Young Frankenstein (11 page)

"I didn't hear you ask me."

"Vell, I did."

"Den, if
you
didn't put her to bed, and
I
didn't put her to bed, nobody put her to bed," the man said, alarmed
.

"And if nobody put her to bed, she's not in bed! Oh, Papa, were is she?"

"No, Mama, don't be frightened," the man said, his face ashen with fear. "Don't tink about monsters
.
"

"Who's linking about monsters?"

"I am!" the man said
.
"You should hear da stories dey're telling in the village. Dey would make your blood run cold
.
" He shuddered
.
"But try not to tink about it," he said
.

"Papa! Do something! Our little girl!"

The man went to the door and opened it and called out into the evening dimness
. "Heeeelga!"

The monster joined the couple in listening
.
There was no reply.

"Heeeelga!"
the man called again
. "Heeeelga!"

No answer.

"Go to the bathroom!" the woman said.

The man looked down at his trousers. "Am I-"

"To look for Helga, I mean!" the woman told him.

The man hurried back across the room, then disappeared through a doorway. But when he returned a few seconds later his face was still ashen with fear.

"Not dere," he reported. "Mama, maybe she is at a neighbor's house."

"Oh, I hope so, Papa! I'm afraid-"

"Mama, don't be afraid. I told you, don't tink about monsters." He headed for the door again.

"Vat can
I
do, Papa?" the woman asked.

"Go on vis da ironing," he told her, departing. "It vill keep your mind off monsters."

When the man had gone, there was nothing to hold the monster's interest. Ironing for ironing's sake just wasn't that fascinating. So he moved on, following a path that led back into the woods.

Before long, he came to a small clearing
.
It appeared to be a child's playground. A swing hung from a tree limb. There was a teeter-totter, fashioned from a thick board and a thick log. And, standing at a well-a wishing well?-was a beautiful, golden-haired little girl. She had a small rag doll under one arm, and she was amusing herself by dropping flower petals into the well.

Attracted to the child, the monster entered the cleaning. His appearance startled her so that she dropped her doll and it went tumbling into the well. There was a splash
.
For a second, the child was dismayed
.
But then her naturally sunny disposition reasserted itself and she smiled.

"Hello!" she said to the monster. "My name is Helga Would you like to play with me?"

The monster considered
.
He hoped she wasn't thinking about throwing him down the well, as she had the doll
.

"Mmmmrnrnmm . . ." he said, noncommittally.

"We could drop flowers into the water together," Helga said sweetly
.

So, the monster joined her at the well
.
The little girl gave him a petal from a flower, and, following her example, he dropped it into the opening.

"Bye-bye. Bye-bye," Helga called after the petal.

"Mmmmmm-mmmmmm. Mmmmmmm-mmmmmm," the monster said.

Helga offered him another petal.

It had become obvious to the monster, however, that the little girl was running an inefficient operation
.
Her object, clearly, was to get all the flower petals into the well
.
Doing it her way, petal by petal, would take months. So, he relieved her of all of the flowers and dumped them into the well with one drop.

Helga laughed happily
.
"Fun! Fun!" she said
.
She leaned over the well
.
"Bye-bye," she called down to the flowers
.

"Mmmmmmm-Mmmmmmm," the monster said.

"Throw them a kiss," the little girl said.

The monster puckered up his heavy lips and aimed a kiss into the opening.

Helga clapped her hands in delight. But then the look of mild dismay returned to her face.

"Oh, dear," she said. "No more petals. No more pretty flowers. What shall we throw into the well now?"

The monster looked around. The log and heavy board that made up the teeter-totter? No. He turned his eyes back to Helga and was instantly struck with an inspiration
.
He reached out picked her up, then raised her high above his head
.

"Oooooooo! Wheeeeeee!" she cried out joyously
.

Then, down she went, as the monster lowered her to one end of the teeter-totter
.

"Now, you sit down," Helga said to the monster, indicating the opposite end of the board.

