April 1, 2009: Tomb of Chocula

LOLSCHACH's Journal: April 1, 2009

Have dispatched last of Count Chocula's minions. Used up all defenses intended for chocopire in previous battles. Going into showdown with Count unprepared. No choice. Will have to be resourceful.

Navigate crypts beneath Coco Castle. A maze of winding tunnels and corridors. Could take years to locate Chocula's tomb at current rate. Catch scent. Like packet of Swiss Miss. Faint due to musty air, but unmistakable. Recall epitaph on Tucan Sam's headstone: "Follow your nose". Poor Sam. Murdered by own trio of scheming nephews in effort to commit inheritence fraud. Solved Sam's murder. Brats got life. Sudden recollection of Sam's epitaph...like Sam attempting to give thanks from beyond grave. Hurm.

Lift face above nose and follow the faintly sweet odor of coco powder. Aroma grows stronger as I traverse crypt. Eventually becomes nauseatingly dense and perverted with stench of decay, like bathroom at Willy Wonka's Chocolate Factory.

Finally arrive at entrance to Chocula's tomb. Carved in stone above great bronze double doors is ominous warning: "Blah! I vant to suck your chocolate! Blah!"

Very on the nose.

Burst through both doors with single massive shove. Chocula already knows I'm here. Might as well advertise it. Resting in middle of chamber is large cardboard cereal box. There is a prize inside this box. Not a whistle. Not a yo-yo. A chocolate-sucking undead tyrant.

Plan is simple. Will tear open box and punch sleeping Chocula in face. See where things go from there.

Don't even make it to box. Feel hot breath upon neck. Stink is tremendous, like Whitman's Sampler left out in sun, then stepped on, thrown in garbage, eaten by sufferer of halitosis, then puked into compost heap.

Very unpleasant.

Ironically, foul aroma proved savior. Alerted me to Count's presence in time to dodge before fangs could sink into jugular. Step several feet backward. Keep eyes on Count. He is floating just above ground. Grim smile on lips. Does not consider LOLSCHACH threat. Begins to speak.

"Blah! Velcome to Chocovania! I vill suck your chocolate! Blah!"

Constant use of "Blah!", very annoying. No time to be annoyed. Chocula already diving toward me. Roll to side and avoid pounce. Exit tomb at high speed and sprint down crypt. Don't have to look back. Know Chocula is following. Will have to think of something.

Too late.

Chocula is upon me. Clutches throat. Hoists me into air. We are hovering above rubble covering remains of Franken Berry. Chocula smiles and with a "Blah!", floats up into massive hole made by Franken Berry, still gripping me by throat.

We float up several levels, eventually surfacing in dark meadow just beyond Coco Castle. Tunnels of crypt reached out further than realized. Chocula slams me into ground. Toying with me. Won't stop saying "Blah!" Still do not have plan. Begin to wonder what having all chocolate sucked from body through neck might feel like.

No. That is defeatist thinking. Must improvise. Take inventory of resources: Dirt. Grass. Oxygen. Pebbles. Cow? Lone cow. Must have been separated from herd.

That's it.

Race toward bovine with chocopire a hair's width behind me. Tackle cow with last remaining strength. Cow spits out cudd in surprise and lets out tremendous "Moo!" Tips over.

Chocula laughs. Thinks I have lost mind. Reach for cow's utters. Unpleasant appendage to touch. Too much like breasts. Too sexual. Feel dirty. Squeeze teets. Feel dirtier. Ugh.

Raw, unpasturized, unhomogenized milk squirts from utters directly into face of Count Chocula. Milk: the holy water of the chocopire.

The Count let's out an ear-splitting "Blaaaaaaaaaah!" Screams like little girl with skinned knee. Amusing. Continue milking cow, ensuring every drop strikes the already smoking and dissolving Count.

Chocula is done for. Will never forget final look on face before he explodes in a cloud of hellfire and hot chocolate mix.

As arranged, Dreiberg arrives with Archie at eight o'clock to pick me up. Asks me how it went. Reply with "Hurm" and tell him he's getting fatter. Dreiberg drops me off a block from apartment.

