My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires (25 page)

The happy couple returned from their vacation the day of the brats’ aborted rehearsal. When the Captain pulled his car into the driveway, he was greeted by the sight of two items that had not been at the house when he and Maria had departed: A charred paper bag filled with dog
scheisse
on the porch, and a bust of Adolf Hitler’s head made from bottle caps. He told Friedrich’s wife and his snuggle bunny, “My, my, my, those Nazis are experts with psychological warfare. Good thing I’m of sound mind, or the statue and the
scheisse
would have brought me to my knees.” Yes, dear reader, he was being sarcastic.

Maria said, “You shouldn’t joke about this, Georg.” (Now that they were married, she called him by his given name … unless they were in bed, where she continued to call him “Sir.”) “Today it’s arts and crafts and feces, but tomorrow it could be bullets and bombs.”

“They wouldn’t dare, Maria,” the Captain said. (Now that they were sleeping together, he called her by her proper name … unless he was really, really schnockered, then he continued to call her random three-syllable names that started with the letter “M.”)

“And why do you say that?” Maria asked.

“Because I’m a Captain?”

“A Captain of what? You have never quite made it clear.”

“Well I
can’t
make it quite clear, because
Hammerstein
never quite made it clear.”

“Oh, that rapscallion Hammerstein, always there to take the blame.” At that, the couple doubled over with laughter.

Max and the brats then pulled into the driveway. After they trooped out of the car, Max pointed at the house and said, “My, my, my, those Nazis are experts with psychological warfare. Good thing I’m of sound mind, or the statue and the
scheisse
would have brought me to my knees.” Yes, dear reader, he too was being sarcastic. “I can’t bear to be in the presence of this sordidness a moment longer,” he said, then hopped back in his car and toodled off.

The kids then heaped upon Maria a bunch of hugs and
Oh-we-missed-you-ever-so-much
platitudes that were so inane and treacly they shan’t be repeated here, after which they marched into the house … save for Liesl, who fished an envelope from her cleavage and handed it to her father. “From Rolfe,” she said, her voice oozing with contempt.

As the Captain nervously played with the envelope, Maria said, “From the tone of your voice, my dear, methinks thou art missing young Rolfe.”

Liesl said, “Gross.”

“It’s acceptable to have feelings for him, Liesl.”

“But I don’t…”

“You’re sixteen going on seventeen, and when children reach that age, their bodies go through all sorts of changes.”

“Maria, you don’t understand…”

“Shush, let me explain: When a girl and a boy love each other very, very much, there are certain ways they can express their love on a physical level. Soon enough, physiological changes occur that can lead to what’s known as
arousal
.”

Pointing to her father, Liesl hissed, “First of all, we’re
not
having this conversation in front of
him
. And second of all, I’m well aware of what arousal is, and have been since I was twelve going on thirteen, and you of all people should know that. And third of all, I’m a Vampire, and Vampires are aroused all the time, regardless of their age, so none of this applies…”

“Oh. Right. Good point.”

“… and fourth of all, I am
not
missing Rolfe.” She looked at the Captain to make certain he wasn’t paying attention to them—which he wasn’t; he was apologizing to Friedrich for banging the boy’s wife for the previous two weeks—then whispered, “Rolfe is a member of the Nazi Undeath Squads.”

Maria nodded. “No surprise there. I always had the feeling he was a weasel.”

“He’s a weasel, but he’s a
strong
weasel, and I believe he’s getting stronger by the day. And he wants to kill me.” She paused. “And I want to kill him.”

Still nodding, Maria said, “When a girl Vampire and a mortal boy hate each other very, very much, certain physiological changes occur, and that can lead to what’s known as
murder
.” She draped her arm over Liesl’s shoulders. “You do what you have to do. If you’re compelled to kill him, then kill him.”

“Good.”

“If you’re compelled to wrestle with his
schvantz
, then wrestle with his
schvantz
.”

“Gross.”

“Whatever choice you make,” Maria said, “you have my full support.”

The Captain turned from Friedrich and asked, “Full support for what?”

Maria said, “Never you mind, my love. Now what does that note say?”

