It was as dark as the dead of night in the old studio's basement. A thick miasma of dust and dander filled it like a London smog.
How the fuck can anyone work down here!
Boswell the film director stumbled as he attempted to traverse the minefield of plaster heads, rubber arms and grisly masks. He was trying to find Deek the old props guy because he needed something specific for his latest movie, The Parade of Monsters.
Deek, you old bastard! Where are you for fucks sake?
There was no love lost between the new director and the ancient propmaster. It was a tectonic clash between the modern and the hoary what was. Neither one respected the other, but in that twisted reality of reel economics they both needed one another.
Boswell needed monsters. Deek had all the props. Simple.
Deek Lugos had been in the film industry for over 70 years. Nearly one hundred years old, he had never missed a single day of work, except when his beloved wife Elsa was interred in '45. He was that strange unique bridge across eons of movie making, from the beautiful silents to the gabbling talkies to the big studios and now to the velvet jacketed effete of the trippy decade. It was 1970 and Deek had amassed the biggest storeroom of horror film artefacts, costumes and props in the world. Some where older than him and he loved them all like his children.
His dearest Elsa had loved film too and in her heyday was the most sought-after costumier in horror. Together they'd worked with the greats: Max Shreck, Bela, Karloff, Lanchester and Lorre. Sadly Elsa never got to meet the newcomers like Pitt, Cushing, Price and Lee, who's careers were now burgeoning. Elsa had been distracted by Vulp, Aldo Vulp, the seductively fresh and suave director in '44, an incubus in silk who turned Elsa's head and charmed her into bed, whilst Deek was away searching for props in Romania. Vulp secretly ravaged Elsa like a caustic fox that summer but by the winter he was bored. Discarded and distraught she killed herself on New Year's Day 1945 and with a primordial rage Deek had hated Vulp from that moment on.
After Elsa's funeral, her secret scorn interred within her, Deek had made a vow. He could forgive his beloved but not Arlo Vulp.
There would be a reckoning.
His broken darling boxed in the coffin would be avenged.
The Fates did not concur, however, and Arlo Vulp was killed in a motor car accident in St.Tropez, as he drove his Maserati way too fast like the brash poseur that he was. His wife and infant son survived however.
Thwarted but stoical, for a quarter of a century Deek had forgotten that Arlo Vulp had ever existed.
Until today.
Lugos! Where the fuck are you?
I'm right here Sir. How may I be of service?
Deek stepped out from behind the startling costume of a She-Creature, it's whiskered antennae brushing his fantastically wrinkled face, which was illumined by the half-glow of a weak naked bulb.
Ah, there you are! I've been looking for you in all this decrepit shite you've piled up in here!
This, er, pile represents film history Sir. Most of it from before you were born.
History, schmistory! As long as you've got what I need I don't give a flying fuck about the rest of it Lugos!
Deek bristled at this crass young upstart with his filthy tongue and ridiculous paisley neckerchief.
What is it you seek Sir?
Monsters! I need monsters. Classic ones. The old Universal kind. Have you got anything useful like that in this heap of dross?
I do Sir, Indeed I do. I have all the original props. Costumes, make-up, jewellery, the lot. Real treasures saved from the mob. Would you like to see them?
No. Just have it all clean and ready this time next week old man or you'll be out on your ear. Understand!
As he said this the obnoxious director stepped forward into the light and Deek saw his name-badge for the very first time.
Boswell Vulp.
Vulp! That's an unusual surname Sir. Are you related perhaps to the famous Arlo Vulp by any chance?
I am, not that it's any concern of yours. I didn't know my Father long, but in those short five years he taught me to take what I want from whomever I want. And I want my monsters, so you'd better deliver Deek Lugos!
The rude Director left the old propman to brood.
And brood he did.
A Vulp. Here in this building! I can't believe it! The progeny of the snake himself!
It was late one evening the following week when a young girl stumbled into the basement at the top of the stairs. She slammed the door shut and fastened the two great bolts, holding the handle tight and staring at the door, panting, as if someone were chasing her.
Hello.
Deek spoke softly so as not to scare her, as she was clearly distressed.
Shhhhhh! He'll hear us!
Deek surmised she was about twenty. Wearing a lanyard, he could see she worked here at the studio.
Suddenly there was a pounding on the other side of the door.
Val! Are you in there! I know you're hiding in there! Lugos, if you can hear me then open this door and I mean fucking pronto! I'll get you Val. I'm bleeding you bitch!
Recognising the mean-spirited bleating of one Boswell Vulp, Deek looked at the girl and placed his finger over his lips.
Shhhhh.
They remained silent like this for a good ten minutes until they were sure that Vulp had left to look elsewhere.
The young girl descended the stairs quietly.
Thank you.
My pleasure.
I'm Valderia Dracul. I'm working here as an extra in the new movie, The Parade of Monsters. Boswell the Director liked my Eastern European accent so hired me for the night shift. He also likes other things about me.
