New Year's Eve Vampire Hunt

"What's this a painting of?" Edmund Van Helsing the British vampire slayer asked his Canadian cousin Christopher Dracul Van Helsing.

"It's a painting of a butterfly who's having trouble sleeping," Dracul replied.

"Very nice, indeed," Edmund nodded appreciatively, "what do you call it?".

"The Beautiful One," Dracul answered.

At that moment, South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan entered carrying two tied up mortal Fascist bodyguards to the notorious American Fascist vampire Count Deaddick.

"These Fascists finally revealed Count Deaddick's whereabouts after just kicking them once in their tiny penises," Hyung smiled, "I didn't know that Fascists had such small penises."

"Yes, I understand it's a common characteristic of all Fascists," Dracul looked at the entry for Fascist in the Van Helsing Dictionary "Fascist- 1. A man with an unbelievably small penis. 2. An admirer of Mussolini and/or Hitler. 3. ..."

Hyung threw the Fascist bodyguards to the ground where Dracul then put a bullet at the back of each man's head.

He smiled and remarked, "The world is well rid of such syphilis infested garbage."

Dracul and Hyung then went to the secret hideout of the American Fascist vampire Count Deaddick where they put a stake in what one could call his heart (if Fascists actually had hearts).

"Well," said Hyung before watching the Fascist vampire's nude body disintegrate before her eyes, "I can see now why they called him Count Deaddick."

To be continued.

The Hare In Winter

The hare went hopping in the snow leaving a track
unlike summer, no carrot for a snack
when asked his name, he'll reply Jack
yes, Jack O'Hare
with big ears to spare
He's the jack rabbit of Evergreen
coolest bunny ever seen.
He just hops and hops
His ear flops and flops
like the Energizer Bunny
never stops or stops.

-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
Sunday December 27th 2009
in honour of his good friend Jack O' Hare
the furry fluffy creature who lives in his yard.

The Joker and The Death of Batman

Somewhere beneath those lights of Gotham
down there in the depths of Hell
where rats walk
and broken souls do dwell
sits the Joker
his grimacing smile a spell.

Like a spider rising from his web
he moves like a virtual Undead
oh, what a tale could be told
beneath his smile so eery bold
his eyes dark and shadowy
his laugh a demon's cacophony
his face white as the moon
his lips red like battlefields
covered on the Day of Doom.

His heart is a castle dark
devoid of life
or any spark
his sole mission now
is to bring the Batman down.

And so on this moonlit night
where wolf howls give you fright
and the birds they do not sing
only vultures circling
and Death's skull rides his horse
Hope's rays have gone off course.

The Joker dances in the street
odd cloven hooves for feet
to a dreadful dreary beat
no soul, just body heat.

And now Batman you must hear
the Joker's laughing jeer
you knew this time would come
to face the final drum.

And on the streets of Gotham today
underneath clouds cold and gray
the Batman met his end
a message to Robin one must send.

So Fate has shuffled his deck of cards
like mannequins at Mme. Toussard's
the Joker has beaten the Ace
woe betide Gotham's human race.


-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
on Wednesday, April 1st, 2009.

On A Russian Sub Stationed Off Copenhagen

"How did you manage to commandeer a Russian sub?" asked Amadeus.

"I know a high-ranking official in the Russian Navy," Renfield replied, "I also commandeered one in the White Sea this past Wednesday night."

"The White Sea this past Wednesday night," Amadeus scratched his head, "wasn't that the same night of December 9th that strange lights appeared over much of Norway?".

"Yes, undoubtedly caused by that missile I fired at Osiris' portal to prevent him from arriving on Earth," Renfield answered.

"Osiris tried to come to Earth this past Wednesday December 9th?" Amadeus inquired.

"Yes, the boss' brother and brother-in-law tried to use a transdimensional portal near the star Sirius to return to Earth," answered the Corporate Chief of Security for the multi-millionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.

"I find it confusing that Osiris is both the boss' brother and also brother-in-law," Amadeus scratched his chin thoughtfully.

"Just like the Paris-based vampiress Isis is both the boss' sister and also sister-in-law," Renfield answered, "of course that's what started this family feud. The fact that Isis chose to marry Osiris rather than Set."

"Brothers marrying sisters," Amadeus shook his head, "I don't know what to think about that."

"It was very big among ancient Egyptian royalty," Renfield peered through his binoculars, "it was a case of Incest- a game the whole family can play- to use a slogan Madison Avenue might coin on the subject."

"So, let me get this straight," Amadeus tried to recount this ancient Egyptian soap opera, "Isis married Osiris. Set killed and dismembered Osiris. Isis used the ancient Egyptian Book of the Dead to bring Osiris back from the dead and then mothered Horus afterwards. Set used a powerful Egyptian form of witchcraft to exile Osiris to a planet near the star Sirius. Horus captured Set, wrapped him in mummy clothes and buried him in a tomb that wasn't opened until some 3000 years later when the tomb of Set was opened in Egypt on November 11th 1918 at exactly 11:00 A.M. Greenwich mean time just as the First World War ended."

"That's right," Renfield nodded.

"And Isis keeps trying to find interdimensional portals to try to bring Osiris back?" Amadeus asked.

"Yep, but this was one Osiris found himself near the star Sirius," Renfield picked up a telescope and started to gaze with that, "but fortunately the boss's astronomers were watching carefully and calculated precisely the location where the interdimensional portal would try to open. I was quickly on scene to fire at the portal using a Russian intercontinental ballistic missile which of course prevented its opening."

"Do you suppose Osiris will ever find a way back successfully to Earth?" Amadeus inquired.

"Well according to secret meetings of 33rd Degree Freemasons that I've wiretapped, Osiris is supposed to return in the year 2012," Renfield gazed at the North Star.

"He is?" Amadeus looked surprised.


"Yes, various Masons have apparently prophecied Osiris' return in 2012 including the Worshipful Master of George Washington's Masonic lodge back in the late 18th Century," Renfield looked at the ship's compass.

"Isn't 2012 the year that Quetzalcoatl is also supposed to return?" Amadeus pulled out a magnet and started playing with it.

"Yes, according to a lot of modern interpreters of ancient Mayan prophecies as well as the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec who is Quetzalcoatl's high priestess and spiritual goddaughter," Renfield started hitting the ship's compass.

"But Quetzalcoatl was called Kukulkan by the ancient Mayans wasn't he?" Amadeus pulled out another magnet from his pocket.

"Yes, he's also called Jesus Christ by modern Mormons," Renfield pulled out a smaller compass from his own pocket.

"Really?" Amadeus looked quizzical.

"Yes, the Mormons believe that Quetzalcoatl was what Christ called himself when he supposedly visited the Americas according to Mormon Church teaching," Renfield started shaking his own personal compass.

"But Quetzalcoatl was a god to whom human sacrifices were performed wasn't he?" Amadeus asked.

"Yes, and now that more and more people are aware of that historical fact, Mormons no longer talk about that particular bit of their doctrine," Renfield started hitting his compass.

"So what are we currently doing here anchored off the waters of Copenhagen?" Amadeus queried.

"The boss is a bit paranoid that Osiris might still find a way to show up at the Copenhagen Summit on Climate Change and get the leaders of the world to acclaim him the divine head of a one world government," Renfield looked at the submarine's compass and then his own.

Amadeus walked away jingling the twenty odd toy magnets he had in his pocket which were prizes he found in children's cereal boxes.


To be continued.




Renfield knocks out a portal for Osiris over the White Sea on Wednesday, December 9th, 2009.

Irish-American Worshippers of Moloch

The statue of the ancient Ammonite-Canaanite-Phoenician god Moloch stood at the top of the hill and long lines of parents brought up their babies to be burnt.

The statue was made of bronze and its hands extended over a bronze brazier. The hands stretched out and the baby was put in its hands. The hands then placed the child into the burning fire of the brazier and as it did so, the limbs of the statue contracted and the mouth of the statue opened into a wide grin and laughed.

Dressed in robes of white and holding knives and likewise smiling and laughing at this spectacle were Rhode Island Congressman Patrick Kennedy and former Maryland Lieutenant-Governor Kathleen Kennedy Townsend.

"Hail Moloch," Congressman Kennedy and Lt.-Gov. Townsend thrust out their right arms in a "Heil Hitler"-like salute towards the statue.

Congressman Kennedy and Lt.-Gov. Townsend then grabbed the cooked remains of the babies from the other end of the brazier and started eating them and smacking their lips in sheer ecstatic orgiastic delight.

"Well done," Kathleen winked at the statue of Moloch in compliments to the statue's cooking skills and also in reference to how she liked her meat cooked.

"This is so much better than what we have to digest after one of those Transubstantiation moments that Thomas Aquinas wrote about," Congressman Kennedy guffawed as he chewed delectably on baby toes.

"Who's Thomas Aquinas?" his sleezebag airhead cousin asked as she swallowed down mouthfuls of baby liver and kidney with great delight.

"Somebody square old grandmother Rose used to talk about," Congressman Kennedy spat out a piece of baby ankle as his head rolled back in laughter and he reached for his goblet for another sip of wine.

Suddenly the earth rumbled and shook.

The ground split open and the bodies of unborn babies came out of the ground.

"What the -?" Before Congressman Patrick Kennedy could finish his sentence he was being burnt with saline solution and his arms and legs were being torn apart and sucked into a vacuum cleaner.

"It's my own personal choice," spoke the unborn baby holding the vacuum cleaner.

In the meantime, Kathleen Kennedy Townsend was having her ovaries ripped apart.

"To prevent you from becoming a female Cronus towards your own offspring," an unborn baby girl explained.


* * *

Amadeus Emanon was being awakened from his dream.

Renfield R. Renfield was shaking his shoulders.

"It looked as though you were having a nightmare," Renfield said, "although I personally enjoy being in nightmares myself."

"You do?" Amadeus asked.

"Yes, particularly other people's nightmares," Renfield winked at Amadeus before heading down to the basement dungeon on the multi-millionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set's estate where some chained and tied up people awaited the shapeshifting hamster and Chief of Corporate Security for Set Enterprises.


To be continued.

Sherlock Holmes

This is the trailer for the new Sherlock Holmes movie that stars Robert Downey Jr. as Sherlock Homes, Jude Law as Doctor Watson and Rachel McAdams as Irene Adler. The movie is to be released Christmas Day of this year.