He tore open the envelope, removed and unfolded the letter, cleared his throat, then read, “Captain von Trapp, stop. At the request of Herr Adolf Hitler, you are hereby ordered to report to your Naval base at Berngdenschnockenvanderplatz to begin active duty, stop. Refusal will result in punishment by Herr Adolf Hitler, stop. Punishment will include, but not be confined to, imprisonment for you and your family, seizure of your property and assets, and more dog
scheisse
on your porch, stop. Sincerely, Admiral von Schreiber of the Navy of the Third-and-a-Half Reich.” He threw the letter on the ground, and said, “I don’t understand. I’m almost fifty-one years old, I’m a Captain in name only, and von Beckbaw is well aware that I’m not a Nazi sympathizer. Why me?”

“That’s an excellent question,” Maria said, “and it makes me realize that there are certain aspects of this plot that make absolutely no sense. Holes galore.”

“What plot?” Liesl asked.

Ignoring her, Maria continued, “Sometimes I think that our storyline is there as an excuse for the musical numbers.”

“What musical numbers?” the Captain asked.

Ignoring him, Maria said to herself, “Hammerstein. You rapscallion.” Then she turned to Liesl and said, “Tell your brothers and sisters that we’re taking a ride.”

“Where?” Liesl asked.

“Make something up.”

“What about the Gala? We go on in a few hours!”

“
Fick
the Gala!”

“Okay … Mother.”

Maria beamed. “Oh, sweetheart, you called me Mother. This is one of my happiest moments of the last three-hundred years. I love you most of all! Now
go
.” After Liesl was out of earshot, Maria said to her husband, “So. Darling. Three questions: First, are you familiar with the acronym A.W.O.L.?”

Cocking an eyebrow, the Captain said, “Go on.”

“Second, how would you feel about a trip to the United States?”

Cocking his other eyebrow, the Captain said, “Continue.”

“Third, can any of the brats drive a car?”

Smiling, he said, “Well, Maria, it appears that your new husband might be of some use to us after all.”

The day he turned fourteen, Friedrich von Trapp was bitten by the car bug. He took to sitting in the garage for hours at a time, basking in the presence of his Father’s fleet of autos, perched behind the wheel of the blue Austro-Tata, wishing he could put the key in the ignition, fire up the engine, and drive …
somewhere
.
Salzburg is a town full of losers,
he would think,
and I want to pull out of here so I can win
!

Loathe to let any of his brats touch any of his cars, the Captain was having none of it. “You’re far too young to drive, Friedrich. And you’re also far too … well … how can I put this gently … what’s the right word,
das richtige wort
 … oh, yes, I’ve got it …
insane
.”

“Please, Father!”

“No!”

“Pleeeeeease!”

“Nooooooo!”

And so on.

Eventually, Friedrich took matters into his own hands, and began stealing the Captain’s keys when he was passed out after an evening of drinking—practically a nightly occurrence. It turned out that, like many thugs-in-training, Friedrich had a natural aptitude for cars, so when the Captain caught him executing a perfect three-point turn on his way out of the garage—and in the tank-like Steyr, yet—he couldn’t help but be impressed.

All of which was why Friedrich was tabbed to drive the getaway car.

That evening, after the sun was fully set, the Captain and Maria went through each and every room in the house, turning on each and every light, so if one wandered by and saw the brightness, one would assume that somebody was home. Once the house was deemed acceptably bright—and once Detweiler finally dragged his slimy ass back to the mansion—the Captain, Maria, the brats, and Max all tiptoed to the garage. Max said, “It breaks my heart that there will be no Vampirecrobatics at the Gala. Nobody was going to beat us,
nobody
! The Ernst von Schwingenbottom Players performing the works of Baron Eligius Alfred Joseph von Münch-Bellinghausen?
Please
. Harpsichord master Werner Belschpradt von Schinglehoffer?
No
,
no
,
no
. The Kirkis Müll?
Garbage
. We had it in the bag.” He sighed. “Maybe Glockenspiel the Clown will give the performance of his lifetime. Or maybe I’ll have to wait until next year.”

The Captain looked at his watch. “Are you done, Max?” he asked. “I appreciate that you’re upset your Gala dreams are being put on hold, but let’s keep our priorities straight. You’re losing a medal, and we could lose our lives. Got it?”

“Got it.”

“Good. Now get to that Gala and win one for grand old Austria!”

“How about I win one for my grand old bank account?”

“Fine. Just win. Good night.” After Max drove off, von Trapp turned to Friedrich, who was nestled in the driver’s seat, and said, “Alright, son, just like we talked about. Put it in drive.”