With Count Chocula destroyed once and for all, perhaps the world of cereal mascots will return to state resembling peace.

As this thought crosses mind, am approached by short, red haired Irish man dressed in green. Possible leprechaun. The man, named Lucky, is in terrible shape. As if having been pursued by tireless foes across an untold distance for many days and sleepless nights. Lucky is on verge of collapse. Screams to me, "Faith n Begorrah, sir! You got to be helpin' me! They're after me lucky charms! They're always after me lucky charms!"

Leprechaun breaks down into sobs. Just then, spot a pair of juvenile delinquents rounding corner. Trying to steal poor slob's golden pot of marshmallows.

Not on LOLSCHACH's watch.

Crack knuckles, approach delinquents and prepare to balance their breakfasts. With fists.

March 31, 2009: Crypts of Coco Castle

LOLSCHACH's Journal: March 31, 2009

Battle with Fruit Brute and Yummy Mummy has left me depleted of energy. Battered. Bruised. But not beaten.

Not yet, anyway.

But defeat is assured unless wounds can be healed before facing next wave of Count Chocula's minions, much less Chocula-himself.

Frustrated. Angry. In moment of rage, punch stone wall. Stone block crumbles upon impact, revealing secret compartment containing roast chicken. Devour chicken. Full health is restored.

This is logically sound.

Now ready to face any horror Count Chocula can throw at me. Eventually find steps winding downward into crypts of Coco Castle. No doubt the resting place of Count Chocula. Descend down spiralling staircase.

Eventually reach crypts. Walls are dripping with stagnant, swampy water. The slimey walls are adorned with skeletons, still bearing their shackles. A menagerie of horror, as far as the eye can see.

Feel something.

A faint, ominous chill running up spine. Arms become rigid with goose flesh. Hairs on back of neck raise like entranced cobras. There is a presence haunting these corridors. Cannot be seen, but can be felt just the same. The torches lining the hall slowly dim. A thick, blue mist reeking of untold centuries of death and decay oozes from cracks and nitches in walls.

From out of the shroud, a shape begins to form. A vague, spectral shape only faintly implying the form of a man. The phantom is adorned with accessories from life long past. A vaudeville hat and bowtie. Heard of him. Was once famous stage performer from turn of century. Comedian. Times changed. He didn't. Years passed. No longer considered funny. Audience stopped laughing. Then, they stopped coming. Desperate. Depressed. Hung self on stage. Final performance.

Boo Berry.

The luminous blue spectre floats toward me. Through me. Blood runs cold. Heart stops for an instant. Experience a pain beyond description. Can feel actual years draining from own lifespan. Drop to one knee. Another attack like that could kill me. Will kill me.

Look back. Boo Berry watches me with dull, tragic look in eyes. Were I anyone else, might pity his pathetic existence. But I am LOLSCHACH. Boo Berry gets no such quarter.

Stumble onto both feet and reel in his direction. Drive fist inbetween sad dopey eyes. Knuckles pass right through him. Like fighting puff of smoke. Can feel blood in fist turn to ice. Yank arm back and move a few steps away. Fingernails fell off.

Cannot defeat ghost by punching it or setting it on fire. And that's all I'm good at. Hurm.

Boo Berry hovers toward me. One more pass and I will become like him, only with a better hat. Cannot fight non-corporeal entity. Must try alternative. Speak to it in language vaudeville comedian would understand.

"Heard joke once. Man goes to see doctor. Says, 'Doctor, I need help. I broke my funny bone.' Doctor laughs. Says, 'But sir, there's not such thing as a funny bone.' Man insists that funny bone is broken. Demands x-rays. Doctor concedes and performs x-rays. Man waits in office. Doctor observes x-rays and returns. Man says, 'So is my funny bone broken?' Doctor says, 'No, but you do have AIDs'."

...No. Not right.

Doctor says, "No, but you have...Cancer?"

Damn. Forgot punchline. Good joke, though. Hurm.

Look around. Boo Berry gone. Nothing comedians hate more than bad jokes. Mist disipates and I can see down hall.