Christmas Is Easy When Love's Around

Shortly before Christmas last year Tey Punsalan (aka TeyMusic) one of my friends at YouTube (whom I had befriended a couple of years before she had become a rapidly rising talent in the U.S. music industry) had a contest in which the winner could receive for free her latest CD which had for its cover song a song which Tey wrote herself- Christmas Is Easy When Love's Around.

Tey notified me about the contest through a personal email she sent me.

All I had to do was write on the topic why Christmas Is Easy When Love's Around, submit it and it would be judged by a couple of judges at an internet web-based radio station that Tey was doing some promotional work for.

So I sat down and wrote my own personal essay on the subject of her song and emailed it back to her.

I didn't win the contest but Tey thought it was an excellent piece of writing just the same.

So seeing as how we're now only a few weeks away from Christmas, I thought I'd post this entry here at Blogger.

This is from my November 26th, 2008 email to Tey:


Hi Tey:

Well I don't know! lol! That seems like a hard topic to write about... why Christmas is easy when love's around. But I'll give it a shot.

I suppose it's the stories and movies associated with Christmas which gives one the feeling that Christmas is easy when love's around.

Particularly reading Charles Dickens' A Christmas Carol or watching the 1951 movie version Scrooge with Alistair Sims.

It seems all the Christmasses that Scrooge spent alone or spent being mean to others weren't either happy or easy Christmasses for him.

It was only when he allowed himself to love or be loved that Christmas became happy and meaningful to him.

And that seems to be the message behind a lot of movies that come out during the Christmas season- Christmas is only easy and a joy to behold when love is truly in the air.

One of my favourite movies this decade has been the film Love Actually that starred Hugh Grant.

I love that movie!

And it's set against the background of the Christmas season. And in all the stories they told in that film which ended up being interconnected with one another at the end, that seemed to be the overriding message- Christmas is easy and becomes a time of joy when love's around.

And as the film showed it need not only be romantic love that makes Christmas special- it can be that love that's known as friendship.

That was seen in the story in the film of the aging rock star played by Bill Nighy who earns the Christmas #1 song hit in the UK for that Christmas singing a song Christmas Is All Around (which is a paraphrase of the lovely song Love Is All Around from the movie Four Weddings And A Funeral).

It turns out that the Bill Nighy character Billy Mack does win that coveted Christmas #1 spot on the UK music charts.

And one of his rewards is to be invited to Sir Elton John's Christmas Eve party- something Billy relishes.

But his longtime manager- the one who helped Billy get to the top of the charts the first time around- and even harder got Billy to the top of the charts again when his career seemed to be on the decline- isn't invited to join Billy at Sir Elton John's party.

And so the manager- Billy's only real true friend- it looks like he's going to be spending Christmas Eve alone in his tiny apartment.

And then Billy shows up at his door. For at Sir Elton John's party, it dawns on Billy what Christmas is really all about. It's about love and friendship. And how can he spend Christmas Eve with people who are really only acquaintances and not true friends?

He comes to his manager's apartment to spend Christmas Eve with his true friend.

Sometimes one can be alone and not feel lonely.

Sometimes one can be in a crowd and feel terribly alone.

It depends on one's mindset- one's frame of mind- and one is happiest when love is around.

One may be standing alone in the moonlight on a snowy night gazing at the icicles hanging from the trees over a frozen pond.

And one may not feel alone.


For when you come back from your walk, you return to a house of a cozy fireside and singing and happiness and joy with friends and family and loved ones.

On the other hand, one could be on a dance floor in a wild party and look around and see overindulgence in alcohol and plenty of kissing and flirting but no real meaning behind it- only the effects of lust and too much drink. One stares around at the crowd at the party and one does not see a genuinely friendly face. Only a gathering of people who "want to use you'. And one feels so terribly alone.

2000 years ago in a stable, a child is born. Seemingly alone. With only the breath of animals for warmth.

But the Child looks up and sees love.

Sees love shining radiantly in the eyes of His mother.

Sees love reflected in the eyes of His foster father.

And the Child smiles.

At the same time, Caesar Augustus presides over a banquet in Rome. He receives many smiles and salutes at the banquet.

But towards the end of the evening, as he stares at his own reflection in the bottom of an empty chalice of what seconds ago held wine, Augustus the Ruler of the World pauses.

People smile and bow to him.

But do they care about him- Octavian Caesar the person?

Or do they only see him for his position- Caesar Augustus- Emperor?

And Caesar Augustus- ruler of the world and god of this particular age- presiding over a huge banquet attended by hundreds- feels so terribly alone.

What a difference the feeling of love can make in any situation.

And it's for this reason- Christmas is easy when love is around.

The Waffling ArchDruid of Canterbury

The Most Rev. Rowan Williams the ArchDruid of Canterbuy and senior prelate of the Church of England and missing head of the worldwide global Anglican Communion had had a busy day today.

He had had waffles for breakfast, waffles for lunch and waffles for supper.

He had waffled on various moral and doctrinal issues while on a telephone conference call with U.S. Episcopalian bishops. He was applauded by the said liberal bishops for his waffling.

He had then waffled on various moral and doctrinal issues while on a telephone conference call with African Anglican bishops. He was booed by the said orthodox bishops for his waffling.

After a late night snack of waffles, he then said a waffling prayer to whom it may concern just before bedtime.

As his head hit the pillow, he reflected on how badly his ego had been bruised when His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI had invited Anglicans to join the Roman Catholic Church as wholesale communities, parishes and dioceses if they so wished and still retain many of their Anglican traditions.

As the ArchDruid continued to sulk on his bruised ego with all the passionate intensity of a guest on the Oprah Winfrey Show, the ghost of Sir Winston Churchill appeared in his bedroom (seeing as how today November 30th 2009 was Winnie's 135th birthday, he had been permitted to come down from Paradise to Earth to see how the old place was doing. Needless to say, Winnie was anxious to get back to Paradise).

"Aren't you the ghost of Sir Winston Churchill?" the ArchDruid asked.

"Indeed," the ghost of Sir Winston Churchill nodded, "I'm quite anxious to get back to Paradise but before I go, it has come to my attention that apparently your ego is feeling quite bruised by the Pope's recent offer to Anglo-Catholics?".

"That's true," the ArchDruid blew his nose into his Perez Hilton monogramed handkerchief.

"Well sir, as you've no doubt read (or more likely, you no doubt haven't!), when once asked by a member of that institution known as the Press (which today has degenerated into that lavatory water closet known as the Media), what would I have done with my life if I hadn't entered politics, I replied, I most likely would have become an Anglo-Catholic priest in the Church of England serving an Anglo-Catholic C. of E. church parish as a Vicar somewhere within the hallowed realm of this blessed and sceptered isle," Churchill spoke with passion, "anyhow Mister ArchDruid Rowan (I personally think myself that other Rowan named Atkinson would have been a much better choice for Mr. Blair to have appointed as ArchBishop of Canterbury but sadly what is done can't be undone), with regard to your ego being badly bruised by His Holiness' offer to Anglo-Catholic Anglicans, let me assure you that your ego has no reason to be bruised since you have NOTHING whatsoever to be egotistical about."

And with those words, the ghost of Sir Winston Churchill vanished, leaving the ArchDruid's ego more badly bruised than ever.


* * *





The multi-millionaire (and formerly billionaire) ancient Egyptian vampire Set sat dejected in his armchair of his sitting room in his colossal London mansion.

His visit to America asking for loans from Wall Street bankers and Hollywood producers had been a flop.

There was also the humiliating spectacle of his corporate chief of security Renfield R. Renfield being beaten up by students on the UCLA campus last Tuesday.

Then there had been last Thursday's U.S. Thanksgiving Day debacle in which Renfield had performed a publicity stunt for a radio station in the City of Cincinnati using a dirigible some 1000 feet off the ground.

Renfield had told a somewhat sceptical media afterwards, "As God is my witness, I didn't know that turkeys couldn't fly."


Amadeus whispered to Set, "Seeing as how Renfield is an atheist, I don't see much sincerity in that statement."


Still what to do about his financial predicament? Set wondered.

He could always go into the City of London proper and ask the City bankers for a billion pound loan.

But he'd need a good character reference.

After all he was an ancient vampire who had been viewed as the god of evil and darkness by the ancient Egyptians (of course killing his brother Osiris and dismembering his body into 14 different parts hadn't exactly helped his reputation in that ancient civilization he had to admit).

Who among his acquaintances, Set thought to himself, would be most likely to give him an excellent character reference?

Set suddenly pounded the arm of his chair, grinned a wide and sinister vampiric grin and shouted, "Of course! My good friend the ArchDruid of Canterbury!".


To be continued.

Los Angeles Encounter

Dracul Van Helsing was walking the streets of Los Angeles with Hyung Grace Kwan.

"So this was the city where Sydney Bristow started out," Dracul surveyed the downtown.

"Umm... Sydney Bristow was not a real person, Dracul, you do know that?" Hyung looked at him.

"Yes," Dracul answered.

Dracul had been such a big fan of the TV show Alias that she had to make sure.

"That was interesting the guy who played Arvin Sloan on Alias played a shady and crooked lawyer on that episode of Nero Wolfe Mysteries we watched last night," Dracul noted, "not really much a change in character from his Arvin Sloan character."

The night before, Hyung and Dracul had watched a couple of episodes of the A&E version of Nero Wolfe Mysteries on DVD.

"Say, isn't that Renfield?" Hyung asked pointing at a High Definition flat screen TV in the window of an appliances store.

Dracul looked.

Sure enough it was Renfield.

He was dressed in the uniform of a City of Los Angeles policeman and was (according to the latest closed captioning subtitles on the screen) being beaten up by a group of UCLA students after he got a can of mace stuck in his belt which he was obviously intending to pull out and spray at the students.

"And that's Amadeus isn't it?" Hyung pointed at the screen again.

Sure enough it was Amadeus. He walked by the group of students vigourously pounding Renfield as he calmly ate a bag of salt and vinegar potato chips and joyously laughed his head off.

One of the female students who was kicking Renfield with her high-heeled shoes was dressed like Snow White since she was a member of a campus amateur theatre group that was putting on a production of Snow White and the Seven Dwarves.

Hyung with her lip-reading skills noted that Amadeus seemed to be lip-synching the song Whistle While You Work as he watched this.

As Dracul turned the corner at the end of the block, he walked straight into... the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec.

"Dracul," Qonzilqointec smiled and then embraced and kissed him.

