Non-phonetic transcription of Mr Bilder's conversation with Dracula at the London zoo
He had a hard, cold look and red eyes, and I took a sort of mislike to him, for it seemed as if it was him the wolves was irritated at. He had white kid gloves on his hands, and he pointed out the animals to me and said:
'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'
'Maybe it's you,' said I, for I did not like the airs as he gave himself. He didn't get angry, as I hoped he would, but he smiled a kind of insolent smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth.
'Oh no, they wouldn't like me.'
'Oh yes, they would,' said I, imitating him. 'They always like a bone or two to clean their teeth on about tea-time, which you have a bagful.'
Berserker the wolf after getting the worst vibes from a visitor, being angered into a frenzy, getting kidnapped, getting football thrown into a window, being mindcontrolled into scaring a poor woman to death and then being abandoned in the streets of London:
I love the new incomprehensibly speaking old man character so much his interactions are funny af
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Mr Bilder: Don't try to talk to me until we've eaten or I'll tell you to go to hell, invite you to dinner and after THAT I'll answer your questions. Standard procedure you know, just like I do with the wolves
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Dracula, making the wolves upset: Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something
Mr Bilder, disliking his vibes: Maybe it's you
Dracula, smiling creepily: Oh no, they wouldn't like me
Mr Bilder, not giving a single shit: Oh they would. They would love to CLEAN THEIR TEETH WITH YOUR BONES
I saw some people who were confused by what the zookeeper was saying today, since we've encountered a THIRD accent-heavy, almost unreadable character in Dracula today
under the cut is my attempt at a translation of today's newspaper article, starting with Thomas Bilder's first lines
... Then when the table was cleared, and he had lit his pipe, he said:—
“Now, sir, you can go ahead and aske me the questions you want to ask. I’m sure you’ll forgive me for refusing to talk about professional subjects before we had our meal. I give the wolves and the jackals and the hyenas in all our section their afternoon meal before I begin to ask them questions.
"How do you mean, ask them questions?" I queried, wishful to get him into a talkative humour.
“Hitting them over the head with a pole is one way; scratching them behind the ear is another” [basically ‘you can give them the stick or the carrot’ - be mean or be nice]
[I’m not sure what this means->]“when gents as is flush wants a bit of a show-orf to their gals.”
“I’m okay with doing the first, hitting them with a pole before I toss in their dinner; but I wait until they’ve finished their meal and havd their after-dinner drink of sherry or coffee, metaphorically, before I try to scratch them behind the ears. Mind you," he added philosophically, "humans aren’t that different from animals. Here you are coming and asking me questions about my business, and I was grumpy and if you hadn’t offered me some money, a half-quid, I would have preferred to have you shot [? not sure what ‘blowed’ means here for sure] rather than answer your questions. Not even when you sarcastically asked if I’d prefer you go as my boss, the Superintendent, if you might ask me some questions, would I have said yes. Didn’t I tell you to go to hell?”
"You did."
"And when you said you’re report me for using obscene language, that was hitting me over the head - using a threat to get me to comply; but offering me money, the half-quid, made that alright because then I was willing to comply. I wasn’t really going to fight you, but I waited for you to offer me something good, after putting on an aggressive show of howling like a wolf, lion, or tiger would. But, lucky you, now that my old human caretaker [his wife] has filled me up with a chunk of her tea-cake, and served me lots of tea, and I’ve lit my pipe, so I’m all comfortable, you can ‘scratch behind my ears’ and I’ll comply without any complaint. Go ahead and ask you questions. I know what you’re hear to ask: that there escaped wolf”
"Exactly. I want you to give me your view of it. Just tell me how it happened; and when I know the facts I'll get you to say what you consider was the cause of it, and how you think the whole affair will end."
"All right, guv'nor. This here is about the whole story. That there wolf who we called Berserker was one of three grey ones that came from Norway to Jamrach's, which we bought off him four years ago. He was a nice well-behaved wolf, that never caused us any real trouble. I'm especially surprised that he wanted to get out of the zoo, or that any of the other animals here would want to escape. But, there, you can't trust wolves any more than you can trust women."
"Don't listen to him, sir!" broke in Mrs. Tom, with a cheery laugh. "He’s been taking care of animals for so long that, God, he’s like an old wolf himself. But he doesn’t mean any harm."
"Well, sir, it was about two hours after feeding yesterday when I first hear my disturbance. I was making up a stretcher in the monkey-house for a young puma that’s ill; but when I heard the yelping and howling I came out of them straight away and went to check on the wolves. There was Berserker tearing at the bars of his cage like a mad thing as if he wanted to get out. There weren’t many people at the zoo that day, and in the immediate vicinity there was only one man, a tall, thin guy, with a hooked nose and a pointed beard, with a few white hairs running through his beard. He had a hard, cold look and red eyes, and I immediately sort of disliked him, because it seemed like he was the one the wolves were irritated at. He had white leather gloves on his hands, and he pointed out the animals to me and said: 'Keeper, these wolves seem upset at something.'
"'Maybe it's you,' says I, for I did not like the way he held himself. He didn't get angry, as I had expected and hoped he would, but he smiled a kind of arrogant smile, with a mouth full of white, sharp teeth. 'Oh no, they wouldn't like me,' he says.
"'Oh yes, they would,' says I, imitating the way he spoke. 'They always like to have a bone or two to clean their teeth on after dinner, and you are have lot of bones in you.
"Well, it was an odd thing, but when the animals see us talking, they lay down, and when I went over to Berserker, he let me stroke his ears just like he usually does. That man came over, and to my utter surprise, he put his hand into the enclosure and stroked the old wolf's ears too!
