Ladle Rat Rotten Hut (8 page)

“That’s part of why I brought you back to life, Count
Dracula,” I said, picking up an apple then cutting it with my knife. “I do know
where you come from and who you really are.”

“You do?” he asked suspiciously.

“Here,” I showed him some pictures and ancient books. “This
is your family. These are your ancestors. Some of them, you know. Some of them,
you don’t.”

Dracula flipped through the pages and pictures with longing
eyes, but then he threw it all away and got back to me. “What is this? This is
absurd.” He claimed.

“Absurd and true. Perfect synonyms.” I cocked my head, as I
slipped in comfortable white trousers and took off my shirt. If it were for me,
I’d run naked all around, showing off my young and attractive body, but I had a
reputation to keep.

“These people don’t even exist,” Dracula protested. “They
are fictional characters in fairy tales.”

If
Dracula was aware of fairy tales, how come he didn’t recognize the famous name
of Peter Pan? I had to assume that he wasn’t much of a reader in his time.
Sucking blood and intimidating virgins didn’t really fit with being a bookworm.
Can you imagine Dracula sitting by a fireplace, covered in a blanket with a
pipe in his mouth, reading a book? What would that book's title be? 10 Ways to
Suck Blood Without Making a Mess? Change Your Life and Become Scarier than
Frankenstein in Seven Days? The Four-Hour Coffin Nap? The Hunger Games. ( Not
the one about the future. The one about how to deal with hunger for blood )

“They are your ancestors, Draco,” I said firmly. “I don’t
expect you to believe me right away, but this woman out there in the hall is
your flesh and blood.”

“Absurd,” Dracula said the word three consecutive times.
Each time he roared the word, he shattered the glass in the windows, and vases
flopped in the air.

Interesting. I didn’t know he could do such things. So he
wasn’t just a shallow
fanghead
after all.

“Ok.” I gave in. I was never fond of educating those who
didn’t want to be educated.
Let the chips fall where they may.
I was a
casual boy. I liked fun, faeries, food fights, and folklore dances. Add a
little mayhem here and there, and you got me by
Hello
. “We could discuss
this issue later. Right now, I need you for something else. However, I’ll have
to get rid of the Queen outside first. Please feel free to enjoy the chamber
while I am away. Just break no more vases please.”

“You’re going to leave me alone in here?” He stopped me by
the door.

“You’re not going to whine like babies and want me to leave
the lights on, are you?” I said impatiently.

“Of course not.”

“And you’re not afraid of other vampires, I assume.”

“Of course not.”

“Then what the fang is your problem, Draco?”

“I get bored easily.”

“Oh. That,” I turned around and switched on my Xbox. “You
know what we children do in the real world whenever we get bored?”

“I have no idea. What do you do?”

“We kill zombies.”

“Zom—“ He squinted as he pursed his lips, stuck at the
M
in Zom.

“bies.” I stressed in an educational way.

“What kind of bees are those?” He wondered.

“What?” It took me a second to register his confusion. “Oh.
No. It’s not like queen bees and
zombees
.”

“Then what it is?”

Now, I looked puzzled. How was I supposed to explain that?
Why were they even called zombies? Were they bees that got zombed, or zoms that
got beed.
To bee or not to bee, that’s is the question.

I threw a controlling device at Dracula. He caught it with
his fangs.

“Don’t bite it, please. It’s really expensive. There is a
red button. Put your thumb on it.”

The screen showed the zombies coming toward us, looking for
braiiiins
. I was surprised when Dracula winced.

“These are the zombies we kill for fun. It’s also a nice
way to bury dark psychological childhood issues...like yours.” I said, watching
him drawing his fangs out at the zombies in the screen. Had I told him that
they were stuck inside this screen, I would have spoiled the fun, so I shut up.

“Push the button, Draco,” I said enthusiastically. “Or they
will get you. They love to kill vampires.”

An incredibly victorious and pompous smile drew itself on
Dracula’s face when he pushed the button, decapitating his first zombie.