Hyung was furious when she saw this.

"Hands off of him, you longlasting hooker of the night," she pushed the Aztec vampire princess aside.

"Did you just call me a longlasting hooker of the night?" Qonzilqointec slapped Hyung's face.

"You bitch," Hyung wrestled Qonzilqointec to the ground.

"You walking advertisement for a sexually transmitted diseases clinic," Qonzilqointec answered back with a head lock.

Dracul watched the unfolding cat fight unfold on the streets of Los Angeles as skirts and spiked stilettos started flying in every direction.

Dracul ordered a hot dog from a nearby sidewalk hot dog vendor and, after drowning the hot dog in an ocean of mustard and relish and onions, sat down on a nearby bench and watched the wrestling match as he ate.

To be continued.

Renfieldin' U.S.A.

Renfield's gone surfin'
surfin' U.S.A...
-The Vampire Beach Boys, 2009.


The psychopathic shapeshifter Renfield R. Renfield (who could shapeshift from human to hamster and back again) was in New York City this day November 20th, 2009.

His boss the multimillionaire (and formerly billionaire) ancient Egyptian vampire Set was in NYC this evening attending nighttime meetings with big-time bankers hoping to get a billion dollar loan.

Renfield showed up in the hotel suite dressed in the uniform of a New York City policeman.

Amadeus Emanon (another employee of Set) was on the sofa reading a Superman comic book..

"Why are you dressed like a cop?" Amadeus asked, "last week you dressed like a war veteran and now you're dressing like a cop?".

"Yes," Renfield grinned, "I was inspired by a recent news story in the American media. So I decided to dress as a cop and go down to Central Park and taser small children in the park while they played. It was great fun."

"My God," Amadeus looked shocked.

"I wish you wouldn't indulge in medieval nonsense by making references to God," Renfield snarled, "it hurts my posthumanist transhumanist sensibilities."

Then Renfield smiled again.

"I understand we're going to Los Angeles on Monday because the boss is hoping to get money out of a big-time Hollywood producer," the shapeshifter smirked, "so come this Monday, I'll dress up as a City of Los Angeles policeman and go down to the UCLA campus and spray mace in the faces of various members of the student body there."

Renfield whistled to himself the tune Whistle While You Work from the classic Disney film Snow White and The Seven Dwarves as he removed the taser from his belt.

To be continued.

Saint Wenceslas Square, Prague

The name on the passport said Christopher Dracul Nicholas Alexander Constantine Van Helsing.

"It must take you a while to write your name on documents if writing your full name is required," the Czech customs agent at Prague International Airport smiled at the Canadian vampire hunter.

Dracul nodded and smiled, "Yes, I often get writer's cramp just writing my full name."

As Dracul left the Customs area, he thought of how Czech customs agents seemed to be a lot more pleasant than Canadian customs agents and border guards.

Most of them acted as if they'd been suffering from constipation for the past 6 years.

One female Canadian border guard he and his father had encountered once on the Alberta-Montana Canada-US border had obviously suffered from the worst case of PMS in all recorded history (which was quite a major accomplishment for someone who was obviously such an ugly looking post-menopausal hag).

Dracul was to meet his associate the South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan in Saint Wenceslas Square.

Tonight was the 20th anniversary of the Velvet Revolution which took place in Wenceslas Square back in 1989 and which saw the Communist government of Czechoslovakia toppled without bloodshed and replaced by a non-Communist government headed by Czech playwright Vaclav Havel who became the country's new President.

The Czech Republic's current President Vaclav Klaus had asked Hyung and Dracul to be in the Square to prevent any possible trouble from supernatural creatures to disrupt the celebrations.

At last week's 20th Anniversary celebrations of the Fall of the Berlin Wall, Stalin's zombie corpse had shown up as an uninvited guest at a commemorative Berlin banquet.

And vampire Lev Tomi the Secretary of the UN Secretariat On The Environment and Climate Change (who in his mortal life had been Leon Trotsky prior to being turned into a vampire in Mexico City in 1940 by the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec as he lay dying from an ice pick's blow to the head) might drop in just to annoy Czech President Vaclav Klaus since Klaus had once said, "Global warming is a myth and I think that every serious person and scientist says so."

Klaus was a vigorous opponent of the Copenhagen Treaty and had been a vigorous opponent of the Lisbon Treaty on closer EU integration refusing to sign it until Germany and France had threatened to put the screws on his country until he did so.

And of course if both Stalin the zombie and Trotsky the vampire showed up in Wenceslas Square, there was no telling what damage might be done if an Undead version of WWE Wrestling were to take place.

Fortunately for the state of tranquility in Wenceslas Square, Stalin the zombie was currently on an enthusiastic tour of Amsterdam's red light district saying, "Being a Red, I like anything red."

As for Lev Tomi (the vampire formerly known as the mortal Leon Trotsky), he was currently overdosing on egg rolls and chicken friend rice in Beijing in a desperate attempt to get China's government to sign on to the Copenhagen Treaty.

So Dracul and Hyung just enjoyed the night and the celebrations.

"You look beautiful in that red dress," Dracul said to Hyung.

"Thanks," Hyung smiled.

And so passed the 20th Anniversary celebrations of the Velvet Revolution in Wenceslas Square.

And so on this November 17th, the Feast Day of Saint Elizabeth of Hungary, a moment of joy and celebration in the history of Central and Eastern Europe.

To be continued.

Amadeus' Practical Joke

For the past 2 days, Renfield R. Renfield had continuously and nauseatingly guffawed about the fact he had pulled a tremendous practical joke on the day of the 20th Anniversary celebrations of the Fall of the Berlin Wall by bringing Soviet dictator Josef Stalin back from the dead and letting him lose at the 20th Anniversary celebration dinner in Berlin.

Amadeus Emanon was getting positively sick of it.

This morning, Amandeus noticed Renfield was dressed in a British Army uniform and wearing a whole bunch of medals for bravery.

"What's that?" Amadeus asked.

"These are the clothes I'm wearing for walking in today's Armistice Day Veterans Parade in London," Renfield grinned.

"But you've never served in any war in your entire life," Amadeus protested.

"Since when has not doing something ever stopped me from doing something else?" Renfield smiled, "oh by the way, can you do me a favour and phone information and ask them in which part of London the parade route starts?".

Renfield went to brush his teeth while Amadeus picked up the phone.

"I'm calling about the parade," Amadeus said, "which parade? well..."

Amadeus chatted on the phone with the Information operator for a while and then put the phone down while having a huge smile on his face.

"Did you find out what street the parade route is starting so I can be there dressed in all my full glory?" Renfield asked.

"Oh, yes, I did," Amadeus smiled an even wider smile.


* * *



Evening, London, November 11th, 2009.

Renfield R. Renfield, Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont the famous vampiress singer from New Orleans are sitting in a karaoke bar in central London.

Amadeus and Angelique are smiling and laughing and having fun while Renfield sits there looking like he's in a state of shock.

"I'm sure," Angelique spoke to Renfield, "that Amadeus didn't intentionally direct you to the start of that Gay Pride Coming Out Parade. How was Amadeus to know that there was more than one parade going on in London today?".

Renfield snorted but said nothing.

"Anyhow," Angelique smiled and threw back her hair over the back of her evening dress, "it's your turn to go up to the microphone. I've told the m.c. that you're going to sing for everyone that old Beatles song Yesterday."

In zombie-like fashion, Renfield strolled up to the microphone.

He began singing (apparently his own version of the Beatles song Yesterday):

Yesterday,
all the sodomites seemed so far away,
Now it looks as though they're here to stay,
Oh, I believe in yesterday.


Amadeus from his table in the audience broke into the second stanza,

Suddenly,
You're not half the man you used to be...


To be continued.

Stalin's Zombie and The Berlin Wall

Amadeus Emanon addressed Renfield R. Renfield, "I heard you won a million dollars U.S. this past weekend on one of the televised poker games which passes for sports on some of the TV sports channels these days?".

"That's right, I did," Renfield R. Renfield smiled which was something the psychopathic shapeshifting hamster/human rarely did.

"Are you planning to use the money to help out around here financially?" Amadeus asked.

"Of course not," Renfield replied, "I did it to answer one of your taunts. You're always telling me that I lack a sense of humour. So I decided to do a good practical joke. But in order to do it, I needed a million dollars. So I figured winning at a poker match, I'd be able to come up with a cool million."

"i didn't know you were a good poker player," Amadeus looked quizzical.

"I'm not," Renfield replied, "but I am a good cheater."

"So why did you need a million dollars to go forth with a practical joke?" Amadeus still didn't understand.

"That's the fee South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo charges to raise somebody from the dead," Renfield grinned, "Seeing as how today is the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall, I thought it would be neat to have Josef Stalin's corpse raised from the dead with Stalin's ghost possessing the body and fly the said corpse to Berlin for tonight's 20th anniversary dinner celebrations."


* * *



Germany's most famous Elvis impersonator O. Vider Zing was the master of ceremonies at the 20th anniversary dinner in Berlin.

Dressed in his best diamond studded white Elvis suit and looking the spitting image of the overweight Elvis (all those heavy German sausages and buckets of sour kraut helped contribute to the look), O. Vider Zing said to the crowd, "Why thank you. Thank you very much."

With his Heartbreak Hotel rendition and his heartburn behind him, O. Vider Zing proceeded to introduce the most important guests at the main table.

"Ladies and gentlemen, here are the 3 people most responsible for the dismantling of the Berlin Wall," O. Vider Zing pointed, "first we have former U.S. President George Bush Sr..."

President Bush stood up to take a bow and was greeted with boos and cries of "Why didn't you and your wife practise birth control?".


"... next we have former West German Chancellor Helmut Kohl who was to become the first Chancellor of a post-WWII united Germany..."

Chancellor Kohl stood up to take a bow and was greeted with cheers and cries of "You look so much prettier and more feminine looking than current Chancellor Angela Merkel..."

"And finally, we have the man who brought us glasnost and perestroika and the dismantling of the Berlin Wall," O. Vider Zing pointed, "former Soviet President Mikhail Gorbachev."

President Gorbachev stood up to take a bow and was greeted with cheers and cries of "Those were the days when people actually did something first before winning the Nobel Peace Prize..."

As President Gorbachev went up to speak at the microphone, he was rudely pushed aside by the corpse of former Soviet dictator Josef Stalin who acted with all the rudeness of a Kanye West at a Music Video Awards evening.

