I have real affection for the old black and white horror classics from the 30’s made by Universal. The more you’ve seen these, the more sense this will make….
It was a dark and stormy night. The wind howled, the thunder crashed and jagged shards of lightening illuminated the sign swinging in the wind marking the entrance to the Transylvania Bar and Grill. Inside three old friends sat at a table.
“Vampire walks into a bar,” said The Count, trilling his “r’s” in that thick Romanian accent. “The bartender says ‘what’ll you have? Gin and tonic? Manhattan?’ He says ‘no, give me Bloody Mary’. Next thing you know bartender brings drink with celery stalk in it. Vampire looks at bartender and says ‘what is this?’ Bartender says ‘it’s what you ordered, a bloody Mary.’ And Vampire says, get this—no, you fool, I wanted Mary--- to make bloody Mary. Now where is she?” And he laughs uproariously while the other two just look at him with deadpan expressions.
“I don’t know Count, maybe it’s a vampire thing,” said Larry Talbot, the Wolf Man. “To me it’s not that funny. What do you think, Kharis?”
The Mummy didn’t say anything.
“He never says anything, Larry,” said the Count. “Why do you even ask him?”
At the sound of approaching hoof beats, all three turned toward the door. The door burst open and a lean figure in a long waistcoat and fashionable hat strode in. He blurted out a cheery greeting.
“Hello, boys. How’s it hanging?” said Victor Frankenstein.
“Hello, Doc,” they chorused in unison.
“Is dull here,” said the Count. “They do not laugh at my jokes.”
Doc Frank, as they liked to call him, pulled up a chair. “Drac, that’s because your material is 500 years old. We’ve all heard it. The problem with you boys is that you’re outdated. This is the modern era.” The Doc looked around. “Hey Kharis, get us some drinks willya?”
Kharis was glued to the TV over the bar.
“He’s been watching the Discovery Channel nonstop,” explained Larry. “It’s a special on what they found in King Tut’s tomb. He was hoping it might be the Royal Princess Ananka.”
“Who did they find?” asked the Count.
The Doc threw up his hands. “King Tut, Count, who else?
He guessed the Count didn’t watch a lot of TV. “Kharis, a drink already?”
Kharis lumbered off of his perch and approached the bar, stepping first then slowly dragging his other foot. Thump…drag…thump…drag.
The Doc shook his head in amazement. “Slowest monster I’ve ever seen.” He turned to the others. “You wonder how he does it. He thinks every babe in a white flowing nightgown is this Royal Princess Ananka and so off he goes, right after her. He comes shambling through the fog and right through the French doors. She sees him and screams. Must be the bandages. Next thing you know, she’s taking off through the woods like she’s running a four minute mile. Kharis here is plodding along, dragging his foot after every step, that thump…drag thing. And then, of course, she trips.”
“There are a lot of exposed roots on those trails,” ventured Larry.
“Yeah, but as soon as she does, HE’S RIGHT THERE. Now how, I ask you, is that remotely possible? By the time she trips on that nightgown, she should at least be two miles down the trail ahead of him.” He slapped his hands on the table.
Larry shrugged. “Maybe he took a short cut.”
The Doc eyed Larry in disgust. “A short cut. Right.”
“Listen, Doc,” said Larry running his hands through his hair, an anguished expression on his face, “you gotta help me find that old gypsy woman. She can cure me. I can’t help myself. You know, ‘Even a man who’s pure at heart and says his prayers by night….’”
“….becomes a wolf when the wolfbane blooms and the Autumn moon is bright,” finished the Doc. “Yes, yes I know all that. Let me tell you something, Larry---you’ll never find her. She’s off the grid. She drives a donkey cart, for heaven’s sake. No GPS, no OnStar, no nothing. She could be in the Carpathian Mountains anywhere. Or Scotland. Or Finland. Hell, she could be in Hoboken for all you know. Forget it.”
“And,” added the Doc, “if you could find her, you’d want her to fix you up with some hot gypsy chick, not cure you.”
“What do you mean, this ‘fix up’?” asked the Count skeptically.
“That’s what I wanted to talk to you boys about. You need a new shtick. You’re old school. You’re your father’s monsters. This is today. You gotta get with what’s happening now.”
“Things are difficult,” acknowledged the Count. “Since that woman from New Orleans wrote that book; vampires are now, how you say, sensitive? They brood instead of biting throats, they simper, they sulk….”
