“Door Knobs”
written by Dan Sjöström
It was a
dark and stormy night. Yeah, not the most original beginning for a story,
rather the complete opposite. But if I told you that during this night, a
hunchback was knocking on the door to the home of a headless horseman, that
ought to stir things up, right? There we go! So anyway, the door opened and the
headless horseman, known as The Headless Horseman, looked out. I suppose he
did, somehow. In front of him stood the hunchback who had been knocking on his
door, although he hadn’t noticed that his visitor was a hunchback until now. I
mean come on, it’s a lot to ask of him to be able to see in his condition, is
he supposed to have X-ray vision on top of that?
“Hi”, the hunchback said awkwardly with a raspy, gravelly voice. “Sorry for
bothering you this late at night. For all I knew, you could’ve been brushing
your teeth or something…”
The
Headless Horseman made a confused gesture with his hands, aiming them at the
empty void between his shoulders. Luckily for him, this was when Ichabod Crane
joined him at the door.
“Uh,
hello?”, he greeted, unsure why a man with a hunchback, wearing a dark hoodie,
was standing in front of him. “Can we help you with something?”
“You’re
Ichabod Crane, aren’t you?”, the stranger asked, receiving a “Yes” for a reply.
“Oh, you are? I wasn’t sure it was you. I’ve been told you were quite butt
ugly.”
“Hey now”,
Ichabod objected as sternly as he possibly could. “Manners.”
“My name is
not Manners”, said the stranger. “Actually, it’s…”
“Mark!!”,
yelled a third voice angrily. Suddenly, another stranger walked up to the door.
A gentleman with an intense stare from his ghastly pale face dressed in a black
suit meant to look a lot more fancy than it really was. He had a cheap bowtie
around his neck and an even cheaper cape hanging behind his back. He began
speaking with a peculiar tone, like a combination of Bela Lugosi and Christopher
Lee’s portrayals of Dracula. His voice also carried an echoing resonance, as if
he was standing in a big chamber inside of a stone castle. “Please, forgive my
roommate for his insolence. You cannot expect somebody with a two-bit mind such
as his to address his betters more appropriately.
“It’s fine,
I guess”, Ichabod stammered as he gave the Headless Horseman a puzzled look and
was met with a big shrug. “Sorry, I really don’t know who you are or what you
want.”
“Then allow
me to start all over again”, said the second stranger, revealing even more than
his Scandinavian/Eastern European accent already had, that English wasn’t his
first language. Probably not even his second or third, honestly. “Greetings, I
am Count Spatula. I have travelled very far to reach Sneezy Hollow.”
“Sleepy
Hollow”, Ichabod said politely.
“Whatever”.
The Count was clearly irritated about being corrected. “I need help getting rid
of a trespasser. Somebody taking up my precious space and leaving me scarcely
any privacy.”
“If this
Mark fellow or whatever his name is bothers you so much, why don’t you just
throw him out?”
Mark was
getting worried as he felt the gazes of three people and two faces turning to
him. He swallowed nervously and pulled the brim of his hood over his eyes.
“Trust me, were
he the problem, I could handle that in a heartbeat. If I had a heart, that is.
I could throw him, punch him, stomp him, drop him from a great height, break
his bones, tear off his limbs, pull out his…”
“Alright,
enough of that”, said Ichabod, patting the Headless Horseman’s shoulder,
noticing the growing nausea caused by the visitor’s morbid rant. “So if it’s
not him, what is it?”
“Guten Tag!”
The much more upbeat, German-ringing tone also came from Count Spatula, whose
face had gone from its grim, stony expression to a borderline demented glow. “I
did not expect the people of Sleepy Hollow to be awake this late, ha ha ha!
Nice to meet you, Professor Crane und Mr. Horseman! My name is Count
Kinderfleischer!”
Ichabod
knew what the words “kinder” and “fleischer” meant, since German was one of the
many languages he knew. It was now his turn to feel nauseous, to Count
Kinderfleischer’s delight.
“We have
just met und we are already making you absolutely disgusted! Das ist
wunderbar!”
The other
Count came back to protest. “You see what I have to deal with on a nightly
basis? To not have my body for myself, but being forced to share it with something
so vile and repulsive!”
