Trapped in Transylvania
“Right away, we knew it was him, the dude himself.
Count Dracula, King of the Vampires.
Also known as Mr. Fangy, Old Prongteeth, Dr. Puncture, Professor Neckman, and Old Man Thirsty.
He had sharp, pale features and eyes that glistened strangely in the snowy light.
His nose and chin were long and pointy. His hair was a weird combination of black and white and slicked back, but with three or four crooked parts in it.
He was dressed from head to foot in total black, including a long cape that billowed out behind him.
“He’s way into the black thing,” Frankie whispered.
“Until something darker comes along,” I added.
“I am Count Dracula,” the man said, his voice all echoey and distant as if he was talking in a garbage can.
I wished he were in a garbage can.
“I was not expecting … three … of you,” Dracula said, glaring at Frankie and me. As we entered, we spotted for the first time that his eyes had a reddish glow to them. His lips were very red, too.
Frankie nudged me. “His lips match his eyes.
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