“I know what you mean, Count. It’s worse than that. Now you got your Buffy, your Twilight, your teenage vampires and werewolves and they’re horny, not hungry. It’s all about this hot blooded sex. Kids!” The Doc snorted.
He looked meaningfully at them all. “So I had an idea.”
“Uh, oh,” mouthed the Count.
Larry was skeptical too. “Well Doc your last idea didn’t work out so well. I mean with that creature and all. Didn’t that end up with a bunch of angry villagers with pitchforks and torches storming your laboratory?”
The Doc put his hands up defensively. “Ok. Ok. I know. It got a little out of hand. But that was just a big misunderstanding. I got it all straightened out now. See what I did, I got the guy a bride---well, actually I made the guy a bride, but what’s the difference?”
“What does she look like? Does the creature like her?” asked Larry.
“She’s cute, but she has bad hair days,” explained the Doc. “But that’s not the point. The point is what he did to her.”
“And what was that?” queried the Count. “Did he strangle her?”
“No, no, no,” said Doc Frank. “Much better. See they were getting on ok, but she had this habit of hissing at him and he didn’t like it one bit. So one day he’s had enough. So he throws her over his knee, lifts her nightgown and wallops her bottom ‘til she can’t sit for a week.”
“Whoa,” said Larry. “wasn’t she really mad after that?”
“Mad? Mad? She loved it! She grabs him, drags him into bed and they have monster sex. Calmed the creature right down. It did wonders for that anger management problem of his. He’s mellowed out. No more villagers with pitchforks and torches.”
“So how does that help us?” the Count asked.
Doc Frank became serious. “Let me ask you a question, Count. When you entrap a maiden say, your Lucy or Mina, what do you want to do?”
“That’s easy,” intoned the Count, “I vant to drink their blood.”
“And Larry,” said the Doc, “how about you?”
Larry scratched his head. “Uh, rip their throats out, I guess.”
“And Kharis there, what does he do?”
“I’ve never seen him do anything but put them up on an altar,” said Larry. “Then some square jawed boyfriend shows up and there’s pushing and shoving and Kharis ends up sunk in the swamp.”
The Doc nodded. “And that’s your problem in a nutshell. Same old, same old. Now look,” he said lowering his voice and leaning in toward them, “the next time you’ve got some babe in your evil clutches, what you do is you flip them over, pull up their skirts, pull down their bloomers and paddle their little heinies red until they’re flapping around and screaming for mercy.”
“And this will help us how?” asked the Count a bit skeptically.
“It’ll rejuvenate you, make you feel alive again.” The Doc spread his hands enthusiastically.
“I have been undead for 500 years,” intoned the Count dramatically, raising an index finger. “I am dead yet alive.”
“Ok, ok, Count--- spare me the technical details. I was always fuzzy on that whole dead/undead thing. The point is,” he continued, “this spanking thing is a lot more user-friendly. Less wear and tear on the heroines than strangling, throat ripping or blood sucking. Besides they can take it. They’ve all got really nice behinds.” He waited for that fact to sink in, then continued, “You ever notice your heroines don’t have much upstairs? But below the waist, ba-boom! Am I right?”
All three nodded in agreement. They had noticed that.
“And, as a big bonus, 15-20 percent of your heroines are going to actually like it.”
“Like it? Fifteen to twenty per cent?” asked Larry.
“Statistics don’t lie. They’ve done studies. And, it’s about thirty percent in the UK.” Doc Frank leaned back, smugly confident.
“And why would that be?” asked the Count skeptically.
The Doc shrugged. “Beats me. Boarding schools, six-of-the-best, Colonel Mustard in the library with the tawse? Who knows? Maybe it’s cold and rainy and they’re stuck inside with nothing better to do. If you ask me it’s not much of a stretch. Any country whose citizens eat kidneys in a pie and something called ‘spotted dick’ probably like getting their asses thrashed too. If you’re going to be miserable, go all the way.” Doc Frank paused a moment, reflecting. “Actually, come to think of it, the brain I used for the bride of the creature came from a graveyard in Newcastle…”
The three old friends looked at each other. Should they?
“Is worth a try,” said the Count.
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Well boys,” asked Doc Frank, “how did it go?”
The Count gleefully rubbed his hands together. “Doc, you are genius.”
“Tell me,” said the Doc with a wide smile.
