The lonely figure looked round to see if it was being followed and as it passed the entrance to the shop where Wilf was hiding, a parcel fell on to the ground. The figure stooped down to pick it up at the same time as Wilf sprang out to grab the figure.

Victor, Valeeta and Vernon all watched Wilf sail over the top of the bent figure and land in the middle of the road. In all his years (over two hundred of them) Victor had never seen a werewolf with such a surprised look on his face. Its face had the same look a midget would have who had just been told he had won the long jump in the Olympics.

The huddled figure stood up and looked across the road to see Wilf sprawling in the gutter. Instead of running off while it had the opportunity, it walked towards Wilf and helped him out of the road.

‘Are you all right, Wilf?’

‘Fine thanks, Mum,’ Wilf answered back. ‘I didn’t know it was you. What are you doing out at this time of night?’

‘Well dear, I thought you would be about the village, what with it raining so hard and your corns …’

‘Hard pad, Mum.’

‘Oh yes. Well, like I was saying, I thought you’d be around on account of the rain. I thought you wouldn’t be going off into the woods and all that scaring the children stuff …’

‘And grown-ups as well, Mum.’

‘Of course, dear … in the pouring rain.’ Wilf’s mum smiled at her son. ‘So I’ve brought your favourite; a toasted cheese sandwich.’

‘Aw Mum. Who ever heard of a werewolf eating a toasted cheese sandwich? I mean to say, Mum. Couldn’t you have brought something like a pork chop?’

‘A pork chop? Why, Wilf Igrate.’ She called him by his full name. ‘You don’t like pork chops. You always say “I don’t like pork chops” and here you are in the middle of Katchem, actually asking for pork chops! Well I never. Wilf, you worry me the way you never know what you want. Lord knows, I’ve accepted the fact that you’re a werewolf, although what your father would say if he ever came back I shudder to think. But I honestly cannot get used to your not knowing what you want.’

‘I tell you what, Mum,’ Wilf said, trying his best to get back into her good books. ‘I tell you what.’

‘What?’ she said sharply.

‘Leave the sandwich and I will eat it, I promise. Cross my heart.’ He drew a cross on his body.

‘That’s your liver, you big oaf.’

‘Well, you know what I mean, Mum.’ He put a paw around her ample body and tried to lick her face. She pushed him away gently, saying:

‘Stop that, you big soft thing. I’m going home now so if I don’t see you, be a good boy and don’t forget when you come home I want a loaf. Fresh, mind you.’

Wilf nodded and gave his Mum another quick lick. She walked back up the street, glad she had made the effort and seen her boy.

All through this mother and son reunion the royal family of Vampires stood stock still and watched them from the doorway of Motherscares. Wilf had no idea they were there, and the Vampires were happy to keep it that way, especially Valeeta who really didn’t like Wilf on the rather selfish grounds that he could grow his own fur coat, while she had to beg and pray to her husband to get her one. In all fairness he did so, even though the first time she wore it two dogs chased her up a tree.

Wilf would never have seen them at all if it hadn’t been for Ronnoco, Doctor Plump, Valentine and Igon coming noisily down the street and stopping in front of Motherscares.

He limped across the street to them, kicking his rolled-up smokey bacon crisp packet in the style of Gotcha’s most famous footballer, Cruft, whom Wilf had a tremendous admiration for. Valeeta spoke in a vicious whisper to Victor.

‘Get rid of him.’

Victor looked at his wife in surprise. ‘Eh?’

‘Get rid of him.’

‘Who?’

‘Him.’ She nodded towards Wilf playing football in the middle of the road.

‘Vilf?’ he asked.

‘Yes, Vilf … I mean Wilf.’

‘You mean kill him?’

‘If you have to.’

‘But I can’t do that.’ He spoke quickly and softly out of the corner of his mouth. He always found this difficult to do on account of the rather large teeth on either side. ‘He is von of our biggest tourist attractions. He brinks in thousands of gripples a year. It’s through him that ve haff vater runnink out off the taps.’

Wilf kicked the rolled crisp packet towards them with all his might and shouted ‘Goal’. The ‘ball’ hit Vernon in the face. As it bounced off his face it left a small piece of crisp on the end of his nose which Wilf licked off. Vernon stood there and fumed.

‘Hello everybody,’ Wilf said, offering his paw to be shaken. Valentine spoke first.

‘Hello Wilf. The way you’re playing you’ll soon make the national team.’

‘Thanks Val. I thought you had the dreaded vapours.’

‘No. Er … not now. Doctor Plump cured me.’

‘Well done, Doc,’ Wilf said, walking over to the Doctor and shaking his wet fur all over him. Ronnoco looked at Wilf and passed out on the shop door entrance. Everyone ignored him.

Queen Valeeta was starting to get a little angry with all the noise and the confusion. It was a mite too much for her. She asked rather loudly what the time was. No one had a watch with them and the village clock was broken because someone kept sitting on the long hand at a quarter to twelve every night. But Wilf told her not to worry about the time as he could easily find out for her.

He went over the road and under a closed, curtained window he began to howl at the top of his voice. After about a minute of howling, the window opened and a voice shouted down to Wilf:

‘What are you doing, Wilf? Don’t you know that it’s almost two thirty in the morning?’ and with that slammed his window.

Wilf thanked him and skipped back across the road to Valeeta to tell her the time was two thirty. She was quite impressed with Wilf’s guile.

They all stayed there in the shop doorway until it was almost dawn and then, of course, the Vampire family had to go back to the castle to sleep for the rest of the day.

But Valentine wasn’t happy. He wanted to get away from all this Vampire business and to live a normal life with a pretty wife and roses around the door of a cottage and the patter of little children’s feet, and not the patter of little rats’ feet like at the castle. But, sadly, he thought, ‘That can’t happen. Not for me. I’m a Vampire and that’s it. It’s the old saying of Vampires: “Home is where your artery is.”’ Sadly he pulled down his coffin lid and went to sleep.

Vernon thought of diabolical ways of getting rid of Igon before pulling his coffin lid down for the day. King Victor had a daymare, dreaming of living on blood oranges while Queen Valeeta softly smiled to herself in her dream of Wilf.

Wilf stayed in the doorway of Boots and scratched himself to sleep. Ronnoco was left in the doorway of Motherscares, while Doctor Plump went back to his horse and buggy and fell asleep driving home.

Igon sat in the corner of Valentine’s room and thought of his dear, old, kind, generous, heavy-fisted Mother. The wry smile on his face was put there by that same fist!