"Be careful,” I said. Berserker is quick.'
"Don’t’ worry,' he says. 'I'm used to 'em!'
"Are you in the business yourself?' I say, taking off my hat as a sign of respect, since any man that trades in wolves, or other animals, is a good friend to zoo keepers.
"'No' he said, 'not exactly in the business, but I have made pets of several.' And with that he lifts his hat as polite as a lord, and walks away. Old Berserker kept looking after him till he was out of sight, and then went and lay down in a corner and wouldn't come out the whole evening. Well, last night, so soon as the moon was up, the wolves here all began howling. There wasn't anything for them to howl at, though, because there weren't any people nearby, except someone that was evidently calling a dog somewhere behind the gardens in the Park road. Once or twice I went out to see that everything was okay, and it was, and then the howling stopped. Just before twelve o'clock I took another quick look round before heading to bed, and, to my shock, when I got to old Berserker’s cage I saw that the cage bars were broken and twisted around and the cage was empty. And that's all I know for certain."
"Did any one else see anything?"
"One of our gardeners was coming home around that time from a harmony [not sure what this means, but I’m guessing he’s coming home from a pub or something], and he saw a big grey dog coming out through the hedges of the garden. At least, that’s what he says, but I don’t really believe him, since he didn’t mention that at all to his wife when he got home, and it was only after we’d all been told about the escaped wolf and had been searching for Berserker in the Park all night, that he remembered seeing anything. I figure that it was just the harmony [drinking?] that had gotten to his head and he was making it up. "
"Now, Mr. Bilder, can you account in any way for the escape of the wolf?"
"Well, sir," he said, with a suspicious sort of modesty, "I think I can; but I don't know how satisfied you’d be with the theory."
"Certainly I shall. If a man like you, who knows the animals from experience, can't hazard a good guess at any rate, who is even to try?"
"Well then, sir, I can account for it this way: it seems to me that there wolf escaped—simply because he wanted to get out."
From the hearty way that both Thomas and his wife laughed at the joke I could see that it was a joke that they had made before, and the whole explanation was an elaborate joke. I couldn't manage to kid around as much as Thomas, but I thought I knew a surer way to his heart, so I said:—
"Now, Mr. Bilder, we'll consider that first half-sovereign worked off, and this brother of his is waiting to be claimed when you've told me what you think will happen." [ie. ‘you’ve earned the money I’ve already given you, and I’ll give you the same amount again if you tell me what you actually think happened’]
"Of course, sir," he said briskly. "I’m sure you’ll forgive me for kidding you, but my wife winked at me and that was practically her telling me to do it. "
"Well, I never!" said the old lady.
"My opinion is this: that there wolf is hiding, somewhere. The gardener who didn’t remember until later said he was galloping northward faster than a horse could go; but I don't believe him, because wolves don’t gallop any more than dogs do, they aren’t built for galloping. Wolves are sure scary in storybooks, and I dare say that when there are a pack of them, they can gang up against something that is more scared than they are then they can make a lot of noise and attack it, whatever it is. But, honestly, in real life a wolf is only a meager creature, not half as clever or bold as a good dog; and not half a quarter so feisty. This one, Berserker, isn’t used to fighting or having to provide for himself, and it’s more likely that he’s somewhere around the Park hiding and shivering and, if he is even capable of thinking, wondering where he is going to get his breakfast from; or maybe he's managed to get down in some area and is hiding in someone’s coal-cellar. My bet, some cook is going to get a real fright when she sees his green eyes shining at her out of the dark! If he can't get any food, he's likely to look for it, and maybe he’ll happen upon a butcher's shop in time. If he doesn't, and some nursemaid taking care of a baby gets distracted by a handsome guy like a soldier, leaving the infant along in the pram/stroller - well then I wouldn’t be too surprised if were to eat it an thus there is one less baby in London. That's all."
I was handing him the half-sovereign, when something came bobbing up against the window, and Mr. Bilder's face doubled its natural length with surprise.
"God bless me!" he said. "If there isn’t old Berserker come back on his own!"
He went to the door and opened it; a most unnecessary proceeding it seemed to me [‘which I would have preferred he didn’t’]. I have always thought that a wild animal never looks so well as when some obstacle of pronounced durability is between us [‘I want to keep something strong between me and an wild animal, like a closed door’]; a personal experience has intensified rather than diminished that idea.
After all, however, there is nothing like custom, for neither Bilder nor his wife thought any more of the wolf than I should of a dog. The animal itself was as peaceful and well-behaved as that father of all picture-wolves—Red Riding Hood's quondam friend, whilst moving her confidence in masquerade.
The whole scene was an unutterable mixture of comedy and pathos. The wicked wolf that for half a day had paralysed London and set all the children in the town shivering in their shoes, was there in a sort of penitent mood, and was received and petted like a sort of vulpine prodigal son. Old Bilder examined him all over with most tender solicitude, and when he had finished with his penitent said:—
"There, I knew the poor old chap would get into some kind of trouble; didn't I say it all along? His head is all cut and full of broken glass. He must have tried to get over someone’s stupid wall. I’s a shame that people are allowed to cover the top their walls with broken bottles [to keep out thieves]. This is what happens when they do that. Come along, Berserker."
He took the wolf and locked him up in a cage, with a piece of meat that satisfied, in quantity at any rate, the elementary conditions of the fatted calf, and went off to report.
I came off, too, to report the only exclusive information that is given to-day regarding the strange escapade at the Zoo.