Wish I couldn't. Spot large, pink creature lumbering in my direction. The floor quakes with his every step. Creature is manmade afront to nature. Ghoulish patchwork of human body parts and steam-powered machinery. Offensive to the eye. Heard of it. Created by Count Chocula-himself as personal bodyguard. Assembled from history's greatest monsters. Talons of the Beast of Gevaudan. Fangs of the Chupacabra. Stomach of Jeffrey Dahmer. Blood-soaked skin of Lady Bathory. Legs of Walt Disney. All powered by coal furnice installed in back of skull.

Franken Berry.

With single swipe from massive, boulder-sized fist, the entire castle shivers. Large stones dislodge from ceiling and threaten to crush me. Move as fast as I can, but encounter with Boo Berry has left me weak.

Suddenly, Franken Berry stops and inhales a deep, menacing breath. Must have lungs of Superman. Whistle on right side of skull begins to sound. Something is coming.

The coal furnice ignites and an onslaught of flame spews forth from the patchwork creature's mouth. Dive to ground, narrowly avoiding incineration. Can feel back of jacket singe.

Stand back up. Franken Berry inhales for another round. Reach into pocket for marshmallows. Had intended to use these on Count Chocula, but left with no alternative. Hurl marshmallows at Franken Berry. Heat from previous fire blast melts marshmallows instantly upon impact with face. Gooey mass oozes over eyes.

Franken Berry stumbles back, loses focus and releases burst of flame directly overhead. Roof comes tumbling down on top of him, burying him beneath ton after ton of stone.

Crawl over pile of rubble and make way down hall. Should be last of the Count's minions. Nothing now between Chocula and me.

But first, must find another roast chicken.

TO BE CONCLUDED...

March 30, 2009: Chocovania

LOLSCHACH's Journal: March 30, 2009

Follow-up on General Mills case.

Got lift from Dreiberg to the darkest regions of fabled Chocovania. Dreiberg initially resistent. Sang different tune at sound of "chocolate". Hurm. Why is it that the largest men have the smallest amount of willpower?

Dropped me off at front gates of Coco Castle.

Coco Castle. The twisted resting place of the undead menace superstitious villagers call Count Chocula. Have come prepared. Brought chocopire hunting kit. Kit filled with holy water, garlic, wooden stakes, communion wafers, silver crucifixes and-

Damn. Grabbed vampire hunting kit by mistake. These weapons are useless against a chocopire.

Luckily, brought emergency reserves. Marshmallows and graham crackers in coat pockets. Dreiberg ate most of them, but managed to retain a handful.

With inventory checked, I move toward the castle's entrance; a great toothy maw, like that of a howling wolf. As I tread over the rotten planks of the lowered drawbridge, can hear the squirming and squishing sounds of unspeakable creatures oozing from the moat below. Can glimpse slimey, green tentacles stretching out from the pitch darkness. Like something from Japanese cartoon, except no elementary school girls to be deflowered.

Take first steps into Coco Castle. With speed most unexpected, drawbridge rises behind me, sealing me inside. Hear faint laughter echoing from the bowels of the dank fortress. Chocula was expecting me.

Adversary wastes no time in dispatching minions to deal with me. Two figures, abominations unto nature, shamble forth from the corridoors ahead of me.

One is a dusty, ancient corpse wrapped in bright, multi-colored bandages. Was once the consort of a great Pharoah, until fell from his liege's favor and was mummified alive. Now a moaning, hobbling creature of darkness forced to bend to the whims of a new master.

Yummy Mummy.



The second of Chocula's henchmen is more intimidating than the last. A hulking beast with slavering jaws lined with teeth like rusty nails. Coated in dark fur matted with blood and filth. Clad in colorful overalls which leave little to the imagination. Stories say he was once a guard dog named Chip, who guarded a cookie depository from burglars. Went rabid. Mauled the employees to death. Was put down. Came back from the grave as a lumbering canine monstrosity whose hunger for cookies eclipsed only by hunger for human flesh.

Fruit Brute.


Came to castle prepared only for battle with chocopire. Had not anticipated doing battle with such colorful, fruity foes. Stupid.