Wanting only to make her happy, he straddled it, then lowered himself
.
Unfortunately, he was not yet in full control of his body. Halfway down, he lost his balance, and, falling, landed on the board with all his weight. The result was startling. Helga, catapulted, went shooting high into the air.

She continued to go up, up, up! And, due to a wind factor in the upper atmosphere, she also drifted. Fearful for her, the monster began clomping through the woods, following her progress as she shot higher and higher and drifted further and further away. His hope was that he would be able to catch her when she finally came down.

As Helga reached the peak of her climb and then began the descent, the monster discovered that he was approaching the cottage again. He stretched out his arms, making ready for the catch, and continued to advance, compensating for the drift. A few moments later, he found himself back at the cottage window. Looking in, he saw that the mother was still ironing
.
Glancing back up, he located Helga once more and set himself for the catch.

Then the monster heard the father's voice again. "Mama! Helga vas not at da neighbor's!"

"Oh, Papa! Vat has happened to her?"

"Mama,
don't think about monsters!"

"But vere is she?" the mother wept. "Ve've looked everywhere but in her room."

"Didn't you look in her room?" the father asked.

"But you said you didn't put her to bed."

"I didn't say I looked in her room, though
.
I thought you looked in her room."

"You told me to keep ironing
.
"

Helga, plummeting, was only yards short of the monster's arms
.

"Mama, let's look in her room!"

Helga was drifting again. The monster ran, trying to stay under her. But, just as she was about to drop into his arms, she was caught by a sudden gust of wind. It blew her toward the cottage-and in through a window.

Afraid for the child, the monster went to the window and looked in. What he saw gave him the faith to believe in sheer luck. Helga had landed in a bed. And not only was she not harmed, but, weary after the long flight, she had dropped off to sleep.

At that instant, the door of the room burst open. The parents appeared
.

"Mama! She's been here all the time, safe in her little bed!" the father said
.
He glared at his wife
.
"And you vere afraid of monsters."

The monster, feeling good about the happy ending, moved on.

After he had been traveling for an hour or so, he came upon another cottage. This one was not so attractive. It was somewhat tumbledown, in fact. It, however, appealed to him, too. For, from it came the odor of food. The monster's need for food was increasing.

He went to a window and looked in. The only light was the glow from the fireplace. It cast dark, wavering shadows. And in the dimness, the monster saw an old man kneeling beside a crude bed. The man was praying.

"A visitor is all I ask, Lord," the man said. "Take pity on me-I am blind. Give me a temporary companion to help me pass a few hours of my lonely life
.
"

The monster looked toward the fireplace
.
A kettle of soup was heating
.
It seemed like the perfect time to show a little kindness to a poor, lonely blind man
.
It would be an even trade: a few minutes of companionship for a bowl of soup
.

Going on to the door, the monster shoved it open and entered the cottage
.
"Mmmmmmmmmm!" he said hungrily
.

"A visitor!" the blind man cried out. "Oh, thank you, Lord!"

"Mmmmmmmmm."

Rising, the blind man groped in the dimness. "Don't speak!" he said. "Don't say a word! Just let me find you, let me touch you, let me feel you, let me hold you, let me smell you-oh, my joy, my happiness, my prize from Heaven!"

The monster watched the blind man grope ineffectually for a few moments, then, taking pity, he moved into the man's path and held out a hand to him. The blind man still couldn't find him. So the monster grasped the man's hand and put it on his own hand.

"Oh, my!" the blind man said, surprised
.
"You
are
a big one, aren't you? I can tell by the size of your hand. I'll bet you were the tallest boy in your class." He released the hand. "My name is Harold," he announced. "I live here all alone. What is your name?"

"Mmmmmmmmm
.
"

"I'm sorry, I didn't get that."

"Mmmmmmmmm
.
"

"Oh! Forgive me
.
I didn't realize-you're mute! It's perfect. Look how Heaven plans
.
Me, a poor blind man, and you, a-an incredibly big mute. Are you hungry?"

"Mmmmmmmmmmmnimmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmm!"

