(a fictional farce)
Prof. Abraham Van Helsing.
From the diary of Johnny Depp.
I got off of the subway in Washington D.C. and climbed the stairs to
street level. As usual many women stopped me as I walked, pausing to ask
for my autograph and falling in love with me. I happily obliged and
after a few minutes came upon the address given to me in the mysterious
letter — and old brownstone of Federal design that looked in excellent
condition and well-worth the price of part of a film check should I ever
be interested in getting another home.
After a wait the bell was answered by none other than the venerable
Professor Abraham Van Helsing himself, an expert on folklore and strange
myths who, I had heard not too long ago, had recently gotten tenure.
"First of all sir I would like to congratulate you on…"
"No no, young Depp. No time for politeness. I asked you to come here
today on a matter most critical. But come up to my study. I will explain."
Van Helsing's study was impressive indeed, with shelves of books,
several tables sitting piled with unknown books and manuscripts and
maps, some obviously very old.
"Do you know of vampires?" he said quite to the point.
"Then I will tell you. A great evil has shown its face."
I was skeptical. "A great evil? And may I ask, Dr. Van Helsing, just
what great evil could possibly live amongst us these days?"
"Are you serious?" the wise doctor asked, though no answer was obviously
needed. "Perhaps I erred. Perhaps I should have gotten Leonardo DiCaprio
as my assistant instead."
Greatly hurt by that, I opened my heart to him. "I assure you, good sir,
that my soul is completely in congruence with any mission you may wish
"Good!" he said, clapping his hands together. "That's the old Hollywood
spirit I was counting on!"
Van Helsing led me to a table and showed me several photographs. After
a moment I recognized the young woman in the reproductions. "Kristen
Stewart" I said.
"The one and the same. I fear young Depp that the unfortunate and firm
bodied Miss Stewart has fallen under the spell of a vampire!"
"You mean on that series that she does."
"No. Not on the series."
"The movie version then?"
"No, this is no movie I assure you. This is real. Less loud on the ears
than a movie, but real nonetheless. The situation is this: Miss Stewart
has fallen to the strong will of a very old and cursed vampire who, in
his current identity, goes by the name of Dick Cheney."
"Dick Cheney? A vampire?"
"And not just a vampire, my young friend — but the oldest vampire of
all, the Prince of the Night himself — Lord Dracula!"
"Huh" I said. "I mean, I had heard rumors floating around here and there,
Van Helsing went over to a shelf and pulled a messenger bag from it and
put it down on the table in front of me. "Thanks to a very brave elevator
mechanic who gave his life for the cause of the fight against evil, I now
know the location of Dark Lord's secret resting place. These implements
will help us, with luck, to end his too-long and miserable life."
From the bag Van Helsing pulled first a small mallet and a few long
metal train stakes. Next he took a compass and some small bottles of
liquid — "Holy water" he said — and a large silver crucifix. He also
removed a small statue of Buddha, a miniature photo of Vladimir Lenin,
a bottle of water — "Fiji, most excellent" he said — an iPod, a small
bag of cherry cough drops, an autopsy knife, a pair of mini-binoculars,
and a copy of the Audubon Field Guide to the Northeast United States.
"I can't believe how much crap you got in there, Professor" I said.
"But wait — there's more!" he told me.
"Here is…" he said, "the coup de grace." From the bag he pulled out three
long wooden stakes. "Canadian maple" he informed me. "I tried to find
mahogany, but the building supply vendor was out of stock. But I think
the maple will do nicely."
Over the next hour Professor Van Helsing went over our plan as I took
notes on my Blackberry. We would start just after dark. Which would give
me just enough time to go someplace and have a couple shots of Cuervo.
From the journal of Abraham Van Helsing.
We approached the U.S. Capitol Building as the sun disappeared beyond
the rather polluted horizon and climbed the long steps up to the noble
building. Passing through the rotunda we found the elevators — Mr.
Depp, the nubile Miss Kristen, and myself. The code to Cheney's
subterranean chambers that I had gotten from the brave elevator repair
man was a sequence of six floor buttons punched very quickly in a row —
2-1-3-2-1-2. The elevator jerked, and we began the long descent to the
secret chamber located 300 feet beneath the building.
"Lord these elevators are slow" young Depp said.
"Patience, lad. We will get there all too soon enough. Spend the time by
steeling your heart."
"I've had guys tell me that" the firm-breasted Miss Stewart quipped.
"That I stole their heart."
"You're confusing steel meaning the metal with steal as to rob" Johnny
said, smiling at her in a most winable fashion.
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened with a slight creak. "We are
there" I whispered to the two. "The secret abode of Lord Dracula." I
reached into the messenger bag, took a quick gulp of the Fiji water to
steady my nerves, and pulled out the crucifix.
We walked into the chamber, which was about four times the size of a
McDonald's dining area.
"Wow!" Miss Stewart said. "This is like the coolest vampire lair I've
ever been to!"
"It is a pit of evil" I replied. "Do not be fooled by the sumptuous decor."
There were artifacts of the history of the Dark Lord spread across the
room in an almost haphazard fashion, trophies of the Evil One's campaign
of terror. I walked up to a table near the center of the room and examined
a lava lamp, whose florescent green blobs slowly moved from the bottom of
the lamp to the top, upon which they bounced and changed their direction
of movement downward towards the bottom again.
"I have to admit" I said, "that is a very nice lava lamp. Very good condition."
Miss Kristen noticed next to the lava lamp a small clear sphere on a
black stand. From the center of the sphere emanated what seemed like
bolts of lightening, tracing out to the outer edges of the sphere.
Curious, Miss Kristen reached out to touch the sphere.
