It is indeed the bleak December
but no rapping
no tapping
the chamber door will open no more
strangers come
strangers go
the bust of Pallas Athena broken with a blow
the pieces fall to the floor
the raven drops dead...
its voice heard nevermore.
-A poem written by Christopher Van Helsing
Wednesday December 21st 2011.
Wednesday, December 21, 2011
Wednesday, December 7, 2011
Fenrir The Wolf and The Hell There Is
Fenrir saw another pathetically ugly woman- this one with a misshapen pug nose like a pug dog would have.
When she left the convenience store, Fenrir summoned the panther entity Konalu from his psyche.
The panther Konalu sprang on to the ugly looking redhead and tore her apart.
Fenrir continued on his way.
He decided to revert to his human form.
The wolf shapeshifted into a man.
As he walked down the sidewalk, another man came from another direction.
The two brushed against one another.
The man shapeshifted back into his natural form Fenrir the Wolf.
He sprang on to the man and tore him apart.
He then continued down the sidewalk- but remained in the shape of a wolf.
He passed a furniture and appliance store where in the window the TV was on and one of Satan's biggest useful idiots the retired U.S. Episcopalian Bishop John Shelby Spong was telling the interviewer that there was no such place as Hell.
The wolf hound from the place that didn't exist (according to Bishop Spong) continued on down the street.
To be continued.
When she left the convenience store, Fenrir summoned the panther entity Konalu from his psyche.
The panther Konalu sprang on to the ugly looking redhead and tore her apart.
Fenrir continued on his way.
He decided to revert to his human form.
The wolf shapeshifted into a man.
As he walked down the sidewalk, another man came from another direction.
The two brushed against one another.
The man shapeshifted back into his natural form Fenrir the Wolf.
He sprang on to the man and tore him apart.
He then continued down the sidewalk- but remained in the shape of a wolf.
He passed a furniture and appliance store where in the window the TV was on and one of Satan's biggest useful idiots the retired U.S. Episcopalian Bishop John Shelby Spong was telling the interviewer that there was no such place as Hell.
The wolf hound from the place that didn't exist (according to Bishop Spong) continued on down the street.
To be continued.
Saturday, December 3, 2011
Fenrir The Wolf and Konalu The Panther
Twirling and twirling the snow blew.
Like a huge vortex of moving blinding white, it moved like a tornado in a prairie dust bowl save this was the snow white ground of Merrie England.
The snow stopped outside the old ancient village of stone houses.
The vortex of twirling snow stopped and stepping out of it like a figure emerging from a phone booth was the wolf Fenrir.
Fenrir- the monstrously hellish wolf of Norse mythology, the son of the evil demonic trickster god Loki, the father of the wolves Skoll and Hati, the biter off of the right hand of the Norse god Tyr and the prophesied slayer of the Norse god Odin during the cosmic end times battle of Ragnarok.
Such are the once and future accomplishments of the wolf Fenrir.
Fenrir entered the village and outside the stone post office of the village was confronted by the sight of a fat pathetically ugly woman.
And most shockingly of all the fat pathetic ugly woman had a baby in a stroller with her.
If the shapeshifting hamster Renfield R. Renfield had been around, he'd have most likely quipped, "Who the Hell would want to fuck that?".
Amadeus Emanon if he had been there might have said, "Maybe she has a great personality."
To which Renfield would have shrewdly replied, "Yes but one can't fuck a personality- at least not in a bodily sexual sense."
Fenrir called upon the panther Konalu- an astrally produced panther created by a far advanced psychic beam projected externally from the wolf's powerful psyche.
The panther Konalu ripped the fat pathetic ugly looking woman to pieces.
That way Fenrir didn't have to touch the piece of garbage.
Fenrir then directed the panther to rip the baby apart which it did.
Fenrir then continued down the snow swept street.
He was confronted by the sight of five drunken university students stumbling out of the village pub where they had stopped to imbibe on their way back to their university town from an overnight excursion they had taken to London.
The five were stumbling their way back to a small Volkswagen.
The BBC's public service broadcasts in which American actress Lindsay Lohan urged the British people not to drink and drive had obviously been lost on the five sobriety challenged idiots.
But like an ancient and yet so modern champion of People Against Impaired Driving, the wolf Fenrir jumped upon the five drunken youths and tore them apart limb from limb ripping them apart with his huge lupine jowls.
He then ate the remaining pieces of the five youths- flesh, bones, eyeballs and all.
Fenrir then emitted what sounded like a cross between a loud belch and a huge growl.
Fenrir's blood alcohol level in his his huge lupine body had gone up considerably since gorging on the five drunken imbeciles.
He stumbled along the road outside the village.
A school bus that was driving a bunch of girls and their mothers from a nearby girls' choral competition and concert came along the road.
The school bus driver was still feeling bad over having run over and killed a small dog on the road that morning.
As soon as he saw the wolf Fenrir and mistaking the wolf for a large dog, the bus driver hit the brakes causing the bus to swerve and go off the road into an ice bound creek breaking the ice.
The screams of the young girls and their mothers disturbed the wolf Fenrir's highly sensitive hearing.
Fenrir despite his drunken stupor was still able to call upon and emit the panther Konalu from his psyche.
The panther Konalu dove into the icy water and ripped the screaming girls and their mothers to shreds.
The sound of flesh being ripped apart was music to Fenrir's ears.
To be continued.
Like a huge vortex of moving blinding white, it moved like a tornado in a prairie dust bowl save this was the snow white ground of Merrie England.
The snow stopped outside the old ancient village of stone houses.
The vortex of twirling snow stopped and stepping out of it like a figure emerging from a phone booth was the wolf Fenrir.
Fenrir- the monstrously hellish wolf of Norse mythology, the son of the evil demonic trickster god Loki, the father of the wolves Skoll and Hati, the biter off of the right hand of the Norse god Tyr and the prophesied slayer of the Norse god Odin during the cosmic end times battle of Ragnarok.
Such are the once and future accomplishments of the wolf Fenrir.
Fenrir entered the village and outside the stone post office of the village was confronted by the sight of a fat pathetically ugly woman.
And most shockingly of all the fat pathetic ugly woman had a baby in a stroller with her.
If the shapeshifting hamster Renfield R. Renfield had been around, he'd have most likely quipped, "Who the Hell would want to fuck that?".
Amadeus Emanon if he had been there might have said, "Maybe she has a great personality."
To which Renfield would have shrewdly replied, "Yes but one can't fuck a personality- at least not in a bodily sexual sense."
Fenrir called upon the panther Konalu- an astrally produced panther created by a far advanced psychic beam projected externally from the wolf's powerful psyche.
The panther Konalu ripped the fat pathetic ugly looking woman to pieces.
That way Fenrir didn't have to touch the piece of garbage.
Fenrir then directed the panther to rip the baby apart which it did.
Fenrir then continued down the snow swept street.