"I created the best political/economic system ever," Stalin screamed, "and look what you did to it? Now I know the Berlin Wall was erected after I kicked the bucket but Leonid Brezhnev told me all about it when he arrived in Hell. I must protest this celebration. I must protest this evening..."

O. Vider Zing was wondering what he could do to save the evening when his luscious blonde leather mini skirted dominatrix girlfriend Helga suggested that he show Stalin a copy of the power accorded to the unelected Brussels bureaucrats under the terms of the new Lisbon Treaty to take effect this coming December 1st.

As soon as Stalin looked at the terms of the treaty, he said, "What the fuck?..."

"That's WTF in this century," Helga shouted at him, "Just because you've been dead for the last 56 years is no excuse for not keeping up with the times."

"WTF," Stalin obeyed the blonde leather mini skirted dominatrix, "Marxism has triumphed after all. But despite that.. I'm still sad. That bastard Leon Trotsky was right. He said we needed a United States of Europe first before Communism could triumph in Europe. And then he said a United States of Europe would lead to a United States of The World where Communism would triumph everywhere. Today, the United States of Europe.. tomorrow? or when? the United States of the World?..."

"Wonderful, wonderful Copenhagen," O. Vider Zing started to sing the song from that old 1950s Danny Kaye movie Hans Christian Andersen while Al Gore looked at his copy of the coming treaty on Climate Change...


To be continued.

The Ashes of Doctor Faust

United States President Barack Obama had an interesting situation under his radar for almost the past month.

A situation that had not been revealed to the general public.

Last month on the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Nevada, an over 500 year old man had been set on fire and burnt to a crisp in one of the rooms.

The man was none other than Doctor Johann Georg Faust the famous Renaissance alchemist who was reputed to have sold his soul to the Devil.

The ashes of Doctor Faust had at first been delivered to a Las Vegas City police lab so the Las Vegas County coroner could indeed determine that Doctor Faust was in fact dead.

After the Las Vegas County coroner made the brilliant deduction that Doctor Faust was in fact dead (his body having been reduced to total ashes), the ashes were then taken to the FBI Crime Lab in Virginia to await further analysis.

Various scientists throughout the world who were into immortality research were demanding to study the ashes and their DNA composition to determine how a person could live so long.

The Chinese government in Beijing were demanding the ashes as payment for helping to keep the U.S. dollar afloat.

The Russians were demanding the ashes because Vladimir Putin thought the urn containing the ashes would look nice on the neo-Byzantine style coffee table in his office.

And some eccentric agent at Interpol by the name of Peter Whitstable was wanting the ashes to examine them for possible supernatural influences.

President Obama was unsure what to do about the ashes.

Just as he as unsure about the direction Health Care reform would take.

Just as he was unsure whether today he'd be labelled a Nazi fascist or a Marxist Communist by the same gang of vociferous critics who kept changing the political labels for him every other day.

The phone rang on his Oval Office desk.

"I hope that's not Michelle asking me to take out the garbage again," the President nervously reached for the phone.

He breathed a sigh of relief.

It was one of his national security advisors phoning about a national security emergency.

"The ashes of Doctor Faust have been stolen from the Arlington, Virginia FBI Crime Lab," his advisor informed him.

"How did that happen?" the President asked.

"Believe it or not, sir, a rat broke into the lab and stole it," his advisor replied.

"How did the CEO of a Health Management Organization manage to get into the Arlington crime lab?" Obama asked.

"No, sir, this was a real rat," his advisor explained, "at least a rodent of some sort. Possibly a mouse, maybe gerbil or even hamster."

"Hamster?" the President sounded incredulous.


* * *


Meanwhile in London, England at the colossal home of the multi-millionaire (and formerly billionaire) ancient Egyptian vampire Set, Renfield R. Renfield the shapeshifting hamster/human who was Chief of Security and Espionage for Set Enterprises gazed at the urn on the vampire's mantelpiece.

"The lab at Set Enterprises shall examine these ashes and see what profitable use can be made of them," Renfield smiled, "Perhaps this will be what my boss needs to make him a billionaire again. And we'll be back to the way things were before last autumn's global economic meltdown."


To be continued.

The Headless Horseman

'Twas the night before Halloween
and ghosts were yet unseen
as Sir Belvedere rode upon the moor
returning from a recent war
covered in blood and gore
no Nobel Peace Prize for him
just more weightlifts down at the gym
but first he'll stop at the inn.

"Some pumpkin soup!" he said with glee
as he ate some jam from the jamboree.
I'm afraid the king gets the soup
and you are but a dupe
said the barmaid with nice knockers
amid the chat of patron talkers.

Oh merde! oh merde!
said the French chef
whose hair was parted down the clef
no pumpkins left in the kitchen
and the king's stomach is a-twitchin'.

Sir Belvedere my lovely dear!
The barmaid raised her skirts,
I hope you're not queer
but you'll get a better look
if you huff it down to the brook
and a mighty pumpkin you do took
and bring it back here.

Sir Belvedere leapt upon his horse,
I'll be back before the main course
and galloped on down to the brook
and a mighty pumpkin he did took
and brought it back to the cook.

But as he handed it to Alphonse
he slipped on some twisted prawns
and with a prance in his pants
the pumpkin smashed like a crash dance.

You fool! Said Alphonse, I'm ruined
I'll end up a dry pruned
my head upon the king's castle gate
such will be my dreadful fate.

Why lose your head, Alphonse dear?
The barmaid smiled
a look so wild
she flashed her beaver
and raised the cleaver
and cut off the head of Sir Belvedere.

The knight's head was served in the king's pumpkin soup
head of a knight- such a dupe!
and as the chickens leave the coop
they chirp and slirp
at the pumpkin remains
while a new Headless Horseman
grabs the horse's reins.


-The Headless Horseman
a Halloween poem
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Friday October 30th, 2009

The Man In The Darth Vader Mask

She was the receptionist at the Moonlight Bunny Ranch in Nevada.

This was the ranch where the "virgin" called "Nat" had auctioned off her "virginity" on-line.

And tonight the lucky winner (or the damned fool sucker! -depending on your perspective!) of the on-line auction would claim his virgin.

All Gina knew about the buyer of Nat's virginity was that he wore a Darth Vader mask when checking into the ranch.

Was he a famous person Gina wondered?

Maybe he was David Letterman of "I did have sex with some of my female workers" fame.

Gina suddenly blinked.

Was she right after all?

For there standing in front of her was late night talk show host David Letterman.

"Hi, I'm David Letterman," the celebrity grinned, "I've got permission from ranch management to film the "virgin" called Nat being deflowered."

At that moment, Kanye West walked by.

"Yo, Dave," Kanye West grinned, "you're a couple of years late and several million dollars short. Beyonce had one of the best sex videos ever."

West left the ranch and directed his chauffeur to drive him to the nearest Sexually Transmitted Diseases Clinic in Las Vegas.

"That man's a jackass," Letterman shook his head.

"Glad to see you're patriotic," a well-known U.S. Democratic senator walked by with a jacket over his head, "Nice to see people quoting our beloved President."

"I'm opposed to ObamaCare," remarked a well-known Republican congressman who walked by wearing a paper bag over his head.

"So it seems this Moonlight Bunny Ranch is bi-partisan in its clientele," Letterman smiled.

"A prick's a prick be he Democrat or Republican," the ranch's owner and Madame spoke up.

Gina spoke into the intercom, "Man in the Darth Vader mask, your virgin is now ready in Room 69. Man in the Darth Vader mask, your virgin is now ready in Room 69."

Out of one of the curtains in the waiting room strode the Man In The Darth Vader Mask.

He knocked on the door of Room 69.

"Come in," said Nat.

"Nat," spoke the Man In The Darth Vader Mask, "your photo did you justice. You look exactly like my beloved Marguerite."

"Who's Marguerite?" Nat asked.

The Man In The Darth Vader Mask paused and then spoke in a sad mournful tone, "A woman I knew... a long, long time ago."

"In a galaxy far, far away?" Nat asked.

"What?" The Man In The Darth Vader Mask would have looked confused if he hadn't been wearing a mask.

"Take off your mask," Nat asked.

"What?" The Man In The Darth Vader Mask would have blinked had he been capable of blinking.

"If I'm going to lose my virginity to you, I want to see your face," she ripped off his mask and then screamed.

For the man's face was made up of wheat, barley, crabgrass, dandelions, Scotch thistle, purple dock and ragweed.

At that moment a man wearing a ski mask burst into the room.

Speaking with a thick Irish brogue, the man in the ski mask said, "Doctor Faustus, I presume?".

When the man whose face looked like a farmer's field nodded, the man in the ski mask threw a lit cigarette into his face.

Doctor Faustus' face went up in flames as the man in the ski mask fled the room.

Within minutes, the over 500-year-old Renaissance alchemist Doctor Johann Georg Faust was reduced to ashes.

When police arrived on the scene an hour later, the lead detective whose name coincidentally enough was Lt. Columbo (like the famed TV detective of yesteryear) scratched his head and remarked, "I thought the Burning Man Festival in Nevada was being held last month."

"What type of cigarette do you think was used?" the sargeant asked Lt. Columbo.

"It appears to be a Camel," replied Lt. Columbo who at one time was a heavy smoker.

Lt. Columbo looked over at Nat the virgin who was sitting on the bed weeping. Then he looked down at the remains of the burnt Camel cigarette. And finally at the remains of Doctor Faust.

His eyes darted back and forth.

Nat. Camel. Faust.

Then his eyes fell on the open pages of the Gideon Bible which lay on the dresser open at Matthew 23:24:

"Ye blind guides, which strain at a gnat, and swallow a camel."

To be continued.

The Cowpoke They Called Wayne

He was the cowpoke they called Wayne
who some folks considered a pain,
others asked, where's his brain?
His doc said, he's insane.
But as far as living failures went,
he was considered one of the best
and he decided he'd be a-aheadin' west.

So he saddled up his saddlebag
and climbed up on his horse
took a look at his compass
and decided to set course.

Westward ho! he went,
banjo somewhat bent,
he soon stumbled on a mountain pass,
he surveyed the scene while scratching his ass.

Look! There's a tunnel there!
he said to his horse, Tiddlesquare.
Get along little Tiddle!
He played his fiddle
as his horse took a piddle.

