Young Frankenstein

by Gilbert Pearlman

  "Is that true?" the leading elder asked William.

  "Yes, sir," William replied. "It's just as Karl here says. It was real enough. As real as you and me."

  "Oh, tosh!" the cranky elder said. "This Frankenstein is different, I tell you. You can see that just by talking with him for five minutes."

  "I wouldn't say that," Karl said. "He's a Frankenstein, and they're all the same. It's in the blood. They can't help it. All these scientists is alike. They say they're working for us, but what they really want is to rule the world!"

  "That's enough!" the leading elder exploded. "I will not allow this meeting to become a free-for-all. These are very serious charges. All the more painful to us because we still have nightmares from five times before." He glared and muttered under his breath, then, raising his eyes and looking toward the back of the room, spoke out again. "We haven't heard from the one man here most qualified to judge this situation fairly," he said. "He, more than any of us, has learned, through personal misfortune, to remain calm and objective in his quiet but constant pursuit of justice." He nodded in the direction he was looking. "Inspector Kemp, would you address us, please?"

  The inspector was seated in a captain's chair beside the pot-bellied stove. He was a large, confident-looking man. His arms were crossed. A cigarette holder, holding an unlit cigarette, dangled from his mouth. He was the very image of the dedicated lawman. His eyes were brighit with integrity. His expression was firm yet kind-

  "A riot is an ugly thing," Inspector Kemp said. There was a murmur of agreement from the elders.

  The inspector uncrossed his arms. The right arm was wooden. Turning slightly, he opened the door of the stove with a wooden finger, then reached the finger into the fire. When the finger began to blaze, he pulled it out, closed the stove door, and touched the flame at his fingertip to the cigarette. The tobacco began to burn. The inspector blew out the flame at the tip of his wooden finger.

  "Once you get a riot going," he continued, "there's little chance of stopping it-short of bloodshed."

  The murmurs of agreement rose again.

  "Before we go running and killing people," Inspector Kemp went on, "we better make damn sure of our facts."

  There were some comments of disagreement on that. One villager said that he thought the inspector had his priorities bass-ackwards; it should be running and killing first and facts afterward. .

  The leading elder, adhering strictly to Robert's Rules of Order, told the man to shut up.

  "I think what's to be done," the inspector said, "is for me to pay a visit to our good doctor and have a nice quiet chat."

  William spoke up. "But, sir," he said timidly, "meaning no disrespect, but what if, during the course of your little chat, you find out what we was right about this new Dr. Frankenstein? What do we then?"

  "Kill him," the inspector replied calmly.

  The elders burst into smiles. It had turned out to be a good meeting after all.

  Dr. Frankenstein and Igor sat at opposite ends of the huge dining-room table. The doctor, subdued but still dismal, was slumped in his chair. Igor, in much better spirits, was trying to flip a spoon into an empty glass. A sumptuous meal had just been concluded. Inga was clearing the table.

  "Reputation. Reputation," Dr. Frankenstein murmured sorrowfully.

  "Doctor, you mustn't do this," Inga said. "You've got to stop thinking about it. You hardly touched your food."

  The doctor plunged a finger into the butter. "There, I've touched it," he said bitterly. "Happy?"

  Inga took the butter away. "Frederick, what more could you have done?"

  "I could have jumped into the peas barefoot."

  "I mean about the body."

  He groaned. "I don't know ... I don't know . . ."

  "Poor doctor," Inga said. Then she left the room, taking away the dishes and leftovers.

  "I'll never forget my old dad when things like this used to happen," Igor said to the doctor. He smiled fondly, recalling. "Ah, the things he'd say to me."

  "What did he say?" the doctor asked hopefully.

  " 'What the hell are you doing in that bathroom night and day? Get outta there! Give somebody else a chance!'"

  Dr. Frankenstein moaned again. "Oh, well, maybe it's better this way," he said. "That poor grotesque hulk ... maybe it is better off dead."

  Inga returned, bringing dessert. She served the doctor, then Igor, then resumed her place at the table.

  "What is this?" Igor asked, tasting the dessert.

  "Schwarzwalder Kirschtorte," Inga told him.

  The three began eating.

  "Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm . . ."

  The doctor looked up. "Do you like it?" he said to Igor. "Mine's a little lumpy."

