Blackness. Gradually stars fade into view as a tall man with thick eyebrows, wearing a skintight blue shirt with hastily sewn on insignia, walks into the view. It is quite noticeable that his ears a far pointer than that of any average man. He turns towards the cameral slowly, as to put on a sort of dramatic display. He then proceeds to raise his right hand, and impressively shows a hand sign in which his index and middle fingers are together, yet are apart from his ring finger and pinky. He remains silent for about ten seconds to add to the mood as quiet (and very cheesy) "space music" from the sixties begins chiming away in the background. He finally speaks with a deep tone, "Live long and prosper. I'm Leonard Nimoy. This evening Improfanfic is proud to present a very special episode of Castlevania 1970. Actually, by my estimates, they are probably lying, and aren't at all proud to present this chapter. In fact, precisely eight chapters ago, another author did something similar. Logically, one must assume that the author of this chapter is merely imitating ElRutt, an author who is considerably more talented. Be that as it may, I am running out of time. As I was saying, Improfanfic presents a special episode of Castlevania 1970. We take you to a mid western town on Christmas Eve, where a Sancho is awaiting the arrival of Santa Clause." Suddenly, _Sancho_ appears and slaps Nimoy across the head. "My name is _Sancho_!" He exclaims with fury. He then walks out in a storming rage. Nimoy blinks a few times and then remarks coldly, "You humans are most Illogical. Just for that, instead of the regular Christmas special, a heartwarming tale about Santa Clause, I think I will teach your stupid species a lesson by showing you the bastardization of an old Christmastime classic instead!" ---------------------------------------------------------- Improfanfic Merrily Presents Castlevania 1970: Disco of Evil Chapter 20: A Christmas Carol of Funk *Handjive* and Evil! Charles Dickens bastardized by: Adam Pace Castlevania bastardized by: Gaijin Dan Mastriani ---------------------------------------------------------- Disco was dead: to begin with. There is no doubt whatever about that. The era had come and gone. The time that federal agents shut down Studio 54, and rise of European 80's pop, confirmed it. You will therefore allow me to repeat, emphatically, that Disco was as dead as Princess Diana doing ninety in a Mercedes through a poorly constructed French tunnel. Shaft never painted out the word Disco. There it stood, years afterwards, above the door to his dance club: "Shaft's Disco Infernal." People would come in and dance to hip-hop booty music, and sometimes to cheesy technopop, but it was all the same to the Dark Priest called Shaft. Oh! But who was the black private dick who was a sex machine to all the chicks? *Shaft!* Ye damn right! Once upon a time, of all the good days in the year, on Christmas Eve, the Dark Priest Shaft was busy, pimping hoes in his dance club. The city clocks had only just gone three, but Shaft was already prepare to party the night away. This is where our story begins, and because the author is already tired of trying to copy the writing style of a British writer who died over 100 years ago, he's going to tell it an a style more befitting of today's modern American tongue. Damn bloody yanks! -Stave 1-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- As Shaft was getting it on with various streetwalkers in his office, he suddenly heard the annoying voice of his nephew, Hecubus, ringing in his ears. "Merry Christmas Unc!" Hecubus yelled as he tossed a wreath over Shaft's head. Shaft casually tossed aside the woman in his arms and glared at his nephew with spite. "What the hell is wrong with you boy? Can't you see I'm busy? How many times have I told you not to come in here while I'm pimping hoes? Anyway, it ain't cool to celebrate Christmas! Bah! Bah Humbug I say!" "Well I think Christmas is pretty cool, myself," Hecubus replied cheerfully. "Last year my wife got me a fish that sang show tunes! It was pretty sweet!" "Why did you get married anyway?" Shaft asked. Hecubus paused and thought to for a second. Finally he answered, "Because after getting dissed by babes in the club night after night, I figured that I couldn't do any better than Monica. Then again, she can cook pretty well." "I don't want to hear about that fat, ugly wife of yours!" Shaft snapped. Hecubus sighed