Young Frankenstein (4 page)

The discomfort, though, was not yet over
.
As the train pulled out, the doctor discovered that he was the only one on the platform. He looked about, perplexed. Had the train dropped him off at the wrong place? Had he been deposited in some Transylvanian ghost town? A moment later, however, he heard whistling. Then a boy, packing a shoeshine kit on his back, appeared, approaching the doctor from the far end of the platform.

"Pardon me, boy," Dr. Frankenstein said, "is this the Transylvania station?"

"Ja, ja,"
the lad replied. "Track twenty-nine. Can I give you a shine?"

"Thank you, no."

The boy strolled on.

The doctor looked around again. It was getting dark. And he could sense that a storm was brewing. He had notified Herr Falkstein of the time of his arrival; why hadn't someone been sent to the station to meet him? By God, if he got caught in a storm, heads would roll. When he got to the castle, he would fire the whole incompetent bunch. They would think twice before they ever left him standing at the station again.

Thunder rumbled. The sky had become an inky black and the clouds were churning ominously. There was a sudden crack of lightning. In the flash, Dr. Frankenstein saw a face. It was no more than a foot away. Startled, he drew back. But the face followed, stopping only inches from the doctor's own face. The eyes in the face twinkled mischievously-or perhaps evilly.

"Frankenstein?"

"Fron-kon-steen," the doctor informed the man.

"You're putting me on."

"No, that's the way it's pronounced. Fron-kon-steen."

"And do you also say Fro-derick?" the man asked.

"Of course not. It's Fred-erick Fronkonsteen."

"Why isn't it Fro-derick Fronkonsteen?"

"Because it's not. It's Fred-erick Fron-kon-steen."

"I see." The face seemed to accept the fact.

Squinting into the darkness, the doctor managed to see the rest of the man. He was draped completely in a black, hooded cape. He looked like he was standing in the center of a tent, peeking out the top. There was also one other factor that would tend to make him stand out in a crowd. He was a hunchback.

"I am Aye-gor," the man said.

"Isn't that Ee-gor?"

"Not anymore.
Now,
it's Aye-gor."

"Are you from the castle?"

"Look at me-where else would I be from?" Igor answered
.

"Were you sent by Herr Falkstein?"

"Yes
.
My grandfather used to work for your grandfather," Igor told the doctor
.
"Herr Falkstein thought it might be ironically appropriate if I worked for you."

"How nice."

"Of course, the rates have gone up," Igor said.

"Yes, yes. But, I'm sure we'll get on splendidly." Wanting to show the man that he was willing to go at least halfway to be friendly, he gave him a comradely slap on the back-and was reminded abruptly, and to his embarrassment, that Igor was a hunchback. "Sorry," he said.

Igor shrugged.

"I don't mean to be personal or anything," the doctor said, "but, you know, I'm a rather brilliant surgeon. Perhaps I can help you with that hump."

Igor looked at him puzzledly. "What hump?"

"On your-Well, never mind." Dr. Frankenstein indicated his luggage, the small, light attache case, and the large, heavy suitcase
.
"I'm ready if you are," he said. "I can help with the bags," he added, reaching for the attache case.

Igor snatched the case before the doctor could grasp it. "This way," he said, melting away into the darkness, leaving the doctor with the heavy suitcase.

Resigned, Dr. Frankenstein followed, dragging the unwieldy bag along the platform
.

When the doctor caught up to Igor, the hunchback was standing beside a two-horse cart that was piled high with hay
.

"You'll probably be the most comfortable in the rear," Igor said, starting to climb up to the driver's seat

Dr
.
Frankenstein lifted his suitcase up to a wheel, rested a moment, then gave it a shove, toppling it over into the hay.

There was a cry of surprise
.
"Oh!" The voice was unmistakably female
.

"What was that?" the doctor asked Igor.

"It must have been Inga. She's your laboratory assistant-temporary
.
"

Dr
.
Frankenstein climbed up on the wheel and looked into the back of the wagon. A young woman was lying there in the hay. She was so gorgeous, in a peasant way, that she was almost frightening. The doctor had been dreaming of bazooms like Inga's since the day he reached puberty. And she was obviously friendly. She was smiling
.

"Would you like to have a roll in the hay?" Inga asked.

Not only friendly, downright aggressive
.
Unless he had misinterpreted her question
.
"I'm not sure I.. . uh ... get your drift," he replied
.

"You should try it
.
It's fun!" she cried out, flinging her arms wide. Then she began rolling herself over and over in the hay, childlike, and singing: "Roll, roll . . . roll in the hay! Roll, roll. . . roll in the hay . . ."

Dr. Frankenstein guessed that she was singing a Transylvanian children's song. It certainly had spirit. And possibilities
.

There was the crack of a whip
.
Then wagon bucked, starting up, and the wheel spun beneath Dr
.
Frankenstein's feet, forcing him to grasp frantically to keep from being thrown off. Struggling, he dragged himself into the wagon and tumbled head over heels into the hay. He found Inga resting beside him.

From the driver's seat, Igor sang out. "Roll, roll. .. roll in the hay!"

The wagon was now speeding recklessly along a bumpy road. The vibrations bounced the doctor and Inga up and down and gradually they settled into a hollow in the center of the hay.

"Roll, roll .. . roll in the hay!" Igor sang joyously.

There was a crash of lightning.

Inga threw herself into Dr. Frankenstein's arms. "Sometimes I'm afraid of lightning," she told him.

He comforted her. "Just an atmospheric discharge," he said. "Nothing to be afraid of."

From out of the darkness came the horrifying howl of a wolf.

Inga cuddled close to the doctor. "Werewolf!" she whispered frightenedly.

"Werewolf!"
Dr. Frankenstein exclaimed.

