FUNGUS AND MAGGOT
These two are our heroes.
Rictus and Funerella's children are eight-year-old twins, and as such, have inherited many of the same character traits.
Both of them are joyful, smart, clever, inventive, witty and full of imagination. They are on the same wavelength.
School days, when they are known as Lara and Marty, are for them marvellous for the chance it gives them to frequent the human world. For their classmates, they are odd, with funny looks and a strange lifestyle, that's all.
She's a little girl. She is capable of crying fits and sudden yet brief bursts of temper. She has a tendency to take charge and decide for others when they are too slow to her liking.
She likes grunge poetry, Belchy dolls and frog pies. She hates kisses, flowers and compliments. Her whims can sometimes be exasperating and she does have quite a bit of character; nevertheless, she adores her parents, her brother and Sam.
Contrary to Fungus, she hates school. In reality, what she truly hates is having lower scores than her brother. This however, gives her the perfect chance to spend more study time with her young human friend, so….
She also has a fabulous imagination and at times lightning flashes of intuition; perhaps is she a bit of a telepath?
He's a little boy who is way cool and never loses his stiff upper lip or his sense of humour based on stupid jokes. He does not fight to be the leader; he is more likely to follow the course of events his sister sets off.
He likes gore puzzles, impossible DIY projects. He is highly logical and calculating. He loves school where he excels. There is one problem however: he is convinced that he is always right. If someone tries to prove the contrary, he launches into dreadful bouts of pouting.
The parents of our heroes are a zombie couple, head over heels in love with each other. Two wonderful and strange beings who do their best in their role of Hoteliers not like the others
As with any serious tradesman, their main worry is satisfying their clientele. Satisfying simultaneously monsters and humans though are often two contradictory tasks.
This difficulty is exacerbated because human culture remains a complete mystery for our two zombies.
Rictus and Funerella are sometimes unaware of the incidents that rock the hotel. Their naturally joyful disposition and utter kind-heartedness results in the fact that they never see the bad side of things, the dismaying turns that events tend to take, nor the gravity of situations.
Contacts with the human world, outside of the Hotel, in town, are just as bewildering. They can't seem to understand why the baker throws such a fit when Rictus dives head first into the most beautiful cake on display, or that the Mayor's wife faints when Funerella blows her nose into her gala evening gown. They are completely oblivious of the human customs and are convinced that they are perfectly well behaved – when in reality, it's the absolute contrary.
Truth be told, their very abstract conception of life is the result of bursts of their deep, inner selves. They can suddenly be found frozen, their arms dangling, their eyes blank, not saying a word regardless of what is happening around them.
Rictus is a sweet soul, a debonair and placid man gifted with a rare capacity for adaptation. In any and all circumstances, even the most disconcerting, he maintains a stiff upper lip worthy of the Windsor's themselves. No matter what happens, there is always a solution that will satisfy everyone; one need only find it. He is the king of improbable compromise and twisted negotiations.
Attention though, this imperturbability can sometimes develop into a tornado in a blink of an eye. His shouting fits can arise for the most ordinary details, like the straw that breaks the camel back. It can also be for more serious causes stemming from being sick to death with everything in general.
FUNERELLA:
Funerella is a dynamic zombie who loves the unexpected. How could life at the Hotel be anything less than perfect! Always ready for anything, she storms into action at the least proposition. What if we were to transform the Hotel into an amusement park? You don't have time to finish your sentence before Funerella is already transforming the sitting room into a ghost train.
Waiting for the arrival of newlyweds? Funerella has already transformed a broom closet into the "bridal suite". Her impetuous enthusiasm obviously generates a mild uproar when it doesn't set off a serious cataclysm.
The "tornado" personality of Funerella is thankfully tempered by the placid nature of her husband. When he decides to have a fit, she, in turn, deploys unlimited kindness, sweetness and attentive car.
Jeebies is the doorman, the butler, the waiter and the handyman of the Zombie Hotel.
Even though he is no longer a spring chicken (he will soon be celebrating his 368th birthday) he is the perfect man in the perfect place, stylish and zealous. A compulsive maniac of order and cleanliness, he is forever repeating ad nauseum, his motto: "A place for each thing, each thing at its place and everything perfect." When amongst his fellow monster colleagues, he displays his disgust and disdain for the human clientele. Deep down inside, however, these human beings truly fascinate him.