Soon they arrived at the tunnel dark,
he found his horse a place to park
and then Wayne entered the tunnel dark
Should have brought a match
to add some spark
and a dash of light
this place's a fright
said Wayne in the midst of this dark tunnel,
so dark, he had to pee using a funnel.

And then Wayne gave a shout of delight
for he suddenly saw a big bright light,
there was light at the end of this tunnel,
Wayne jumped for joy
before he did stumble,
his life flashed
like a clog down the drain.
For the light at the end of the tunnel
was the light from the east bound train.



-The Cowpoke They Called Wayne
A cowboy poem
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Monday, September 28th, 2009.

Toasty Marsh O' Mallow

Renfield R. Renfield the shapeshifting hamster chief of security for Set Enterprises, London, England was sitting in an office in a film studio in North Hollywood.

Across from him was sitting a very red nosed gentleman.

"So," Renfield began, "you're Toasty Marsh O' Mallow the famous Irish arsonist?".

"That's right," O' Mallow beamed at him through a glass of Guinness which seeing as how it was a dark ale, Renfield could not see the Irishman smiling at him, "I just got released from Dublin Prison last week."

"I understand you've set fire to a large number of farm fields in your time," Renfield said as he carefully examined the Irish arsonist's resume.

"That's right, when I was younger my psychiatrist told me I suffered from agoraphobia which is fear of agriculture," the arsonist explained, "so as a result of those therapy sessions, I started setting fire to farm fields."

"Actually," Amadeus Emanon spoke up as he entered the office, "agoraphobia is Greek for fear of the marketplace."

"I do hate shopping malls," O' Mallow admitted, "wow those psychoanalysis sessions were a total waste of time. My psychiatrist didn't even know Greek."

"Most of them don't know much else either," Renfield was getting impatient, "but despite your misdiagnosis, you have had experience setting fire to farmers' fields."

"That I most definitely have," the Irishman hiccoughed.

"Good," Renfield handed the man a photo, "I want you to set fire to this man's face."

"Wow," O' Mallow took a good look at the photograph, "Do I drink too much? Or does this man's face look like a farmer's field?".

"The answer is yes to both of your questions," Renfield replied.

"Who is he?" the Irish arsonist asked.

"He's Doctor Johann Georg Faust," Renfield answered.

"Wow, the guy who was supposed to have sold his soul to the Devil back in the early 16th Century," O' Mallow whistled.

"That's right," Renfield nodded.

"Gee, my mother-in-law promised me immortality if I didn't marry her daughter," O' Mallow shook his head, "I guess she was right. I wonder which one of my mother-in-law's daughters Faust turned down in order to accept her offer."

"I have no idea," Renfield started drumming his fingers on the desk.

"Why does his face look like a farmer's field?" O' Mallow asked.

"An early 16th century experiment in genetically modified foods gone horribly wrong," was Renfield's answer.

"Why do you want me to set fire to him?" O' Mallow asked.

"He was the fellow who developed the H1N1 swine flu virus which devastated the Alberta hog industry and lead to a huge financial set-back for my boss," Renfield explained, "my boss has gone from being a billionaire to being only a mere multi-millionaire in the last year. Setting fire to his face will hopefully kill him and it will be payback for this rat."

"Okay," O' Mallow accepted the job.

"This is Faust's last known whereabouts," Renfield handed him a card, "you'll have to track him down from there."

"All right," O' Mallow picked up the card and left.

To be continued.

Eyes Without A Face

Dr. Morgana Jones the Baltimore Maryland psychiatrist was getting nowhere with the vampiress called Martini.

Martini was a vampiress with amnesia and had been sent to Dr. Jones for treatment by Dracul Van Helsing a couple of months earlier.

But no sign of any memory. Hypnosis. Regression. Nothing seemed to work.

Now Martini was asleep on the couch.

It appeared that this latest session was going to waste as well.

Something had so traumatized the beautiful vampiress that she had lost all memory of her previous life.

Suddenly Martini woke up screaming.

"Martini, what is it?" Doctor Jones asked.

"I was singing the role of Marguerite in Charles Gounod's opera Faust when I saw someone staring at me from a second floor box seat," Martini sobbed, "he had eyes but no face. His face was made of wheat, barley, crabgrass, dandelions, Scotch thistle, purple dock and ragweed."



* * *

Renfield R. Renfield, Chief of Security and Intelligence for Set Enterprises (the conglomerate owned by the multi-millionaire and formerly multibillionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set) was hoping to track down the one responsible for creating the H1N1 virus. That virus had devastated the hog industry in the Canadian province of Alberta and was one of many financial setbacks his formerly billionaire boss had to endure this past year.

Of course the paranoid UN and WHO were chattering about a possible pandemic that could kill millions of people.

But that didn't concern Renfield. People were only people. And money WAS money.

Renfield now had an informer from the murky world of intelligence and espionage.

An informer called Brooklyn Costello.

"The man you're after... if you can call him a man," Brooklyn coughed, "is a scientist who does contract work for some of America's largest arms manufacturers. Some people claim that he's the legendary Doctor Johann Georg Faust the famous Renaissance alchemist. astrologer and magician. Born in 1480, and supposedly sold his soul to the Devil in 1512 in exchange for 28 years of service from the demon Mephistopheles. He supposedly died in 1540 in an alchemical experiment gone horribly wrong. His body was found mutilated. But some reports say he never died and the Devil will collect his soul on Judgement Day."

"Well," Renfield replied, "if Richard Dawkins is right and there is no God, then presumably there's no Devil and Faust has nothing to be worried about."

"Would you like a picture of him?" Brooklyn asked.

"That would be nice," Renfield replied.

"Personally, if it was an experiment gone horribly wrong," Costello handed Renfield the photo, "I think he was trying to create the world's first genetically modified foods rather than turning lead into gold."

The photo was of a man with eyes but no face. The face was made up of wheat, barley, crabgrass, dandelions, Scotch thistle, purple dock and ragweed.


To be continued.

Approaching Summer's End

Approaching Summer's End


It seems another summer has come and gone
won't be long until an autumn dawn
the weather was wild where I lived
violent storms with their havoc to give
trees and buildings hit the ground
winds blew with furious sound
and when no storm
it wasn't warm
but cold and dry
farmers sigh
no bumper crop this year
adding to economic fear
A summer I'd like to forget
but I realize
it's still not over yet.

-written by Dracul Van Helsing
on Tuesday, August 18th, 2009

Trailer Park Attack

Peter Whitstable of Interpol looked at the scene.

The entire trailer park had been destroyed.

Normally an attack on a trailer park in the U.S. midwest wouldn't have brought in an Interpol agent let alone Peter Whitstable (whose Fox Mulder-like specialty at Interpol was investigating cases of the Paranormal and Supernatural).

But this attack had been different.

For eyewitnesses said that the trailer park had been destroyed by a walking skeleton of a T-Rex.

"Do you suppose maybe the people in this trailer park supported health care reform?" a deputy sheriff asked, "and this Tyrannosaurus Rex skeleton was an outraged far-right Republican?".

"Maybe," Whitstable nodded.

He looked in the direction of a pretty young woman in her mid-20s. She was wearing a yellow mini dress and was kneeling at the site of one of the destroyed trailers. She had placed a bouquet of flowers on the Welcome mat in front of what had been the entrance door of one of the trailers.

"You knew the people who lived in this trailer?" Whitstable asked the woman as he walked over to her.

"I knew Matt," the girl wept, "he was a musician. Both a composer and a songwriter. He was a great budding young talent and now he's gone. He had just completed the finishing touches on a rock opera he had written."

"I'm sorry," Whitstable said. He fell silent not knowing what else to say. Then he spoke, "What was the subject of the rock opera he had written?".

"It was a new take on the legend of Doctor Faustus," the girl answered.

Meanwhile in the office of the CEO of one of America's largest arms manufacturers, the CEO was reflecting on his meeting a few days before with that mysterious enigmatic individual that was just known to him as the Doctor.

Who he thought was the Doctor? And what was he a doctor of?

In the background, the CEO's CD player played Franz Liszt's Mephisto Waltz No. 1.

To be continued.

The Doctor Is In

He was the CEO of a large U.S. arms manufacturer- one of the Pentagon's largest suppliers.

As such, he expected people to wait on him- and to wait for him.

He was to be approached as if he were a god- which he was- as far as the U.S. government was concerned.

But with the Doctor, it was different.

He had to beg to visit the Doctor's office.

The Doctor supplied his company with the most dazzling innovations- innovations that seemed to be right out of Buck Rogers in The 25th Century.

Occasionally the Doctor's assistant would call- to let him know that the Doctor would be supplying him with another one of his inventions.

And the CEO would rush to the Doctor's office like a young high school graduate paying a visit to his first bordello.

On other occasions, the CEO would hear rumours about one of the Doctor's inventions. Inventions it seemed that the Doctor was not willing to share yet with the world.

And the CEO would go- non-existent hat in hand (since CEOs never wore hats anymore) down to the Doctor's office and beg on his hands and knees (like a client in the presence of a leather skirted dominatrix) to see the Doctor.

Today the Doctor would see him even though he didn't have an appointment (oh, if only the health care system were this easy!).

"Yes?" the Doctor sat in the darkened corner of an already dark room smoking a pipe.

"Doctor," the CEO began, "umm... we've heard rumours that you have invented a new type of laser beam which has the ability to shrink things in size and then restore them to their original size later."

"Really?" the Doctor blew smoke rings with his pipe, "and do you believe these rumours?".

"Well, if they're true, Doctor," the CEO answered, "we'd wish you'd sell this new technology to us. The U.S. Air Force's drone attack planes we could shrink in size, go into difficult spots of Afghanistan and Pakistan, bomb the Hell out of the Taliban, return to base and then go back to the original size."

"Bomb the Hell out of the Taliban," the Doctor nodded and smoked thoughtfully on his pipe, "you know Dante had the Prophet Mohammed confined to the fires of Hell in his work The Inferno which I suppose explains why you don't hear too many public readings of Dante these days."

"I have an M.B.A. from Harvard, Doctor, so I know nothing whatsoever about the Classics," the CEO sounded exasperated, "do you have this technology or not?".

"Your appointment is now over," the Doctor gazed through a small telescope through a small crack in the office curtain at the time on the sundial in the garden outside his office.

"Oh, bugger all," the CEO swore.

"I believe there's a gay health spa and sauna room over on the next block should you wish to resort to that," the Doctor answered.

The CEO left harrumphing.