"Are you mad, girl!?" I yelled. I reached out and caught her arm just
in the nick of time. "Do you want the hairs of your head to stand on
end? Because that is exactly what will happen if you touch the sphere."
There was no sign of Dracula. "I think we have come at the right time"
I informed the pair. "He is no doubt already in his coffin, sleeping the
sleep of the undead." The coffin itself was located up against the far
wall. It was of normal style and shape and of a silver color. We approached,
my crucifix at the ready.
"I've never seen a silver coffin before" young Depp said.
"That is because it is made of depleted uranium" I informed him.
"Really? How do you know that?"
"Because there is a tiny plate located here on the side of the coffin
that says Made of Depleted Uranium.
"Oh. Is it made in the U.S.A.? Or is it an import?"
"It doesn't say" I told him. "I would assume it is an import. But,
young Depp, step up here to the coffin. You will raise the lid. And
I, I will drive the maple stake through the Dark One's heart."
I took the stake and the mallet in hand. Depp held the side of the lid
of the coffin. "When I nod, jerk open the lid" I told Depp.
On my signal Depp threw open the lid quickly, and I bent forward to
drive the stake. But there was nothing in the coffin. No undead corpse,
no Dracula. No, there was only the red silk of the inside of the coffin,
and a pillow that looked to me to be very much too small to be
"Son of a bitch!" I cried. "I am sorry Depp; and my apologies Miss Stewart.
I do not often use foul language."
"He's not here" Depp said.
"Oh, he is here. He would not be far from his coffin at this hour. He is
here…somewhere in this room…but hiding himself."
We turned around to consider the room.
"Nope, don't see him" Depp commented.
"Wait. The Dark One can take many forms. Wait."
After a minute I noticed a small white stream of what looked like fog
coming from the far wall and heading to the center of the room. The fog
moved back and forth, creepily, and once to the room's center coalesced
into a mass which grew larger and larger. Finally, I watched in amazement
as the mass changed shape again, slowly turning into the form of Dick
Cheney, Lord Dracula.
He was wearing a white tropical suit and brown shoes and a red tie. He
gave us an evil grimace, then a laugh.
"Did you think that you had fooled me, I who have lived for a thousand
years and who have survived five Presidential administrations?" He
laughed. "I was over in the corner, disguised as a cockroach, watching
your pathetic attempt to destroy me. It failed. And it will fail."
"See that piano over there?" Cheney said with the most evil smirk I had
ever seen. "That belonged to Mozart! I sucked him dry slowly, relishing
every quaver. And there, the black velvet painting of Jimi Hendrix? I
took that from Hunter S. Thompson, who I pursed like a blood sucking bat
all over North America until he fell into despair and ended it."
Depp seemed horrified. "Hunter S. Thompson?" he cried, lunging toward
the Dark Being, now full of the most sincere anger. "No, not yet!" I
yelled at him. Depp stopped in his tracks, though it was clear to see
that his passion was at the edge.
"Yes. And soon I will have a souvenir from the young Miss Stewart who is
with you also. I will make her my blood slave, and keep her soul bound
to me for eternity! Come, Miss Stewart, come! You know in your heart
that you belong to me!"
Miss Stewart was now once again under the vampire's magnetic spell.
"Take me, oh Being of the Night! Take me and drain me to the last drop!"
She started toward Cheney but I grabbed her back by her soft, firm waist
and pressed myself up against her magnificent derriere. Upon which my
concentration, I am half shamed to admit, lapsed to almost nothing.
"You will not have her!" I yelled at the Evil One, returning to my senses.
I held the photo of Lenin before me toward the vampire, though I must
confess that my confidence was not at the fullest at that moment. Never
had I dealt with a member of the undead as powerful as he, never felt my
experience so lacking. But I pushed forward resolutely if not bravely.
Giving Miss Stewart to the protection of young Depp, I advanced toward
the Dark One, the Lenin and the open bottle of holy water my only protection.
From the diary of Kristen Stewart.
Had dinner with Johnny last night. Great pizza and we went out to my
Hummer afterward and parked in a quiet spot and did shots of Jagermeister.
Couldn't get his pants off, though. I guess he must be getting too much
already. Shit. I was looking forward to putting him on my Been There list.
Tonight am having dinner with Van Helsing — "Abraham" I call him now,
I guess that's his name, and I think he likes it. He's taking me to this
little Thai place he knows. He says there's no booze at the damn place
whatsoever, just beer. What's with that, anyway???? I'm wearing my hot
blue dress and a pair of black high heels. Those old guys really like
that high heel stuff. I kinda dig him, actually. It really turns me on
making these old guys horny!
And I have to admit he certainly was good at that whole vampire killing
thing. Very confident. I really like that. And he really moves fast for
an old fart. I mean it was like something out of that Matrix movie. Like
when Keanu Reeves (Been There) flies through the air and stuff. Well
Abraham really did that, no joke. Just flew! He poured this holy water
stuff all over Cheney, and like Cheney began to smoke and stuff like he
was on fire. Then Abraham grabbed him by the collar and pushed him
against the wall and drove a steak through his heart faster than hell.
I mean it was so totally cool. Although I admit it was a little sickening
too with all that blood pouring out of the guy's chest.
Well, it's all over now I guess. No more vampire. Looking back I have to
admit being a little embarrassed by that whole Being of Night crap that
came out of my mouth. But it all turned out okay anyway, and it wasn't
as if some vlogger asshole caught me saying it on tape.
My fingers hurt. I'm just not used to the whole paper and pen thing. I
mean, who does this kind of stuff anymore anyway? Oh, shit…I just broke