Rigorous beyond limits, his Achilles' heel is his propensity to lose his propensity to lose his limbs here and there. What could be more upsetting than this for someone who prides himself on tidiness?
To be sure that he finds all the bits of himself when he wakes up, Jeebies carefully dismembers himself at bedtime, putting conscientiously each piece, arms and legs in their designated spots in the registration desk. Ritually, he finishes with his head, which, invariably, bounces off the desk bell before landing in the designated drawer. A place for each thing…
Jeebies is a marvellous dancer and incapable of mastering his passion when it surges up tempestuously as soon as he hears a bit of music. If for example, Funerella starts to play the piano, he throws himself at the first lady in sight and launches them into a hair-raising tango or paso doble.
The chef, who’s conveniently called Chef, and his assistant Wilson are both highly qualified professionals in the field of Zombie cuisine, combined with their own blend of black-magic and witchcraft style of cooking. Chef owns a cookbook of impossible recipes that demand equally improbable ingredients. Regularly, he sends Wilson off in search of these ingredients – in the guests' suitcases or in the neighbouring town.
Chef reigns as undeniable master of his kitchen. Intransigent, a dictator of the wooden spoon, he considers himself to be an artist of the stove top and like all artists, refuses for anyone to interfere with his creations. He will stubbornly refuse to replace the powdered dried cockroaches with cooking salt even after Funerella has explained that the future of the Hotel depends on it. Thankfully, and to the surprise of all, the clients – humans and monsters – unanimously declare that Chef's creations are truly delicious. Granted, the humans enjoy his cuisine because they ignore the ingredients of each dish and obviously the monsters appreciate his cuisine because they know very well that they are eating the most abominable things. To each his own…
Chef is a particular sort of vampire because, contrary to his fellow vampires, he is a red-blooded vampire. This particularity must be the result of his fiery personality. He is a ladies man through and through. He cannot help but flirt with all women, even the least affable. His attempts to lustily kiss the gentle ladies finish in horrendous failures. .
Of his vampire predilections, Chef has kept a vital need to drink raspberry juice as soon as the sun sets. A giant fence of raspberry canes has been planted in the neighbouring cemetery to assuage his urges. Also, like any self-respecting vampire he panics at the sight of garlic. To the dam of Chef, Wilson loves cooking with garlic and eats it regularly.
Wilson has a problem that complicates not only his life but also that of those around him. He often suffers from headaches and has the unfortunate habit of alleviating the headache by putting his head under a domed plate cover in the closet. He then goes about his daily business, headless, until it feels better!
When he's not plaguing the kitchen, he's off searching through the other client's things. It's not really out of curiosity, more out of boredom or because Chef has ordered him to find a special ingredient.
The rest of the time, Wilson smiles beatifically, frozen to the spot, his arms dangling. The children sometimes wonder if he doesn't have zombie ancestors. In any case, he's rather nice and not too bothersome.
Wilson doesn't say much but that doesn't mean that he is simple-minded. He just doesn't have much to say….
Tut, the mummy, is a character apart, appearing in flashes throughout the episodes. Her mean and stupid tricks are running gags appearing here and there in the stories.
Her domain of nuisance is the prank. Mind you, these are not fusspot pranks, carefully created to make young girls giggle. No, these are bear-like farces that stain, from the fart-pillow to the bucket of guts perched above the doors and including loads of banana peels in the stairwell. Useless to say, these ferocious pranks contribute to the clients' memorable souvenirs of their stay at Zombie Hotel.
Dame Fedora is a highly cantankerous phantom.
Forever complaining, nothing is to her liking, there is always something wrong. What she likes about the Zombie Hotel is the existence of poor Jeebies who is her personal victim. It is especially hard on the butler for he prides himself on making sure that everything functions according to the rules. Dame Fedora however, inexorably finds the flaw, an excuse to justify her need to complain. If ever there isn't a flaw, she makes one up with whatever is on hand.
