Sympathy for Vlad

How about that Vlad the Impaler? I get chills just thinking about his legendary misdeeds. Oh, you do not know about Vlad? He was a Romanian ruler in the 1400s who impaled over 50,000 of his enemies. You are right to think that some of them probably did not deserve that fate. Maybe he rounded up?

Working for Vlad must have been difficult at best. You just know that guy brought the office home with him. But I bet if you needed to stay home when your child was feeling under the weather, Vlad would let you slide - even if you were out of sick days. The "Big V" was tough but fair. He was especially tough when he was mounting someone's head on an eight foot long pike. At that moment, Vlad's employees would turn away and think to themselves, "You know what? My question about the profit sharing plan can probably wait."

Vlad was said to have been the snazziest dresser of his time. Of course he was. The man could have any garment tailored to his petite frame at wholesale rates. Money was never a factor for him. Meanwhile, research shows that his courtesans were forced to wear secondhand garb. Vlad used this technique to make himself look better than anyone around him, the devil.

If one of his people piped up about the clothing situation, Vlad would tell that person to go see "his girl" and pick out whichever outfit they wanted. But as that fool was walking away, Vlad would chuckle to himself and nod to his best stake-thrower, who would launch a perfectly spiraling spear. As it landed, the spear would bisect the dissenter's torso. Vlad would then turn to the remainder of his horde and ask, "Any other complaints?" The silence was deafening. No one even dared to even flinch. "Good," was the fiend's curt response.

Vlad the Impaler could eat at any restaurant he wanted to - even if he didn't have a reservation. On a busy Friday or Saturday night, he could just pop his head in and say, "Table for Vlad" and expect to be seated immediately. And if it took more than two minutes for his breadsticks to appear, Vlad would fly into a maniacal rage and storm the kitchen. "Does Attila the Hun have to wait for his breadsticks?! What about Rasputin?! Does Caligula ever have to endure a rumbling belly?! DOUBT IT!" As the waitstaff cowered and the manager offered a free dessert as a weak form of consolation, Vlad would interrupt with, "Shut your fat face and get me my app!" This was clearly his unhappy childhood coming through.

If I was alive back then and I heard that Vlad planned to stop by my place for dinner one night, I would make sure not to be there when he arrived. Even if we were not enemies but merely strained acquaintances, I would still make myself scarce. You don’t take those kinds of chances around an Impaler – especially one ballsy enough to include the title in his full name.

But if Vlad popped over without being invited, what would I do then? I think that I would just order a pizza for us to split and hope that by the end of the meal I would have charmed him to the point where he no longer wanted to impale me. I would even let Vlad help himself to any pieces with bubbles in the cheese, though I normally covet those. If Vlad tried to trick me into taking a bubbly slice for myself, I would firmly resist, saying, "Oh no, please. I am soooo full, Vlad," while holding one hand on my gut and the other out at him as I shook my head mournfully. He is not getting me that way.

I will tell you this, though: while Vlad was busy devouring a cheesy slice of olive pizza, I would sneak off to the bathroom and covertly remove the towel bars and toilet paper holder. They may not be up to Vlad’s usual level of sharpness, but why tempt fate?

No comments:

Post a Comment