Thursday, 8pm. Unitarian Church basement.
FRANKENSTEIN: Welcome, everyone. I see we have some new faces here, some new faces on familiar bodies, as well as some who don’t have faces at all. Welcome all. Help yourself to some cocoa. To those who are new, my name is Frankenstein, but you can call me Frank. (sees WOLFMAN with his arm raised) Yes? There’s no reason to raise a paw. Just speak up.
WOLFMAN: Sorry, this is my first time here, and…um…I thought Frankenstein was the doctor who created you?
FRANKENSTEIN: A common mistake. As his progeny, I have taken his surname. What about you, friend? What do you go by?
WOLFMAN: Oh, um…hello, I’m the wolf man, I guess.
BABA YAGA: Not “The.”
WOLFMAN: I’m sorry?
BABA YAGA: You’re not “The” wolf man. There are multitudes, from the roughest rougarou to the greatest skinwalker. For low, when the moon doth rise, so do the legions of lycanthropes bear their fangs and claws to bathe in the blood of the innocent.
WOLFMAN: Hey, now, not all wolf men—
FRANKENSTEIN: What I think Baba Yaga is trying to say, is that we are more than just descriptors of our noteworthy physical characteristics.
BABA YAGA: That’s not what I’m trying to say at all…
DRACULA: Baba Yaga brings up a great point. My name is Dracula! Calling me Palebloodsucker, Lord of All Vampires doesn’t quite have the same ring. Try getting a date with that!
BABA YAGA: I knew a Paleboodsucker, once. Irving Palebloodsucker. Good dancer.
DRACULA: Vhat happened to him?
BABA YAGA: (smiles) Nothing good.
FRANKENSTEIN: Imhotep, you can speak to this, can’t you?
IMHOTEP: I do have some experience in this realm, of course. We are all more than our external wrappings. But I understand the gentleman’s frustration. I can shout my name to the heavens, but that doesn’t mean anyone will see anything more than manifestation of the collective Western guilt over the looting of the African continent tied up in dusty bandages.
FRANKENSTEIN: Now, we can’t get caught up in our own metaphors…
DRACULA: Ah, ah, ah. Don’t be so quick to disregard metaphors. Many a nubile young lady vishes to feel the cold embrace of a creature of the night. You play your metaphor right, my furry young friend, you could end swimming in the attention those who like a little beast to match their beauty.
BABA YAGA: Please. You haven’t had a date in two hundred years.
DRACULA: How vould you know?
BABA YAGA: You’re here, aren’t you?
FRANKENSTEIN: If we can get back to what Baba Yaga brought up…
BABA YAGA: I didn’t bring it up.
FRANKENSTEIN: …I believe this is the heart of the problem. Why we’re all here. We’re misunderstood because no one bothers to look deeper. We are more than what people see when they look at us.
BABA YAGA: Speak for yourself, Franky. I am exactly what people see when they look at me. Why do you think I have a chicken leg house? Why do you think I travel around in a giant mortar? You think I only have one good eye for my health? I exist to confound and terrify! I am not misunderstood! Humanity understands me far too well!!
DRACULA: Then vhy are you here?
BABA YAGA: I can’t get enough of the cocoa. (takes a sip)
FRANKENSTEIN: Thank you. It’s a family recipe.
BABA YAGA: (puts cup on the floor, pushes it far away with her foot)
WOLFMAN: You’re right! I am more that man who changes into wolf! Or…am I a wolf that changes into a man?
FRANKENSTEIN: Stay away from the metaphors.
WOLFMAN: Right, right, sorry. What I’m saying is, Mama Russell gave me a name, darn it! I’m Jack.
FRANKENSTEIN: Welcome, Jack!
DRACULA: Vait…you become a volf, and your name is Jack Russell?
IMHOTEP: That is…unfortunate.
BABA YAGA: Maybe you just go by “wolfman,” kid. There is a danger of being TOO understood.