Dame Fedora has another bęte noire, the Colonel, a faithful client who is often staying at the Hotel at the same as she. She cannot stand his incessant ramblings and his invasive presence. She has already told him a hundred times that they do not belong to same world; that people of her social standing do not lower themselves to be seen with drunks, but there is nothing to be done. The Colonel is convinced that not only has he found his soul mate, but also that the way to win her over is to tell her, in minute detail, about all his glorious battles. In fact, he always talks about the same one that he starts over and over, for his narrative talents do not go very far. Dame Fedora maliciously enjoys making fun of the Colonel in public. The military man does not realise what she is up to and takes her jabs for compliments.
Socialite and fond of anything that is "in", Dame Fedora's believes herself to be a fine connoisseur of the latest trends in contemporary monster art or zombie haute couture. She has given up on ever finding anyone worthy of her company amongst her entourage.
Dame Fedora, as with any phantom worthy of this name, has the capacity to walk through walls.
The Colonel, as his name implies, is a former military man. Even if his grade is enough to explain his amazing narrow-mindedness, the roots of this character trait may also lie in a rather strange incident that occurred when he was on a mission in the South American jungle. You know how it is, just a minute of inattention and your head gets shrunk in less than a second! It is this adventure that he tells over and over to Dame Fedora.
He's a bit old fashioned and has his little rituals (jogging in his room at 6 o'clock in the morning, army cot folded impeccably, room tidied to within an inch of it's life). For these reasons, he gets along remarkably well with Jeebies. They both agree that everything is going down the drain, that weakness and laziness are today's twin rulers and that a good old fashioned war wouldn't hurt to get every body back on track….
Careful though, the man can be dangerous. Constantly on his guard, suspicious to the point of being paranoid, he has accumulated over the years, an impressive collection of weapons from all over the world in anticipation of any possible attack. From the blowgun with poisoned arrows to the newest model of bazooka, his travel tin trunk contains any and all weapons imaginable, and a few we can't even begin to imagine.
Uncle Von is a scientific genius.
Always on the quest for new experiments, he tries his hand at everything and fails it all. Francis, his creature, is the living proof; Francis was designed to be the ultimate monster but turned out to be the best mankind has to offer. In his efforts to create a monster worthy of this name, Uncle Von jumps on any chance to steal someone's brain; the first guest who appears will do just fine for an equitable swap with Francis's brain.
Francis is Uncle Von's creature. To his creator's utter dismay though, the creature he conceived with so much hatred, turned out to be a paragon of kindness, refinement and subtlety. If this weren't enough, he is also extremely polite, manifests an exquisite courtesy, and he is exceptionally well cultivated. All of this in one creature would make you think that Francis could not only pass for human but would be considered the best of what humanity has to offer.
Uncle Von may not have succeeded in giving Francis a monstrous heart but unfortunately, his physical appearance satisfies his creator utterly: it's difficult to imagine anything more repulsive. Francis tries to befriend the temporary guests but to no avail.
Our two heroes hit it off quickly with Sam, a young boy never at a lost for stupid tricks (much like Tut whom he adores). Things happened naturally. Fungus and Maggot spontaneously revealed their true nature to their friend who wasn't shocked in the least. No disgust or surprise: "Zombies? Yeah, coool, he loves the horror movies on television. He's got all the time in the world to watch them as his mother is never at home. She spends all of her time working. They leave each other notes on the refrigerator and talk on the telephone. Family? He doesn't really know what that means; he'd probably really like a zombie family.
Ever since they met, Fungus, Maggot and Sam have been the best of friends, just like the three Musketeers except that the real ones were four in all. The young boy has a secret too. It's an abandoned train wagon, overgrown with vegetation, that he's fixed up and where he sleeps every now and again.
Our heroes' schoolteacher is also the principal and sole lodger of the school.
Very intrigued by the physical appearance of Fungus and Maggot, the schoolteacher is forever trying to uncover their secret. She has no idea what it could be but she has a feeling that it's fishy. She never misses a chance to grill them, to rifle secretly through their things or, on inquisitive visits, to drop by the Zombie Hotel. She has yet to discover the least little thing but the children remain wary.
She's not a bad sort, not a "mean" character, just helplessly curious. She is the butt of jokes because her investigations invariably end in burlesque misadventures.