“Welcome to my house! Come freely. Go safely; and leave something of the happiness you bring!”
The Count, he’s a rather tall, rather old man Everything about him is colorless, except for the long white mustache he touts above his lips. When I first saw him, he seemed awkward – ever waiting for my own actions. It made me anxious, especially after the taxi ride. I’m the guest after all, maybe I should be the one waited on? But as soon as I stepped into his … castle, that fear quickly subsided. He rushed me away into a large, well-lit room filled with food I never thought I’d see in my lifetime. The Count didn’t eat anything. (Note: I’ve yet to see him eat at all during my stay.) But that didn’t bother me that first night. I was far too famished to give a crap.
We were finally able to get down to business. I’m hear on behalf of my great mentor Pete Hawkings. I was to answer any and all legal questions the Count may have regarding a real estate purchase in London.
What with the drab, empty and cold feeling of his remote castle, I can’t blame him for wanting to relocate.
He talks a lot. A lot of common questions about London in particular. He told me not to fear, that Transylvania is much different than London and that there would be strange things that would make me pause. I almost laughed when he said this. Haven’t I experienced enough already!?
I have to add this: long white mustaches will never be a fad, but if this man got out a little more … maybe, just maybe.
