03x12 - Miss May Dusa

[bunniefuu]

[theme music playing]

NARRATOR:
Man lives in the sunlit world

of what he believes
to be reality.

But... there is,

unseen by most, an underworld.

A place that is just as real

but not as brightly lit.

A dark side.

[typewriter keys clacking]

[distant dog barking]

MAN:
Listen to this.

"Cody brought the mallet down
with brutal force...

"splitting the breastbone

"and driving the tip
of the stake deep

"into the putrid heart
of Count Blavnakov.

The vampire let out
a bloodcurdling..."

[mimicking robot]:
"Danger! Danger!

Danger, Will Robinson!"

What? What's the matter?

Boring!

Boring!

What are you talking about?

This is vintage Peter Prentice.

You have already used a stake
through the heart routine

to knock off the vampire's
securities analyst

in chapter ten, and the count's
nephew in chapter 14.

You told me yourself that's
the way you k*ll a vampire.

Yeah, but, Peter, there's more
than one way to snuff a vampire.

Pound a stake through
the pump,

exposure to sunlight,

the cross, holy water...

I am not writing a dissertation
on vampire extermination.

Well, how about silver?

A vampire can be destroyed
with something silver.

A silver knife.

Where is Cody going to get
a silver knife

in the underground
parking garage?

[gasps]
I got it!

Cody was given a sterling silver
pen by his mum in chapter three.

When Count Blavnakov corners him
in the parking garage,

he pulls out the silver
fountain pen

and plunges it into
the vampire's chest.

[gagging]

I hired you
as a technical advisor,

not a gag writer.

I'll provide the creative juice.

Sorry.

Stake through the heart
works fine for me.

[sighs]

Let's call it a day.

Fine for me.

[mumbling]:
Fine for me.

Peter.

Why do you write
these things, anyway?

You don't know anything
about the genre,

and you don't believe in it.

The moola.

Dumb question.

Um, Pete.

You promised to call your agent

about reading
some of my stories.

First thing in the morning.

Yeah.

[paper rustling]

[typewriter clacking,
bat squeaking]

The vampire count
pleads for mercy.

The silver fountain
pen glittering

in the fluorescent light.

Pitiful vampire grovels
at his feet.

Rubbish.

Vampires are incapable...

of groveling.

How dare you...

[thunder cracks]

Are you crazy?

You get down from there before
I have my insurance canceled.

[sighs]

Fans.

I am... Draco.

Count Geoffrey Draco.

Vampire.

[laughs]

And I'm Vladimir Horowitz.

What, are you selling
cemetery plots?

I'm calling the cops.

Put that down!

Look... into my eyes.

[gasping, wheezing]

Enough.

You don't want my blood.

I've had hepatitis.

I eat this stuff.

My blood's full of chemicals.

I am not interested in your
blood, Monsieur Prentice.

I have a proposition for you.

Well, I'm all neck, ears.

What do you want?

When the sun shines,

I require sanctuary.

You want to stay here?

I believe you can
accommodate me.

[mechanical whirring]

How-how did you know?

You will have to find
another hiding place

for your, uh, stocks
and bonds.

What's in this for me?

[nervous chuckle]

I offer you 900 years
of vampire stories.

In return for the
sanctuary of your home,

I will tell you such things

that no living man
has ever heard.

Right from the horse's mouth,
so to speak.

[chuckles]

Welcome aboard, partner.

[thunder crashing]

♪ ♪

[mechanical whirring]

[mechanical whirring]

[mechanical whirring]

Ready when you are,
Count.

First, I must feed.

We shall talk
when I return.

[sighs]

Someone is coming.

PETER:
It's my cleaning lady.

DRACO:
Will she be missed?

Are you kidding?

They'll think
Immigration snagged her.

Tonight, I
shall dine in.

[doorbell ringing]

Bon appétit.

Quickly.

[doorbell rings]

Mister, is Mr.
Prentice here?

He said I should come
now for my money

for cleaning.

Maybe I, uh, come
back tomorrow.

Stay.

Close the door.

You cannot scream.

You cannot
utter a sound.

Your heart is
beating faster.

Faster.

Oh, you can feel
the blood coursing

through your veins.

[moans]

I waste nothing.

I k*ll only when I must.

So, you have come
for your pound of flesh.

Well, my readers are waiting
for my next novel.

Then let us not waste this
lovely night in idleness.

I will tell you the story...

of a French knight,

who one day heard
of a vampire prince

whose castle was overflowing
with gold and treasure.

Greed overcame fear.

And he rode out
against this dark prince.

That was 900
years ago.

And the knight's name was Draco.

[chuckles]

I was once destroyed
by a mortal man.

He drove such

a wooden stake through my heart.

But, for a vampire,

death is only temporary.

Jayne never told me vampires
could be brought back

once they were destroyed.

From the ashes,
they may become whole

by scattered blood or by...

a woman's tears.

Few who have learned this secret
have lived to tell of it.

So, um, you decided to rip off
this vampire prince...

No, I did not steal his gold.

I was a knight.

A man of honor!

I challenged him
to a fair fight.

Why?

Gold.

Yeah.

[chuckles]

"Peter Prentice has taken the
horror genre to new heights

with his latest vampire novel,
900 Years of Darkness."

[chuckles]:
Oh!

Listen to this one.

"The scene where
the vampire count

"feeds on the cleaning woman

is perhaps the most chilling
in modern literature."

[chuckling]:
Oh! Hey, did I tell you?