“Feels good, eh?” I said. “Just like your first—“ I was
going to say
kiss
, but didn’t know if her were capable of that.

“Off with their heads!” He yelled at the screen.

“Don’t say that, please,” I shook my head. “That’s not your
department. These words belong to the Red Queen.” I followed, wondering if
there were zombies in Wonderland. Why did the Red Queen repeatedly say:
off
with their head
? Hmm.

He
didn’t comment. He was so into the game as if I weren’t in the room anymore.

“I thought so,” I said under my breath as I walked out.
“Every child’s dream is to push a button and kill imaginary friends.”

Out in the hall, the Queen was tapping her glass shoes on
the marble floor of my castle. Those must have been Cinderella’s shoes, but I
didn’t want to know.

As arrogant and evil that the Queen posed, she still took
my breath away with her beauty. Even though I knew her beauty was fed with
young girl’s blood, the Queen was one of the few reasons that made me consider growing
up.

“My Queen,” I nodded as I approached my desk in the hall.
It was cut from the most precious oaken trees, the shape of a liver. The Lost
Boys liked those tables when we used to have food fights in Neverland. “What an
unpleasant surprise.” I greeted her with a big smile on my face.

“I see you have gotten yourself a large castle in Transylvania,” She looked around, avoiding my insult. She was good at making me feel
invisible sometimes. “That’s Dracula’s castle, isn’t it?”

“You guys only wake up once every one hundred years while I
sit here waiting for you forever,” I tucked my knife in a small belt around my
waist. “I intend to live large every minute of the boring one hundred years
waiting for some of you,” I stopped, checking her out again. “Of course, you’re
not one of those I wait for.”

“But why?” She smirked, as she noticed the way I looked at
her. She pulled her chin up a notch. “Aren’t you a lucky little bastard, living
forever, not growing up, and not affected by the Brothers Grimm’s curse?”

“I smell envy,” I sniffed the air like a rabbit. “I don’t
belong to your department. I am a proudly mentioned by Sir James Mathew Barrie,
and I don’t live until the Grimm’s umbrella. Should I remind you that Barrie was a
Sir
?”

“From what I know about you, Peter, he buried some serious
secrets about you too in his books. I wonder why?”

“He might have, but he didn’t curse me.”

“He might not have cursed you. But you are cursed with your
love with one of us.” She looked straight into my eyes.

I couldn’t utter a word. I was guilty as charged. Hadn’t I
fallen in love with Sleeping Beauty, I wouldn’t have been pulled into all this
drama with Snow White in 1912.

Silence roars in the room.

“So how’s your Neverland?” The Queen interrupted the
silence ith another insult. “Did you kidnap enough children to occupy it and
rebuild it?”

“Why are you here?” I asked firmly, ignoring her question.
“You wouldn’t be here unless something is wrong with your daughter. Last time
we met, you said you got hold of her, so she can’t hurt any of us.” I did
consider myself one of them when it came to the Snow White dilemma. Sleeping
Beauty was one of them, and Snow White could hurt her.

“I did,” The Queen nodded, and approached my desk as I sat
chewing on an unlit Cuban cigar. “But there is still a possibility she could
wake up again, and end the world we live in.”

“What?” I refused to allow my heart racing faster. I am not
going to get scared by that little pale princess. I am Peter Pan. “Didn’t you
say you got hold of her. All that we went through in 1912, and we still have to
worry about her?”

“That’s why I need your help.”

“Oh,” My Auburn eyes widened while I took a drag from my
unlit cigar and puffed invisible smoke into the air. “The Queen of Sorrow needs
my
help, Again?” I teased her.

“Do you have to be topless when you talk to me?” She
averted from commenting on my implication, as always. “It’s not like you have a
six pack or something. You’re just a wiry tall boy.”

“Beautiful boy,” I corrected her. “I know I turn on girls
my age. But is it possible that I make the Queen of Sorrow uncomfortable with
my beauty? Mirror mirror.”

