But does he suck Ollie ?   vs.   Dracula
Part I


The cloak...
The way it swirled and moved, as if the garment itself were endowed with a life all its own...
The edges would flicker, then the body of the cloth would roil like a black, black sea; and before the eye knew it, it would be gone; as the Master moved with inhuman speed to another part of the room.
Boris watched fearfully.
The Master was angry.
Seven days and seven nights had it been, since the blood of fresh meat had slaked his endless thirst.
Seven days and seven nights since he, Boris, had fulfilled his duty; and brought life's blood to the Master.
The Master's very existence was under a dark shadow, unless Boris could make good his failings within a few, short hours.

The hands...
Boris could not tear his eyes from them, as they flicked out, hither and yon, past the boundaries of the cloak, as if snatching the souls of those long gone from the very ether around them.
Flickering snakes' tongues, with long, bony digits which seemed that they would break at but a touch; but which Boris knew had the power to rend stone and steel and flesh alike.
Those long fingers danced through the air as the Master moved; candlelight glinting from their talons with an evil sheen.
The potions the master was creating would offer him little succour.  It was blood that was needed.
The blood of the innocent, or the blood of the impure; it mattered little by this time.
The Master's hunger would soon consume him; and Boris' place as a treasured slave would no longer save him from the Master's needs.

The voice...
Barely more than a whisper, it took hold of Boris' spine, his mind, his vital organs.
"Nightfall comes."  The words breathed in his ear and swept through his brain like a freezing wind.  "It must be soon."
"Y... Yes, Master,"  Boris stammered.
He was too fearful to say more.  He had served the Master well for many years, but he was still of an inferior species.  In the grand scheme of things, he was but a food beast, bred for the Master's pleasure.
"Bring me nourishment."  The Master commanded.
"Y... Yes, Master,"  Boris bowed, and started to leave.
The Master turned to face him.
The Eyes...
...Oh God, the eyes....

