Eric Morecambe - The Vampire’s Revenge

Contents

Title Page The Vampire’s Revenge by Eric Morecambe

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Footnote

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About the Author

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Copyright

About the Publisher

Round the throat a little tightening.

Vernon’s back, caused by lightning.

The statue smashed open as the lightning hit it. The life-sized stone statue crashed to the ground and split open from head to toe. If you had been there you would have seen the statue leave the plinth it had been resting on for the past three years. You would also have seen a man crawl out of the broken statue and slowly, very slowly, make his way in a crab-like crawl to one of the park benches. He tried to sit on the bench. It took him seven minutes to bend his stiff body into a sitting position.

If you could have got close enough, even with all the pain he was suffering, you would have seen on his very pale face a tiny flicker of a smile playing about his evil, tight blue lips: he was already looking to the future. He creaked his sore and unused neck muscles and, in obvious agony, they lifted his heavy head to look at the moon through two black and vicious eyes. He worked out the time. It was 2.30 a.m. He thought how lucky he had been.

‘I would be dead now if that storm and the lightning had struck in the daytime. We Vampires can’t live in the daylight, not for very long.’

Vernon the Vampire was free again. He filled his underworked lungs with the cold night air in the village of Katchem-by-the-Throat in his beloved land of Gotcha, and looked at the smashed stones that had been his home for the past three miserable years.

He allowed his mind to go back to just before he was statued, thinking, ‘What a fool I was to allow myself to be turned into stone. After all, it was my invention, it was I who was going to turn the others into stone. But soon I will take my rightful place as the Vampire ruler of this country and rule over these stupid peasants as we Vampires have done for almost a thousand years.’

He allowed a small painful smile to invade the corners of his thin lifeless lips. He thought of all his old enemies and the smile widened, causing him more but worthwhile pain.

He thought of his parents, King Victor and Queen Valeeta, whom he now hated, laying some of the blame for his condition well and truly at their door. He thought of his brother Valentine, who was not really his brother, only a step-brother, having been found on the castle steps, and who was not a real Vampire either. He thought of Igon. Oh, how he hated Igon. ‘Igon and that stupid so-called brother of mine, they were the ones who put me into that statue for these last three years.’ His eyes narrowed as he thought. ‘All of them will get the dues they deserve. Each one shall suffer the pain I’ve suffered and then they shall suffer death.’

Vernon didn’t know of the changes in the land of Gotcha, he only remembered the past when the country was ruled by his mother and father. Vernon was still, in his own mind at least, Prince Vernon Vampire, and next in line to be King and ruler of Gotcha.

What Vernon didn’t know was that his brother was now the President of Gotcha. His mother and father, the ex-King and Queen, had retired to the country and, although they were still Vampires, lived a normal life. Admittedly they slept in the daytime and stayed awake all night, but they harmed no-one and were popular.

Igon, that was the one Vernon wanted to hurt the most. But Vernon only remembered Igon as he was before he was statued. In those days Igon was the most ugly, the most horrible tiny dwarf with a hump for a back and, as the name suggests, only one eye. He was horrible. But not now, not any more. After Vernon had accidentally turned himself into a statue, Victor and Valeeta abdicated. Victor gave the people of Gotcha a parting gift. Using up all of his Vampire magic, he turned Igon into the most handsome of men. No more the small, wizened, ugly dwarf, but the six foot, very handsome giant.

He also made him into a Prince, Special Prince Igon of Gotcha. But Vernon knew nothing of this. The only thing he knew was hate and how to enjoy it. He sat there on the park bench trying to think of anyone he liked; much to his pleasure, he couldn’t.

He rose very slowly from the bench and stayed halfway between sitting down and standing up because he thought he heard a loud creaking noise. He moved again and this time he was sure he heard it. It took several minutes before he realised that it was he who was creaking, having been in that statue for three years in the same position. It was to be expected. He creaked away from the smashed statue, rather like a centipede with rheumatism, and made his way to the caves he remembered before he was statued.

As he walked to the hills where the cave was he could feel his strength coming back. After a couple of long slow miles he was beginning to feel better, a lot fitter. He knew his strength was returning to his body, he could feel it. He looked down at himself. His evening dress wasn’t in too bad a condition, except that it was covered with three years of dust, but that only needed a brush.

Alas, his top hat was really badly bent; he couldn’t wear it even though there was no-one around to see him. To put a squashed top hat on his Vampirian head just wasn’t done. The best way to straighten it out would be to fill it with stones and broken bricks. The weight would take the creases out and after a good polish it would look as good as new. This he did.

Of course, he could have magicked it back into shape, but that would be a waste of good magic. At the moment he didn’t have the strength to magic anything. Anyway he wasn’t going to waste his Drac-given power on a top hat. He was going to save that power and use it on one or two of his old (who wouldn’t get much older) friends, the ones who deserved his special way of saying thanks.

After reaching the caves he found the deepest one he could. He knew that after a good day’s sleep he would be as fit as he had ever been. The thought kept running through his mind, ‘You can’t keep a bad Vampire down.’ After his sleep he would think about his plans. ‘Before the week is over,’ he thought, ‘Gotcha will be in a state of fear and panic.’

* * *

President Valentine rose early that morning, looked out of the window of the Presidential Palace and saw a most beautiful day. Summer was wonderful in Gotcha. He wondered if the freak storm in the night had done much damage. It had awakened him at about two thirty in the morning and he had had difficulty getting back to sleep. When he did, he had dreamed a terrible dream, a dream that took him back three years into the past. He had seen Igon as he used to be and the old King and Queen, but worst of all he had seen Vernon, who seemed to be smiling. He had smiled all through the dream – a smile frightening enough to frighten the strongest of men. When Valentine awoke he was covered in perspiration.