He was confronted by the sight of five drunken university students stumbling out of the village pub where they had stopped to imbibe on their way back to their university town from an overnight excursion they had taken to London.
The five were stumbling their way back to a small Volkswagen.
The BBC's public service broadcasts in which American actress Lindsay Lohan urged the British people not to drink and drive had obviously been lost on the five sobriety challenged idiots.
But like an ancient and yet so modern champion of People Against Impaired Driving, the wolf Fenrir jumped upon the five drunken youths and tore them apart limb from limb ripping them apart with his huge lupine jowls.
He then ate the remaining pieces of the five youths- flesh, bones, eyeballs and all.
Fenrir then emitted what sounded like a cross between a loud belch and a huge growl.
Fenrir's blood alcohol level in his his huge lupine body had gone up considerably since gorging on the five drunken imbeciles.
He stumbled along the road outside the village.
A school bus that was driving a bunch of girls and their mothers from a nearby girls' choral competition and concert came along the road.
The school bus driver was still feeling bad over having run over and killed a small dog on the road that morning.
As soon as he saw the wolf Fenrir and mistaking the wolf for a large dog, the bus driver hit the brakes causing the bus to swerve and go off the road into an ice bound creek breaking the ice.
The screams of the young girls and their mothers disturbed the wolf Fenrir's highly sensitive hearing.
Fenrir despite his drunken stupor was still able to call upon and emit the panther Konalu from his psyche.
The panther Konalu dove into the icy water and ripped the screaming girls and their mothers to shreds.
The sound of flesh being ripped apart was music to Fenrir's ears.
To be continued.
Wednesday, November 23, 2011
Vision of Apocalypse
Skeletons and graveyards are all that remain,
my heart stopped beating because of all the pain.
Why does the sun shine when it feels like pouring rain?
Just to lose with nothing left to gain.
Bitter trees produce bitter fruits
because the darkness rises through the roots
from deep underground in poisonous caverns dwell
all the wretched pitiless hounds of Hell
They are the true conquerer worms
who make that creature Humanity squirm.
And now the gentle smiling statue shall fall,
and all of us on our knees must crawl,
with the Devil's laugh and sneer,
who'll stay to shed a single tear?
No more will this Earth be green,
and blue skies shall remain a dream
buried under the light of endless night
and pure water shall fade from human sight,
only the taste of blood 'cause might makes right.
-Vision of Apocalypse
A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Wednesday evening November 23rd 2011.
my heart stopped beating because of all the pain.
Why does the sun shine when it feels like pouring rain?
Just to lose with nothing left to gain.
Bitter trees produce bitter fruits
because the darkness rises through the roots
from deep underground in poisonous caverns dwell
all the wretched pitiless hounds of Hell
They are the true conquerer worms
who make that creature Humanity squirm.
And now the gentle smiling statue shall fall,
and all of us on our knees must crawl,
with the Devil's laugh and sneer,
who'll stay to shed a single tear?
No more will this Earth be green,
and blue skies shall remain a dream
buried under the light of endless night
and pure water shall fade from human sight,
only the taste of blood 'cause might makes right.
-Vision of Apocalypse
A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Wednesday evening November 23rd 2011.
Tuesday, November 22, 2011
Reflections On A Tuesday Evening In Late November
One time the teddy bears went out to play
now the teddy bears have gone away
instead fierce pirates shout, "Here be dragons"
and all the settlers have been scalped in covered wagons.
The sea's waves now roar with rage
and wisdom is no longer sage
the sun is gone
love is dead
Cupid's arrow now bleeds red
This human heart has turned to stone
and Aphrodite returns to foam.
-A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Tuesday evening, November 22nd 2011.
now the teddy bears have gone away
instead fierce pirates shout, "Here be dragons"
and all the settlers have been scalped in covered wagons.
The sea's waves now roar with rage
and wisdom is no longer sage
the sun is gone
love is dead
Cupid's arrow now bleeds red
This human heart has turned to stone
and Aphrodite returns to foam.
-A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Tuesday evening, November 22nd 2011.
Sunday, November 20, 2011
Werewolf On The Road To Damascus Part 2
Magog Rhys Petley was meeting with Syrian President Bashar Assad in the Presidential Palace in Damascus.
"Mr. President," Rhys Petley pulled a letter from out of his pocket, "I'm here to give you a highly confidential message from the British government..."
"First, I must tell you there are no human rights violations or mass killings going on in Syria," Bashar Assad wagged his finger at Magog Rhys Petley.
Outside could be heard the sounds of machine gun fire and the voices of men, women and children screaming in unison, "I've been shot... I've just been shot..."
Suddenly the Syro-Phoenician vampiress Astarte appeared from behind the curtains wearing only a see-through black silk lingerie nightie and did a quiet dance for Magog Rhys Petley's viewing pleasure.
Magog Rhys Petley felt a huge erection coming on.
Not to mention the fact that whenever he was sexually aroused, he turned into a werewolf.
Within seconds, Rhys Petley had grown fur and was crawling around on all fours and snarling and growling.
"A werewolf," President Assad screamed, "the British government has sent a werewolf to kill me."
Quickly Assad's Presidential bodyguard formed a circle around him to protect him from said werewolf.
* * *
BBC News Announcer: This just in. The Arab news service al-Jazeera is reporting that the Syrian government is making the bizarre claim that British Intelligence sent a werewolf to kill Syrian President Bashar Assad.
To be continued.
"Mr. President," Rhys Petley pulled a letter from out of his pocket, "I'm here to give you a highly confidential message from the British government..."
"First, I must tell you there are no human rights violations or mass killings going on in Syria," Bashar Assad wagged his finger at Magog Rhys Petley.
Outside could be heard the sounds of machine gun fire and the voices of men, women and children screaming in unison, "I've been shot... I've just been shot..."
Suddenly the Syro-Phoenician vampiress Astarte appeared from behind the curtains wearing only a see-through black silk lingerie nightie and did a quiet dance for Magog Rhys Petley's viewing pleasure.
Magog Rhys Petley felt a huge erection coming on.
Not to mention the fact that whenever he was sexually aroused, he turned into a werewolf.
Within seconds, Rhys Petley had grown fur and was crawling around on all fours and snarling and growling.
"A werewolf," President Assad screamed, "the British government has sent a werewolf to kill me."
Quickly Assad's Presidential bodyguard formed a circle around him to protect him from said werewolf.
* * *
BBC News Announcer: This just in. The Arab news service al-Jazeera is reporting that the Syrian government is making the bizarre claim that British Intelligence sent a werewolf to kill Syrian President Bashar Assad.
To be continued.
Thursday, November 17, 2011
Abducting A Vampiress In Broad Moonlight On The Streets of Budapest
The Hungarian actress Katalin Vlad was also a vampiress.
Her night time performances in the Nagy Theatre were the talk of Budapest.
Although people did wonder why they never saw her in the day time.
But Katalin Vlad was not performing this evening.