  Igor peered at him. "Who said I like it?"

  "You said 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm.'"

  "I didn't say 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.' "

  The doctor addressed Inga. "Did you say 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmmmm'? "

  She shook her head. "I didn't say 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmm.' "

  Dr. Frankenstein frowned. "If you didn't say 'Mmmmmmmmmm,' " he said to Igor, "and you didn't say 'Mmmmmmmmmmmm,' " he said to Inga, "and I didn't say 'Mmmmmmmmmmmmm,' then who said 'Mmmm-mmmmmmmmmm'? "

  All three of their mouths dropped open at once, as, simultaneously, they were struck by the same realization. Then, as one, they leaped to their feet and dashed for the door. There, the exercise ended. There was a pileup in the opening, as they all tried to go through the doorway at the same time. There was a moment of disorganized flailing, then they got themselves separated and proceeded, with the doctor in the lead and Inga and Igor following, in that order.

  Moments later, the three burst into the laboratory. The creature was straining against the steel bands that held it to the table. At the arrival of Dr. Frankenstein, Inga, and Igor, it raised its head and stared at them with its vacant eyes.

  "Mmmmmmmmmmm . . ." it said.

  "Alive!" the doctor shouted triumphantly. "It's alive!"

  "I think you've done it, master!" Igor said.

  "Oh, Doctor!" Inga said, "It is! It is alive!"

  "The eyes, the fingers, the limbs!" Dr. Frankenstein cried out exultantly. "They move! I have defeated death!"

  "Not too close," Igor warned, as the doctor approached the table. "This guy could kill you."

  Dr. Frankenstein stepped back. "You're right," he said. He turned to Inga. "Prepare a sedative-just in case."

  "Right away, Doctor," she responded, moving off.

  The creature was making small circles with its hands.

  "It wants to talk," Dr. Frankenstein said excitedly. "It wants me to take off the straps! It wants to be free!"

  "It wants! It wants!" Igor said resentfully. "It's always 'It wants.' What about 'we' wants?"

  "Don't you understand?" the doctor said crossly. "The brain of Hans Delbruck is inside that body, pleading with us. I've got to release that marvelous brain!"

  "Okay, release it," Igor said. "Just keep the body tied down."

  "Stand back!" the doctor ordered.

  "That's where I am standing."

  Dr. Frankenstein advanced to the table. "Hello there," he said brightly to the monster.

  "Mmmmmmmmmmm."

  "How're things?"

  "Mmmmmmmmmrn."

  "I got that," Igor said. "It was 'Not so good.' "

  Dr. Frankenstein addressed the monster again. "I'm going to release you," he said. "Do you understand?"

  "Mmmmmmmmmmm."

  Inga returned. "Sedative, Doctor," she said.

  "Good. We're ready."

  Cautiously, the doctor removed the steel strap that held the monster's legs.

  ' Mmmmmmmmm."

  Igor translated. "He said, "That feels good.'"

  Dr. Frankenstein took the strap from across the monster's arms and chest-and the creature was free. It lay there, still, as if it were still bound.

  "Tame as a puppy," Dr. Frankenstein said.

  "Mmmmmmmmmrn."

  The doctor held ou
t his hands to the monster. "Upsy-daisy," he said.

  Nothing.

  Slowly, very slowly, the monster began to rise. It lifted itself to its elbows. Then it sat up. Moving slowly again, it lowered its legs over the edge of the table.

  Dr. Frankenstein held out his hands once more. "Give . . . me . . . your . . . hands . . ." he said, coaxing. Gradually, the monster's arms raised.

  Inga drew back. "I'm afraid ..."

  "Have no fear," the doctor said reassuringly.

  The monster's arms were nearly chest-high.'

  Nervous, Igor stuck a cigarette into his mouth, then, his hands shaking, struck a match.

  The flame was mirrored in the monster's eyes. The eyes suddenly glowed brightly. Its hands were nearly touching the doctor's hands. The light in the monster's eyes flashed. All at once, it lunged forward and its hands closed around Dr. Frankenstein's throat!

  "Mmmmrnmmrnm!" the monster said wildly.

  The doctor struggled. "Quick, give him the-" The words were pinched off as the monster's grip tightened around his throat.

  "What? Give him what?" Igor screamed.