The Doctor went over to a chest of drawers and opened the bottom left drawer where a small skeleton of a live spirit possessed T-Rex was growling.

"Now," said the Doctor, "if we were to restore you to your original size this evening, which place should we get you to attack?".

To be continued.

Ghost Of A T-Rex

South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo was at the world-famous Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology in Drumheller, Alberta, Canada.

He was to demonstrate his powers for a particular client.

He had several clients including North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il. Kim was wanting Sterling to raise an army of zombies for him.

Makabo had demonstrated his powers for Kim by bringing the spirit of Jack the Ripper back from the dead.

He also had a sports promoter for a client.

For this promoter, Makabo had brought back a 19th century boxer called Gordon "The Black" Donnelly from the dead.

Since the 4th of July weekend, this zombie boxer had not lost a single fight.

Of course he wouldn't not being able to feel any mortal pain.

And now the highly talented witch doctor had another client.

A client who wished to remain anonymous for the time being.

And this time the client chose the test.

And just after midnight here at the Royal Tyrrell Museum of Paleontology in Drumheller, the client approached Makabo.

Makabo nodded as the man approached.

"I want the skeleton of this T-Rex brought back to life," the man commanded.

Makabo suddenly felt anxiety within himself but didn't show it.

Summoning back animal spirits was actually more difficult than summoning back human.

Makabo closed his eyes and started chanting.

A few miles southeast of the Royal Tyrrell, those strangle figures on the Red Deer River Badlands hills known as the hoodoos turned into giant beings.

Soon they started pounding the rocks like drums.

And those drums of Hell at Drumheller were able to raise the dead.

Even the ghost of a Tyrannosaurus Rex.

And the wraith-spirit possessed skeleton of T-Rex made a t-bone steak out of the museum security guard.

To be continued.

Polar Bear's Stroll In The Park

It was LA after dark
Nathan strolled through a park
watching all the dogs bark
these spoiled groomed pooches
covered in their owners' smooches
had never seen a polar bear
so they browned up their underwear.

"Mitsy! how could you?"
shrieked Mrs. Goldbloom
whose face was full of gloom
the newspaper she held
was poor Mitsy's doom.

Yipping and yelping the dogs were dragged home
all hopes gone for a vacation in Rome
no running after cats
by the Colosseum dome
The catacombs would be safe
for cat and comb.

Oblivious to the damage he had done
to spoiled rich canines' fun
Nathan walked on in the moonlight
when he saw someone flying a kite
and suddenly a bat flew down
turning into a man
in a dressing gown.

The man in the gown
was a vamp about town
so was the young woman with the kite
but the man was looking for a bite
for he was a vamp vampire
who swore off Turkish Delight.

He bit the girl on the neck
causing her to shout, "What the heck?..."
as all parkgoers hit the deck
Nathan flew into action
a magnificent spec
he grabbed a lady's parousel
and stabbed the vampire's heart
sending him to Hell.

The vampire's last words were,
"Don't people know it never rains in LA?
This cursed umbrella has brought my decay
forever gone my ability to make hay
life's not fair- that's all I can say."



-Polar Bear's Stroll In The Park
a poem about Nathan De Burgh Polar Bear Private Eye
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Monday, August 3rd, 2009.

Polar Bear Private Eye In Los Angeles

He discovered Coney Island wasn't for him
and after a workout down at the gym
he flew west
with the best
and ended up in LA
no San Fran for him
he wasn't gay.

He saw Hollywood Boulevard
and a shipping yard
visited Universal Studios
and bought a post card.

He visited Beverly Hills
and got the chills
when he saw how
Paris Hilton got her thrills.

Now LA is a wild town
look at old Nathan getting down
with Megan Fox
and all that jazz
look he just beat up a paparazz.

He'll be appearing on Entertainment Tonight
and then on Elvira's couch
following Fright Night.
(or maybe preceding
with his fur receding).


-Another poem about Nathan De Burgh Polar Bear Private Eye
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Sunday, August 2nd, 2009.

The Vampire of Rap

He was the Vampire of Rap
his lyrics were crap
looked like Bela Lugosi takin' a nap
to him your blood was sap
he'll set the trap
knock off your ball cap
and give you a whap
then suck your blood
and all that crud
and you'll end up lookin' like mud.

-A rap song about a vampire gangsta rapper
written by Dracul Van Helsing, July 30th, 2009.

Polar Bear's Summer Ride

Polar Bear's Summer Ride (a poem about Nathan De Burgh Polar Bear Private Eye written by Dracul Van Helsing, July 27th 2009)

It was steamy hot under the sun
as Nathan ate his hot dog bun
it was the middle of summer and the polar bear had headed south
now he had cotton candy stuck in his mouth
he was on the carnival grounds by the beach
as the roller coaster came to a screech
he got on and the sight of his massive white fur
turned his seat into a total blur
the ride started and off he went
like Superman emerging from Clark Kent
up and down
up and down
the roller coaster went round and round
Nathan's stomach didn't feel so good
it erupted like an overheated car hood.

Nathan got off the ride
with his guts gone
along with his pride
he wouldn't be ordering
any oysters on the side.

-written on July 27th, 2009
by Dracul Van Helsing
another poetic adventure featuring Nathan De Burgh Polar Bear Private Eye.

Digging Up Saint Swithin On Saint Swithin's Day

Renfield R. Renfield had construction signs placed up all around the area of the High Altar in Winchester Cathedral.

That way no one would find his work suspicious as he used a jack hammer to cut through the floor.

Amadeus Emanon was walking back from having High Tea in a nearby hotel. The hotel had been the site of a famous cat who back in the late 1960s used to watch his own television program.

The cat would enter the sitting room at the same time each day, go over and turn the TV on, switch it to his favourite channel if one of the hotel guests had had the audacity to change channels and then the cat would sit back in his favourite chair (occasionally he would have to spat at one of the hotel guests if the said culprit had had the audacity to sit in his favourite chair) and watch his show.

The cat had thrown a major spaz attack 40 years ago around this time when hotel guests insisted on watching the launch of the Apollo 11 moon mission.

Amadeus Emanon had had tea and crumpets sitting in the long departed cat's favourite chair.

"What are you doing digging up this place?" Amadeus asked as he bit into a Devonshire cream and strawberry jam laced crumpet from his take-out bag.

"I'm hoping to dig up the body of Saint Swithin, Britain's patron saint of the weather," Renfield answered.

"Isn't such an act considered a desecration?" Amadeus asked.

"Oh, probably," Renfield continued digging, "but that's the wonderful thing about being a psychopath. One never feels compelled to justify one's actions."

"Why are you digging up Saint Swithin anyway?" Amadeus inquired.

"To bring him back from the dead and ask him to do something about the weather this year," Renfield explained, "I've been reading in the gutter press about some South African witch doctor who's been bringing people back from the dead this year including Jack the Ripper. Remember you and your friend Angelique Dumont saw the spirit of Jack the Ripper taking possession of that wax effigy of himself in that wax museum you visited last month. Anyways I'd ordered a copy of the book that witch doctor is said to use to bring people back from the dead. And now I'm going to try it out on Saint Swithin."

"Where did you get a copy of the book?" Amadeus asked, "from an occult book store?".

"No," Renfield shook his head, "I picked it up in the library of an Episcopalian seminary when I was visiting the U.S. last week."

"I believe today is Saint Swithin's Day," Amadeus noted.

"It is," Renfield spotted some bones, "this must be the old boy himself. That's why I'm digging up his body today- I thought it would an ideal time to do it."

"They certainly thought Saint Swithin's Day was a good day to open Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince in movie theatres worldwide," Amadeus wiped his chin, "although personally I don't know why they didn't pick Saint Vladimir's Day."

"When's Saint Vladimir's Day?" Renfield looked at Amadeus quizzically.

"Tomorrow, July 16th," Amadeus responded, "which incidentally is also Harry Potter's birthday. That's why I thought they might have chosen Saint Vladimir's Day to open his new movie."

"I thought July 31st was Harry Potter's birthday," Renfield replied.

"It's J.K. Rowling's birthday but in one of her books, I remember a reference to July 16th," Amadeus opened a can of Lipton's Iced Tea.

In the meantime, Renfield opened the book and invoked a spell over the bones.

"Nothing is happening," Renfield sounded disappointed.

"Perhaps," Amadeus explained, "you can't bring back spirits of the departed from Paradise or Heaven. Perhaps you can only summon them back temporarily from Hell or Purgatory."

"Did you say Purgatory?" Renfield gazed in shock at Amadeus.

"Yes," Amadeus sipped his iced tea.

"I don't believe in Purgatory," Renfield spat, "it goes against my Calvinistic instincts."

"But I thought you were an atheist," Amadeus added a lemon to his iced tea.

"I am," Renfield replied, "but I'm an atheist with Calvinistic instincts."

To be continued.

Thriller Of A Prophecy?

Hyung Grace Kwan was back from Seoul, South Korea.

As for Martini the vampiress with amnesia, Dracul had sent her to a psychiatrist friend of his in Baltimore, Doctor Morgana Jones to try hypnotherapy to see if her memory could be regained that way.

It would cost a little extra of course since these would be night time sessions seeing as how Martini was a vampiress and everything.

Hyung sat in her silk robe and watched the Michael Jackson memorial service on television.

She dabbed her eyes quite a bit.

"He truly is gone," Hyung said when the service was over.

Dracul didn't answer.

When he was younger and even today, he had found those Thriller lyrics so haunting and in some way prophetic,

Darkness falls across the land,
the midnight hour is close at hand...
And whosoever shall be found
without the soul for getting down
must stand and face the hounds of Hell
and rot inside a corpse's shell.

Now that Michael Jackson had been called out of this world, Dracul couldn't brush off the feeling that somehow those Thriller lyrics spoken by Vincent Price were coming true.

To be continued.

Gordon "The Black" Donnelly

Dracul Van Helsing received an email from Peter Whitstable of Interpol.

Whistable was to Interpol what the fictional Fox Mulder had been to the FBI back in the 1990s.

Whitstable was in charge of investigating the Paranormal and supernatural occurences for Interpol.

He was looked on by most of the international police organization as a flake.

The subject of the email was this:

Last Tuesday, Whitstable had run into the notorious South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo in Honolulu.

Whitstable had once again lost track of the witch doctor like he was prone to do.

Anyways, yesterday morning, Whitstable had been talking to a fellow Interpol officer- an officer who was a huge huge huge boxing fan.