Instead she was sitting in a small bistro eating a bowl of goulash soup.
She got up, paid her bill and left the cafe.
As she walked down the street in her tight fitting navy blue dress, the sound of her spiked navy blue stilettos could be heard clicking along the cobblestone sidewalks of the old Budapest neighbourhood she was in.
She stopped suddenly.
She heard clicking coming from another pair of spiked stilettos behind her.
She turned.
She recognized the face right away.
It was the face of Kabrie Allende Chile's famous rising young vampire huntress whose photo recently adorned the cover of Stake Your Life On It the official magazine of the International Federation of Vampire Hunters.
Kabrie Allende was just 21 and she was also a great niece of the late former President of Chile Salvador Allende (1908-1973).
Unknown to her fellow vampire hunters and huntresses however, she was also a secret agent for the Russian FSB.
She joined the FSB in an effort to help defeat the forces of U.S. imperialism around the globe (the same force that led to the overthrow and death of her great uncle back on September 11th 1973).
As she walked down the street in her white blouse, her tight black skirt and her midnight black spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes, it was in her capacity as an agent for the Russian FSB that she now approached Katalin Vlad.
Which was a good thing for Miss Vlad.
Otherwise the breathtakingly beautiful dark-haired and dark-eyed Hungarian actress vampiress would be dead.
Instead Miss Allende pushed Miss Vlad into a van on the side of the street.
Miss Allende entered the van herself, shut the door and the vehicle drove away.
Meanwhile in Moscow, Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin received word that the target had been taken and Operation Cossack could now begin.
In his hotel room in the midst of attending yet another summit conference, U.S. President Barack Obama tossed into the garbage can what he thought was a copy of Republican Presidential candidate Newt Gingrich's latest speech.
But that was not the case.
Rather the document was a CIA briefing paper on a recently uncovered Russian intelligence operation that went by the name of Operation Cossack.
To be continued.
Her night time performances in the Nagy Theatre were the talk of Budapest.
Although people did wonder why they never saw her in the day time.
But Katalin Vlad was not performing this evening.
Instead she was sitting in a small bistro eating a bowl of goulash soup.
She got up, paid her bill and left the cafe.
As she walked down the street in her tight fitting navy blue dress, the sound of her spiked navy blue stilettos could be heard clicking along the cobblestone sidewalks of the old Budapest neighbourhood she was in.
She stopped suddenly.
She heard clicking coming from another pair of spiked stilettos behind her.
She turned.
She recognized the face right away.
It was the face of Kabrie Allende Chile's famous rising young vampire huntress whose photo recently adorned the cover of Stake Your Life On It the official magazine of the International Federation of Vampire Hunters.
Kabrie Allende was just 21 and she was also a great niece of the late former President of Chile Salvador Allende (1908-1973).
Unknown to her fellow vampire hunters and huntresses however, she was also a secret agent for the Russian FSB.
She joined the FSB in an effort to help defeat the forces of U.S. imperialism around the globe (the same force that led to the overthrow and death of her great uncle back on September 11th 1973).
As she walked down the street in her white blouse, her tight black skirt and her midnight black spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes, it was in her capacity as an agent for the Russian FSB that she now approached Katalin Vlad.
Which was a good thing for Miss Vlad.
Otherwise the breathtakingly beautiful dark-haired and dark-eyed Hungarian actress vampiress would be dead.
Instead Miss Allende pushed Miss Vlad into a van on the side of the street.
Miss Allende entered the van herself, shut the door and the vehicle drove away.
Meanwhile in Moscow, Russian Prime Minister Vladimir Putin received word that the target had been taken and Operation Cossack could now begin.
In his hotel room in the midst of attending yet another summit conference, U.S. President Barack Obama tossed into the garbage can what he thought was a copy of Republican Presidential candidate Newt Gingrich's latest speech.
But that was not the case.
Rather the document was a CIA briefing paper on a recently uncovered Russian intelligence operation that went by the name of Operation Cossack.
To be continued.
Wednesday, November 16, 2011
Lunar Vampire In Iran and Werewolf On The Road To Damascus
Interpol's paranormal investigator Peter Whitstable was having a glass of wine with vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing in a Paris cafe.
"So Dracul, did you hear about Renfield R. Renfield stealing a classified document from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia?" Whitstable asked.
"I did," Van Helsing nodded.
"And are you aware of the contents of that document?" Whitstable inquired.
"It relates how the Apollo 11 astronauts found a vampire in suspended animation in a coffin on the moon and were ordered by NASA to bring the coffin and vampire back to Earth," Van Helsing answered.
"Do you know what ever became of that vampire?" Whitstable wanted to know, "no one seems to know."
"Well it was aroused from its state of suspended animation and escaped and fled to Iran," Van Helsing replied.
"Iran?" Whitstable's ears perked up, "what happened to it there?".
"It or he if you prefer now serves as an advisor to Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad," Van Helsing stated.
"To Ahmadinejad?" Whistable's jaw dropped.
"Yes, Ahmadinejad believes this vampire is the Imam Mahdi," Van Helsing sipped his wine and gazed through the cafe window at the Eiffel Tower.
"The Twelfth Imam of Shia prophecy?" Whitstable blinked.
"That's right," Van Helsing noticed the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec standing in a red dress on the Eiffel Tower.
"And what does this vampire posing as the Imam Mahdi want?" Whitstable downed the rest of his wine in a single gulp.
"Nuclear war against Israel and the U.S.," Van Helsing answered.
"Good Lord," Whitstable whispered.
* * *
Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was attending an art show at an exclusive art gallery in London.
Rhys Petley often attended these functions- as an MP he was of course immediately let in- but he did not attend because he was an art connoisseur.
Rather he attended because of the free wine and cheese served at these functions.
Magog Rhys Petley loved wine and cheese.
But he didn't like paying for them.
As Rhys Petley entered the gallery's exclusive entrance he passed a lone Occupy London protestor holding up a sign outside the gallery saying "We are the 1%."
Inside the gallery, Rhys Petley felt an arm on his shoulder.
He turned and was surprised to see that it was Charles Prince of Wales holding a glass of wine and a slice of cheese.
What was Prince Charles doing greeting him?
He Magog Rhys Petley was a staunch republican and rabid anti-monarchist.
"Magog," the Prince smiled.
"Er... your Highness," Rhys Petley blurted, "congratulations on your 63rd birthday."
Prince Charles had just turned 63 this past Monday November 14th.
"Don't remind me of my age," the Prince shook his head, "if I was a common man, I could look forward to retirement in another couple of years."
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown-in-waiting," Rhys Petley nodded sympathetically.
"I've kept abreast of your activities this year, you know," Charles helped himself to a smoked oyster on a cracker, "your meeting with Silvio Berlusconi on a British trade mission to Italy, your going to Cairo to ask then Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak to immediately step down before any protestors were killed and your going to Libya to ask Col. Muammar Gaddafi to step down and leave Libya to prevent civil war."