That's why you are hiding. You're hiding from the director?
Yes.
Has he hurt you?
Yes, he slapped me hard when I refused to sleep with him. I tried to bite him but scratched his face instead and ran.
I see. He is a bad one for sure.
I think he would kill me if he could.
Hmmm. Well, you are welcome to stay here until the coast is clear.
Thank you.
Dracul? That's an unusual name. I've come across it before on a visit to Romania looking for props many years ago.
Yes, I am from Bran the home if the Dracula dynasty in Transylvania. I have come to, how you say, improve my English.
Bran, eh. I went to the castle there. In fact I bought some items and brought them back.
What kind of items?
Oh, some mouldy old earth and a coffin.
A coffin?
Yes.
What's inside it?
A body.
A body?
Yes.
Who's.
Count Dracula.
The Count? Here?
Yes.
I can't believe it! Count Dracula is my Father! I am one of his many daughters scattered across Europe. None of us knew where he was.
Well, Valderia, your Father is here. He's quite safe and secret. Would you like to see him?
Oh, yes please!
The pair walked through the long basement to a further wide chamber.
Deek lit a torch with his cigarette lighter.
Inside the gloom were four objects.
As Valderia approached she could see that one was a sarcophagus, one a metal bed with a body on top, one a hospital bed with another body attached to a drip and lastly, a coffin.
Here is your father Valderia.
Deek opened the lid of the casket to reveal a prone male and emaciated figure sleeping within, his arms folded over his chest.
I give you Count Dracula.
Father! Oh, Father!
Valderia stooped and kissed Dracula's forehead.
Why does he not wake?
Your Father requires blood. He has been dormant for so long, we would need to feed him.
How?
I have several bags of blood in a small fridge for such an occasion.
Why not now?
If I could indulge you a little longer Valderia, I assure you we can wake your him and his compatriots to both re-unite you and your father but also avenge both of us for heinous slights committed by the Vulps.
When?
Tomorrow. Boswell Vulp requires monsters for his film and we shall give him some. Alive and hungry!
The two spent the night preparing the exhibits and early next morning, when it was still dark, Deek phoned the director to please come and inspect the props as instructed.
Flustered but cooperative, Boswell burst into the studio to find Deek standing on the murky set with a flaming torch.
Ah, Mr. Vulp! Please. This way. Let me present the requested five, er, monsters.
Vulp stepped into the torchlight and gawped at the scene in front of him.
It's fantastic Lugos, you surprising old fart! It's better than I ever imagined! I thought you'd drag out some old rubber rubbish but this is the dog's bollocks!
Indeed, Director, it is in fact the real McCoy!
Yes, these are the best damn props I've ever seen. Where on earth did you get them?
Oh, Wales, Transylvania, the Arctic and the Cairo Museum to be precise.
What?
Yes, over my long life I've travelled the world to locate and preserve the original monsters the old studios threw out.
But why were the props scattered like that?
Because they went back home to sleep and recuperate.
What the fuck are you talking about Lugos! Now you're not making sense. How can props sleep!
Oh, they're not props Boswell. They're the real thing. These are real monsters, which I've just woken up.
What? Rubbish!
Yes. Let me introduce you. Here sat on his electric chair is the Frankenstein monster. Here stepping out of its sarcophagus is the Mummy. Here standing under the moonlit velux is the Wolfman. And here getting out of his coffin is one Count Dracula.
Je-sus Christ! They're so authentic. We'll make a killing! But you said five. Where's the fifth one?
I'm here Mr. Vulp, Director.
Valderia floated across the gothic set towards the assembly.
May I introduce the fifth monster, Dracula's daughter.
Incredible! Well done Valderia! You look great! I hope there's no hard feelings about our little misunderstanding. You really do look fantastic. What a costume! In fact all of them, such authenticity!
I'm afraid you still don't quite get it Vulp. You have sorely affronted Valderia and your own vile Father took my beloved Elsa from me. These insults cannot be forgotten and I'm afraid your sentence is death ........ Monsters!
The five beasts leapt forward and violently assaulted the bewildered man, their claws and teeth puncturing his soft forgiving flesh, his hot glue spurting in every direction.
Oh God! They're real! They're real monsters! Help me Deek, Valderia, help me!
Oh, we'll help you alright! We'll help you out of your skin!
The director screamed as the ravenous creatures tore him to shreds, freed his innards and hungrily ate every last bloody morsel.
Over the next few nights, the movie was filmed with Deek and Valderia at the helm, the monsters happy to oblige as long as they were fed properly in the basement, coming on set each evening, the red gore and entrails still dripping from their fangs, hands and talons.
Everyone clapped, they looked so damn good!
A few junior crew short, the picture was wrapped on time and budget and screen tests proved a massive hit with critics and fans alike
They all agreed that The Parade of Monsters was the most authentic classic monster movie they'd ever seen.
Deek and Valderia just smiled and looked forward to the blood-drenched sequel, the Monsters' Feast!
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