The movie people are
starting to sniff around.

[doorbell ringing]

Oh, listen, I gotta go.

Jayne's here
to pick up her things.

Yeah, I had to let her go.
I was carrying her too long.

Ciao, baby.

Come in.

You could've at least
told me yourself,

instead of having

your lawyer send me a letter.

This is
business, kiddo.

Now, I put all your things
in here.

Cassette, notebooks,
pencil sharpener.

Yeah, well, I'm sure

that it's all there.

There's no hard feelings
or anything like that, right?

You know, whatever I may
think of you personally,

I have to admit,

900 Years of Darkness
just blew me away.

But the only thing
that I cannot figure out

is how a book like that
came out of you.

I worked on five
novels with you,

and I never once detected
even a glimmer of originality.

I saw more of my ideas
in those books than yours.

900 Years of Darkness
was a fluke.

You will never, ever
write a book like that again.

Oh, yeah?

Well, the New York Book Review
called me a genius!

You know, I don't
need you anymore!

I don't need anybody!

What are you staring at?

900 Years of Darkness
by Peter Prentice.

My story.

Your name.

Isn't it past
your feeding time?

I'm sure there's a nice,
juicy drunk out there

with your name
written all over him.

When I return, we are going
to come to a new arrangement.

If my exploits are to be fodder
for your third-rate scribblings,

I demand my share
of the spoils and the glory.

There was no
need to wait up.

I'm going
on a talk show.

I thought
my esteemed collaborator

might like to join me.

You know the sunrise
is only moments away.

How silly of me,
of course you can't come.

A few minutes in the sunlight,
there'd be nothing left of you

but a pungent little puddle
on the sidewalk.

You try my patience,
little man.

I've decided to streamline
my operation.

I don't need any ghostwriters
or hangers-on anymore.

Without my stories,
you are nothing but a hack.

Oh, you've already
given me enough stories

to write 12 novels.

We will discuss this further
in the evening.

[gasping and hissing]

You will remove those
abominations from my coffin.

[hissing]

I had it sharpened razor sharp.

You will remove those things
from my coffin immediately.

On the contrary,
you will remove yourself

from my home and find yourself
a nice little sewer to sleep in!

A little light on the subject!

Not a cloud in the sky,
Draco, old buddy!

Do you think I have lived
900 years to be bested

by the likes of you?

[screaming]

[yelling and gagging]

Put the silver
in the basket.

[grunting]:
I am!

[silverware clattering]

I'm doing it!

[grunting and groaning]

[strained]:
I can't reach it.

[yelling]

[whimpering]

[yelling]

[agonized screaming]

[groaning]

Help me!

Help me.

Help me!

[yelling]

[doorbell ringing]

[knocking on door]

Uh, yeah, yeah, wait.

What?
JAYNE:
Peter!

Come on, you open up.

I know you're in there!

Hurry up!

I'm not gonna
wait here all day.

Yeah, okay, I'm coming!

[knocking continues]

Come on, Pete!
[doorbell ringing]

Coming!

Just hold on there.

It's freezing out here.
Oh...

Getting chilled
to the bone.

[knocking continues]
Ugh, gross.

[doorbell rings]

Peter!

[wall creaking]

[grunting]:
Come on.

[knocking continues]

[whispers]: Oh, no.
[doorbell rings]

Come on, Pete!

Hurry up!
[grunting]

[knocking persistently]

[sighs] Come in.

You're drunk.

Your keen powers
of observation never

cease to astound me.

Observe this,
Sherlock.

You're suing me?

Breach of contract
and outright dastardly,

disgusting, disloyal,
dishonest plagiarism.

Plagiarism?!

What, are you crazy?

You had nothing to do with
writing 900 Years of Darkness.

No, but I practically
wrote the five books
that came before it.

What is this, a shakedown?

No, it's a shake up.

Everything you have
to say as an author

would fit on the back
of a postcard.

There's no way you wrote
900 Years of Darkness.

I figure if I shake
the tree hard enough,

the real author
will fall out.

Oh, I almost forgot.

I found this knife
on your front porch.

Ow!

You okay?

It's nothing.

Yeah, well, just watch the rug.

What's this?

A secret panel?

Peter Prentice, I'm impressed!

Don't be silly.

It's just a closet.

There's a bloody coffin in here!

I can explain.

What could you possibly
want with a coffin?

Count Draco?

Well, no wonder
900 Years of Darkness

reads like a firsthand report.

Do you realize you're
sitting on a gold mine?

Oh.

Here, let me get you
something for that.

Oh...

Wow!

Uh...

Oh.

Pete?

I hope your vampire friend

doesn't mind a little
more blood in his coffin.

I've sprung a leak.
[sighs]

What?!

Something the matter?

[sighing]

[muffled groans]

[hissing cackle]

[chomps]

Peter, what's going on?

Count Draco, I presume.

I make it a rule
only to k*ll for food.

But, in your case,
I must reluctantly

make an exception.

[hissing]

I have a proposition for you.

I'm... I'm listening.

I continue where Peter left off.

I'll give you
equal billing.

And, uh, royalties?

Right down the middle.

Oh.

The earrings.

Oh, sorry.

[clears throat]

A kiss is always better
than a handshake.

[giggling]

[in sultry voice]:
Oh, I think

this is gonna be the start
of a wonderful friendship.

[thunder cracks]

NARRATOR:
The dark side is always there.

Waiting for us to enter.

Waiting to enter us.

Until next time, try
to enjoy the daylight.