"All those missions were failures," noted Magog Rhys Petley who failed to grab an oyster on a cracker before the French maid looking waitress carrying the tray walked away.
"But to succeed at failure," Prince Charles smiled, "surely that's a success of sorts?".
"I suppose if you put it that way it is," Rhys Petley agreed.
"Anyways I was wondering if you'd undertake a mission for me on behalf of the British government," Charles reached for a strawberry underneath the small statue of Diana of the Ephesians, "a mission where I hope you'll succeed. I want you to go to Damascus and ask Syrian President Bashar Assad to step down before any more of his countrymen are killed. Tell him to go into exile in Iran."
"Um...." Magog Rhys Petley didn't know what to say so he finally said, "Okay."
He looked at the prince and then noticed the curious juxtaposition of the statue of Diana of the Ephesians against the background of an oil painting of a Paris tunnel.
He noticed Diana's statue seemed to be urinating champagne on the prince just as Camilla came over to greet the duo.
To be continued.
"So Dracul, did you hear about Renfield R. Renfield stealing a classified document from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia?" Whitstable asked.
"I did," Van Helsing nodded.
"And are you aware of the contents of that document?" Whitstable inquired.
"It relates how the Apollo 11 astronauts found a vampire in suspended animation in a coffin on the moon and were ordered by NASA to bring the coffin and vampire back to Earth," Van Helsing answered.
"Do you know what ever became of that vampire?" Whitstable wanted to know, "no one seems to know."
"Well it was aroused from its state of suspended animation and escaped and fled to Iran," Van Helsing replied.
"Iran?" Whitstable's ears perked up, "what happened to it there?".
"It or he if you prefer now serves as an advisor to Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad," Van Helsing stated.
"To Ahmadinejad?" Whistable's jaw dropped.
"Yes, Ahmadinejad believes this vampire is the Imam Mahdi," Van Helsing sipped his wine and gazed through the cafe window at the Eiffel Tower.
"The Twelfth Imam of Shia prophecy?" Whitstable blinked.
"That's right," Van Helsing noticed the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec standing in a red dress on the Eiffel Tower.
"And what does this vampire posing as the Imam Mahdi want?" Whitstable downed the rest of his wine in a single gulp.
"Nuclear war against Israel and the U.S.," Van Helsing answered.
"Good Lord," Whitstable whispered.
* * *
Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was attending an art show at an exclusive art gallery in London.
Rhys Petley often attended these functions- as an MP he was of course immediately let in- but he did not attend because he was an art connoisseur.
Rather he attended because of the free wine and cheese served at these functions.
Magog Rhys Petley loved wine and cheese.
But he didn't like paying for them.
As Rhys Petley entered the gallery's exclusive entrance he passed a lone Occupy London protestor holding up a sign outside the gallery saying "We are the 1%."
Inside the gallery, Rhys Petley felt an arm on his shoulder.
He turned and was surprised to see that it was Charles Prince of Wales holding a glass of wine and a slice of cheese.
What was Prince Charles doing greeting him?
He Magog Rhys Petley was a staunch republican and rabid anti-monarchist.
"Magog," the Prince smiled.
"Er... your Highness," Rhys Petley blurted, "congratulations on your 63rd birthday."
Prince Charles had just turned 63 this past Monday November 14th.
"Don't remind me of my age," the Prince shook his head, "if I was a common man, I could look forward to retirement in another couple of years."
"Heavy is the head that wears the crown-in-waiting," Rhys Petley nodded sympathetically.
"I've kept abreast of your activities this year, you know," Charles helped himself to a smoked oyster on a cracker, "your meeting with Silvio Berlusconi on a British trade mission to Italy, your going to Cairo to ask then Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak to immediately step down before any protestors were killed and your going to Libya to ask Col. Muammar Gaddafi to step down and leave Libya to prevent civil war."
"All those missions were failures," noted Magog Rhys Petley who failed to grab an oyster on a cracker before the French maid looking waitress carrying the tray walked away.
"But to succeed at failure," Prince Charles smiled, "surely that's a success of sorts?".
"I suppose if you put it that way it is," Rhys Petley agreed.
"Anyways I was wondering if you'd undertake a mission for me on behalf of the British government," Charles reached for a strawberry underneath the small statue of Diana of the Ephesians, "a mission where I hope you'll succeed. I want you to go to Damascus and ask Syrian President Bashar Assad to step down before any more of his countrymen are killed. Tell him to go into exile in Iran."
"Um...." Magog Rhys Petley didn't know what to say so he finally said, "Okay."
He looked at the prince and then noticed the curious juxtaposition of the statue of Diana of the Ephesians against the background of an oil painting of a Paris tunnel.
He noticed Diana's statue seemed to be urinating champagne on the prince just as Camilla came over to greet the duo.
To be continued.
Sunday, November 13, 2011
Magog Rhys Petley Receives Another Phone Call Plus A Ghostly Visitor
It was a Sunday night as Magog Rhys Petley laid down his head to sleep.
He was thinking about the phone call he had got from former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi last night.
Just then the phone rang.
Magog Rhys Petley picked up the receiver.
It was former Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak phoning from a military prison in Egypt.
"Hello Magog," the former Egyptian President's voice sounded raspy, "I just got permission to phone you. Listen when we met earlier this year and you advised me to immediately step down and go into exile to Saudi Arabia, I should have followed your advice."
They spoke for a few minutes.
Magog then put down the receiver and drifted off to sleep.
He was awakened by the smell of sulphur.
Standing there were two fiery looking demons and between the two of them was the ghost of Libyan leader Col. Muammar Gaddafi sporting a new look- a very crispy blackened and very reddish complexion.
The ghost of Gaddafi was bound in ghostly chains.
Gaddafi spoke,
"I am the ghost of Col. Muammar Gaddafi
doomed for all eternity to walk the night
and to fast in fires...
Magog, I should have taken your advice when we met earlier this year and should have immediately stepped down as the beloved leader of Libya and gone into exile to Hugo Chavez's Venezuela like you suggested."
"Time's up," the demon pulled out a Rolex watch given to him by his client Bernie Madoff, "time to go back to Hell."
The two demons and Gaddafi's chained and bound ghost vanished in a puff of smoke.
Magog Rhys Petley looked up at the ceiling and whispered to himself, "But I'm an atheistic Marxist. I don't believe in Hell."
To be continued.
He was thinking about the phone call he had got from former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi last night.
Just then the phone rang.
Magog Rhys Petley picked up the receiver.
It was former Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak phoning from a military prison in Egypt.
"Hello Magog," the former Egyptian President's voice sounded raspy, "I just got permission to phone you. Listen when we met earlier this year and you advised me to immediately step down and go into exile to Saudi Arabia, I should have followed your advice."
They spoke for a few minutes.
Magog then put down the receiver and drifted off to sleep.
He was awakened by the smell of sulphur.