“Gimme a break, please.” She waved her hand, covered in
white gloves. Gosh, the way she waved her hand; so elegant, so attractive. The
Queen was made of fabulousness, awesomeness, and
majesticness
– I think
there is no such word. If you didn’t like it, sue me.

“Did I ever tell you that you make me want to grow up?” I
said, leaning back in my chair then stretching my legs on the desk. “But then
again, you’ve been more into girls than boys lately.”

“Peter,” She bowed her head as she slammed her palms on the
desk, staring at me with those piercing eyes. “Stop playing games or—“

“Or what?” I teased her more, unable to take my eyes off
her. No wonder her daughter used the same kind of charms to seduce her victims.
“Are you going to turn me into a frog?” I croaked then laughed. My voice echoed
in the castle. I could hear Hunchy chuckle somewhere in the dark.

“I don’t have time to
turn
anyone. It is faster to
kill
.”
She said.

Her anger was vicious yet sweet. Some girls made me want to
rest my head on their legs. The Queen made me want to die in her arms. Wicked.
Before I let her see me shrug, I grabbed another apple and took a bite. “Hmm,”
I loved the taste of apples. “Apples?” I offered, stretching out my arm, almost
too close to her royal nose. “They are not poisonous. Cross ma heart.” I
grinned.

The Queen neglected my sarcasm as usual. I hated when she
made me feel so small like a useless fly, buzzing around the halls of my
castle. No matter how high it fluttered, no one gave a damn. I bet that if I
had parents, they would have made me feel the same.

“Why don’t you offer him some apples,” She straightened up,
laughing at a huge poster of Sean Connery on the wall behind me. “Why do you
have this poster here? It so blows up the gothic/fairytales feel of this
castle."

“Oh, James Bond?” I tilted my head. “It’s a Scottish thing.
You wouldn’t understand. You’re a Grimm. I am a Barrie.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She said without looking at
me, emptying a sack onto the desk. “Don’t get me started, making fun of the
author who created you. This Barrie of yours.”

“I hate to correct you again. You mean
Sir
James
Mathew Barrie.” I insisted as I picked up a pipe from my desk after I threw
away my cigar. Of course, the pipe didn’t work.

“Easy with your smoking habits,” She mocked me. “You’re
going to get yourself killed.”

“You’re totally right,” I pretended to cough heavily.
“Where in the world would I be without you—“

“Shut up and look.” She pointed at the items she emptied on
my desk.

“So that’s why you are here,” I rubbed my chin, looking at
the seven items on my desk:

A fork, a plate, a mug, breadcrumbs, a chair, a knife, and
some magical beans.

“Remember those?” She wondered.

“Who wouldn't? Isn’t this the part when the seven dwarfs
come back from work to their cottage and keep asking, ‘who drank from cup’ and
‘who slept in my bed’ and so on?” I squeaked the last part.

“Dwarves my butt.”

“Yeah. I forgot you like that phrase.”

“Because they weren’t dwarves. They were the Lost Seven who
had helped her.”

“So why are you obsessed with the Lost Seven?”

“Don’t you get it?” She sighed. “They were the ones with
her in the cottage. They were the ones who helped her escape two hundred years
ago.”

“So what?” I swooshed the unfinished apple into the
garbage. Basketball style. I am amazing. “Didn’t you say you got hold of her? I
don’t want to know what you have done to her, but I take your word for it that
she can’t hurt us for the next hundred years.”

“Not if she finds them,” The Queen shrugged. “Or if they
find her.”

“Good point,” I considered. “So why are they so important,
again?”

“There is a secret,  a puzzle, that each one of them holds
a clue to it.”

“And I assume you’re not going to tell me what that secret
is, of course.” I said, fiddling with the breadcrumbs on my desk.

“You know how this works, Peter. The only thing that makes
us on the same side is that we want to get rid of her. Other than that, I could
not care less about you and your Wonderland.”