Two Draculas

When I was younger, me and my friends would play a game called, "Monster Babies of Grandma's Closet."

In primary school, this was.  The premise behind the game was as follows: a group of babies manage to gain their way into grandma's (theirs or a general grandmother, I'm not entirely sure) closet. This closet (why closet? I blame the large amount of American telly we all watched) proceeded to transform each of us into monsters. Monster babies.

The way the game was played was as follows: each of us would stand in one of the many mysterious shapes that dotted our playground. (I'm sure that they were basketball court and football pitch markings, but at the time, I perceived them as both a mystery and a fact of life: there were shapes on the playground cement about which I had neither clue nor question). Having stood in said shape (or did we crawl in? I think we did, acting like babies), we would step out, acting like our chosen monster. We might be a vampire, and show our fangs; we might act a werewolf, and howl at an imaginary moon. We might even become an Egyptian mummy or a Frankenstein's monster, monsters for whom the respective actions were virtually indistinguishable: both walked stiffly, arms out, moaning.

I remember disagreements arising from this game, mainly in relation to two of us choosing the same monster.

Because two Draculas would be ridiculous.

Sam D Grover.