Standing there were two fiery looking demons and between the two of them was the ghost of Libyan leader Col. Muammar Gaddafi sporting a new look- a very crispy blackened and very reddish complexion.
The ghost of Gaddafi was bound in ghostly chains.
Gaddafi spoke,
"I am the ghost of Col. Muammar Gaddafi
doomed for all eternity to walk the night
and to fast in fires...
Magog, I should have taken your advice when we met earlier this year and should have immediately stepped down as the beloved leader of Libya and gone into exile to Hugo Chavez's Venezuela like you suggested."
"Time's up," the demon pulled out a Rolex watch given to him by his client Bernie Madoff, "time to go back to Hell."
The two demons and Gaddafi's chained and bound ghost vanished in a puff of smoke.
Magog Rhys Petley looked up at the ceiling and whispered to himself, "But I'm an atheistic Marxist. I don't believe in Hell."
To be continued.
Saturday, November 12, 2011
Magog Rhys Petley, Silvio Berlusconi and Fenrir
Welsh Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was asleep in his room in London.
The phone rang.
He picked up the receiver.
It was former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi who had just resigned as Prime Minister of Italy hours earlier.
"Hello old friend," Berlusconi said, "just wanted you to know that I've resigned."
"Old friend?" Magog Rhys Petley was confused, "but we only met once. And you're a monopolistic capitalist businessman while I'm a former union leader not to mention an openly Marxist far-Left member of the British Labour Party."
"Yes but seeing as how we had such a fun time at that bunga-bunga party of mine which you attended earlier this year," Berlusconi laughed, "I now consider you an old friend despite our radical political differences."
Magog Rhys Petley's cheeks turned red when he thought of what he had done at that "bunga-bunga" party of Berlusconi's.
They talked for a while and then Berlusconi wished Rhys Petley a good night.
As Rhys Petley put the phone down, he thought he noticed a wolf's shadow appearing on the moonlit corner of his darkened bedroom.
Rhys Petley ran over to the mirror fearing that he was once again turning into a werewolf.
But he wasn't.
Rhys Petley breathed a sigh of relief.
* * *
Outside on the streets of London, that ancient Norse wolf Fenrir walked the streets and avenues casting a huge gigantic shadow as he walked.
For the drumbeats of Ragnarok were sounding.
To be continued.
The phone rang.
He picked up the receiver.
It was former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi who had just resigned as Prime Minister of Italy hours earlier.
"Hello old friend," Berlusconi said, "just wanted you to know that I've resigned."
"Old friend?" Magog Rhys Petley was confused, "but we only met once. And you're a monopolistic capitalist businessman while I'm a former union leader not to mention an openly Marxist far-Left member of the British Labour Party."
"Yes but seeing as how we had such a fun time at that bunga-bunga party of mine which you attended earlier this year," Berlusconi laughed, "I now consider you an old friend despite our radical political differences."
Magog Rhys Petley's cheeks turned red when he thought of what he had done at that "bunga-bunga" party of Berlusconi's.
They talked for a while and then Berlusconi wished Rhys Petley a good night.
As Rhys Petley put the phone down, he thought he noticed a wolf's shadow appearing on the moonlit corner of his darkened bedroom.
Rhys Petley ran over to the mirror fearing that he was once again turning into a werewolf.
But he wasn't.
Rhys Petley breathed a sigh of relief.
* * *
Outside on the streets of London, that ancient Norse wolf Fenrir walked the streets and avenues casting a huge gigantic shadow as he walked.
For the drumbeats of Ragnarok were sounding.
To be continued.
Friday, November 11, 2011
The 11-11-11 Massacre At The Nocturnal Club
It was 11:11 PM at the Nocturnal Club- a nightclub for vampires and vampiresses.
The cloak check girl at the desk looked at the gentleman with moustache and glasses.
She didn't really recognize him.
He must be new to the vampiric lifestyle she figured.
He didn't really have a reference for entering the club.
But she admired the man's gold cufflinks.
And today's date was 11-11-11: a day that only happened once a century.
So why not let him in to the Club's 11-11-11 party?
The man entered the club and looked around at all the vampires and vampiresses dancing.
Suddenly the man ripped off his moustache and threw the glasses to the floor.
From underneath his jacket he pulled out a semi-automatic Crossbow loaded with Holy Water blessed silver arrows.
"Dracul Van Helsing!" the vampires and vampiresses shouted to their horror.
Van Helsing began firing in all directions.
Vampire hit the floor.
Vampiress hit the floor.
All vanished into dust.
When it was all over, the club was empty save for the figure of the Vampire Hunter.
Van Helsing looked around at the dust and commented, "Looks like this place could use a good sweeping and vacuuming."
He grabbed his crossbow and walked out into the night.
And the date 11-11-11 would become for vampires and vampiresses what 9/11 was for the American people and what February 14th 1929 was for prohibition era gangsters.
To be continued.
The cloak check girl at the desk looked at the gentleman with moustache and glasses.
She didn't really recognize him.
He must be new to the vampiric lifestyle she figured.
He didn't really have a reference for entering the club.
But she admired the man's gold cufflinks.
And today's date was 11-11-11: a day that only happened once a century.
So why not let him in to the Club's 11-11-11 party?
The man entered the club and looked around at all the vampires and vampiresses dancing.
Suddenly the man ripped off his moustache and threw the glasses to the floor.
From underneath his jacket he pulled out a semi-automatic Crossbow loaded with Holy Water blessed silver arrows.
"Dracul Van Helsing!" the vampires and vampiresses shouted to their horror.
Van Helsing began firing in all directions.
Vampire hit the floor.
Vampiress hit the floor.
All vanished into dust.
When it was all over, the club was empty save for the figure of the Vampire Hunter.
Van Helsing looked around at the dust and commented, "Looks like this place could use a good sweeping and vacuuming."
He grabbed his crossbow and walked out into the night.
And the date 11-11-11 would become for vampires and vampiresses what 9/11 was for the American people and what February 14th 1929 was for prohibition era gangsters.
To be continued.
Friday, November 4, 2011
Sauerkraut 1, Greek Olives 0
Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was back in London after spending a week in an Italian jail for running naked through Pope Benedict XVI's Inter-Faith Prayer For Peace Conference back on the 27th of last Month.
The Italian judge refused to buy Rhys Petley's claim that he had been temporarily possessed by the demon Moloch at the time.
The judge asked Rhys Petley, "How can you an atheistic Marxist believe in demons?".
Magog Rhys Petley had no answer for him.
While taking a taxi through London, he noticed Renfield R. Renfield being released from jail.
Renfield had spent a night in the drunk tank for having sung a Katy Perry song outside Buckingham Palace.
"This world is getting curiouser and curiouser," he remarked to himself in the back of the taxi.
* * *
Inspector Depp of Scotland Yard said to himself, "This world is getting curiouser and curiouser."