  Desperately, Dr. Frankenstein pointed to the monster's arm.

  "Arm? Give him the arm?" Igor guessed, baffled.

  Now, the doctor had made a circle of two fingers and was piercing the opening with another finger.

  Igor guessed wildly. "Give him a cigarette?"

  The monster was still squeezing. The doctor's face was losing color.

  "Do it slow," Igor said to the doctor.

  Dr. Frankenstein extended three fingers.

  "Got it," Igor said. "Three syllables'."

  The doctor held up one finger.

  "Right-first syllable," Igor responded.

  The doctor cupped a hand to his ear.

  "Sounds like . . ." Igor said, nodding.

  Dr. Frankenstein pointed to his head.

  "Sounds like head?"

  Inga guessed. "Said?"

  The doctor held up two fingers.

  "Second syllable," Igor said to Inga. "So 'said' was right for the first syllable."

  The doctor held up two fingers, with a tiny bit of space between them.

  "Little word," Igor said.

  "The?" Inga guessed.

  There was no reaction from the doctor.

  "A," Igor suggested.

  Dr. Frankenstein touched his nose.

  "On the nose!" Igor said jubilantly. "The second syllable is 'a.' "

  "Said a .. ." Inga mused.

  The doctor had a hand cupped to his ear again.

  "Sounds like."

  Now, Dr. Frankenstein reached out a cupped hand to Igor.

  "What's he doing?" the hunchback asked Inga.

  "I think he's trying to give you something."

  "Give?" Igor asked the doctor.

  Dr. Frankenstein touched his nose again. By now, he was gaining color. His face was a purplish blue.

  "Said a give," Igor said puzzledly. "Does that make any sense?"

  "Not give," Inga suddenly shouted. "Tive."

  "Said a tive?"

  "Sedative!"

  "Oh!"

  Immediately, Inga raised the syringe that she had prepared and drove the needle into the monster's flesh. She rammed home the plunger.

  The monster's eyes froze. Its hands dropped from the doctor's throat. Then the monster dropped. The crash, as it hit the floor, shook the whole laboratory.

  Igor and Inga rushed to Dr. Frankenstein to keep him from collapsing, too.

  "Frederick! Are you all right?"

  "Just barely," he replied throatily.

  Igor and Inga helped him to a stool. When he was seated, he practiced swallowing. After a few minutes, he could swallow without gagging, and his normal color had returned.

  "May I speak with you a moment?" the doctor said softly to Igor.

  "Sure."

  "I won't be angry, I promise," the doctor said. "All I ask for is the truth. The truth. It that fair?"

  "Why, certainly."

  "That brain you brought me: was it Hans Delbruck's?"

  "Ahhh . . . not exactly," Igor replied.

  A foreign color was coming into the doctor's face again. This time it was red. He made gurgling sounds, trying to keep back the rising rage. After a few moments, he regained control.

  "Could you be more specific?" he said tightly to Igor.

  "Well, if push came to shove, I'd have to say . . . No, it wasn't Hans Delbruck's brain."

  "Aha! Then, would you mind telling me-would you be so kind as to tell me-whose brain I did put in?"

  "You won't be angry?"

  "I promised."

  "Abe somebody," Igor told him.

  "Abe? Abe somebody? You don't know who?"

  Igor scowled, thinking. "Abe . . . uh .. . Abe Normal, I think."

  "Abe Normal?" The doctor looked at him closely. "How do you spell Abe?"

  "A, B," Igor replied.

  "Abnormal!" the doctor shrieked. "Right! That's the name!" Dr. Frankenstein grabbed Igor by the throat. His grip tightened. The color drained from Igor's face.

  "Quick, give him the-" Igor began. The words were squeezed off.

  "How many syllables?" Inga asked. Igor held up one finger. "One syllable." Igor cupped a hand to his ear.

  "This is ridiculous!" the doctor said, releasing him. "No, it isn't," Igor said, the hand still cupped to his ear. "I hear something."

  Inga and the doctor listened. "A car!" Inga said. "I told you it was one syllable." "It's approaching the castle," Dr. Frankenstein said. "What can it mean?"

  "We might be going to have a visitor," Igor suggested.

  "I don't hear the car any longer," Inga said. "Drove on by, probably," the doctor said. He looked down at the monster. "Let's put this 'thing' back on the table," he said to Igor. "And strap it down tightly."

