Main Char stood in front of Clich‚ Mansion, A typically dark- whether it was night or not! -and foreboding tower of rotting wood and creaky shutters. It had been built for one Guy Clich‚, a typical French nobleman who had gotten his typical French noblehead chopped off by the typical French guillotine, and it just so happened his typical head noblefell on the same day the house was finished. Guy was supposed to have escaped to America and lived there happily ever after, and as such typical rumors abounded about Guy Clich‚'s typical French ghost wandering the noblehalls sans typical French skull. The only reason Main knew this was because he'd gotten a brochure at a local cafe that was typically eerie, with a hunch-back waitress and a one-eyed cook. That is to say, the cafe had these eerie elements, not the brochure. Not that the brochure itself wasn't weird- it was just weird without the help of Quasi-server and the 2-D chef.

At least, Main thought this was Clich‚ Mansion. He really didn't know where he was, and he really didn't care.He just wanted to be really warm and really dry, a situation in which he now was currently not. So he picked up the huge brass door knocker, noticing not at all the way the coldness of it crept into his fingers and put a momentary hammerlock on his heart (he thought he just had the shivers) and let that sucker fall. It made a very loud booming noise, loud enough, Main thought, to wake the dead, yea, right, sure, whatever.

Much to Main's surprise, the door eventually opened, with a creak of course, and there standing behind, no wait, in front of it since it was not open, okay, beside it, was a (of course) very pale faced man dressed nicely with slicked-back hair, holding a quite unused- it had no flame now and looked as it had never had one -candle in a dusty candle holder. Pretty funny- he was holding a holder. Although Main could have sworn no lights shown from the windows to the outside, there were obviously several turned on, for the man seemed to shine in both his slicked-backed hair and his paleness. Briefly, Main wondered if, since in the days of kings and queens it was considered a sign of good breeding to have fair skin, did the subject of a monarch ever address him with, instead of "your highness" the very flattering "your paleness"? Main was wont to these very momentary distraction, for it delighted the author and added volume to the text.

But his thoughts were interrupted by the man, who after regarding Main Char with an almost evil smile- but not too obviously evil, and maybe it wasn't evil after all, just the widow's peak of slicked-back hair made it, his smile, look evil -then said to him, "Good evening" with a rich, low European accent just like you knew he would, so I guess the smile was evil after all.

But Main didn't believe in any of that nonsense- his was a Christian upbringing, and the likes of a silly brochure wasn't gonna keep him from getting dry, nosirreebob. With the boldness possessed by only the brave and the foolish he said, "Howdy. Sorry to disturb you so late, but I'm in a bit of a fix."

The man bowed slightly. "Please, you are not disturbing me at all. Welcome to my home." He held out a hand, which is to say, he held it out so that Main could see he was to walk inside, although you can't very well say he held away his hand, and furthermore, to suggest with the word usher that Main was to go in was to suggest this weirdo with the slick-do had some sorta power over Main, which he didn't, nosirreebob. So main walked in, and regarded the droopy drapes, which explained the light not happening thing, the cobwebs, which seemed to have more strength than the drapes, and the old, old furniture, so old that anyone describing it wouldn't be able to come up with an adequate description.

"Let me guess," said the man, as he held that damn candle holder and it's bran-spanking new candle sans flame up as if it would shed more light on the bedraggled Main, "You ran out of gasoline. No wait, I know, you have a flat tire."

Main rolled his eyes. "Actually, both are correct. I ran out of gas, and just as was coasting to a stop, a blew a tire." It had been very very weird, brochure and cafe-employees notwithstanding. First he'd gotten a queasy feeling in his stomach, which he'd attributed to the chili surprise. (The surprise? You paid for it!) Then, just as darkness fell (recall the night-stormy thing) like a corpse into a quarry his car had started sputtering and wheezing. Had his car eaten any chili? No, nor gas neither, and then BOOM! BOOM! Two flats, like a neophyte saxophonist playing an F-Major scale. Not the sound, just the two flats as an existence thing. "So I was wonderin'-"

"I am not surprised-" The man interrupted, and Main guessed that he didn't eat chili much, "I've had several guests this dark and stormy WEEK, and they, too, have had similar problems. I am very far from any gasoline station, and I put tacks on the road to discourage cyclists."

Kinda creepy, the way the guy (Main didn't think he was the Guy, not Guy Clich‚- this cat was to eastern-Europe sounding, not froggy at all) kept saying "gasoline" instead of "gas." Main shivered. "Whatever. I just need to use your phone so I can call someone to help me out here."