He had just received an email from the eccentric Interpol agent Peter Whitstable called by some "the Fox Mulder of Interpol" saying that the reason that Greek Prime Minister George Papandreou had scrapped his plans for a referendum on the proposed EU bail-out of Greece and the resulting austerity measures for the country was because the ancient Germanic vampire Wotan had just beaten the Greek vampire Zeus in a game of chess.
Zeus had protested that he lost the match because he was distracted by the short skirted Russian girl who was going around holding placards that announced each round of the chess match.
Such protests fell on Wotan's deaf ears along with the contents of Zeus' glass of Greek Ouzo which fell on Wotan's blind eye.
To be continued.
The Italian judge refused to buy Rhys Petley's claim that he had been temporarily possessed by the demon Moloch at the time.
The judge asked Rhys Petley, "How can you an atheistic Marxist believe in demons?".
Magog Rhys Petley had no answer for him.
While taking a taxi through London, he noticed Renfield R. Renfield being released from jail.
Renfield had spent a night in the drunk tank for having sung a Katy Perry song outside Buckingham Palace.
"This world is getting curiouser and curiouser," he remarked to himself in the back of the taxi.
* * *
Inspector Depp of Scotland Yard said to himself, "This world is getting curiouser and curiouser."
He had just received an email from the eccentric Interpol agent Peter Whitstable called by some "the Fox Mulder of Interpol" saying that the reason that Greek Prime Minister George Papandreou had scrapped his plans for a referendum on the proposed EU bail-out of Greece and the resulting austerity measures for the country was because the ancient Germanic vampire Wotan had just beaten the Greek vampire Zeus in a game of chess.
Zeus had protested that he lost the match because he was distracted by the short skirted Russian girl who was going around holding placards that announced each round of the chess match.
Such protests fell on Wotan's deaf ears along with the contents of Zeus' glass of Greek Ouzo which fell on Wotan's blind eye.
To be continued.
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Renfield Gets Into The Tuak
"What are you drinking there, Amadeus?" Renfield asked when he noticed Amadeus sipping from a bottle.
There were several other bottles of similar shape and size all unopened.
"It's called Tuak and it's considered a drink of hospitality among the Iban in the Malaysian province of Sarawak," Amadeus replied.
"I thought the boss told you to quit sampling things Malaysian," Renfield frowned.
"Don't worry," Amadeus smiled, "Tuak isn't as expensive as Empurau fish."
"Hm, maybe I should try a swig," Renfield opened a bottle of Tuak and started downing the liquid in a single gulp.
"Careful," Amadeus cautioned, "that Tuak has a high concentration of alcohol. You might start doing silly things."
"Nonsense," Renfield waved him off, "I can handle it."
* * *
Several hours later on the BBC Evening News on TV, the announcer announces,
"And in other news, Mr. Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence for Set Enterprises Ltd. was arrested outside Buckingham Palace earlier tonight where he was caught loudly singing a Katy Perry song much to the displeasure of Her Majesty's ear drums... here's the video..."
Renfield (being led away in police handcuffs and loudly singing):
I kissed a girl and I liked it
The taste of her cherry chapstick
I kissed a girl just to try it
I hope my boyfriend don't mind it
It felt so wrong
It felt so right...
Athelstan the valet to the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set remarked to Amadeus, "I'm afraid Master Renfield will never be able to live this down..."
To be continued.
There were several other bottles of similar shape and size all unopened.
"It's called Tuak and it's considered a drink of hospitality among the Iban in the Malaysian province of Sarawak," Amadeus replied.
"I thought the boss told you to quit sampling things Malaysian," Renfield frowned.
"Don't worry," Amadeus smiled, "Tuak isn't as expensive as Empurau fish."
"Hm, maybe I should try a swig," Renfield opened a bottle of Tuak and started downing the liquid in a single gulp.
"Careful," Amadeus cautioned, "that Tuak has a high concentration of alcohol. You might start doing silly things."
"Nonsense," Renfield waved him off, "I can handle it."
* * *
Several hours later on the BBC Evening News on TV, the announcer announces,
"And in other news, Mr. Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence for Set Enterprises Ltd. was arrested outside Buckingham Palace earlier tonight where he was caught loudly singing a Katy Perry song much to the displeasure of Her Majesty's ear drums... here's the video..."
Renfield (being led away in police handcuffs and loudly singing):
I kissed a girl and I liked it
The taste of her cherry chapstick
I kissed a girl just to try it
I hope my boyfriend don't mind it
It felt so wrong
It felt so right...
Athelstan the valet to the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set remarked to Amadeus, "I'm afraid Master Renfield will never be able to live this down..."
To be continued.
Wednesday, November 2, 2011
Qonzilqointec and Dia de los Muertos
It was Dia de los Muertos (Day of the Dead) festival celebrations in Mexico on this November 2nd (also known as All Souls Day on the Church calendar).
And the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec had spent the day celebrating.
And now tonight she was still celebrating.
As she wore a beautiful long white dress and stood atop an ancient Aztec sacrificial pyramid.
In her hand, she held a sharp dark obsidian knife.
She held it over a 7-year-old girl named Catrina who also was dressed in a long white dress and tied to the sacrificial altar atop the pyramid.
Catrina was the daughter of a wealthy executive of one of North America's biggest telephone companies.
The wealthy executive had agreed to allow Qonzilqointec to sacrifice his child in exchange for 20 years of massive hyper-profits for his company in the coming New World Order which was to be instituted in the year 2012 according to Qonzilqointec.
Qonzilqointec sang a hymn to her spiritual godfather the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl and then brought the knife down on the child.
She cut open the girl and then ripped the child's still beating human heart from her body.
Qonzilqointec baptised the crowd below the pyramid with the blood from the girl's heart.
Most of the blood fell on the head of the executive of the powerful North American telephone company.
The man smiled and supernatural dollar signs suddenly appeared in the pupils of the man's eyes,
"To the coming Singularity," Qonzilqointec shouted as she proudly held the still beating heart in her hands.
"To the coming Singularity," the crowd intoned in a mantra like chant of conformist uniformity.
To be continued.
And the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec had spent the day celebrating.
And now tonight she was still celebrating.
As she wore a beautiful long white dress and stood atop an ancient Aztec sacrificial pyramid.
In her hand, she held a sharp dark obsidian knife.
She held it over a 7-year-old girl named Catrina who also was dressed in a long white dress and tied to the sacrificial altar atop the pyramid.
Catrina was the daughter of a wealthy executive of one of North America's biggest telephone companies.
The wealthy executive had agreed to allow Qonzilqointec to sacrifice his child in exchange for 20 years of massive hyper-profits for his company in the coming New World Order which was to be instituted in the year 2012 according to Qonzilqointec.
Qonzilqointec sang a hymn to her spiritual godfather the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl and then brought the knife down on the child.
She cut open the girl and then ripped the child's still beating human heart from her body.
Qonzilqointec baptised the crowd below the pyramid with the blood from the girl's heart.