and got to the point. "Anyway, Unc, I came here to invite you to our Christmas party! It'll be a truly awesome Holiday bash, I promise!" Shaft raised his middle finger. "This is what I think of your Christmas party!" "Fine! Be that way!" Hecubus said as he stuck out his tongue. Then he left the room, stopping in the outside of the office to spread a good word with Scrooge's only DJ, Alucard. "There's another stupid mofo who celebrates Christmas," Shaft muttered to himself. "Considering how much I underpay that DJ, I don't see what he has to be merry about at all." This half-human, half-vampire DJ, whose human and vampire natures ever war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, in letting Shaft's nephew out, had let someone else into Shaft's office. This meant that he had to attend to this new annoyance before getting back to his hoes. This man was a strange looking fellow, with pointy red hair. On his shoulder was perched a rubber duck. "Good afternoon. My information here says that Mr. Shaft and Mr. Travolta run this establishment. Which one of these guys is you?" "Mr. Travolta's career has been dead since the seventies," Shaft replied, "I am the dark priest called Shaft." "Let me get to the point, my good man," the red-haired weirdo said, "At this festive season, many people forget the many problems that plague the world. Did you know, Mr. Shaft, that millions of cows are brutally slaughtered to make hamburger meat? If you donate money, you can save an entire heard of cows by funding our operation to slaughter baby seals and use their meat instead to make burgers out of. This is a good cause, isn't it Mr. Duck?" *Squeak!* Replied Mr. Duck affirmatively. "Hmph," Shaft growled, "Better to slaughter cows and reduce their surplus population!" "Hey!" the man laughed, "That was a pretty controversial statement! I like you! So how much will I put you down for? One million? Ten million?" "Zero." Shaft answered coldly. "Did you say zero? As in zilch? As in nada!?" The man asked in a shocked tone. "Your damn right!" Shaft exclaimed, "Now get the hell out of my office!" *Squeak!* Mr. Duck said angrily. "You're right, Mr. Duck!" The man replied as he exited Shaft's office, "This guy is nothing but a lousy cheapskate!" ---------------------------------------------------------- Shaft continued pimping the hoes in his office until the dance club closed. Reluctantly, Shaft left his office and told his DJ that he was allowed to go home. "Let me guess, you bishounen girly-man! You want tomorrow off." "Indeed I do," Alucard said, "Even though I might be the cursed half-breed son of Count Dracula, whose human and vampire natures ever war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, I admit that I require a vacation now and then. And since you always force me to play cheezy music from the seventies as opposed to modern tunes, it will be very relaxing that I can go home and spend the holidays with my family instead of being cooped up in this dance club. In fact, it was several hundred years ago that I spent a very nice Christmas Eve with Sonia Belmont, who looked incredibly cute wearing nothing but a Santa hat. I long for times such as those, but unfortunately circumstance has forced me to seek employment in a dismal location such as this. I'll have you know that I would rather be spending Christmas in Maui rather than London, and furthermore." "Do you ever shut up?" Shaft asked angrily. Alucard replied, "As a matter of fact, I don't." "Anyway," Shaft replied, "I think it is total BS that I have to let you take off just because it is Christmas! If only there weren't those pathetic labor laws that the MAN has forced upon me!" "It is only once a year that this festive holiday visits upon us," Alucard explained, "Just feel lucky that I'm not Jewish, for then you'd have to give me all of Hanukkah off. As you may or may not know, Hanukkah is the festival of lights. Instead of one day of presents, they get eight crazy nights! Did you also know that many Hollywood celebrities celebrate Hanukkah? I can elaborate if you wish." "NO!" Shaft yelled, "Now if you'll excuse me, I'm going home!" ---------------------------------------------------------- Shaft lived in a bachelor pad that once belonged to his partner. It was a fitting place for a pimp such as Shaft to live in. However, because many families did not wish for their children to grow up in such an environment, Shaft was the only person who