Igor looked back. "There," he said.

"What?" the doctor asked.

Igor pointed toward the surrounding woods. "There wolf," he replied. He pointed in another direction. "There castle," he said.

"Why are you talking that way?" the doctor demanded.

"I thought
you
wanted to. You started it."

"No, I don't want to," the doctor snapped.

Igor shrugged. "Suit yourself. I'm easy."

Again, a flash of lightning
.
Inga cuddled closer
.
Dr. Frankenstein felt her big bazooms pressing against his chest. He wondered fleetingly if he could get away with retracting his statement about lightning being an atmospheric discharge and nothing to fear and telling her that it was a suspected cause of cancer and the only way to defend against it was to strip down to the waist. At that moment, unfortunately, Igor spoke again, distracting him.

"There it is!" Igor said. . The doctor raised his head, wanting to see what "it" was, thinking that he might be about to see his first werewolf
.
But "it" was a castle. It stood high on a hill, and, in the grainy darkness, looked almost like an extension of that hill, a towering, jagged peak. A bolt of lightning split the sky, and the sudden light glistened on the mist-drenched battlements and illuminated the green-gray moss that was spreading like a pestilence along the cracks in the castle's walls. It reminded him of something he had once read on the first page of a gothic novel.

"Home," Igor said.

"Home
.
. ." Dr. Frankenstein murmured
.
He sat transfixed, fascinated, immune even to the nearness of big bazooms, as the cart slowly climbed the dark, winding road to the castle. Home? Yes, the castle was home to the Frankensteins. But was it home to a Fronkonsteen? If he discovered that it was, would he have to change his name, legally? He shuddered, thinking of the red tape. Oh, Lord! The forms to fill out. The bureaucrats to interview!

In time, the cart reached the castle entrance and halted. Dr. Frankenstein stared at the heavy wooden door, with its hand-wrought iron hinges and its gigantic twin knockers. It was flanked by a pair of brightly burning torches, their flames like devil's eyes in the darkness. Then the spell was shattered as Igor jumped down from the cart and moved toward the door.

Dr. Frankenstein got down, too. He reached his arms up to Inga. From behind him came two loud booms. He looked back just as his laboratory assistant jumped down into his waiting arms. His hands went sliding up her waist and came to rest just below her breasts.

To cover his embarrassment, he tried to explain to Inga that his attention had been on the booming sounds made when Igor banged at the door. "What knockers!" he said.

"Why, thank you, Doctor," she replied shyly.

Igor had now returned to the cart. He got Dr. Frankenstein's attache case from the back and dropped it on the ground, then began to tend to the horses.

"What about my bag?" the doctor asked.

Igor glanced at Inga. "What about her?"

The stillness was disturbed by a creaking
.
Turning, Dr
.
Frankenstein, Inga, and Igor saw that the castle door was opening
.
A face appeared from the murky darkness
.
Or was it a face? Perhaps it was a Halloween mask. The nose was large and hooked. The eyes were small and set in deep hollows
.
There was a hairy mole on the chin
.
The hair was pulled back in a severe bun. Then the rest of the body appeared
.
It was a woman, old and bent
.

"I am Frau Blucher," she said in her hag's voice
.

Lightning cracked. The horses, terrified, reared, neighing in horror
.

"Steady! Steady!" Igor said to the animals, trying to calm them
.

Coolly, Dr
.
Frankenstein approached the door. "How do you do," he said to the woman. "I am Dr. Fron-kon-steen." He motioned
.
"This is my assistant, Inga. Inga, may I present Frau Blucher."

Lightning crashed. The horses reared, neighing in terror once more.

"Easy. Easy. Steady now," Igor said to them soothingly.

"Your rooms are ready,
Herr Doktor,"
Frau Blucher said.

"Fine." Dr. Frankenstein turned to Igor. "Bring the bags," he commanded
.
Then, facing his hostess again, he said, "After you, Frau Blucher."

Lightning cracked
.
The horses reared, terror-stricken.

"Down! Down, you beasts!" Igor shouted
.

"Something's got into those horses," Dr
.
Frankenstein said, unable to resist the chance to make a diagnosis
.

Struggling, Igor got the suitcase down.

"Come along," the doctor urged.

But, unable to resist an urge that had come over him, Igor paused a second. Speaking to the horses, he said, "Blucher!"

Lightning crashed. The horses reared, neighing wildly.

"Maybe they're afraid of lightning," Dr
.
Frankenstein guessed
.
He shrugged
.
"But I'm no vet
.
" Then, following Frau Blucher, he led his associates into the castle
.

They entered a cavernous reception hall. The sound of their footfalls echoed and reverberated in the vast-ness, sounding like moanings from the grave. Awed, the doctor, Inga, and Igor stood staring about. Before them was a broad, majestic stairway. Above them was an elaborate chandelier that was studded with what appeared to be hundreds of unlit candles. The walls were hung with the dark-hued portraits of Frankenstein ancestors
.
The furnishings were heavy and stolid, decorated lavishly with intricate hand-carvings
.
In an enormous fireplace a fire burned slowly, throwing moody shadows against the soaring walls.

Oh, what operations he could perform in a hall like this, Dr. Frankenstein thought to himself
.
The applause would echo for days and days and days and-

Frau Blucher had picked up an unlit candelabrum from a small entrance table
.
"Follow me, please," she said, moving on toward the murky stairs
.

"Stay close," Frau Blucher advised, as they started up the steps
.
She raised the unlit candelabrum higher, as if to assist the others in seeing.

Igor pushed his way between the doctor and Inga and joined the hostess
.
"I can't see a bloody thing back there," he said to her. "Do you mind if I walk up here with you, Frau Blucher?"

From outside came sound of horses rearing and neighing in horror.