Read Online My Favorite Fangs: The Story of the Von Trapp Family Vampires by Alan Goldsher - Free Book Online Page A

Felt Face. “One, two. Two books.”
    Dracula asked, “Did any of you chumps read this one?”
    Brown Cape picked up the paperback, scanned the title, and said, “Who are the von Trapp Family Vampires?”
    “I guess that’s a no,” Dracula sighed.
    “I read it,” Handsome Boy said.
    “One,” Felt Face said. “I count one brown-noser.”
    Holding up his hands, Dracula said, “Okay, for those of you who didn’t read the damn thing, here’s the deal.” Dracula gave his fellow Vampires a synopsis of the first two chapters of My Favorite Fangs, then said, “At that point, I was on the fence. This melding of Vampire mythos, Broadway musical cheese, and gross-out humor is  … I don’t know, it’s clever I guess, but I feel like the author could have come up with his own story.”
    “Drac, those first two chapters are insanely original,” Handsome Boy said. “It’s not like he took some public domain novel then slapped in a bunch of paranormal entities and called it a day. He clearly thought it through. Zombie nuns? Cat suits and Coltrane? That stuff is bloody genius, if you ask me. In my mind, he’s giving that Bram Stoker a run for his money.”
    Dracula bared his fangs and growled, “No dissing Stoker, haircut.”
    Handsome Boy held up his hands and said, “No diss, no diss. Just saying that based on two chapters, this is a solid book.”
    “It sounds like it has potential,” Brown Cape said, pulling a handful of brown cereal from his brown pocket. “Maybe I’ll actually give it a peek.”
    Sighing, Dracula said, “Dude, you say that every week, and every week, nothing. Okay, screw it, I’ll just give you idiots the Cliff’s Notes version. So it’s the next evening, and Liesl’s a Vampire, and the Captain’s hungover…”

 
    CHAPTER 3
    T HE SHARP KNOCK at the front door roused the Captain from on the sofa. “ Alfred ,” he called, pulling himself up to standing, “ door! Now! ”
    “Yes, sir.”
    Snottily, Friedrich called from the back of the living room, “That’s right, Alfred! Get the door. Immediately!”
    The butler said, “That’s enough from you, Master Friedrich. I can make one phone call and have the Joker, the Penguin, and King Tut on you like brown on schnitzel.”
    Captain von Trapp grinned, said, “Ah, banter. Good one, Alfred,” and then plopped down onto his hindquarters.
    “Quite,” Alfred said, then opened the door and sneered at the teenage boy on the stoop. “Ah. Rolfe. Good evening. Wonderful to see you. As always.” His voice dripped with disdain.
    With his perfectly coiffed blond hair, his piercing blue eyes, and his strapping body, Rolfe was the Aryan ideal, a perfect candidate to join the Master Race. Alfred despised him. The Captain tolerated him. All the children found him to be a nuisance … except for Liesl, who wanted to do things to him.
    “Good evening, Alfred. Wonderful to see you, too. As always.” When Rolfe spoke, he tended to jut out his chin and clench his teeth together, which made him sound like a German version of Jay Gatsby, so much so that one expected him to end every other sentence with “old boy.” He continued, “Everything is copacetic, yes?”
    Alfred screwed up his face. “Copacetic?”
    “Yes, copacetic, old boy.” (There it is! He said it! Told you so!)
    “What’s supposed to be copacetic?”
    Rolfe looked nervously over his right shoulder, and then his left. “The thing ,” he said.
    Alfred knew full well what the thing was, but what with having to deal with yesterday’s vomitous mess in the ballroom, he felt like messing with Rolfe’s head. “I have no clue what you’re talking about, young man.”
    Rolfe sighed. “The thing, Alfred, the thing. ” He pointed at his pocket. “ This thing.”
    Affecting a disgusted expression, Alfred said, “Young man, I’ll respectfully ask you to stop pointing at … your thing .”
    Rolfe’s pale cheeks reddened. “I’m not pointing at my thing. I’m pointing at