The man smile fade. "I'm sorry, but the phone usually does not work when it's dark, stormy, and I have guests. Call it a flook of nature."

This is just typical, just simply too typical, Main thought to himself. It wasn't as if he had been having a great day anyway, but this, as everyone who isn't a dromedary or a bail of hay, was the final straw. Except it wasn't, because Main didn't wig out, not yet. "So what in the world am I supposed to do now"

The weird looking scary man with the hair and the holder and et cetera seemed to smile before his mouth even moved, and Main was absolutely certain this fella had no problems with keeping dental appointments, in much the same way that a football player has no problem missing baseball practice. A laborious description, yes, but clear when Main caught a glimpse of the kook's too-healthy teeth when he said, "You can stay here, for the night."

On cue thunder crashed outside and gave Main a jolt to accompany the fresh chill brought on by a sudden chill. The chill brought the chill, just like it says. Despite the cold wetness of himself, Main wasn't sure staying was such a good idea. His aforementioned boldness, it would seem, had fled with the flood of fear he was finding he felt. "That's very kind of you, but I have to-"

"You're very busy, am I right?" Man, that was one weird accent. "What is so important that you cannot receive a warm and needed sleep? It is night, and stormy, and even those who disagree on what such things are called agree it is not the time to do business.

"Yea, but-"

"What is it you must do?"

"Nothing germane to the plot, only in so far as it provides me with an excuse to leave, hiding the fact that actually I'm scared right out of my trousers, not so bad since they're cold and wet, but bad enough because the legs inside them are cold and wet also." Main would have liked to say this, but he didn't think it. The chill, the storm, fatigue, frustration; all these negative things finally fueled Main's, "Okay, I'll stay- thank you, I appreciate it." From bold to cautious to wimp toad in two fell swoops.

"But of course," said the man, and his grin was so dark and so evil it was a good thing that candle wasn't lit, because now it certainly wouldn't be. "I'll show you to your room... walk this way."

"If I could walk that way, I wouldn't have to depend on stupid over-used puns," Main thought. The man walked very slowly, holding the candle high for no damn good reason, giving Main a chance to view his surroundings. They walked down a dusty, cobwebby hallway, passing several old cracked paintings hung in gilded frames on the wall, in between drape-laden windows on one side of the hall and light fixtures on the other. Each man in each painting looked just like Main's host- only the clothing differed. And as they walked, the way seemed to grow dimmer, as if the wattage on each successive bulb was lower by one degree. Maybe when it was TOO dark the fella would light that candle, (Main hoped Main hoped Main hoped) and only held it up for practice, or out of habit. So the dark and dusty hallway (no need to explain it- trust me on the dark thing this time, okay?) was getting darker and dustier- furthermore, the candle-holdin, slick-hair havin weird -accent usin slow-walkin guy in the fancy clothes was pointing at things they passed in succession, reciting a number quietly to himself each time he did so. Nervous again, and racked with enough shivering to rewrite entropy theory, Main asked, "Say, who're all these old fogies?"

The man stopped his counting and turned slowly to peer at Main with eyes that would have been red if they hadn't been the color they were. "These are my ancestors and family," the man said richly. "My line and stock. We all share the same name."

"Well that's good," Main thought, "No more of this 'Man' reference." He spoke, "Yeah? And what's the name- not Clich‚, right?"

"No, it is not a clich‚." The man pointed with a long, pail, slender, almost womanly but for the obvious strength- not that women aren't strong, but what woman has sharp fingernails AND scaly cuticles? none in her right mind, I'll tell you that much. "That one is my great great grand father. He was a baker by trade, and he sold his goods from a cart with no wheels. His name was DraguDough."

"Hmm," Main said, never fond of those foreigner names.

Another point. "This one is my great uncle, a teacher of geometry, who's books were too heavy to carry. He was called DraguRay."

Main nodded, remembering what a pain in the butt any kind of math was. He wondered- was the light still getting dimmer, although they had stopped moving? He shivered.

"That man was my great grand father, a vain man who thought nothing but of himself. They called him DraguMe."

Main's own father, i.e. the man who created him, was also a vain man, so vain he actually thought people would want him to write stories for them. Main could sympathize. And yes, the light WAS seeping away, keeping pace with weirdo's description by getting darker as he got more sentimental. Main wished very much that he was elsewhere right at that moment.

Undaunted, seeming to forget Main momentarily, the man spoke on, "There's my grandfather, a very very strong man, who had a business transporting people on long, snow-covered journeys. His name was DraguFar

Main's own car was without the use of it's tires, and could use a a few blades and a snow path right about now. Anything to get him the hell out of here.

