It seemed the whole room was filled with mist. Then I saw two red eyes glaring at me, approaching quickly, giving way to a livid face contorted in the gravest mask of terror.

"For god's sake, hide me!" Zombos cried.

"Daddos, where are you daddos? You've got a dance question." Zombos Jr. was getting closer.

"Playing High School Musical the DVD Board Game, I see," I said, applying more steam to the corpse plants. I had been enjoying the warm, pleasant quiet of the solarium, attending to my botanical chores. Warm, pleasant moments never last, do they?

"I don't know why Zimba ever got him that hellish game," Zombos cried, as he frantically looked about the room for a hiding place.

"Try behind the bench over there," I pointed. For a man his age, he did move fast when given sufficient reason. Perhaps I shouldn't mention that I recommended the game to Zimba. It did make such a wonderful Christmas gift for Zombos Jr., though: the little fellow simply can't get enough of it.

Zombos Jr. came running into the room. "Did you see my daddos?"

Before I could answer, Zombos sneezed loud enough to wake the dead.

"There you are!" He gleefully ran to Zombos and hustled him out of the room. Zombos let out a moan of despair that followed them all the way up the stairs and down the hall to the playroom.

Wait a minute; I mistakenly told him to hide behind the bench next to the orchids. Silly me, the man is terribly allergic to them. How could I have forgotten?

Glenor the maid came in with a small package. "This came for you," she said.

"Finally! My 75th Anniversary Edition DVD of Dracula. Thank you very much." I opened the box. With Zombos preoccupied, the library would be the best place to watch it. I ran up the stairs, popped it into the player, and settled back to enjoy the timeless performances by Bela Lugosi, Dwight Frye, and Edward Van Sloan, in the first American supernatural horror film.

The year was 1931. Universal Studios had originally planned a big budget film, more along the lines of 1923's The Hunchback of Notre Dame, and 1925's The Phantom of the Opera, but the Great Depression squelched those plans. Lon Chaney, the "Man of a Thousand Faces," and master of extreme characterization, was onboard to star in Dracula, playing both the titular vampire, and Van Helsing, the titular vampire's nemesis.

Chaney succumbed to a throat hemorrhage before filming could begin, leaving director and creative partner, Tod Browning, disappointed and disheartened. Other names were bandied about to replace him, including Conrad Veidt, but only one person was born to play the role of the undead count: Bela Lugosi. Say what you will about the shortcomings of Browning's film, it is Lugosi's performance as the aristocratic count of corrupting evil that has defined the sartorial look, voice, and mannerisms of Bram Stoker's Dracula ever since. Lugosi is Dracula, down to his hypnotic stare, sensual cape swirl, and suave, upper-class maliciousness.