GREENSLEEVES VON BROOM, VAMPYRE

 
"He's due here soon. They say he might fly in."

"Yeah, if he does he crosses the Interstate somewhere. Wow, the mountains are dark as pitch tonight. Can you move over a little?"

"Sorry. At least twenty people showed up tonight."

"Local fans want to see a real vampire like Greensleeves Von Broom."

"I'm asking for an autograph."

"Not a bad idea. Me too."

"I'm surprised she made her interview with a vampire open to the public."

"Even though the wraparound veranda is packed, there's folks down below in cars."

"Vampires hate automobiles. So I hear."

"I know. Thus the theory from "The Mothman Prophecies."

"Of course, one way to look at it."

"Look! There he is. His coat is open. What's that hanging from his chest? You've binoculars. Tell me!"

"Maybe hair. Yuppers, long hair, long beard. Oh, I'm covered with goosebumps."

"I smell something terrible already."

"Let's hide behind that barn. No sense being in the line of fire. He takes few prisoners, so I hear."
==============

KNOCK KNOCK!!

"Please come in. Nice to see you, Dr. Greensleeves."

"Mademoiselle, oui. It has been awhile."

"So you made it. Midnight just on time."

"Certainly. You look charming. What a beautiful gown. Strapless, my favorite attire on a lady author. My, I'm a bit parched."

"I'm serving libations in the drawing room. Right this way, monsieur."

"Mademoiselle, you remember my fondness for an ice cold Bloody Mary."

"Won't you please be seated. I found this high-backed chair at an antique shop. Hope it's big enough. How tall are you, seriously, Von Broom? You seem larger than life."

"Seven foot. Amazing what you've achieved here. It reminds me of a scene from "The Golden Bowl." A bygone era, come to life. Damask drapes, tier upon tier of crystal. A full wall of leather bound books. I'm utterly at peace near you, mon amis."

"So are you enjoying yourself ... and your life?"

"After the last episode in the Von Broom Chronicles? Totally, my dear. Mon ami, merci beaucoup for creating me."

"My pleasure, Sir. My original intentions were always to set you free."

"You kindness is much appreciated, my lady fair."

"My appreciation centers on your mysterious appearance in "The Poindexter/ Vermont Tales."

"Ah, yes, John Poindexter remains the much misguided fellow. Poor lad."

"Rumors circulates you may be doing a stint out West. Area 71, is it?"

"Perhaps, I shouldn't answer in the affirmative. However, rather an intriguing option."

"Good. Oh, we had the time of our lives in Montreal, did we not? Please try these finger cakes, Dr."

"Merci. Delicious. Must say when my debut as a history chair, a working professor at Boston College, the life you put into that story made future adventures within my grasp. And it all began with the Canadian side. Montreal! My God, woman!  We dined like royalty."

"Yes. All the stories became tidy enough. We go back, you and I. The fun was the French Canadian side. Truly."

"Je comprends. Why does this cake say shrink me? Is this a minor trap to harness my powers? Oh, you writer types. Such kidders."
================

"Yes, we were there on the scene. Name's Harry Plotsworthy. Are you a reporter?"

"Yes, look straight at the camera. Let's assimilate this. He agreed to an interview with his own author/ creator."

"Right. We saw him arrive. All the cars were honking. A terrific din actually. People were cheering out on the lawn."

"And what happened next?'

"He bowed at us, reverted to his French origins with bonne nuit. He went into her house and simply ..."

"He said good night to the onlookers. What? You're shaking. Get a grip, Harry. Good lord, you're quite the tall feller."
"He -- he n-never came out again."

"Oh no. Are you positive? Maybe Dr. Greensleeves Von Broom, ladies and gents, just became invisible."

"Well, if you say so. There's other vampyre stories pertaining to Saxony with emigrants from Transylvania. Those settings introduce archives from that stone church, right behind you, mister."

"Did you hear a rumble? This is wicked turf alright. Meteor showers, blizzards, vampire bloodlines."

"Thunder, sounds like it. With cracking lightening. To be expected. It's always raining here."

"Let's move on. Kill the flood lights. OK!  Crew, I'm in the news van. So long, Harry."

"Au revoir, my friend. Don't look back ... "
============

"Smitty, don't you think you're driving a bit fast for a dark and storm laden night, pal?"

"Listen, wise guy. My contract says I drive, you anchor. Anything else?"

"What the hell was that? A vulture? An owl.  Owls fly at night."

Thump. THUMP!

"Something hit the roof of the van!"

"Damn it, hold the turn. That's a mountain rock-face right beside us ...."

CRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAASHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!

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Poindexter Tales @
" VOCAB COLLECTION & ESSAYS"