As usual, everything was fine at first, and everyone lived happily. The inn had been renovated after the recent... events, and the admiral had not only become accustomed to life without legs (though technically, they lived with him) but also took pride in his disability, as if he'd acquired it during the war. Because, no matter how you look at it, in a way, that was exactly what it was...
Anyway, two months after the recent events, a wealthy vampire came to the inn. And if you consider Countess Vrakula a strange person, this guy was off the charts. He was what a man in a suit is to a tracksuit; what punk is to a skinhead; what a telephone directory is to a pink flamingo... In one word, or rather two, he was a complete freak. He entered the inn like a normal vampire, rented a room, unpacked... And that was the end of normal behavior. First, everything silver had to be buried. For some reason, he was afraid of him... Even though it's common knowledge that only porcelain is deadly to vampires. Or more precisely, porcelain cups with elephants... Don't ask me why, because even I don't know.
"Sir!" the owner was clearly irritated. "I thought we already agreed that you don't bite into other guests' necks?!"
"But it's not my fault! He... he... he arched his head so flirtatiously!
" "Anyone who got hit in the head would have arched their head with a shoe you threw! If you do this again, I'll have to ask you to leave the inn! NO BITTING OR SUCKING OTHER GUESTS!"
And he complied. Offended, he went to speak to the countess, who was thrilled [if such a term isn't, of course, offensive to vampires] to have a visit from someone of her caliber and social standing." They talked for over two hours, then the guest decided he had to go sleep in a coffin [there were special rooms with coffins for vampires!]. After twenty minutes, a rather strange figure emerged from his room. He was dressed entirely in a suit made of chocolate wrappers and held a rubber dowel in his hand. He headed toward the hall, panting like an old man who had waved his arms too much in joy at winning a game of thousand. She entered the hall and immediately encountered the owner.
"What are you doing?! When you're not biting guests, you're dressing up as trash! Personally, I don't interfere with what you wear.... But there are limits...
" "Have you seen a vampire anywhere?" the figure rasped, "because I smell one nearby..."
"And those ridges... I'm sorry? Have you completely lost your mind?"
"Don't talk to Van Helsing like that," the new guest stated, then limped into the dining room.
The owner was about to follow him when suddenly the door to the inn opened and a loud, demonic laugh was heard.
"That's all I needed..." sighed the owner.
He knew immediately that someone from hell was arriving.... And how did he know? Well, maybe in hell they had problems with the air conditioning, maybe they had bad labor relationships, maybe they limited themselves to eating human flesh... But you have to admit one thing: they are masters of spectacular entrances [according to the Countess, showy and tasteless. After all, a true gentleman enters the room unnoticed, and if he's truly important, others will notice him themselves, just as they always do with her modest person... He doesn't mention that whenever he enters, he starts sneezing until all eyes are on him].
Nevertheless, an impeccably dressed devil entered the Inn. It was immediately obvious he was from the Board. Like everyone who worked there, he was dressed in a black suit so old it couldn't even remember better days. If he were human, he'd have a whole host of great-grandchildren, a top hat you could pull rabbits out of... if only those were in Hell and hadn't been roasted straight away. And a goatee... literally. Well, devils had become accustomed to the stereotype of their appearance on Earth. And he didn't have horns. The latest fashionable trends in Hell were quite clear: No horns, but a tail with curls at the end. Of course, it looked idiotic... but who's stupid enough to tell the devil himself?
"Good morning... Inspection from Hell..." Unfortunately, he didn't finish.
The Countess emerged from the dining room with a distinguished, if somewhat brisk, gait that made her gait seem comical. [After all, it's common knowledge that running isn't a lady's thing]. Right behind her ran "Van Helsing," brandishing a rubber dowel.
"I see this inspection will be pure pleasure..." said the devil.
The owner was furious. He couldn't get the inspector to leave, and his visit during the deranged vampire's stay was truly dangerous. After the recent—and rather mysterious—disappearance of the druids and the abduction of the Archangel's wings, one might have expected an inspection... but an angelic one. So why from Hell? He would undoubtedly find out soon enough...