actually lived there. All of the other apartments were used for Shaft's side business, which was quite illegal. As Shaft went to open the door of the building, he nearly screamed like a little girl when he saw the shape of the knocker on the door turn into that of John Travolta. Shaft jumped back and peered at the knocker again. It was back to its normal shape. Shaft shook his head off, thinking that he might have had a little too much to drink before he left his office, entered the building. He took the elevator up to his penthouse. "I hate Christmas more than I hate getting audited by the IRS!" Shaft declared as he sat down in his favorite velvet padded chair. Suddenly Shaft heard a familiar tune begin to play in the distance. Gradually it got louder and louder, until the disco beat seemed to be coming from just outside of his room. He could hear the sound of clanking chains moving in time with the music. "Well I'll be damned!" Shaft gasped, "That song. it's Staying Alive by the Bee Gees! That must mean." Much to Shaft's dismay, at that moment, the ghost of John Travolta entered the room. He looked the same as he did in Saturday Night Fever, with his white leisure suit, gold jewelry, and bellbottoms. Of course, he was very pale, as ghosts tend to be, and he was bound by endless links of gold chains at his feet. "Dark Priest Shaft!" The ghost moaned eerily. This time Shaft did scream like a little girl. "What do you want! Please don't kill me!" he yelled in a desperate tone. "Chill out!" Travolta sighed. "Man. You look like crap, Shaft!" "Who are you?" Shaft asked. "My career isn't THAT dead is it?" Travolta asked. Shaft nodded. "Don't you remember me Shaft? It's me, John Travolta, you're old partner in Disco. I know what might be going through your head right now, considering the amount of dope you and I used to smoke together. Let me guess. You don't believe in me, do you, Shaft?" "No," Shaft replied, "This is probably a bad acid flashback or something!" "Let me get to the point," Travolta sighed, "You have to come to grips with the fact that Disco is dead, just like my career!" "What about the comeback you recently made?" Shaft asked, "Pulp Fiction, Face Off, and all of those other flicks?" "Just a phase," Travolta sighed, "I'm a throwback from the seventies just like you! Anyway, the fact is that you must learn to change your disco ways, Shaft. And I guess it would be a good thing that you celebrate Christmas as well." "But Christmas isn't cool," Shaft whined. Travolta shook his head. "Anyway, Shaft, like it or not you're going to be visited by three spirits tonight! Expect the first at 1 AM. Listen to these ghosts, Shaft! They will help you get out of the seventies! If you do not heed my warning and do what they say, you too will be doomed to spending eternity wandering about the word, unable to interact with those around you because you're stuck in a time era that ended over 20 years ago!" "But." Shaft began. "Farewell Shaft!" Travolta said as he faded away into mist, "We'll not meet again!" "I need to lay off of the heavy booze." Shaft sighed as he groggily crawled into bed. -Stave 2-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- Shaft awoke to the sound of his limited edition "mtcff ULTRA: I'm a Dan Fan!" alarm clock chiming 1 AM. Actually, it was screaming, "Dousha!" loud enough to wake the dead, but Shaft had already managed to do THAT earlier in the night. As Shaft would have expect if he had realized that the vision he saw of John Travolta was in fact NOT an acid flashback, a giant disco ball sprouted out of the ceiling and began filling his room with psychedelic lights. In the Navy by the Village people began playing as an androgynous figure in a pretty mage's cloak appeared. "Who are you?" Shaft asked. "I'm Placida Relm Calli Fernandez," The mage said, "Otherwise known as Plaz. Of course, since this is a badly written parody of an old Christmastime classic, you may call me the Ghost of Christmas Past!" "You must be joking," Shaft sighed, "*You* are the Ghost of Christmas past?" "Look here!" Plaz exclaimed, "The author had one heck of a time writing us all into this story in a manner that represented both the characters in Castlevania 1970 and the characters in A Christmas Carol. So I'm the Ghost of Christmas past, like it or not! Now get out of bed and let's go! We've got a lot of things to do. There are places to go and people to see. You know the drill! You better get a