Whilst preparing for the coming nights most laborious, there was a knock at his door. He scarcely had time for visitors, but decided he'd better see who it was and what they wanted. When he opened the door, he couldn't prevent himself from saying, "Oh, I do hope you're an actor. You see, the other day a friend and I were discussing who could best portray the X-Man Wolverine in a movie. The best either of us could come up with was Jack Nicholson, but one look tells me you are the man for the job. "Oh, excuse me. What was your name, then?"
"The name I'll use (not my real one, of course) is Mr. Smith. I am in fact not an actor, but I shall take your comment as a compliment, since X-Men is my favorite comic book. But I do have a rather urgent matter of which to speak with you. May I come inside?"
"Oh, I never invite anyone inside."
"I understand. So, you do not invite me in, but if I were to come in of my own volition..."
"I wouldn't stop you."
As Smith came in, von Helsing said, "Please excuse the mess, I've been having rather a hectic week."
"May I offer you refreshment? I believe I have some Bud Light in the fridge."
"That would be nice, thank you."
Von Helsing disappeared into the kitchen, returning a minute later with two glasses of cold beer.
"Now then, Mr. Smith, what can I do for you?"
"I regret to inform you," said Smith as the moon came out, shining through the window, "that there is nothing you can do. In fact," explained the rapidly morphing beast, "I am here to kill you. Let me assure you that I find my task both an honor and a shame. I, as can plainly be seen, am a werewolf. I come to you as a representative of a group of various so-called monters who are very concerned about our chances for a successful evening three days hence. We wish to improve those chances by eliminating you. Having drawn the long straw, the task fell to me."
"Must we fight tonight? I'm so dreadfully behind my schedule as it is, Mr. Smith. And you seem a genial enough fellow. Seems a shame that I should have to do you in tonight, on such uneven terms; this is, after all, my home turf, as it were. I beg you to reconsider your position."
"It is not merely my position, but that of the group. If you don't die tonight, I will- by your hands or theirs."
"Ah, well. More's the pity. Cheers," said von Helsing in a rather un-cheery tone, lifting his glass to his lips and taking a long sip.
"Salut," said Smith, doing likewise. He then began to advance on Prof. von Helsing. Before he got three steps, however, he fell to his knees.
"What is this, von Helsing? Could it be the drink? I hardly think so, as I am susceptible to no poison. And yet," he rasped, lying down, "I die?"
"Oh, sorry old chap. The fact is, I was out of Bud. All I had was Coors Light. Hope you don't mind."
"Urrrgllllggglllle," mumbled the werewolf, and died.
"Good old Silver Bullet," said von Helsing, and went on with his preparations.