The four figures clambered their way through the bracken and brush of the forest that stretched for miles around them.
They were hardly dressed for such terrain, in their high-heeled shoes, and platform boots.
They were hardly dressed for the cold, cold night that was descending on them, in their thin cotton and spandex outfits.
They were...
...Let's face it:  They were hardly dressed!
"The next time we go for a drive in the country,"  Victoria huffed,  "will someone please remember to bring a car?"
"Sod the car!"  grumbled Emma.  "Why couldn't someone have remembered to bring a couple of packets of bikkies?"
"Don't use words like 'bikkies' in an internet story, you pratt!"  Mel snapped at her.  "The Yanks won't know what you mean!"
"Oh yeah?"  sneered Melanie, as she swung from tree branch to tree branch.  "And they will know what 'pratt' means, I suppose?  You're talking bollocks as usual!"
"Will you all just shut up!"  Victoria shouted.  "My bloody whistle's getting ruined in all these bushes and twigs and thorns, and all you can go on about is words and things!"
"WHISTLE!?!?"  Emma screamed at Mel.  "So I'm not allowed to say 'bikkies', but your stuck-up bitch mate is allowed to use Cockney rhyming slang???"
"Cat fight!  Cat fight!"  Melanie bounced up and down on her branch, making the leaves rustle in time with her chant.
"She's no bloody mate of mine!"  Mel retorted.  "And anyway, it's your bloody fault we're stuck out here in the first place!"
"My fault?!  How d'you figure that, you stupid cow?"
"Well, you were the one saying 'left here' and 'right there'!  We all thought you had a map!"
"A map!"  Emma waved her arms in the air.  "I was walking behind Melanie, you silly bitch!  I was reading her tattoo!"
"Oh...,"  said Mel.  "Um..."
"It's really the London Underground System,"  Emma explained to her, impatiently.  "Dressed up to look like a birdy-thing!  I was tracing the route from my house to Druckers!"
"Em's the first person to notice,"  Melanie's voice came from the trees above them.  "Probably because of the other night when she was drunk, and..,"  her voice tailed off.
"And...?"  Three curious voices.
"Um... Er... Nothing.  I've forgotten."
"Well, this is getting us nowhere!"  complained Victoria.  "How are we going to get out of these woods, before the sun goes down?"
"Why don't we go to that castle, and ask directions?"  asked Melanie.
Chorus:  "What castle?"
"That one over there, on top of that hill,"  Melanie pointed.
"We can't see it from down here, you thick sod!"  Mel snorted.  "Just point the way, and we'll go there!"
Igor bounced around the kitchen in panicky excitement as Boris entered.  His goggle-eyes seemed to be sticking out even more than usual; if that were possible.
"What did he say?  What did he say?"  he demanded, eagerly frightened.
"We're right up fucking shit creek!"  Boris told him; sitting heavily at the thick oaken table.  "If we don't find him something to suck on, it'll be us for the abbatoir!"
"We must find food!  We must find food!  For the Master!  For the Master!"  Igor jabbered; still rushing backward and forward around the table.
"Iggy... Iggy..."  Boris patted the air with both hands as he spoke to the hyperactive thrall.  "Sit the fuck down, willya?  We have to think carefully; try to find a way out of this mess!"
Igor sat; fidgeting with the cutlery on the table.  "Think!  Think!"  he babbled.  "Have to think!  Have to find food!  Food for the Master!"
Boris hung his head in his hands.
"You just can't get the fucking staff!"  he muttered.
"No food left!"  Igor offered.  "No food left in village!  All gone!  All gone or run away!"
"I know!"  Boris snapped.  "Don't you think I know that?"
"New food!"  Igor chimed, hopefully.  "New food for Master!  Must make new food come!"
Boris just looked at him.
"Make new food come...?"  he said, unbelievingly.  How could anyone be so bloody Stupid?  "What, you expect people to just come here, to be eaten by the Master?"
"YesYes!  New food must come to Master!"
"Yeah, right!  What, you expect like, four girls to just turn up and knock on the door?"
"YesYes!  Must come!  Must come!"
"Sure, sure.  Might as well ask that one of them's a virgin, too, eh?"  Boris snorted.  "I'll bet the doorbell will ring any second now!"
As punctuation to his scornful conjecture, the doorbell rang....
...The two thralls stared at each other for an incredulous second -- then rushed out of the kitchen at treble quick time to answer the door.
"There's no-one home.  Let's go,"  Mel hurriedly started back down the steps.
"Give it a chance!  I've only just rung the bell!"  Victoria grabbed her arm and dragged her back.
Mel stood there, chewing her fingernails.
"What's up with her?"  Melanie asked, from her perch atop the gargoyle at the top of the steps.
"She's a bloody scaredy-cat, that's what!"  Emma sneered.
"I am not scared!"  whined Mel.  "I just think we could get home without help, is all."
"Shhhhh!"  hissed Victoria.  "Someone's coming!"
Footsteps approached them, from the other side of the giant door...
"This is creepy!"  Giggled Emma.
Mel started on her third nail....
Melanie climbed down from her perch, staring at the door...
Victoria picked her nose...
...The door clanked, as the latch turned...
...With a creak straight from the Hammer Horror sound effects department, the door opened...
A tall man, dressed in black, and a hunchback looked out at them.
The tall man's jaw dropped.
"Ubba... Homina..."  he said.
The hunchback bounced up and down excitedly.
"FOOD!"  He yelled.  "Food for the Master!  SEE!"
The tall man finally found his tongue.
"I don't suppose..."  he said,  "...I don't suppose that one of you is a virgin?"
Emma and Victoria looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"Oh, shut up!"  whined Melanie.  "It's not my fault I can't find a boyfriend!"
"Come!  Come!"  the hunchback bubbled.  "Master needs food!"
Without a backward glance, the Girls entered the castle....
Running With Sticks 1999

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