So Count Dracula went on a tour of Europe.

Having not had a meal since he’d left the homeland of Transylvania, he was very glad when a town constable knocked on his hotel door and asked the count to show him his passport. It didn’t take Dracula long to grab the policemen and suck every drop of blood out of him.

Now Dracula was faced with a problem. “How do I dispose of this body?” he wondered. The only solution he could come with was to throw the corpse out the window. “I’m so high up, they’ll never trace the body back to me. Ha ha,” he cackled. So – whoosh – out the window went the corpse.

It just so happened that right below that window was the customary station of an itinerant street singer. Bang! The singer got hit right on his noggin by the falling body and was knocked unconscious.

Back in his hotel room Dracula was in the mood for “dessert,” so he rang room service and asked the front desk to send up another town constable.

Ten minutes later the policeman arrived and Dracula invited him in. As soon as the door shut, Dracula pounced and devoured his fresh and steaming “dessert.”

Again the count wondered “How do I get rid of the body?” and then thought, “Well, it worked once. Why not again?” So out the window went his latest victim.

At that moment the street singer below had just regained consciousness and was wondering what the heck was going on. His consciousness didn’t last long, however, as he was instantly knocked out cold by Count Dracula’s second victim.

Some time later the singer woke up and saw that a small crowd had gathered around. As he regained his bearings, one of the onlookers asked, “What’s happened here?”

“It’s terrible,” sang the street singer. “Drained cops keep falling on my head!”