The Admiral wheeled his wheelchair into the dining room. Of course, the Countess, always eager to help, immediately caught up with him [she first glanced around with a truly conspiratorial gaze to see if anyone with a rubber dowel was in sight], then parked his wheelchair at her table. They had been having a habit of eating dinner together for several months now. The Countess absolutely loved talking to the Admiral during them... Although a more accurate term would be "talking TO the Admiral"... Because it all boiled down to stories about how rich she was and how well she knew Count Dracula... More than once, the Admiral wanted to ask why he was living at the Inn, but he always held back. So they ate dinner together and ordered arsenic. For the first time since they'd been eating together, he managed to find his voice, and naturally, the poor guy was very upset. He started flailing his arms so wildly while telling his story that at one point, his hand fell off and flew to the other side of the room. Naturally, the countess immediately jumped up to look for her, but she had already escaped... As you can see, limbs didn't like their owner.
Soon after, the entire Inn staff joined the search. They checked every nook and cranny, looked everywhere, but the hand was nowhere to be found. It was quite possible she had fled somewhere to meet her chosen one. The devil, naturally, took a keen interest in the search, so he approached the receptionist to find out what all the fuss was about.
"Are you looking for something... Dear friend?" It seemed to be in his DNA to ingratiate himself with anyone he wanted to extract information from.
"I... I..." Our poor receptionist was quite impressionable. "I'm not looking for anything! I'm just poking around...
" "I see... you wouldn't fool me, would you?
" "Yes, it doesn't! Never! I'm as honest as an insurance salesman!" Then he realized what he had said. "A salesman! A priest on Radio Maryja! A used car salesman?" "Then he burst into tears.
The devil didn't like whiners, so he moved on to the boy, who was just peeking behind a painting, hoping to find a hand there.
"You probably aren't looking for anything either...
" "I'm dusting.
" "I thought a hotel for the dead must be a bit dirty.
" "Yes, but not behind paintings.
" "Why?
" "Because dirt is supposed to be visible, and no one looks behind paintings.
" "You just looked there...
" "But I'm nobody.
" "So why do I see you?
" "Because...because...because..." The conversation proved to be too much of an intellectual effort, so he decided to do what was most logical. He fainted.
The countess, however, was not willing to give in so easily.
"Is the esteemed countess also looking for something?" the devil asked with appropriate respect in his voice.
"Most certainly!" The Countess never lied...
"And may I know what?
" "A golden spoon"...unless circumstances compelled her to.
"I understand...but the chances of finding it are slim...on a dusty wardrobe full of underwear."
"Oh! Is it the underwear wardrobe? That's probably why I couldn't find it," she said, and then quickly trotted off to look elsewhere.
So the inspector didn't find out what they were looking for. He tried his best, but the only suspicious thing he found was a vampire dressed in chocolate wrappers. But like a NATO envoy searching for nuclear warheads, he was determined to find something...even if there was nothing suspicious. After all, if he found nothing everywhere they sent him, he'd be out of a job, right? But apparently, no one at the inn cared that he wanted to work. There was nothing suspicious here. Or maybe not—there were definitely suspicious things here, but the owner was smart enough to know how to hide them.
After the first day of his inspection, he felt very tired and just wanted to sleep. So he headed upstairs to his room. As he climbed the stairs, something ran under his feet, but he didn't even notice. He slowly climbed the steps and headed to the end of the corridor. A soft tapping sound came from behind him. He slowly turned and... The admiral's hand lunged at his throat! He tried to pull it away, but the admiral, as it turned out, had strong hands [though the past tense would be more appropriate in this case]. He struggled, but he had little leverage to grab his attacker, who consisted of nothing but a hand with untrimmed nails. His last thought was: Funny how some people don't take care of themselves...
Funny indeed. Especially for the owner who found the body. He was laughing the hardest.
"Damn it! By all the demons in the world! Why always me?! Why can't this happen to someone else?! Does everyone have to die in this inn?!
He was getting really tired of constantly burying bodies and burning everything in the furnace. He even began to worry that he'd develop such a habit that when he saw someone asleep, he'd automatically burn them in the boiler room. Well, at least he'd saved on wood in the last month. Apparently, everything has its upsides...
The owner was about to carry the body to the boiler room, but fortunately, he thought better of it. If he burned the body, the soul would be freed. Then it would go straight to hell, where it would tell the story of what had happened. They would undoubtedly close the Inn, and that couldn't be allowed. He dragged the body into the room and left. Something scurried across the floor. He strained his eyes... The admiral's hand! He lunged for it and caught it without a problem. He always managed to pull off such things without the slightest problem. He carried it immediately to the admiral, who thanked him. He had managed to calculate that, at this rate, he would be left with a head in a year and a half, but regaining his hand shattered the whole equation, so at least he had reason to be happy... Or at least, that was the case for two minutes and twenty-four seconds... Because after all this time, the countess burst into the dining room and sat down next to the admiral.