Knew all sorts of boxing trivia.

It turned out this past Saturday night, there was a 4th of July boxing match in Seattle, Washington.

It was amateur night by which anyone could sign up to box if they wanted to.

And anyhow one man who called himself Gordon 'the Black" Donnelly knocked out all comers.

And there was no record anywhere of a Gordon "the Black" Donnelly having boxed before.

That is not in this century.

Or in the last century.

But said this Interpol agent Troy Leuker, there was an Irish-Canadian boxer called Gordon "the Black" Donnelly who won all sorts of boxing matches in Toronto and southern Ontario back in the 1880s.

Then he moved to San Francisco in the 1890s and won all sorts of boxing matches throughout California.

In 1899, he retired from boxing and moved to Honolulu where he married a native Hawaiian girl.

He died on June 6th, 1910.

Anyhow, according to Troy Leuker, this Gordon "the Black" Donnelly who cleaned up at the 4th of July boxing match in Seattle, Washington was the spitting image of the 19th Century boxer Gordon "the Black" Donnelly.

And wondered Whitstable, with Sterling Makabo (the witch doctor of whom it was said, he could raise the dead) in Honolulu a week ago, is it possible that this new Gordon "the Black" Donnelly was the old Gordon "the Black" Donnelly brought back from the dead?

To be continued.

Coconut Milk Is Very Nice

Dracul Van Helsing got an email from Hyung Grace Kwan.

"Well, Jack the Ripper is dead again," he told Martini the vampiress.

"That's good to hear," Martini breathed a sigh of relief, "since I think he was a rather unpleasant individual."

"Yes," Dracul noted, "he didn't live long enough to be considered rehabilitated and win the Nobel Peace Prize."

Meanwhile South African witch doctor Sterling Makabo (the man who had originally summoned the spirit of Jack the Ripper from Hell) was in Honolulu when he received the news of Jack the Ripper's second death when the wax effigy he possessed was set on fire in Tokyo.

"Oh, well," Doctor Makabo thought to himself, "Jack already served his purpose striking terror into the hearts of the West."

He walked down to the beach and bought some coconut milk from a vendor.

"Drinking coconut milk these days, I see, Doctor Makabo," a voice behind him said.

Doctor Makabo turned.

It was Peter Whitstable, an agent for Interpol.

"Whitstable," Doctor Makabo laughed, "it must disappoint you tremendously that the practise of black magic is no longer considered a crime."

"What are you doing in Hawaii?" Whitstable asked.

"Watching hula dancing girls in grass skirts at luaus and drinking coconut milk," Dr. Makabo replied.

"I find that very hard to believe," Whitstable answered.

Dr. Makabo pointed towards the beach.

Whitstable turned. And when he saw nothing, he turned back to face Makabo again... but Makabo in that brief interval had already vanished.

"I hate it when he does that," Whitstable said.

To be continued.

Jack In Tokyo

The wax effigy of Jack the Ripper possessed by the spirit of Jack the Ripper was in Tokyo in the city's red light district.

He would often select in his mind a Japanese lady of the evening as his next victim only to see her picked up by a leading Japanese politician or industrialist businessman cruising by in their luxury automobiles.

"Sh!$%&*t!" Jack swore.

Then he noticed a very attractive lady of the evening in a short tight pink skirt, white blouse, black silk fishnet nylons and pink spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

She seemed to be shaking her head to every leading Japanese politician and industrialist who passed by.

"Ah," Jack smiled, "something I just love seeing... a hooker with good taste. You don't run into many like those. Seems a pity she has to die. But still I have to live up to my reputation as Jack the Ripper. Having been a leading 19th century British Freemason as well as Queen Victoria's and the British Royal Family's personal physician just doesn't cut it in Hell these days."

The Ripper approached his victim and then grabbed her throat.

"So sorry my dear," Jack smiled, "ummm... I wonder how you say that in Japanese?".

"I'm Korean," the South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan said as she flipped him over in a judo manoeuvre and then kicked him in the balls with one of her pink spiked stilettoes.

"God, even though they're made of wax, that still hurts," the Ripper rubbed his crotch.

Hyung Grace Kwan removed a bottle of kerosene from under her blouse and then sprayed it all over him.

"What the Hell are you doing?" the Ripper asked.

"What the Hell?" Hyung smiled, "sending you back there."

She pulled out a lighter from inside her skirt and set fire to the wax effigy.

A Japanese delivery boy walked by the flames which happened to singe the box he was carrying.

As he went up to the 29th floor of the apartment building and knocked on the door of Apartment #2906, he was greeted by a sumo wrestling superstar.

"What is this?" the sumo wrestler said as he opened the box, "I ordered sushi. This fish has been cooked overly well done."

To be continued.

Watch The Sun Go Down On Galway Bay

Amadeus Emanon stood on the shores of Galway Bay and felt the soothing water wash his feet on the sands.

He watched Renfield R. Renfield casting a fishing line.

Amadeus didn't understand what they were doing in Galway Bay.

That morning at the London home of the millionaire (and formerly billionaire) ancient Egyptian vampire Set, Renfield suddenly announced to Amadeus that they were flying from London to Dublin and then from Dublin, they were catching a small private plane to Galway.

"Is this a mission for the boss?" Amadeus asked Renfield (the boss referring to the vampire Set).

"Keep quiet and don't ask questions," Renfield snarled.

So Amadeus didn't ask any questions during the trip.

On the flight across the Irish Sea on the Aer Lingus plane, Amadeus only answered questions.

Every time the very attractive Irish stewardess asked Amadeus if he wanted another Guinness, Amadeus answered yes.

So Amadeus was feeling extremely happy as they took the private plane trip from Dublin to Galway.

As Amadeus sang, "You can sit and watch the moon rise over Cladagh and see the sun go down on Galway Bay,"
Renfield buried his head in his hands and immediately regretted buying that old Tommy Makem and the Clancy Brothers LP record as a present for the genetic clone's last birthday.

Now they were on Galway Bay and Renfield was eyeing the waters here anxiously.

"You know it isn't nightfall yet," Amadeus called out to Renfield, "how are we going to watch the moon rise over Cladagh and watch the sun go down on Galway Bay?".

Renfield motioned for Amadeus to shhh, "You'll disturb the mer... I mean fishes."

"Mer?" Amadeus looked quizzical, "oh, I guess mer is the Latin word for sea although it's spelled m-a-r-e."

Amadeus looked over to the shore and noticed a path going up towards a park.

A sign by the path said, "Absolutely NO bicycles on this path."

Amadeus counted 9,088 bicycles coming down the path by the time nightfall was approaching.

He looked up into the sky and then in the direction of Cladagh on the other side of the Bay, "Hey look boss (for he sometimes called Renfield boss whereas Set was THE boss), the moon's rising over Cladagh..."

"Quiet, you fool..." Renfield was struggling with something in his net.

Amadeus looked. It appeared to be a very beautiful topless woman with long red hair and a wonderfully luxurious pair of knockers. And the lower part of her body was... a fin.

It was... a mermaid.

So that's why Renfield came here.

Renfield loved to eat mermaids.

Eating mermaids was another feature of Renfield that Amadeus detested.

Renfield had probably been surfing the web and had encountered a story about a mermaid being here in Galway Bay.

So that explained the sudden rush to this part of Ireland.

Renfield now had the lovely redheaded mermaid safely in his net.

Amadeus looked around for something with which he could stop Renfield and help the mermaid.

He noticed a bottle of Guinness floating in the Bay with a message inside, IN CASE OF EMERGENCY, BREAK GLASS.

Amadeus picked up the bottle of Guinness and broke it over Renfield's head.

Renfield fell face forward into the water.

Amadeus freed the mermaid from the net.

The beautiful redheaded mermaid flashed Amadeus a lovely smile, blew him a kiss and then swam southward out to sea.

Meanwhile a group of Irishmen came rushing out of a pub on the beach and dove into the water around Renfield and started drinking the seawater.

"We can't allow that Guinness to go to waste," explained one of the Irishmen.

Amadeus would have been content to let the mermaid-eating Renfield drown but a group of Irishmen had raised Renfield up out of the water and started licking the Guinness out of his hair much to Renfield's extreme displeasure and discomfort.

Amadeus in the meantime looked up at the sky.

And watched the sun go down on Galway Bay.

To be continued.

Vampiric Hearts Do Break! And Not Only From A Stake!

The Spanish vampire Manuel de Rivera y Vargas paced through his Paris apartment living room.

Manuel had been a successful concert pianist throughout Europe in the 1930s.

When the chilling winds of war blew through that continent, he moved to America and in partnership with a pair of dance instructors opened up a dance studio there.

He had been turned into a vampire against his will by the ancient Egyptian vampiress Isis (the sister and also sister-in-law of the millionaire and formerly billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set) back in the 1940s.

Back around Christmas, 2004 he had become friends with the famous vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing who slew only evil vampires.

Back in the summer of 2007, Manuel had fallen in love in Paris.

His love was Fatima Pahlevi, an 18-year-old Iranian girl.

The other vampires at the Vampire Club in Paris told Manuel that he was too old for her.

When Manuel pointed out that most mortals were too young for most vampires ("Look at Bella Swan and Edward Cullen!" he pointed out), they replied, "True but most vampires don't date mortals who are under 25."

But Manuel was an individualist and dated Fatima anyway.

They walked along the River Seine, dined in the finest Parisienne restaurants, ate cheese on croissants in the sidewalk cafes, talked philosophy and art, and remarked on how short French President Nicolas Sarkozy was.

Back in May of this year, Fatima told Manuel that she wanted to return to her homeland to campaign for reformist Iranian Presidential candidate Mir Hossein Mousavi.

"The power of the fascist mullahs over our country must be loosened," she had told Manuel.

Manuel understood.

He offered to go with her.

"No, being a vampire, you'd automatically be suspected by the authorities of being a agent of the so-called world Zionist conspiracy that fictional bogey-man the mullahs have conjured up to serve as a scapegoat for blaming all the problems facing Iran," Fatima replied.

So Fatima had returned to Iran.

And then when Twelver sect fanatic Mahmoud Ahmadinejad (who personally believed that only initiating a nuclear holocaust in the Middle East could pave the way for the return of Islam's messianic figure the Imam Mahdi) stole the election from Mousavi, she had joined the hundreds of thousands of demonstrators in the streets of Tehran calling for new, free and fair elections.