warm coat on, because we've got to fly." "By the way?" Shaft asked, as he looked over his spiritual companion, "Are you a guy or a girl?" Plaz's face turned red with annoyance. "You pervert!" She then grabbed his arm. "Anyway, lets' get going." Plaz dragged Shaft over to his window and opened it up. "Are you crazy!?" Shaft asked, "We're going to jump out the window?" "Yes," Plaz replied, "Hold on tight, mind you, don't hold onto the wrong places, or else I'll drop you on purposes. We're going to fly into the past!" Shaft took a big breath and grabbed onto Plaz. "Here goes nothing," he said nervously. Plaz sighed and jumped out of the window. They both fell to the ground with a resounding thud. "I thought you said we we're going to fly!" Shaft complained as he got up from the snow. He was a bit bruised, but okay. "What gives?" "Ahem," Plaz began, "It looks like the special effects crew is on strike. I guess we'll have to walk into the past instead. Come on Shaft, you're past awaits you!" With that Plaz walked into a glowing portal, dragging Shaft behind her. After a bit of confusion in the dimension of time and space, Plaz and Shaft finally arrived at a site familiar to Shaft in the suburbs of New Jersey. "Why, I remember this place!" Shaft exclaimed. "I grew up here!" "They didn't do a good job of raising you, I see," Plaz said as she pointed out the image of a young lad sitting all alone in a cramped up little room reading the Karma Sutra. "This is the time that you spent the holidays at your reform school. Do you remember? These are all images of your past, Dark Priest Shaft." "Yes!" Shaft laughed, "This is the first time that I got the idea of becoming a player!" "Indeed," Plaz sighed. "Don't you realize that the days of treating women like objects are over, Shaft? This is all part of your archaic 70's viewpoint! It is things like this in your past that make normal, modern people think that you're a weirdo! Here, let me show you another scene from your past!" The current scene faded to give way to another one. This time, Shaft was a tad older, and he was sitting in the same room reading a copy of Playboy. Suddenly, there was a knock on the door. The young Shaft quickly scrambled to hide his magazine underneath his mattress. After accomplishing the task, he then opened his door. A young girl entered the room and looked up at him. "Sally!" the younger Shaft exclaimed, "Why did you come to this dump?" "I've come to take you home, brother," She said. "Home?" asked Shaft, "Why?" "Father is much nicer than he used to be," Sally explained, "He no longer burns us with a searing hot iron when we forget to take out the trash, instead he just gives us forty lashes with a thorn whip! Isn't that wonderful Shaft? Please come home!" "Ah Sally," the older Shaft recalled, "My dearest little sister." "Yes," Plaz sighed, "Unfortunately she died from the heroine habit that all started when you gave her that free sample when you started dealing in 67, don't you remember? And she was a mother too!" "She had one kid," recalled Shaft, "My nephew Hecubus! He's one screwed up dude!" "Whose fault is that?" Plaz groaned. "Come on, there is more stuff for you to see!" Suddenly the scene changed once again, this time to that of an old castle. Inside, Shaft saw visions of his younger self serving a pale man in gothic apparel who was sitting upon a throne made of bone and drinking a glass of human blood." "Surely you remember this place," Plaz sighed. "Yes I do!" Shaft laughed, "This is when I was just an insignificant minion of Funk *Handjive* and Evil! There's my master, Count Dracula! I remember how we used to throw disco parties every night and dine on the blood of young schoolgirls!" Plaz sighed. "And this is a good thing?" she asked angrily. "You're sure messed up in the head, Shaft. Very well, I have one more thing to show you before my time with you is up. And the sooner I get out of here the better." The view changed to Shaft's familiar disco club. Young Shaft was sitting in his office. The date on the calendar read, "December 24, 1980." Inside with him was a beautiful woman. "Shaft," she said softly, "Why do you not give up this silly disco business and marry me? Nobody is into disco anymore anyway. It's the eighties, Shaft." "What the hell you talking about?" Shaft laughed, "I'll never give up disco! It'll make a comeback, for sure! Mark my words, Mary! If you can't accept the ways of Funk *Handjive* and