Most of the blood fell on the head of the executive of the powerful North American telephone company.
The man smiled and supernatural dollar signs suddenly appeared in the pupils of the man's eyes,
"To the coming Singularity," Qonzilqointec shouted as she proudly held the still beating heart in her hands.
"To the coming Singularity," the crowd intoned in a mantra like chant of conformist uniformity.
To be continued.
Tuesday, November 1, 2011
Of Warlocks and Zeus
Peter Whitstable the man known as the Fox Mulder of Interpol was sitting in the bar at the Davenport Hotel in Spokane, Washington having a Bloody Mary.
It was then that he noticed Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.
"Dracul," Whitstable called him over.
"Peter," Van Helsing nodded.
"Say did you hear the rumour around here that some satanic warlock fell down the elevator shaft in this hotel last night and was killed?" Peter sipped his Bloody Mary.
"I heard that," Dracul nodded, "there seems to be a rash of satanic warlocks falling down hotel elevator shafts in America's Pacific states this past week."
"Yes, it's curious isn't it?" Whitstable adjusted his tie.
Van Helsing dropped a hotel key into an envelope and sealed it.
"So what are you doing here?" Whitstable asked.
"Oh, just staying here a couple of days and then heading to the Wedgewood Hotel in Vancouver," Van Helsing answered.
"Say, I hear that the ancient Greek vampire Zeus has been seen in several vicinities across the world recently," Whitstable remarked.
"Including a TV car commercial for the new Scion High Voltage tC," Dracul noted.
"What's his game plan?" Whitstable asked.
"Same game plan as the Egyptian vampiress Isis and the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl," Dracul stated, "hoping to gain the worship of mortal men again and in the case of the sex maniac Zeus particularly the worship of mortal women."
To be continued.
It was then that he noticed Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.
"Dracul," Whitstable called him over.
"Peter," Van Helsing nodded.
"Say did you hear the rumour around here that some satanic warlock fell down the elevator shaft in this hotel last night and was killed?" Peter sipped his Bloody Mary.
"I heard that," Dracul nodded, "there seems to be a rash of satanic warlocks falling down hotel elevator shafts in America's Pacific states this past week."
"Yes, it's curious isn't it?" Whitstable adjusted his tie.
Van Helsing dropped a hotel key into an envelope and sealed it.
"So what are you doing here?" Whitstable asked.
"Oh, just staying here a couple of days and then heading to the Wedgewood Hotel in Vancouver," Van Helsing answered.
"Say, I hear that the ancient Greek vampire Zeus has been seen in several vicinities across the world recently," Whitstable remarked.
"Including a TV car commercial for the new Scion High Voltage tC," Dracul noted.
"What's his game plan?" Whitstable asked.
"Same game plan as the Egyptian vampiress Isis and the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl," Dracul stated, "hoping to gain the worship of mortal men again and in the case of the sex maniac Zeus particularly the worship of mortal women."
To be continued.
Monday, October 31, 2011
How The Headless Motorcyclist Spent Halloween
Halloween in London town
Headless Motorcyclist rides around
looking for his head
and a comfortable bed
He'd been riding for many a day
cross-town, uptown, every which way
he even ran into a stack of hay
and so as night descends along the Thames
he ran into some prostitute femmes
and one of them gave him head
while another filled his ass with lead.
-An erotic and kinky Halloween poem
written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
this Halloween night, October 31st 2011.
Headless Motorcyclist rides around
looking for his head
and a comfortable bed
He'd been riding for many a day
cross-town, uptown, every which way
he even ran into a stack of hay
and so as night descends along the Thames
he ran into some prostitute femmes
and one of them gave him head
while another filled his ass with lead.
-An erotic and kinky Halloween poem
written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
this Halloween night, October 31st 2011.
Sunday, October 30, 2011
The Room: Hotel California
He was a part of the criminal underworld- its darkest darkest part.
The Raven was the name he went by.
Only a few close friends knew his real name.
And he had so few close friends.
By far his most devilish work was done in cyberspace- on social networking sites.
The Raven did not make money at this.
Not like the drugs he sold.
But it's what gave him the most joy.
The most delight.
Evil for the pure simple joy of evil.
It was not often that the Raven's curiosity was aroused.
But it was aroused this time.
When he received a key to Room 722 of the Hotel California in Palm Springs, California.
In an envelope.
In the mail.
An envelope addressed to him at his most secret location.
With no return address on it.
The key was an old fashioned metal hotel key.
Not like the computerized key cards that most hotels gave out these days.
So the Raven drove down to Palm Springs.
To the Hotel California.
He discovered in the lobby that the elevator wasn't working.
So the Raven walked up 7 flights of stairs to the 7th floor- the floor on which was room 722.
He stood outside Room 722 and was a little hesitant to open the door.
"What's stopping you, Raven?" a tall blonde man outside Room 721 asked.
The Raven looked at the questioner.
"Aren't you Dracul Van Helsing the famous Canadian vampire hunter?" the Raven asked.
"I am," the man replied.
"What are you doing here? How do you know my name?" the Raven wanted to know.
"I track vampires," Van Helsing answered.
"Well," the Raven laughed, "I'm no vampire."
"There's more than one kind of vampire," Dracul Van Helsing lit a cigarette despite the California state's strict no smoking laws and blew smoke in the Raven's direction.
"I don't know what you mean," the Raven smirked.
"I'm talking about people who pose under different aliases and different personas at various blogging and social networking sites," Van Helsing approached the Raven, "people who befriend lonely, sad and depressed people- people who are suicidally inclined and then by befriending such people try to encourage those people to commit suicide. And in many cases, some do. Those people who pose as friends and then try to push others into suicide are a modern 21st Century cyberspace form of vampires."
"Well," the Raven laughed, "you can't prove any of that."
"But I know you did it," Van Helsing approached.
"What are you going to do? Kill me? I'm not a vampire of the Dracula kind," the Raven continued to smirk, "I'm a mortal flesh and blood human."
"No, I'm not going to kill you," Van Helsing replied, "you're going to kill yourself. You may have noticed the elevator door is open on this floor and yet the elevator is trapped on the 8th floor above. You're going to jump down the elevator shaft and kill yourself. That way you will no longer be able to go after lost lonely souls and get them to end their lives."
"And how are you going to get me to kill myself?" the Raven laughed.
"Why don't you take that key and open the door to Room 722?" Dracul instructed.
The Raven did so.
What he saw in the room literally turned his hair white.
The Raven turned around and faced Van Helsing.
He seemed to choke on his own words, "You... you... you... you're more than just a vampire hunter aren't you?".
"Yes," Van Helsing calmly lit another cigarette and again blew smoke in the Raven's direction, "I am."
The Raven dropped the key to Room 722 on the floor, ran down the hall and jumped down the elevator shaft.
His shrill penetrating scream as he fell downwards was the last sound he ever made on this Earth.