"How does a cozy fire, a bottle of wine, and some nice hot soup sound to you?"

"Mmmmmmmm!"

"God love you!" the man enthused. "Yes, that's good, isn't it? All right, come along."

Grasping the monster's hand once more, Harold led him to a crude table. It was set with a candle, a soupspoon, an old wooden cup, and a napkin.

"You make yourself comfortable," the blind man told the monster, "and I'll get the soup. I haven't had company for so long, I'm a little nervous-I hope you'll excuse me." He started toward the fireplace, then halted. "Oh-my cane," he said. "Do you see it anywhere around? I use it to feel my way."

The cane was hanging on the back of a chair. The monster picked it up and put it into Harold's hand.

"Many thanks," the blind man said. "You'll need a soup bowl, of course. I think you'll find it over there-" he said, swinging the cane in the general direction of the cupboard. The cane rapped the monster across the side of the head. "-on a shelf."

"Mmmmmmm!" the monster complained.

"Oh, you already have a soup bowl? Fine."

Again, Harold started toward the fireplace. But then, as before, he halted. "Salt," he said. "The salt's in the same place," he said, swinging the cane. It banged the monster on the head again. "-right there on the shelf, next to the soup bowls."

"Mmmmmmmmmm!" the monster said angrily
.

"Oh, yes, you're right, this is going to be a fun night!" the blind man said, going on toward the fireplace.

"Mmmmmmmm!"

"Coming up!"

Harold lifted the pot of soup from the hook in the fireplace and headed back toward the table with it. "Oh, oh, oh, hot, hot, hot!" he said cheerily. "Just the thing to take the chill off a hungry tummy." He placed the pot on the table. "Mmmmmmmmm!" the monster said, as the aroma reached his nostrils with full force.

"I know what it's like to be hungry," the blind man said, feeling his way with the cane toward the cupboard. "And how much a little kindness from a stranger can mean. Especially when you're all alone in this world."

From the cupboard, he got a bottle of wine and a cup. "Are you ready for the soup?" he asked, returning.

"MMMMmmmmmm!"

Harold put the bottle of wine and the cup down on the table, then, groping, found the handle of the ladle that was sticking out of the soup. "Hold out your bowl," he said.

"Mmmmm," the monster said, obeying.

The blind man ladled soup from the pot. "Oh, my friend, if you only knew what your visit means to me," he said. He reached the ladle past the bowl that the monster was holding and poured hot soup into his lap. "How long I've waited for the pleasure of the company of another human being," he went on, as the monster stared down at the soup that was now running down his legs and onto the floor. "The sound of good conversation across the dinner table-nothing like it! We forget, in our preoccupation with worldly matters, that it is these simple pleasures that are the basis for true happiness. How's the soup? Like it?"

"Mmmmmmmm," the monster said feebly.

"Oh, I knew it would hit the spot," Harold said happily. He lowered the ladle back into the pot- "Now, then! A little wine to go along with it!"

"Mmmmmm!" the monster said sharply, trying to tell the old man that he hadn't yet had any soup.

"Burgundy, I think," Harold responded, opening the bottle. "Hold out your cup."

Again, the monster obeyed.

The blind man held the bottle over the monster's lap-Quickly, the monster reached out and got hold of Harold's hand and guided it until the bottle was over the cup.

The blind man poured, and the cup filled.

"Mmmmmm!"

"Enough? Fine." Harold groped and found the other cup, then poured wine for himself. "I hope it's a good year," he said.

"Mmmmmmm."

"Oh? Fifty-nine? That
was
a good year." He put the bottle down. "A toast," he said, raising his cup. "A toast to a long friendship!"

The two clinked cups.

The monster's cup shattered, and the wine went splashing onto the table.

"Excellent!" Harold said, tasting his own wine.

The monster looked pathetically at the spreading dark spot on the tabletop.

"Oh, my yes!" the blind man went on. "It
is
a fifty-nine. You have an educated palate, my friend
.
"

"Mmmmmmmm," the monster said weakly
.