"Have I told you about my aunt Gertrude?
" "Yes, about three times, countess."
"But I definitely didn't tell her about her husband. He was also in the army, just like you.
The admiral was in the navy, and that's not exactly the kind of army the countess was talking about. Besides, he'd heard the story twice already. But he didn't want to interrupt the countess... it would have upset her in the end. So he ordered another shot of arsenic and started listening...
The owner, meanwhile, went to the reception desk to yell at the receptionist. Not that he'd done anything wrong... You just have to yell at your subordinates sometimes, even if they didn't deserve it. So they'd start working harder." Unfortunately, the wonderful monologue the owner had prepared was interrupted. Between "you shouldn't" and "you're doing it wrong," he began descending the stairs... A controller from hell! This definitely didn't sit well with the owner, because there was only one thing he hated more than corpses: corpses who didn't appreciate the possibility of eternal rest, who wandered around and threatened the Inn's reputation. He quickly walked up to him, grabbed his arm, and began leading him back upstairs.
The security system! How could he have forgotten it... if any member of the Board died, their body would revive after a certain period and return to their headquarters on its own. It might have been a good system, but it was definitely not in the owner's best interest. A walking corpse is one who causes problems. It was bad enough that he occupied a room he certainly wouldn't pay for later. Nevertheless, he returned to the room with it and this time locked it. Then he returned to his important duty: criticizing the receptionist... He probably would have done this all afternoon if "Van Helsing" hadn't run through the lobby, dropping some silver jewelry in the process... This was already too much! He might have paid for his stay, but running around with a rubber stake and swinging it around was definitely pushing some boundaries, and the fact that he didn't know what they were at that moment meant nothing. He set off in pursuit. Unfortunately, he wasn't in as good shape as the personality-disordered vampire, so after five minutes, he collapsed to the ground, exhausted.
"Yet...yet..." he panted, "I'll catch you!"
Meanwhile, at the receptionist's desk...
"I had that dream again," the receptionist stated.
"What? Sheep again?" the valet sighed.
"Unfortunately... It's the same thing. Every night. I played poker with them again. That must mean something.
" "Did you win?" the valet nodded, "so that probably means you don't know how to play poker.
" "I guess you're right." The valet's explanation was perfectly logical.
Meanwhile, in the dining room...
"And that's how I met the richest dead man...
" "Exciting, Countess, unfortunately I have to...
" "Oh! That reminds me..." and she started talking again. In desperation, the admiral imperceptibly put his ears in his pockets. It was the least he could do.
The door to the Inn opened. Angelic harps and choirs could be heard, and the person who entered was bathed in bright light... At least until she tripped over a flowerpot.
"By the Archangel! Why is this light so blinding?" Then she quickly stood up and added, "Angel Boniface. Control from "Heaven" sp. Zoo.
But misfortunes come in pairs. Everyone immediately became unnaturally friendly and acted as if they had the best service under the sun. Just like they do in every inn and hotel on Earth. Oh, those appearances...
The angel quickly got the room he'd been assigned to. However, the owner didn't hesitate to warn him about a dangerous criminal prowling the area. He managed to come up with such a vivid description that the angel was truly frightened. They were always shy and timid.
At night, however, he quietly led the body of the deceased controller out of hell and let the angel into the room. Now everything was ready...
The angel, of course, mistook him for the criminal and killed him. For the second time. As you can see, this devil had real bad luck this week... mortal, even. However, when "Heaven" found out... they immediately stripped him of his Angel rights and sent him to Siberia as the guardian of a tree that grew there alone. They wanted to avoid conflict with Hell at all costs... This could have resulted in serious lawsuits and compensation.
And so the inspections at the Inn ended. And for some reason, "Heaven," after losing two angels, decided they would no longer inspect the Inn... because it was too dangerous. However, before everything ended happily, one thing remained: "Van Helsing."
Fortunately, the poor guy finally found his vampire. In the mirror. It turned out that rubber stakes can actually be quite effective if you drive them hard enough. And so another corpse appeared. This one, however, didn't burn so well in the furnace. Vampires are too bloody, which is why the fire burns rather sluggishly....
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