Evil, then get the hell out of my sight!" Mary burst into tears on the spot, in such a fashion as to make Niagara Falls look like a trickle from a leaky faucet. The older Shaft looked with teary eyes at his former fiancee. "Mary." he sobbed in anguish. "Yes," Plaz reminded him, "Poor Mary. You broke her heart, didn't you Shaft!" Shaft cried out loudly, "I can't bear to watch this anymore! Spirit, please take me home!" "Gladly," Plaz groaned. "Oh, you never did answer my question," Shaft said. Plaz blinked. "Which question was that?" "Are you a guy or a girl?" Shaft asked again. Steam began to pour out of Plaz's ears as she marched towards him. Her eyes were ablaze with fire as she decked him right in the face. Shaft was immediately knocked out by Plaz's mighty blow. -Stave 3-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- Shaft woke up with a sidesplitting headache as the clock struck 2 AM. "What a ride," he groaned as he got up to get a Tylenol, or perhaps a mild narcotic. Suddenly shaft paused and looked at his room with a shock. There was food all over the place. Not just any food, mind you, but Double Quarter Pounders with cheese, chili dogs, Whoppers, onion rings, Macho Combo Burritos, and other fast food delicacies from various nation-wide establishments. "What the hell happened to my room?" Shaft queried angrily as he looked around for the culprit. "Greetings, Dark Priest Shaft," A voice said. Shaft looked over to his couch to see a man lying in it in a suggestive manner. He was dressed in a fashion that made him look even more of a homosexual than Michael Flatley, the Lord of the Dance. He was wearing a green tunic, such in a fashion that his chest was showing for the world to see. On his legs was a pair of tight Ricky-Martin-esque pants, made of a shiny gold material. On his head was a crown of holly. "Who are you?" Shaft asked. "I," the man said dramatically, "Am _Sancho_. However, you may call me _The Ghost of Christmas Present_!" "The Ghost of Christmas Present?" Shaft asked again in shock. "No, you fool! _The Ghost of Christmas Present_! I have come to share with you the joys of this Christmas! Indeed, Shaft, you are missing out on much that I have to offer! There is so much to be happy about this Christmas, Shaft. Of course, you should naturally be happy that you are in the presence of _Sancho_! However, there are those who are happy even though they are not in the presence of _Sancho_! Come with me, Shaft, and I shall show you all that Christmas, and _Sancho_, have to offer!" Shaft reluctantly took _Sancho_'s hand and followed him into the snowy streets of London. "Where are we going?" he asked cautiously, recalling the terrible trip that had accompanied the visit of the last spirit. "As you can see, I'm not dressed for formal dining." "Take a look at this," _Sancho_ said as he pointed through the window of a particular building. Scrooge peered in. Inside he saw a young Japanese boy and Richard Nixon playing cards on an old table in a six by six cement cell closed off by some bars. "Do you have any fives?" Nixon asked. "No," replied the Japanese boy, who was played by young Yoshitaka Amano. "Go fish!" "For the love of God!" Nixon suddenly wailed as he threw his cards about the cell, "They threw me in this nut house because they thought I was a crook! But, I am NOT A CROOK!" "That's nothing," Yoshitaka Amano replied, "One of my teachers thought my art was disturbing. She told the principal about it, and the next thing I know, I'm in here. Just as I thought I'd become a famous manga-ka as well! Oh well, such is life." "What does this have to do with me?" asked Shaft. "Oh, sorry," _Sancho_ said, "This is the wrong window. I meant for you to look in the window across the street." "Fine," Shaft sighed as he walked across the snow-paved street and looked into another window. Inside he saw his DJ, Alucard sitting down with his family. They were huddled around a single box of Chicken McNuggets. Alucard bowed his head and said grace. "Dear Lord, please bless our food this Christmas. It means so much for I, the cursed half-breed son of Count Dracula, whose human and vampire natures ever war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, to share this Christmas feast with my family. I know it isn't much, because my bastard of a boss, the Dark Priest Shaft, only pays me one cent an hour, but still I am thankful for that, and my wonderful children, especially Tiny Bob, who is