  As they were lifting the monster, they heard a knocking.

  "Someone at the door," Inga said. "Who could it be at this hour, knocking at the castle door?" Dr. Frankenstein said.

  "I don't know," Igor said. "But, one thing I do know: that car didn't drive on by." The knock sounded again.

  "See who it is," Dr. Frankenstein said to Inga. "I'll be up in a moment."

  When Inga had gone, the doctor and Igor finished strapping the monster back to the table.

  "I'll go up, now," the doctor told Igor. "Whoever it is at the door, we must act normally. Remember that! We can't let anyone know what's going on here. Understand?"

  "Got it. You're going up and you're going to act normal. You're the kind of master I admire," he said. "You take the toughest job for yourself."

  Leaving Igor to watch over the monster, Dr. Frankenstein climbed the stairs to the main floor. As he approached the entrance hall, he saw Inga standing at the door and talking to a large man who had a cigarette holder that held an unlit cigarette dangling from his mouth. He sensed somehow that the man was an officer of the law. Perhaps it was because his eyes were bright with integrity and his expression was so firm yet kindly. "For me, Inga?" the doctor asked casually, entering the hall.

  "Oh . . . yes, Doctor. This gentleman insists on talking to you."

  "That's all right, dear." He smiled paternally. "You may go on up to bed now."

  "Thank you, Doctor. Good-night, Doctor," she said, departing.

  "Good-night." He faced the caller. "I am Dr. Baron Frederic von Fronkonsteen, and I am a very normal man," he said. "That is, I mean, I am a very tired man, normally, so please be brief."

  "Horace Wilhelm Friedrich Kemp," the man responded, saluting the doctor with his wooden arm, "Inspector of Police."

  "Oh . . . Well, come in, Horace, do," the doctor said warmly. "Please! Don't be a stranger." "I thank you, sir."

  "War wound?" Dr. Frankenstein asked, indicating the wooden arm.

  "No, it was ripped out of its socket by that fiendish monster that your grandfather created when I was a child," the inspector replied. He looked past the doctor. "I thought we m
ight have a little chat."

  "Of course. Nice idea. Won't you step into my study?"

  "Happy to."

  "Ripped out by the monster, eh?" the doctor said, as they left the hall. "Traumatic, I imagine."

  "Well, I was a child . . . and Mum brought me up to share ... and I had two ..."

  "Best way to take it," the doctor said. "After all, what's done is done. No hard feelings."

  They reached the study and entered. There was a bright fire blazing in the fireplace. A dartboard hung on one wall. A silver tray with a decanter of port and two glasses rested on an ornate table.

  "Cozy fire, darts, and port," the inspector said. "What could be more gracious?"

  "Yes, true."

  Dr. Frankenstein poured wine for himself and the inspector. They touched glasses, then sipped.

  "Anything special on your mind?" the doctor asked.

  "No, nothing. Just passing by. Just dropped in," the inspector replied. He looked at the doctor narrowly. "Want to talk about monsters?"

  Dr. Frankenstein laughed. "Monsters!" he said mock-ingly. "Come, Kemp, this is the twentieth century. Monsters are passe. Like ghosts and goblins."

  "Are they?" the inspector said, going to the dart-board. "Not to the good people of this village, Herr Doktor." He began pulling darts from the board and jabbing them into his wooden arm, using it as a holder.

  "To them, the Frankenstein Monster is a very real thing." He strolled back and stopped when he was in throwing position. "Especially when there is a real Frankenstein residing in this castle."

  The doctor merely smiled.

  "Of course, I'm sure they have nothing to worry about," the inspector said. He threw a dart.

  It stuck in the shade of a lamp.

  He tossed a second dart.

  It landed in a wastebasket.

  Zing! went another dart.

  It came to rest in the middle of a portrait, between the eyes of a Frankenstein ancestor.

  The final dart hit a table, ricocheted, struck a vase, glanced off, then hit the floor and disappeared under a chair.

  "Timing's off," the inspector commented.

  Dr. Frankenstein began collecting the darts. "I wouldn't think an intelligent fellow like you would fall for all that superstitious rot," he said.

  "It's not superstition that worries me, Doctor. It's genes and chromosomes."