“I lure Lucy and Mina to Carfax Abbey. Inside I place two trestles side by side. Lucy and Mina do my bidding and bend over the trestles. I tie hands and feet to trestles, then I raise long flowing nightgowns to reveal plump bottoms. I spank them a few times like you say. The rear cheeks wriggle. I have bucket of brine with stout birch rods all prepared by Mr. Harker in advance. The girls turn their heads to look at me nervously. They want me to drink their blood but I say, ‘no, tonight you bad girls-- you must be punished.’ Then I strike with birch rod—swish!swish!swish! Red lines appear on bottoms. The girls wriggle bottoms and scream delightfully.”
The Count got a faraway look in his eye. “Like the children of the night---what beautiful music they make!”
“Ok, ok Count. Then what?” The Doc was on tenterhooks.
“I am giving girls sound birching. They squirm over trestles, their bottoms wobbling as I strike again and again. This is most fun in 500 years. Then Van Helsing arrives. He has hammer and stake, as usual. But he drops wooden stake. Asks me how I got into London townhouse to steal Lucy and Mina away. So I tell him, ‘they let me in’. He says ‘that does it’ and he unties Lucy and Mina.”
“He didn’t try and drive a stake through your heart?” asked Larry incredulously.
“No. He grab both Lucy and Mina by an earlobe and leads them away, squealing.”
“Well, what did he say?”
The Count thought for a moment then put up a finger. “He say something like ‘just wait until I get you home. For letting vampire in, I’m going to strap you until you can’t sit for a week’.”
The Doc was astonished. “And no stake in the heart. That really turned out well for you.” He turned toward Larry. “How about you?”
“It was really fine Doc,” said the Wolf Man. “When the full moon rose, all that hair sprouted and the fangs came out, but I remembered to tie a strap around my waist. Then I caught this girl I really like, Gwen, who just happened to be walking alone, out in the fog. You see I like her, and I think she likes me, but she’s got this boyfriend---anyway, it’s complicated. I grabbed her and threw her over my knee. Then I pulled up her skirt. You were right. She has a really nice behind. It was a little awkward with my claws, you know, but I got her panties down and started strapping her on her bare bottom. Boy! She howled louder than me. So I’m whacking her cute rear end with the strap and her bottom’s getting really red when her boyfriend shows up. He’s got this silver tipped cane, and you know I don’t like those things, so I let her go. Well, he grabs her and says, ‘What are you doing out here walking in the fog all alone? Don’t you see that Wolf Man over there?’ And he hustles her along down the path. I hear him promising to blister her good with his hairbrush when they get back to the manor.”
“You see?” said the Doc triumphantly. “You did a public service. Now she ‘won’t go walkin’ in those spooky ol’ woods alone’.” Larry grinned and said, “Ahhooo!”
“What about Kharis?”
“Same thing,” said Larry. “He had her on that altar face down with her nightgown up and panties down. He was paddling her bottom really hard with some kind of Egyptian ankh-shaped thing. She’s screaming and kicking and squirming, but Kharis keeps on paddling her backside. Then her boyfriend shows up. He asks her how Kharis got into the mansion, and she admits that she left the French doors open and he walked right in. The boyfriend seemed pretty mad. Said he’d show her out in the woodshed what a real paddling was like for not locking the house at night.”
Doc Frank threw up his hands. “See? There you go. I rest my case. You boys not only updated your images, you performed some valuable public services. These young ladies will think twice now about leaving the windows unlocked or running around on the moors at night.”
Larry scratched his head. “Yeah, Doc that’s great but how will we….?”
Everyone stopped. The room shook with the sound of pounding thuds, like giant footsteps. The pounding got louder and the bar shook violently. Bottles and glasses fell and shattered.
“Count and Larry, and Kharis, did you tell anyone else about this plan?”
Larry sheepishly admitted, “Well, yeah. I told The Creature from the Black Lagoon. He tried it on mermaids. Didn’t work, he said. The tails were all wrong.”
The thumping grew louder. “I got a bad feeling about this. The word must have got out somehow. I just hope it’s not who I think it is. Larry, look out the window.”
Larry peeked out the window into the gloom. “Oh no,” he muttered.
“Larry, is it…?”
Larry looked at the seated trio. With a heavy sigh he said, “Yep. It’s King Kong.”
“Criminy,” cursed the Doc. “What am I gonna do for him? Who do you fix up an oversize monkey with?”
King Kong’s face appeared in the front bay window, filling it completely. He did not look happy.
Then the Doc snapped his fingers. “I got it!” he shouted. “Barkeep, you got a phone? Quick, get me Tokyo.”
“Boys,” he said, eyes brightly shining, “We’re gonna be ok. I bet you didn’t know this--- but I think Godzilla is actually a chick!”