Main could only barely make out the next painting now, so dim was the light, and so unsettling were his shivers. "My father is in this one, a brilliant teacher, who taught much of my family the way to do many things. He is called DraguSo."

Again, Main thought of his own father, i.e. the man who created him, who thought he could fall back on teaching until the writing thing happened.

"There's my brother, who lives in England and delivers beverages to people who don't live on roads. He is DraguTea."

Somehow, the foody reference didn't do much to distract main from his unease. They were in almost total darkness now, and Main had no idea whether his knees knocked from fear or cold.

"And finally, that is our cousin, the banker. He is named for out great great grandfather- DraguDough."

The hall was now completely dark- even the gleam of the man's teeth was gone, though his voice surrounded and wrenched at Main's soul completely. He was absolutely frozen with fear. in a near whisper, Main said, "And you have the same name? As them?"

"Yesss.." was the quiet reply

"What do you do?" Main squeaked."

Softly, "I am a singer."

Main was overcome by dread. His spine tingled with the blackness that seemed to drip down the last of his sanity. "Oh no, no you're not."

A throaty chuckle. "Yes, I am."

Oh please no.

"Do you want to know my name?"

Main paused. he didn't want to know. He wanted to be home in a normal world and warm and gone gone gone from here. Despite himself, he asked, "What is it?"

Thunder crashed loud as the curtains behind the weird counting man fell, and he was lit up brightly as he yelled, "I! AM! DRAGULAAAAAAAAAAAA-"

Mains eyes bugged out of his head and he fell back against the wall, terrified, as his heart stopped and his hair stood on end. "-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-" the count continued to sing at the top of his lungs, competing with the continuing, house shaking thunder, holding his arms up high, letting his cape make him seem ten times bigger in front of the window, lightning flashing hot and white and over and over, -AAAAAAAAAAA-" Main felt his legs go numb and he slid down the wall, tears of salty-hot fear coursing down his frozen cheeks. "-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!" DraguLaa stopped in time with ceasing of the thunder and lightning, and full darkness returned to the hall with Main's heartbeat and breathing. Main's cardiovascular system was now operating at triple time.

The eastern-European voice seemed to float across the inky void between them. "Are you all right?"

Main managed to stand, and fished in his a pocket, hoping beyond hope the rain hadn't wasted his lighter. finally he freed it, and gave it a try. "Yea, I guess the thunder startled me a-" A flame suddenly jumped to life.

"Ssssss!!" DraguLaa jumped back into the shadows, and Main would have sworn that what he glimpsed in Laa's open mouth before it was hidden in the dark was not a pair of fangs, nope, no sir, nuh-uh, no way no how. It just couldn't be! "What are you doing? Extinguish that at once! Do you want to burn my house down?"

Main was suddenly confused. "What are you talking about? I was just gonna light your damn candle-" He took a step towards the creepy-singer.

"No! Stay away! I insist!"

Main held his ground. "Careful there, Laa. You don't have to get cross with me, I was just-"

Laa seemed to howl. "Don't say that! I am not... mad! Just put out the flame, NOW!"

"Gee whiz, who put garlic up your butt?"

"Stop! Stop! You are being very rude! You are a guest in my house-"

"Hey, all that's at stake is a bed, Mr. Laa, it's not like you-"

"No! No! You must not do this too me! Leave! Leave at once I say!"

"God, you don't have to make a holy war out of-"

Laa was screaming by this point, "Go! Just Go! GO!"

Still cold, but no longer so much afraid, Main Char made a route back down the hall, eventually finding his way to the front door.

The night, and the storm, and no matter which way you cut your cheese, therefore the dark, were going, much to Main's surprise. Somewhere in the crazy family history inside Clich‚ Mansion night had passed, and the storm, as was mentioned just one sentence ago. Main Char regarded his auto as he sauntered towards it quite unlike a man who had just been scared out of his wits, quite unlike a man who was still sopping wet, and cold, quite unlike a man for whom the car towards which he was so nonchalantly sauntering held two flats and no gas. He finally reached it, Main regarding all the while, and without hesitation or perspiration, a lame rhyme which is supposed to convey that he did the following not too fast because he thought he had to and not too slow because he was so cool (recall his behavior inside the house), Main grabbed the weird brochures procured from the weird cafe, and tossed them into the gutter. They sank in the brown water immediately. Just then, a car drove up and stopped next to Main's, the driver a pleasant normal looking sort. "Need some help, fella? A lift to the next fillin' station maybe?" Main smiled. A bird chirped. Yea. Right. Sure. What-ever.

Happy ending? No, even better. Boring ending.