The Caper

The Caper

"The book? Oh, we LOVE the book!" Dracula said, chuckling. "We call it "The Stagecoach Caper"; hilarious!" They stared, stunned, at the ancient and shrunken little man before them (with his sparse combover, thick glasses, and polyester day lounger). "Obviously, I'm not a Transylvanian count," Dracula continued, gesturing them to sit. "I made my money in merchant trades and then, on a global scale, stocks and investment capital. It's been a good life." "Uh," Darcy began, "well, we didn't really expect ... " His voice trailed off and Dracula laughed. "Don't feel bad; everyone who's gotten this far feels the same way: a little shocked, a little disappointed maybe ... at least until they meet my wives." "Your wives?" Berger reacted, looking around. "Yes! Three of them!" Dracula said happily, clapping his hands together. "Who knew the ridiculous Irishman would get THAT right?" Eaton turned very slowly to the left, her hackles suddenly up and her screw-fight-pick-flight response screaming at the sound of something just beyond the open doors - something slithering in the shadows. "Oh, now, the wives," Dracula whispered, his smile spreading into something too tight and too wide, "are really something to see.”

Remember

Remember

Natural

Natural