Friedrich said, “Already done,” after which all the brats got behind the car and pushed.

“Not too hard, kids,” the Captain said. “We can’t make any noise, nor can we lose control of the car.”

Louisa said, “Father, what if somebody comes by to question Frau Alice and Alfred?”

“They won’t say a word, darling,” the Captain said. “Your Governess put them both in a state of suspended animation.”

Liesl turned to Maria. “We can do that?”

Nodding, Maria said, “It takes some practice, but yes.”

Farta asked, “What’s suspended animation?”

Maria said, “Would you care to field this one, Gretl? I suspect a pompous little snotburger such as yourself would know everything there is to know about suspended animation.”

Even though she had super Vampire strength, Gretl was a tiny girl, and pushing the car had exhausted her to the point that she could barely speak … but that didn’t stop her from trying. “Suspended animation …
(huff)
 … is … the … slowing …
(puff)
 … of … life … processes …
(gasp)
 … by … external … means … without …
(whew)
 … termination … and …
(snarf)
 … I … can’t … go … on…”

Smiling, Liesl—who was pushing the car with her pinky—said, “Oh no, shrimp, don’t stop now.”

“Yes,” Kurt said, “continue. This is fascinating!”

Gretl coughed.

“No more?” Brigitta said. “Quite a pity that you can’t continue, because…”

“Alright, brats,” the Captain said,
“enough.”
As they approached the bottom of the driveway, he said, “Now shut your fang-holes and listen: We need to push this past the gate, then another half-a-kilometer to the North. After that, Friedrich will spark the ignition, and we’ll…”

The von Trapps suddenly found themselves on the bright end of ten flashlights. One of the flashlight holders asked, “Is there something wrong with your car, Captain von Trapp?”

The Captain squinted, then frowned. “Ah. Wonderful. Colonel von Beckbaw. Thank you for the welcome home gifts.”

“Quite,” the portly Nazi said, stepping toward the car. “It’s a pity, however, that you were not home when we dropped the dog
schiesse,
thus you were not able to enjoy the full experience.”

“Full experience?” the Captain asked.

“In general, when we place the
schiesse
upon the victim’s doorstep, it’s lighted with a match, which means…”

Friedrich leaned out the window and said, “I get it! It means that you have to stamp out the fire with your foot, and you get dog
schiesse
all over your shoe.
Mein Gott,
that’s
brilliant
.” He turned to Maria and said, “Oh lovely wife of mine, can we get a dog?”

“Maybe for Christmas, darling.”

Brigitta said, “I want to name him Hammerstein!”

Von Beckbaw clicked his heels together and said, “Silence!
Mein Gott
, Captain, do your brats ever shut up?”

“Never,” von Trapp said. “It’s like living with seven conservative radio show hosts.”

“Touché,” von Beckbaw said, then he strolled over to the car, pulled a gun from his waist holster—a Luger P-08, to be precise—held the barrel to Friedrich’s temple, and said, “Start it, brat.”

“The … the … the … the car is broken. And I … I … I don’t know how to drive.”

Von Beckbaw cocked the trigger. “I said,
start it
.”

Friedrich sighed, then turned the key and fired up the engine.

Smiling, von Beckbaw said, “
Wunderbar
. Now. Care to tell us where
we
are headed?”

“We?” the Captain asked.

Von Beckbaw’s smile became wider. “What with all your car trouble—not to mention an inexperienced driver behind the wheel—you might need an escort. After all, Admiral von Schreiber will be quite disappointed if you don’t report for duty tomorrow.”

“The disappointment would be mutual, Colonel von Beckbaw. But this evening’s mission is of vital importance to the cause.”

“Hmm, intriguing,” von Beckbaw said. “What’s the mission?”

“Vampirecrobatics!”

At that, von Beckbaw’s minions all gagged. Von Beckbaw shook his head. “Apologies, Captain. My men become upset when they hear talk of the undead. This is why they march with me, rather than with the Undeath Squads.” Absently picking his nose, von Beckbaw continued: “Ah, the Undeath Squads. Such a fine collection of soldiers. Brave. Cunning. Strong. Why, they could kill any stinking Vampire in the country without even batting an eyelash.
Any
Vampire.” He gestured at the brats. “I’m certain that the family of a Naval officer would be spared such a fate. Understand?”