“I agree,
it’s bad enough to deal with one vile and repulsive dude”, Mark interjected,
gesturing at Counts Spatula/Kinderfleischer. “Now I have to deal with two of
them.”
“So what
are you going to do to help us?”, Spatula demanded.
“Honestly?”
“Go on.”
“Nothing.”
Ichabod tried his best not to stutter his answer.
“Warum?”,
asked Kinderfleischer, happy that the plea for help had been denied.
“We’re kind
of busy with everything else in this town. For a place with the word Sleepy in
its name, I don’t get much rest around here. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Believe
me, you are not even half as sorry as you are about to-“, growled Spatula,
until his threat was interrupted by the Headless Horseman walking out to the
doorstep.
Mark had
been wondering if the Horseman hadn’t spoken because he was unable to or if he
just had never had a chance to. At this moment, it seemed like he preferred to
use actions rather than words to make his point. And the point was at the end
of a longsword being pulled out of its scabbard.
“Cooool!”,
Mark gasped, evidently impressed by the sword’s shiny metal and the broad hilt
at the top.
“Is that a
new sword?”, Ichabod asked curiously and adjusted the bright rims of his
glasses.
“How dare
you?” Spatula was livid. “Is this the way to treat us for coming to your home at
this late hour unannounced with our personal troubles, expecting you to solve
them for us?! Put that shaft back in its vagina at once!”
Ichabod and
Mark couldn’t help themselves. Mark burst out laughing like the man-child he
was. Ichabod had the courtesy to turn his back and put his hand over his mouth.
Even the Headless Horseman had trouble standing up straight and put his free
hand on his stomach. Mark could swear he heard a noise coming from the Horseman’s
neckhole similar to somebody blowing into the top of a glass bottle. Spatula
was not laughing, however. But soon enough, Kinderfleischer did.
“Ach du Lieber!
That is hilarious, because even though he easily could’ve said sheath or scabbard,
he-“
“We know,
Captain Obvious”, said Mark, whose laughter started to fade out. “Way to kill
the mood.”
“I am
always in a great mood when I get to kill something”, Kinderfleischer said with
a big grin.
“Well, it
is true”, Ichabod pointed out, clearing his throat. “It is in fact the Latin
word for a sheath, but also… that other thing.”
“I suppose
since you know that, you must be quite the cunning linguist.”
Kinderfleischer’s
quip made Mark once more howl with laughter. The Horseman’s body shook even more
wildly than before. Ichabod normally wasn’t fond of that type of humor, but
that didn’t stop him from cracking up.
Spatula was
still not laughing.
“Enough!! I
didn’t come here to endure this infantile buffoonery. If all you have to offer
is to make utter fools of yourselves, we shall leave at once!”
“Really, bro”,
said Mark “I’m surprised you didn’t leave once Double-H held up his sword like
a crucifix.”
“Crucifix?”,
Spatula repeated, not understanding until he saw that the Headless Horseman’s
sword was making the shape of a cross with the hilt pointing upwards. He hissed
furiously, covering his face with his tiny cape, which wasn’t more than the
edge of his chin.
“Oh, right”,
said Ichabod. “Vampires. That’s just another of a reason not to let you in.
Like I said, we have enough things to deal with already. Please, go away.”
“Auf
Wiedersehen!” Kinderfleischer waved cheerily, already walking away. “No hard
feelings. If it was up to me, we wouldn’t have come here to begin with. Such a
complete waste of time. Gute Nacht!”
“Oh, tell
me about it”, said Mark as he and the vampire(s) were leaving. “Man, I told
Count Spatula this was a bad idea, but nooo! He thinks one Kickstarter video is
enough to think he’s found someone to cure his multiple personality disorder.
Like, that guy is just a total-“
“Mark”, said Kinderfleischer. “Halt die Klappe.”
The
Headless Horseman would’ve both shaken his head and rolled his eyes if he
could. He finally closed the door as he and Ichabod walked back into their
home. Ichabod gave the Horseman an appreciative nod. The Horseman responded
with waving his hand at him, as if to say “Oh, don’t mention it.”
“Wow, what
a bunch of…” Ichabod was still too polite to use an American expletive to
describe their unwanted guests, so he chose to resort to British slang. “…knobs.”
THE END
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