terminally I'll, and will die unless he gets a brain transplant. It's okay, Lord. But please, if you will be so kind, please allow my boss to at least pay me minimum wage so that I can care for my family and feed them better than with crap from McDonalds. Also, since my wife is out of the room, please bless me with many more dreams about Sonia Belmont, one of your most beautiful creations ever. In your name, we pray for these things, Amen." "Damn!" Shaft said in awe, "I didn't know that Alucard was so poor!" _Sancho_ nodded. "Of course he is poor, yet he lives happily and celebrates Christmas, even though he does not know _Sancho_!" Shaft continued to watch as Tiny Bob ate his McNugget eagerly. "This McNugget rules!" He said, "Afterwards, father, may we go outside and whip some lanterns with the new thorn whip that you got me for Christmas!" Alucard nodded. "Certainly, son! Just remember what happened the last time you went out whipping things. You nearly frightened your mother half to death when the dagger that fell out of the street lamp impaled your foot. Please do be more careful." "But aren't I terminally I'll, father?" Bob asked. "Yes," Alucard replied, "But your mother and I never give up hope that Mr. Shaft will have a sudden and inexplicable change of heart, get out of the seventies, and suddenly become a good Christian man no longer addicted to keeping hoes. Then he will give me a raise and pay for your brain surgery. If this were not a Christmas story, we would have given up hope long ago. However, being that it is that special, magical time of year when malls are flooded with bloodthirsty consumers hell bent on getting the Furby, Tickle-Me Elmo, or whatever the year's trendy toy happens to be, we have not given up hope that some sort of miracle will occur that will save us all and allow us to move out of this dreary London shack." "What's with the run-ons?" asked Bob as he looked at the paragraph above this one. "What did you expect?" Alucard queried, "This is Charles Dickens, after all, or at least a reasonable facsimile of him. Feel lucky that the last sentence wasn't a page long!" "Tell me," Shaft asked of the spirit, "What is going to happen to Bob?" "Unless he gets the expensive brain surgery he needs, this will be Bob's last Christmas." _Sancho_ explained as the scene darkened and the distant sound of Big Ben striking 3 AM could be heard. Suddenly _Sancho_ was gone, and Shaft was in darknes. -Stave 4-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- "What's going on?" Shaft asked, "Why have you abandoned me _Sancho_?" Suddenly the ominous and evil visage of the next spirit appeared. He was a dark figure, draped in a black cloak. In one of his hands, or rather skeletal claws, he held a sickle. "Are you the Ghost of Christmas Yet to Come?" Shaft asked, "Because you look a lot like one of my old colleagues from when I used to work for Brother Drac!" The spirit held up a sign, since it was not ominous enough just to talk that read, "He's my cousin." "Oh," Shaft replied, "He was a jerk anyway. The spirit sweat dropped, then pointed towards a scene where three workers were going through a box of old things. "What is this?" The first asked as he picked up a disco ball, "A soccer ball?" He laughed as he punted it through an open window. "What a weird guy this was! It was like he was living in the past." The second pulled out an old leisure suit from the box and peered at it. "This guy sure had some fancy pajamas. I'm sure this'll turn into a fine set of rags!" "What are they doing?" Shaft asked the spirit, "Don't these people know that these are valuable relics from the great era of Disco?" The third worker laughed when she pulled an LP record and peered at it. "Oh, I remember my grandfather telling me about these things. Believe it or not, they used to listen to music on these things!" She chuckled and then tossed it into the wall. The record shattered into bits as it struck the concrete surface. "No!" Shaft cried out. "This guy had nothing but worthless crap from the seventies!" The first worker sighed. "What a loser!" "Please spirit!" Shaft wailed, "This is horrible!" The spirit turned and pointed towards a different scene. It was a cemetery, on a bleak and dreary day. Shaft and the spirit walked towards a certain grave, where Alucard was standing. He was crying. "What's this?" Asked Shaft. "The cursed half-breed son of Count Dracula, whose human and vampire natures ever