Being the quicker of the two, Fruit Brute makes first move. Lunges at me, leaving trail of slobber glistening in the moonlight. Too fast. Fruit Brute seizes me by the neck and with one arm, drives me straight through rotten planks of raised drawbridge. Gasping for air now. Glance beneath dangling feet. Pit of unspeakable, writhing creatures directly below me.

Perfect.

Reach toward LOLSCHACH-shaped hole in drawbridge and snap off chunk of splintered wood. With single motion, drive jagged shiv directly into Fruit Brute's left eye. Behemoth releases my neck. Tumble toward pit. Grab onto bottom of hole in drawbridge. Fruit Brute still yelping in pain. Reach up and grab the wolf by his overall strap. Fruit Brute already off balance. One good tug sends him reeling over the edge and into the moat of tentacled nightmares below.

Climb over sharp, splintering hole and back into castle. No time for rest. Yummy Mummy already waiting for me. Pink-clad Egyptian zombie grabs me by coat collar and, effortlessly, hurls me from the floor to a height of twenty feet. Can feel myself slam against a large chandelier and, in less than a second, slam even harder against the solid, unforgiving stone floor.

Dazed. In pain. Room spinning. Yummy Mummy is slow, but in current condition, might as well be faster than a speeding bullet.

The shambler is already upon me. Stumble back, narrowly avoiding another swipe of his dusty, bandaged mit. Tumble backward and into wall. Nowhere to go. Slowly but surely, Yummy Mummy closes gap between us. Distracted by sharp pain in back. Hit that chandalier hard.

Of course.

Look to the left. Nothing. Look to the right. There. Tied to a hook: the rope holding the chandalier above ground. Yummy Mummy is unaware of clever plan. Brain pulled out through nose centuries ago. Fumble with knot of rope. Head swimming. Hard to think straight. Yummy Mummy draws closer.

Got it.

The chandalier drops like a meteorite. Yummy Mummy practically evaporates beneath its crushing weight. Reduced to cloud of dust and tattered bandages.

Lean against wall. Catch breath. Can hardly stand. Sound like bellowing laughter echos from deep within the crypts of the castle.

Job not finished. Must send Count Chocula back to Hell.

Break time over. Time to journey into the labryinthine depths of Coco Castle.


TO BE CONTINUED...

March 30, 2009: General Mills Massacre

LOLSCHACH's Journal: March 30, 2009

Been following General Vladimir Mills for past week.



War criminal. Occult enthusiast. Known practitioner of the forbidden arts. Possible homosexual.

As always, I investigate further.

General Mills is up to something. Something sinister and beyond the ken of mortal men. Mills is playing with forces he cannot possibly comprehend. This will only end one way for him. Messy. Bloody. Lots of cavities.

Track Mills to abandoned cookie depository. Place left to rot after guard dog, Chip, went insane and mauled employees to death, thinking they were burglars.

Arrive too late. Place is quiet as the grave. Apt description. General Mills is dead. Archaic symbols hand-drawn in chalk all over floor indicate he attempted to summon something dark and unholy. Meddling with forces no human could ever fathom, much less control.

Mills is lying stomach down in the dust, dirt and decay. Roll corpse over. Cadaver is pale as a sheet and withered like ten thousand year-old mummy. Eyes sunken in and shrivled like raisens. Locate two small punctures on neck, near jugular. Cause of death is clear.

This man has been sucked of all his chocolate.

There is only one culprit capable of such a blood-curdling grotesquery and it isn't the Silly Rabbit. He's been locked up in rehab since '92.

No. It could only be the work of...


...Count Chocula.

Legend has it he was killed two hundred years ago by a baker named Wendell, taking vengeance for the murder of his two closest friends.

Seems the legends fell short of reality. Count Chocula survived. Or perhaps General Mills, in his folley, resurrected the scourge of the Carpathians.

Doesn't matter. LOLSCHACH's mission is clear. Will put Chocula back in the grave...by any means necessary.

Head to Dreiberg's. Will need Archie to take me to the darkest regions of Chocovania, where lies the ruined fortress of darkness known only as Coco Castle.

Time is of the essence.

TO BE CONTINUED...