-Hm.

What would master like for breakfast?

How does natural yogurt and shredded leech sound?

-Disgusting.

Have you got anything that doesn't contain blood?

-You are so not going to make it as a vampire.

-Well, what a night I've had.

Stop what you're doing, and prepare to be amazed.

-Have you got a job as a magician?

Oh, if you need an attractive assistant,

I look absolutely stunning in sequins.

-No, you idiots.

I've been out hunting.

It's time you got your fangs stuck in some proper grub.

-Ah, it's just a little baby rabbit.

-Oh, want something bigger, eh?

Well tomorrow I'll bring you a goat.

-I am not eating that.

It's alive.

-Oh, don't worry, Vlad.

Everybody gets first bite nerves.

You just need some practice until you're

old enough to start on the peasants.

Be a brave boy, and bite the bunny.

-I'm not biting the bunny.

I not biting anyone.

-You're a vampire.

Start acting like one!

-You should kick him out, Dad.

He's too soft.

-See Ingrid's vile.

Why can't you be like here?

-Because I like being me.

I like being nice.

-You see, this is what happens when

you try to raise a child on your own.

They turn out good.

-Oh, would you like me to beat him, master?

-No.

What this boy needs is something much more painful.

He needs a mother.

[pot clangs]

-But I've already got a mother.

-Yes, well, I mean one that doesn't run away

with a werewolf at the first sign of moonlight.

You need a step-mother, preferably evil.

-And who exactly are you planning on marrying?

-Hmm.

I shall find a bride the traditional way.

I shall throw a hunt ball.

-What's a hunt ball?

-A big, fancy party with ballroom dancing,

so Dad can waltz around window shopping for a wife.

-A vampire party.

Cool!

-And at midnight, instead of going home,

they start hunting peasants to feast on.

Well, after all that dancing, it's bound to make you peckish.

-Robin, it's not funny.

Dad's going to blow our cover.

-Vlad, you have to stop him.

-I am aware of that, Chloe, but how?

-Tell him about Van Helsing.

If he knows a slayer's in town, he'll have to call it off.

-You know, you two are real party poopers.

-Or invite even move vampires to have a showdown.

-Oh man.

That'd be awesome.

A boy can dream, can't he?

-I finally perfected my stake firing crossbow.

-I'm missing lunch so you could shoot plastic bats?

You're crazy.

-This isn't a plastic bat.

This is Count Dracula.

-Oh, I see.

You're not crazy, you're insane.

-I spotted a bat flying to and from the castle.

It must be the Count shape-shifting.

I'm going to blast him out of the sky.

-Oh.

Because it couldn't just be bats nesting inside the castle,

could it?

I know, it must be a man turning himself into a bat.

It's obvious.

-Pull.

-You do know bats are a protected species.

It's illegal to shoot them.

Pull.

You could get put in jail for this.

-Pull.

-I killed the Count. -Or put in a straitjacket.

-Right.

The guests will be greeted over here.

The drink table will go over there.

And you try to keep a low profile.

-Why are you helping?

Do you want a step-mother?

-What have I got to lose?

Mum's never here, and Dad doesn't like me.

At least this way I might find someone

who actually cares about me.

-Dad cares.

-Ingrid, I may have to sell you to pay for this party.

Ohh, what about Countess Lakushka?

-You can't marry her.

She killed her father with a garlic-flavored coffee.

-Hmm. Sounds perfect.

-Add her to the list.

-Dad, you don't have to do this.

I promise to be good.

I mean, bad.

-Ahh, say hello to the future Mrs. Dracula.

What a beauty!

Such pale, lifeless skin and fangs like icebergs.

We're definitely inviting her.

-Dad.

-Hm?

-That's a picture of Mum.

-It says she was at the Annual Werewolf Awards.

-Oh, I didn't mean her.

I meant her.

-That's her boyfriend.

ZOLTAN: He was nominated for Best Hair.

-Look, haven't you all go jobs to do, hmm?

-Dad, do you have invite all these vampires to Stokely?

You're just asking for us to be chased

out by an angry peasant mob.

[peasants yelling]

-Ah!

No, you're right, Vlad.

So instead of hunting the whole town,

we'll just invite a few peasants to the castle.