war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil is crying?" "Oh poor Tiny Bob!" Alucard wept. "If only our prayers had been answered, and Shaft had changed his ways! Then we would have had enough money to pay for your brain surgery, and then you wouldn't have died! Then I wouldn't have had to sell your mother and siblings into indentured servitude to pay for your funeral either! Do not be surprised that I, the cursed half-breed son of Count Dracula, whose human and vampire natures ever war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, is crying over you, Tiny Bob! Such a tragedy this is!" Suddenly a group of hot college co-eds in skimpy outfits appeared out of nowhere in a red convertible. "Hey cutie!" they cooed, "You want a ride!?" "Ahem," Alucard said, "As I was saying, catch ya' later Bob!" With that he hopped into the car and they sped off into the sunset. "." Shaft said. The spirit nodded evilly. "What else am I to see?" Shaft asked. The spirit pointed to a lonely grave atop a hill. There was an eerie silence as Shaft saw two gravediggers working at the grave. "I hear this guy was a loser," The first said, "He spent the last thirty years living in the past, and let the best in life pass him by!" "Yes, on top of that, he didn't celebrate Christmas! For sure he's going straight to hell to burn for eternity!" "Hey," the first said, "It's lunch time. Let's go to Taco Bell!" "Good idea," the second said as they walked off. "Who's grave is this?" asked Shaft as he walked over to the grave. He looked at the tombstone, and much to his surprise, but not the audiences, because it was friggin' obvious to anyone with an IQ over 10, his very name was on the tombstone: "The Dark Priest Shaft." The ghost laughed suddenly. "You IDIOT, Shaft! I lied at the beginning of this section. It is, in fact, me, you're old colleague, Death!" "Grimmy!" Exclaimed Shaft. "Exactly," Death laughed, "This has been a long time coming, Shaft. I always hated you and the way you got in the way of my evil plans. But my scheme to get rid of you has reached its perfection. As I had planned way back in Chapter 3 of this story, I have killed off Disco forever!!" "No!" Shaft screamed, "No! No! No! It can't be!" "Yes!" Death said, "And now, Shaft, I will kill you!!!!" Death began to cackle wickedly as he pushed Shaft into the open grave. "NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Shaft yelled as he fell deeper and deeper into the infernal abyss of hell. It was a very brutal and nasty death if I might add. -Stave 5-------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- "NOOO!" Shaft exclaimed as he jumped out of bed. Sweat poured off of his ice-cold face as he looked around and realized that he was, in fact, not dead. "Damn!" he commented, "I'm alive! After all of that, I'm still alive!" He then realized what this meant, and he quickly jumped out of his bed and threw open the windows. "Hey you down there!" He yelled to a peasant boy who was walking down the street. The boy looked up and asked, "Me?" "Yes you," Shaft replied. "I want you to take this GIANT SACK OF MONEY and go buy a giant Christmas ham for my employee Alucard, the cursed half-breed son of Count Dracula, whose human and vampire natures ever war with each other and who struggles to do good in the face of overwhelming evil, and deliver it to his house!" "Um." The boy said, "Okay. Can I keep the change?" "What?" asked Shaft, "Its Christmas isn't it? You're damn right! Keep the change!" "Sweeeet," the boy replied as Shaft threw him a giant bag with a big dollar sign in it, the type that one would see in a cartoon. "Now," Shaft said, "Today I'm a new man! I'm going to stop my side business of whoring off poor girls I find on the street, and I'm going to convert my disco club into a modern dance club fitting of the new millenium! I'm also going to start celebrating Christmas!" With that, Shaft put on his best clothes, and ran downstairs to the streets below, giddy as a schoolgirl. "Hehehehehe!" He laughed with a gleam of insanity in his eyes, "Wai! Christmas!" As Shaft maniacally trotted down the streets, he happened upon the money collector with the spiked red hair from the night before, and his rubber bath toy. "Good morning my good man!" Shaft exclaimed as he caught glimpse of the man he had treated so badly. "It's you!" the man yelled, "Mr. Duck and I don't like people like you!" *Squeak* Mr. Duck agreed. "Never mind last night," Shaft