Count Chocula emerged at dawn, as was his custom. “A vampire known for his breakfasts,” he thought, “what sick irony is this?” Chocula was still exploring the physical realities of life as a vampire. He was surprised at how the morning sun caused him to slowly, imperceptibly, but no less painfully, dissolve. He was irked by his inability to see himself in a mirror. “My hair must be a disaster,” he thought. Before his turn, Chocula had always loved his breakfast parties. While freeloaders and mercenaries would descend on any dinner party that promised a free meal and plunder of the wine cellar, only true friends made the pre-dawn quest to the castle for breakfast. What once had been a glorious communion with friends was now a painful necessity to maintain appearances. He dared not reveal himself to be a vampire lest he be slain, or worse, pressed into the murderous service of his wife’s father, General Mills. Sometimes, the best way to hide yourself is to appear before the world. And yet, Chocula always came to breakfast, even when guests were not expected. For him, breakfast was also the nexus between his world and that of his beloved wife, the Countess. They could indulge this fragile reminder of their past lives together before he retired to his crypt and she tended to the daylight affairs of the living. “Countess?” he called. “Countess?” But there was no reply. The breakfast table was empty save a bowl of oaten cereal and a note. “My Love: You may bear the anguish you are made to endure by my father, but I cannot. I have gone to him. I will bring an end to his madness, either by the love for his daughter, or at the edge of a dagger. Do not follow me, my count, but let me pay this one small price for the eternity of our love. We will not breakfast together for many months, so I have made for you this cereal. It is an oaten kibble sweetened with chocolate and marshmallows rendered from goat hooves. It has been fortified with eight vitamins and minerals. Eat of it and think of me, my love.” Chocula was unable to read the rest of the note, as his tears had begun to blur the ink. “I didn’t know a vampire could cry,” he thought.
Posted on: Sat, 12 Apr 2014 16:21:59 +0000
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