We'll let them lose at midnight, and the fun can begin.

-Oh, that's right.

Then if we're only draining a few locals who cares?

-Exactly.

Now Ingrid, we need healthy peasants,

fit and fast enough to make the chase fun.

-Don't worry, Dad.

I've got the perfect specimens in mind.

-Oh!

We've all been invited to a hunt ball at the castle.

-Oh, please say we can go.

-No!

I just really don't think we should go.

-Couldn't agree more.

-Oh, why?

It sounds like fun.

-I can think of a hundred things I'd

rather do on a Saturday night than prancing

around with a bunch of weirdos.

-Graham, we shouldn't make fun of the neighbors.

I say we all go and have a jolly good time.

-I'm going to ask Ingrid to dance with me.

-Me too.

-Hang on.

We don't know how to ballroom dance.

-Oh, you're father will teach you.

He does a mean tango.

-What?

Do you think plumbers can't dance?

-Does that mean we can go?

-Come on.

We'll start with a waltz.

-Aw, yes.

-Are you going to stand by and let

our family be used as refreshments?

-You're worrying over nothing.

We're perfectly safe.

The Count likes us.

-That's odd.

Under dress code it just says running shoes.

-Hm.

It's says here that bats can give you quite a nasty bite.

-And so can vampires.

-Dad, when are you going to realize there are no vampires.

-Vampires are real.

And they're nesting in that castle.

When I shoot down the Count, then you'll believe me.

-This is ridiculous.

I'm going to warn them they've got bats that need protecting.

-If you go up there, the only thing that will need protecting

is your neck.

-Give over!

-There's a lot to do before the guests arrive,

so I made us both a list of chores.

-Well, this is blank.

-Oop, whoops.

That one's mine.

This is yours.

-This is too much!

I don't have time!

-Oh, which reminds me, make sure you wind the big clock.

The hunt starts at midnight.

-Well, I can't-- oh!

[doorbell rings]

-Is Vlad in?

-Upstairs.

Make three gallons of leech and strawberry punch.

-Is Vlad in?

-You deaf?

Go find him yourself.

I'm too busy.

-All right.

No need to shout.

-Stew cockroaches!

I've got to make stew as well?

-I don't believe it.

You're the perfect specimens Ingrid was talking about.

-Specimen?

Don't you mean guests?

-At midnight a pact of hungry vampires

is going to tear you limb from limb.

-Get outta here.

You mean, the hunt ball really is a hunt ball.

-That what I've been trying to tell you.

-Ingrid really is evil.

-Hello?

Vlad?

Ingrid?

Anybody there?

VAN HELSING (VOICEOVER): Vampires are real.

And they're nesting in their castle.

-Quick Dad, wake up.

[thumping]

-Ahh!

Right.

That's it.

I'm getting a sound-proof coffin.

I am sick of being woken up in the middle of the day.

-Sorry, Dad, but it's an emergency.

-The dry cleaners have shrunk my cape.

-No.

Ingrid's invited the Branaughs to the ball.

They're bait.

-I know.

It's going to be fun.

-But vampires are going to chase us and suck out our blood.

COUNT DRACULA: But I thought you wanted to be a vampire.

It's better than being a stinking breather.

[sniffing]

-Fwah, and you really do reek today, Robin.

You're making this room smell like it's full of breathers.

-What about my family?

They don't want to be into vampires.

-Don't be so [inaudible] negative.

They'll look great in fangs.

Especially mine.

-(WHISPERING) Go on tell him about Mr. Van Helsing.

COUNT DRACULA: Uh, what about him?

-Well, Dad, you see the thing is Mr. Van

Helsing's not just a woodwork teacher.

He's also a vampire slayer.

[fart noise]

-Him?

A slayer?

As if.

Now get out of here.

I need my beauty sleep.

Go!

-You actually saw him in his coffin.

-We need to get away from here. Far away.

-Run away?

What are you crazy?

We got to get up to that castle and do our duty.

-But it's going to be swarming with vampires having a party.

-A party?

Oh, sweet joy, this is it.

The big one.

I've always dreamed of this moment, Jonno.

Me and you, out numbered, fighting shoulder

to shoulder against a blood-thirsty hoard

of vampires.

-I think I'm going to be sick.