laughed as he tossed a huge sack of money at the man, "Here! Take this as my donation!" "Good Lord, that's a lot of money!" the man gasped. Shaft nodded and exclaimed, "Merry Christmas! Be sure to hunt those seals into extinction!" Jack nodded excitedly. "Yes sir!" *Squeak* said Mr. Duck. Shaft continued on his way. Using his massive wealth he had accumulated from his side business as a pimp, he bought out the FAO Schwarz Toy Company, and intended to give all the toys to Tiny Bob as a Christmas present. "I'm so happy!" Shaft yelled at the top of his lungs. It was then that Shaft traveled to the home of Alucard and his family. Knocking on the door, he kept a stern face about him as to fool Alucard into thinking that he was the same of Shaft, and that he hadn't changed. It was Shaft's way of being funny, even though most people would find such a thing lame. "Hello?" Alucard queried as he opened the door. "Ahem," Shaft said, "Alucard. I have changed my mind about letting you have today off." "What?" Alucard asked in shock? "Yes," Shaft replied as he began to burst into laughter, "You can have the whole week off, since I'm renovating my club! And I'm also raising your pay! Isn't that great? I'm also going to give Tiny Bob lots of toys, and pay for his brain operation that he needs." Alucard paused and frowned. "I'm sorry, Mr. Shaft. Tiny Bob passed away last night when his brain finally exploded. It made quite a mess, and Mrs. Alucard was quite upset at having to clean it up. If only you weren't such a bastard and had changed in time. I hate you, and I hope you die a horrible death." "No!" Shaft screamed, "No! No! No! And after all that BS with the spirits!" "I'm afraid so," Alucard replied, "Now please get out of my sight, before I am inclined to slice you up with my rapier." "NOOOOO!" Shaft wailed like a wild beast as he ran through the streets, as if some demon and/or the spirit of Jimmy Hoffa had possessed him. "NOOOOOOOO!" Shaft ran all the way to Big Ben, and after incapacitating the guards, climbed up to the top level. "Goodbye cruel world!" He cried, tears flowing, as he jumped several stories, meeting an icy death as he splashed into the freezing waters of the Thames River. It was all according to Death's plan. And Shaft burned in hell for eternity for being such a bastard for all of his life. Thus is the story of Dark Priest Shaft and how he was totally screwed for constantly living in the seventies, and how he eventually died horribly. And, as Tiny Bob was inclined to say, "Life is short, whip hard!" Goodnight, and have a Merry Christmas. ---------------------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- We return to the scene presented at the beginning of the chapter. Leonard Nimoy returns to the stage and nods affirmatively. "There you have it. That's what happens when you stupid humans behave in an illogical fashion! I hope you all enjoyed this bastardization of one of your favorite Christmas tales." "Like hell we did!" An angry voice yells from the side of the stage, "Guys! Get that Vulcan!" And suddenly the entire cast of Disco of Evil appears in a flaming stampede. Faster than the eye can blink, they all collectively proceed to dismember Leonard Nimoy in a horrible manner unfit for TV viewing. Blood and several body parts fly all over the place as the orgy of death continues. Suddenly, Bob pops up into screen, his face bloodied. He has a chewed off Vulcan ear in his mouth. "Remember kids," he says sternly, "This story was merely a Christmas special, and has no bearing on the story continuity, not that it matters, since it is a chibi. That means that Shaft is still alive, and I'm not dead." Alucard pops up next to him, "And from all of us here at Castlevania 1970: Disco of Evil, we wish you a Merry Christmas, and a Happy New Year!" -Chapter 20 End------------------------------------------- ---------------------------------------------------------- Authors Notes: Hopefully everyone finds this tale funny. I'm sure that Dickens is turning in his grave right about now, either way. This was by far my longest chapter yet, due to the fact that I had to parody an entire 117 page story in chibi size. Hopefully it doesn't drag on. Either way, I feel priveledged to have had the dumb luck to have my part due in time for Christmas, so I could do a Christmas special for Disco of Evil. Now if you'll excuse me, some nice men in white coats are here to take me away. -Adam (ruri@ucsd.edu)