Drakula Revised

I have to write a story for German. In German. My skills aren't that great yet, so I'm writing it in English first. So here's the English version for anyone who wants to read it.

It was a dark and stormy night. Lightning flashed, bright as day, and thunder boomed from right next to me. I was taking my dog for a walk in the forest, and she wasn’t happy about it. A crash of thunder left her cowering against my legs, whining pitifully. Another lightning flash revealed an ominous figure in the path in front of me. I jumped back, startled, and quickly grabbed a large branch which I brandished at the figure. It didn’t move, so I struck it with my makeshift club. Still it did nothing. The next flash of lightning revealed that I had been attacking a tree stump. I dropped the branch and snickered. This had better not get out, or everyone would tease me about it for years. As I relaxed and started to move forward, a hand fell on my shoulder. Now I screamed, and pulled away. My poor dog had had enough; she jerked the leash from my hand and bolted toward home.
“Relax,” a deep, gravelly voice said. “I don’t want to hurt you. Come with me.”
I turned to face the speaker apprehensively. He was of average height, perhaps an inch or two taller than me. His oily black hair was slicked back from his too-pale face. He wore a long black trench coat belted around his thin frame. His amber eyes glared at me, and he seemed to realize that just as I noticed, for he softened his expression. It didn’t make him any less menacing. I couldn’t move; I just stood gaping at him.
He grabbed my arm, pulled me along a path I hadn’t previously noticed. We approached a huge castle, but he pulled me aside at a small gardening shack. “Did you think I lived in that old thing?” he mocked. “Come on.” Inside it was much bigger than it appeared. There was a huge, open room, with banners hung along all the walls. They weren’t the creepy tapestries I would have expected in the home of someone like my host; no, they were party streamers. And in the center of the room stood rows of tables, laden down with food and presents. People swarmed up to us, looking excited.
“Is this him?”
“He looks interesting-”
“Are you sure-?”
I could barely hear myself think over the clamoring crowd. The host held up his hand. “This is him,” he said. At that the guests all grinned and pressed forward, revealing sharp pointed fangs. I screamed and jumped back.
“You’re- VAMPIRES?!”
“Oh, don’t look like that,” the host said impatiently. “You must have guessed.”
“What do you want from me? I have a family! Friends! People who’ll notice I’m gone!” I backed away, terrified, as though I could actually outrun a host of vampires.
“We’re not going to eat you,” the host exclaimed. “Ew!” He took off his trenchcoat and hung it on a coatrack. “We’re not like that.” He gave a smile which must have been intended as encouraging, but he only succeeded in scaring me further. I stepped back, and his smile vanished. “Stop,” he said. “I’m not- What’s your name?”
“Karl,” I managed. “My name is Karl.”
“I’m Drakula,” he said. “See? Much better. Now we’re friends. Come have some cake.”
I approached the front table and saw a cake ringed with candles. That was when I remembered what day it was. The vampires cheered as I blew out the candles.
“Happy birthday,” Drakula said, clapping me on the back, as another vampire cut the cake.