But that disciple of Satan who posed as a man of God the Ayatollah Ali Khameini had different ideas.

At Friday prayers this past June 19th, he called on all Iranians to accept the June 12th election results and basically gave his own clerical blessing on the police to unleash all means of sheer brutality against the protestors.

Manuel was starting to get worried.

He had followed what Fatima was doing on Twitter.

But she hadn't updated in the past 12 hours.

Manuel continued to pace the apartment floor of his Paris apartment.

Finally he went over to his computer- a Mac (his friend Dracul Van Helsing had strongly recommended a Mac ever since the famed vampire hunter had got one) and turned to YouTube. He went to youtube.com/citizentube which had all the latest news from Iran.

There he watched a video horrified as a group of demonstrators carried away the body of a beautiful young woman who had been shot in the chest by police bullets.

It was his beloved Fatima.

Writer Anne Rice had changed the nature of people's perceptions about vampires.

In central and Eastern European vampire folklore, the vampire was viewed as little different from the African zombie- merely a walking animated corpse.

In Bram Stoker's Dracula, the vampiric corpse was now viewed as having intelligence and the ability to speak, charm and even seduce.

Anne Rice's vampire novels had presented vampires as still having souls united to their bodies and like mortals, their souls could be good or evil or like most mortal men, some grey area in-between.

One thing about mere corpses.

They do not cry.

And Manuel de Rivera y Vargas was now weeping buckets of tears.

Which Doctor?

Inspector Depp of Scotland Yard looked at the photo of the man in front of him.

The photo was of a black African male in his early 40s. His nationality was South African.

Depp had received the photo from Peter Whitstable of Interpol. Peter Whitstable was to Interpol what the fictional Fox Mulder was to the FBI.

He was in charge of investigating the Paranormal (vampires, werewolves, UFOs etc.) for the international police organization.

According to Whitstable, the man whose photo Depp now held in his hands was none other than Sterling Makabo a South African Zulu witch doctor.

According to Whitstable, Makabo had the power to summon forth spirits of the evil dead.

Also according to Whitstable, Makabo had summoned forth the spirit of Jack the Ripper and got him to possess the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper that was in the Price Atwill Wax Museum in West London.

The wax effigy had mysteriously disappeared over a week ago and as a result of the public outcry, Scotland Yard had wasted considerable resources trying to find this wax dummy.

Depp thought people should be more concerned about the live dummy currently occupying 10 Downing Street rather than some supposedly Undead dummy of a long dead serial killer.

Anyways even assuming that what Whitstable said was true (which Inspector Depp very much doubted) for what purpose would Makabo bring Jack the Ripper back from the dead?

In Pyongyang, North Korea, Doctor Makabo answered that question posed to him by North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il, "For shock and awe, your Eminence. Jack the Ripper has always haunted the collective consciousness of the Anglo-Saxon world. So if he's running around again, another sense of impending chaos and doom shall haunt the mind of the West. And as the souls of long dead murderers are brought back one by one, the decadent West shall be continually thrown off balance and then at your command, your Eminence, the Western world will face the final test- a one billion man army of zombies under your control."

KIm Jong-il smiled beneficently and ate a spring roll.

To be continued.

Nightclub Dionysus

Dracul Van Helsing managed to convince the vampiress with amnesia that no matter how good the commercials might say this particular brand of sunscreen is, going out in the daylight would probably still cause problems for vampiresses.

They waited until nightfall.

The vampiress with amnesia changed from her short denim mini skirt to a jade green evening dress with matching spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

Dracul suggested going down to the Nightclub Dionysus a new nightclub that had just opened which had an ancient Greek theme to it.

At the club entrance, they discovered the club's doorman was none other than Dracul's friend Harry Woo who was dressed up as the Greek god Dionysus.

"Very impressive laurel leaf on top of your bald head, Harry," Dracul remarked.

"Oh, very funny," Harry grimaced.

"Nice toga," the vampiress with amnesia said.

"Thanks," Harry said, "Say, any of you know what the word orgy means?".

"Well Hyung Grace Kwan and this lovely woman here and I had one a few weeks ago," Dracul answered.

"Some girl told me that I was the Greek god of orgies," Harry explained, "but I have no idea what an orgy is."

"What are you doing after work?" a goth girl in a leather mini skirt asked Harry, "I'll be glad to show you."

"My Chinese mom doesn't like me staying out late," Harry replied.

Dracul and the vampiress with amnesia entered the club.

"You know," Dracul said, "we really should think up a name for you. It seems so impersonal to call you 'Vampiress with amnesia'."

"Martini?" a young brunette girl dressed in a mini toga came around carrying a tray of martinis.

"Yes, thank you," the brunette vampiress with amnesia picked up a glass.

Dracul helped himself to one as well.

"Martini," the vampiress said, "that sounds like such a lovely name. And it's Italian as well. And don't you figure my background is Italian. So why not call me Martini until we find out my real name."

And so Dracul and the newly christened vampiress Martini danced the night away down at the Nightclub Dionysus.

When the vampiress carried Dracul through the apartment door just before sunrise, the phone rang.

The vampiress Martini picked it up.

It was South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan on the other end of the line, "Can I speak to Dracul please?"

"I'm sorry but he's dead drunk," Martini answered.

"Drunk?" Hyung sounded shocked, "but Dracul doesn't usually drink very much."

"Well we spent the night at a nightclub where I chose a new name for myself," the vampiress with amnesia explained,
"and I chose the name Martini. And every time Dracul called my name tonight, the cocktail waitress came over and brought him a new drink."

To be continued.

News Fit For A Vampiress?

The dark haired vampiress with amnesia and Dracul Van Helsing were watching the news on television.

News Anchor: And still no clues in the mysterious disappearance of the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper from the Price Atwill Wax Museum in West London which happened over a week ago. You may recall when we first broke that news story a week ago, our reporter on the scene claimed that the disappearance was witnessed by a vampiress with a Louisiana accent and a genetic clone who worked as a personal concert pianist to a millionaire and formerly billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire living in London. Well we're happy to report that our reporter seems to be doing well at the Alcohol Recovery and Drug Rehab Clinic our station's management immediately checked him into...
Meanwhile in other news, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad told a cheering crowd of brainwashed supporters that this past weekend's election result was genuine and the opposition should accept the fact he won an astounding 62% of the vote. Ahmadinejad said everyone should abide by the results of this decision which he called a "victory for democracy" and further added that anyone who disagreed with the result should be jailed or shot.
Meanwhile President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe has become the first world leader to congratulate Ahmadinejad on his election victory...

The vampiress with amnesia shut off the TV with the remote control.

"The news is depressing these days," the vampiress tossed back her hair.

"I know," Dracul agreed, "the world isn't the same without David Carradine in it."

"Let's go out," the vampiress suggested.

"But it's still daylight," Dracul pointed out.

"That's okay," the vampiress smiled, "I bought myself a heavy sunscreen."

To be continued.

Mysteries of The Wax Museum

Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont paid the admission and entered the Wax Museum.

A security guard who looked like Vincent Price spoke at the entrance,

Darkness falls across the land
the midnight hour is close at hand
and whosoever shall be found
without the soul for getting down
must stand and face the Hounds of Hell
and rot inside a corpse's shell...

"I thought you were supposed to be dead," Amadeus spoke to the security guard, "didn't speaking on a Michael Jackson album put an end to your career?".

"That isn't the real Vincent Price," Angelique nudged Amadeus, "it's a wax effigy."

"Darn," Amadeus looked disappointed, "and just when I was going to ask him for his autograph."

In the next room, they encountered an oil painting.

"I thought this was supposed to be a wax museum not an art gallery," Angelique looked surprised.

"It's Vincent Van Gogh's self portrait," Amadeus Emanon proudly proclaimed as if he had a Ph.D in Art History, "and look, there's his ear on the palette beside it..."

Angelique screamed.

A boy scout came over and looked at the severed ear on the palette and walked away disappointed saying, "I don't think that's a real ear..."

"Darn," spoke up a wax effigy of Sir Anthony Hopkins as Doctor Hannibal Lector, "and just when I was getting a craving for a midnight snack."

In the next room, a wax effigy of Vincent Van Gogh said, "Boy, did the boss ever talk my ear off today."

"Squawk, what are you gawking at?" a wax effigy of Rosebob, Orson Welles' pet parrot interjected.

"Indeed," spoke up a wax effigy of Orson Welles who was eating a rainbarrel full of frozen peas and a rainbarrel full of Norwegian cod and drinking a rainbarrel full of Paul Masson wines, "the proper pronounciation of Vincent's last name is Van Gawk not Van Go!".

"I can't believe you said Van Gawk," spoke up a wax effigy of Woody Allen.

"The director of Citizen Kane is quite correct," spoke up a wax effigy of no one that Angelique nor Amadeus could possibly recognize, "to quote Marshall McLuhan, the medium is the message..."

"Where do you get off quoting Marshall McLuhan?" Woody Allen asked.

"I'm a professor of Communications at Harvard University and I've studied Marshall McLuhan," the wax effigy replied.

"Well, there's Marshall McLuhan standing over there," said Allen, "let's go ask him..."

Marshall McLuhan's wax effigy spoke up, "You say you're a teacher at Harvard. You shouldn't be teaching anywhere. You're an idiot..."

"Idiot professors at Harvard can get themselves acclaimed leaders of the Canadian Federal Liberal Party," Rosebob squawked.

"Don't you wish this happened in real life?" Woody Allen smiled.

"It already has," Rosebob squawked.

"Don't you wish this happened in real life?" Freddy Krueger's wax effigy came over and decapitated Woody Allen.

"I was promised sex with the Lady From Shanghai," Orson Welles started weeping into the rain barrel of Paul Masson wines.

"Put the blame on Mame, boys, put the blame on Mame," a wax effigy of Rita Hayworth dressed as Gilda in her nightclub evening dress started to sing.

"This is a wonderful exhibit," Amadeus smiled.

"Let's go down to the Chamber of Horrors," Angelique suggested.

They walked down the steps that looked like they were descending into the medieval dungeons of the Tower of London.

They came upon a street scene that looked like East London in 1888.

And as the voice of singer Don McLean came out of nowhere,

Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,
Jack flash sat on a candle stick

a figure dressed in a black top hat and long black trench coat and carrying an elegantly carved walking cane with a silver wolf's head leapt over a street gas lamp in front of them...

and then vanished.

To be continued.