[8/18/2011] Woody Allen Tonight: Can the Count get it all together? Part 2 of "Count Dracula" from "Getting Even" (continued)

"Now I really must buzz off. I just remembered, I left the lights on at my castle -- bills'll be enormous . . ."

-- from tonight's thrilling conclusion of "Count Dracula"

OUR STORY THUS FAR . . .

Last night we first encountered the Count waiting patiently in his coffin for "the precise moment of darkness before opening the lid and emerging," meanwhile contemplating his chosen victims for the impending evening: the baker and his wife, "succulent, available, and unsuspecting, . . . whose trust he has carefully cultivated." At that moment of darkness, he rose swiftly "like an angel of hell" and in bat form flew "pell-mell to the cottage of his tantalizing victims."

Unfortunately, on arrival at the baker's cottage the Count learned that he was seven hours early, his finely tuned light-sensing faculties having been short-circuited by a vampire's worst nightmare: a total solar eclipse. Oops! Or as the Count put it, "I'm in big trouble." He tried to beat a hasty retreat, but couldn't extract himself from the hospitality of his adoring, ever-trusting intended victims. "Going?" his hosts asked. "You just came." "Yes," he replied, "but -- I think I blew it very badly . . ."

"Count Dracula" was published for the first time in Getting Even (1971).

(from Getting Even)
Part 2

"Count Dracula, you're pale."

"Am I? I need a little fresh air. It was nice seeing you . . . "

"Come. Sit down. We'll have a drink."

"Drink? No, I must run. Er -- you're stepping on my cape."

"Sure. Relax. Some wine."

'Wine? Oh no, gave it up -- liver and all that, you know. And now I really must buzz off. I just remembered, I left the lights on at my castle -- bills'll be enormous . . ."

"Please," the baker says, his arm around the Count in firm friendship. "You're not intruding. Don't be so polite. So you're early."

"Really, I'd like to stay but there's a meeting of old Roumanian Counts across town and I'm responsible for the cold cuts."

"Rush, rush, rush. It's a wonder you don't get a heart attack."

"Yes, right -- and now -- "

"I'm making Chicken Pilaf tonight," the baker's wife chimes in. "I hope you like it."

"Wonderful, wonderful," the Count says, with a smile, as he pushes her aside into some laundry. Then, opening a closet door by mistake, he walks in. "Christ, where's the goddamn front door?"

"Ach," laughs the baker's wife, "such a funny man, the Count."

"I knew you'd like that," Dracula says, forcing a chuckle, "now get out of my way." At last he opens the front door but time has run out on him.

"Oh, look, mama," says the baker, "the eclipse must be over. The sun is coming out again."

"Right," says Dracula, slamming the front door. "I've decided to stay. Pull down the window shades quickly -- quickly! Let's move it!"

"What window shades?" asks the baker.

"There are none, right? Figures. You got a basement in this joint?"

"No," says the wife affably, "I'm always telling Jarslov to build one but he never listens. That's some Jarslov, my husband."

"I'm all choked up. Where's the closet?"

"You did that one already, Count Dracula. Unt mama and I laughed at it."

"Ach -- such a funny man, the Count."

"Look, I'll be in the closet. Knock at seven-thirty." And with that, the Count steps inside the closet and slams the door.

"Hee-hee -- he is so funny, Jarslov."

"Oh, Count. Come out of the closet. Stop being a big silly." From inside the closet comes the muffled voice of Dracula.

"Can't -- please -- take my word for it. Just let me stay here. I'm fine. Really."

"Count Dracula, stop the fooling. We're already helpless with laughter."

"Can I tell you, I love this closet."

"Yes, but . . ."

"I know, I know ... it seems strange, and yet here I am, having a ball. I was just saying to Mrs. Hess the other day, give me a good closet and I can stand in it for hours. Sweet woman, Mrs. Hess. Fat but sweet . . . Now, why don't you run along and check back with me at sunset. Oh, Ramona, la da da de da da de, Ramona . . ."

Now the Mayor and his wife, Katia, arrive. They are passing by and have decided to pay a call on their good friends, the baker and his wife.

"Hello, Jarslov. I hope Katia and I are not intruding?"

"Of course not, Mr. Mayor. Come out, Count Dracula! We have company!"

"Is the Count here?" asks the Mayor surprised.

"Yes, and you'll never guess where," says the baker's wife.

"It's so rare to see him around this early. In fact I can't ever remember seeing him around in the daytime."

"Well, he's here. Come out, Count Dracula!"

"Where is he?" Katia asks, not knowing whether to laugh or not.

"Come on out now! Let's go!" The baker's wife is getting impatient.

"He's in the closet," says the baker, apologetically.

"Really?" asks the Mayor.

"Let's go," says the baker with mock good humor as he knocks on the closet door. "Enough is enough. The Mayor's here."

"Come on out, Dracula," His Honor shouts, "let's have a drink."

"No, go ahead. I've got some business in here."

"In the closet?"

"Yes, don't let me spoil your day. I can hear what you're saying. I'll join in if I have anything to add."

Everyone looks at one another and shrugs. Wine is poured and they all drink.

"Some eclipse today," the Mayor says, sipping from his glass.

"Yes," the baker agrees. "Incredible."

"Yeah. Thrilling," says a voice from the closet.

"What, Dracula?"

"Nothing, nothing. Let it go."

And so the time passes, until the Mayor can stand it no longer and forcing open the door to the closet, he shouts, "Come on, Dracula. I always thought you were a mature man. Stop this craziness."

The daylight streams in, causing the evil monster to shriek and slowly dissolve to a skeleton and then to dust before the eyes of the four people present. Leaning down to the pile of white ash on the closet floor, the baker's wife shouts, "Does this mean dinner's off tonight?"

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IN TOMORROW'S SUNDAY CLASSICS PREVIEW --

It's the beginning of the long-awaited third and final installment in our series on the French Revolutionary rage of Umberto Giordano's Andrea Chénier.


SUNDAY IT'S THE RETURN OF "BOB AND RAY TONIGHT"! Selections from Write If You Get Work: The Best of Bob & Ray, starting with the Foreword by Kurt Vonnegut Jr., who remembers being interviewed for a job by the fellows

RETURN TO THE BEGINNING OF THE POST

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