Van Helsing calmly opened the door to the stairwell and walked down the stairs.
To be continued.
The Raven was the name he went by.
Only a few close friends knew his real name.
And he had so few close friends.
By far his most devilish work was done in cyberspace- on social networking sites.
The Raven did not make money at this.
Not like the drugs he sold.
But it's what gave him the most joy.
The most delight.
Evil for the pure simple joy of evil.
It was not often that the Raven's curiosity was aroused.
But it was aroused this time.
When he received a key to Room 722 of the Hotel California in Palm Springs, California.
In an envelope.
In the mail.
An envelope addressed to him at his most secret location.
With no return address on it.
The key was an old fashioned metal hotel key.
Not like the computerized key cards that most hotels gave out these days.
So the Raven drove down to Palm Springs.
To the Hotel California.
He discovered in the lobby that the elevator wasn't working.
So the Raven walked up 7 flights of stairs to the 7th floor- the floor on which was room 722.
He stood outside Room 722 and was a little hesitant to open the door.
"What's stopping you, Raven?" a tall blonde man outside Room 721 asked.
The Raven looked at the questioner.
"Aren't you Dracul Van Helsing the famous Canadian vampire hunter?" the Raven asked.
"I am," the man replied.
"What are you doing here? How do you know my name?" the Raven wanted to know.
"I track vampires," Van Helsing answered.
"Well," the Raven laughed, "I'm no vampire."
"There's more than one kind of vampire," Dracul Van Helsing lit a cigarette despite the California state's strict no smoking laws and blew smoke in the Raven's direction.
"I don't know what you mean," the Raven smirked.
"I'm talking about people who pose under different aliases and different personas at various blogging and social networking sites," Van Helsing approached the Raven, "people who befriend lonely, sad and depressed people- people who are suicidally inclined and then by befriending such people try to encourage those people to commit suicide. And in many cases, some do. Those people who pose as friends and then try to push others into suicide are a modern 21st Century cyberspace form of vampires."
"Well," the Raven laughed, "you can't prove any of that."
"But I know you did it," Van Helsing approached.
"What are you going to do? Kill me? I'm not a vampire of the Dracula kind," the Raven continued to smirk, "I'm a mortal flesh and blood human."
"No, I'm not going to kill you," Van Helsing replied, "you're going to kill yourself. You may have noticed the elevator door is open on this floor and yet the elevator is trapped on the 8th floor above. You're going to jump down the elevator shaft and kill yourself. That way you will no longer be able to go after lost lonely souls and get them to end their lives."
"And how are you going to get me to kill myself?" the Raven laughed.
"Why don't you take that key and open the door to Room 722?" Dracul instructed.
The Raven did so.
What he saw in the room literally turned his hair white.
The Raven turned around and faced Van Helsing.
He seemed to choke on his own words, "You... you... you... you're more than just a vampire hunter aren't you?".
"Yes," Van Helsing calmly lit another cigarette and again blew smoke in the Raven's direction, "I am."
The Raven dropped the key to Room 722 on the floor, ran down the hall and jumped down the elevator shaft.
His shrill penetrating scream as he fell downwards was the last sound he ever made on this Earth.
Van Helsing calmly opened the door to the stairwell and walked down the stairs.
To be continued.
Saturday, October 29, 2011
Vampire Set Gets A Food Bill For 4500 British Pounds
The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set almost had a heart attack (he would have if he had been a mere mortal) when he noticed his estate's food bill.
"In the name of Amun-Ra," Set swore, "we paid 4500 pounds sterling just for one single piece of fish."
"Apparently," Renfield nodded, "the fish was a 10 kilogram Empurau or Emperor fish. It's an exotic variety of fish that's found in the Malaysian province of Sarawak on the island of Borneo. It can apparently cost up to RM 6,000 in Malaysian currency or roughly $2,000 in U.S. currency. So it's no surprise that it cost us 4500 pounds sterling."
"But who the Hell ordered it?" Set asked.
"Amadeus," Renfield answered, "he's developed an appetite for Malaysian cuisine recently."
"Well please tell Amadeus to develop an appetite for a less expensive form of cuisine," Set ordered.
"Will do, sir," Renfield made a note of that on his iPad.
"By the way," Set asked, "did you or I or Athelstan get to taste a piece of this Empurau fish?".
"No," Renfield shook his head, "Amadeus ate all 10 kilograms of it by himself at one sitting."
"Amadeus," it was the voice of Amadeus's date for the evening the New Orleans singer Angelique Dumont at the front door of the mansion, "you seem to have put on a lot of weight since I last saw you."
To be continued.
"In the name of Amun-Ra," Set swore, "we paid 4500 pounds sterling just for one single piece of fish."
"Apparently," Renfield nodded, "the fish was a 10 kilogram Empurau or Emperor fish. It's an exotic variety of fish that's found in the Malaysian province of Sarawak on the island of Borneo. It can apparently cost up to RM 6,000 in Malaysian currency or roughly $2,000 in U.S. currency. So it's no surprise that it cost us 4500 pounds sterling."
"But who the Hell ordered it?" Set asked.
"Amadeus," Renfield answered, "he's developed an appetite for Malaysian cuisine recently."
"Well please tell Amadeus to develop an appetite for a less expensive form of cuisine," Set ordered.
"Will do, sir," Renfield made a note of that on his iPad.
"By the way," Set asked, "did you or I or Athelstan get to taste a piece of this Empurau fish?".
"No," Renfield shook his head, "Amadeus ate all 10 kilograms of it by himself at one sitting."
"Amadeus," it was the voice of Amadeus's date for the evening the New Orleans singer Angelique Dumont at the front door of the mansion, "you seem to have put on a lot of weight since I last saw you."
To be continued.
Wednesday, October 26, 2011
For Andrea CorvyusMorte: Requiem For A Poetess
Upon hearing of John Keats' death
Shelley wrote, "I weep for Adonais- he is dead"
on this rainy rainy night devoid of stars
I weep for Andrea- she is dead
Beautiful poetess, beautiful soul
I wish you were around still to tell you so.
You wrote from the heart
and what a beautiful heart it was
a heart that had been broken and felt pain
a heart that flowed with passion like dew and pouring rain
it can be truly said, this world won't see your like again.
You wrote real poetry in an age of text messages and mundane emails
you found kernels of buried truth under lies of hidden veils
your words burst with the range and gaunt of human emotions
but your own poor soul found no healing lotions.
O weep for Andrea- she is dead
now poetry has nowhere to lay its head
the finger no longer moves nor writes
and all your tears can no longer bring back the muse
that wrote of life and death and wine and song
where did this world go so terribly wrong?
Your words were finally drowned in a pool of despair
I wept tears for you in the pool downstair
now back in my room on this rainy rainy night
a pounding gloom devoid of light.
In my mind the voice of Josh Groban singing Vincent,
and when no hope was left in sight on that starry starry night
you took your life as lovers often do
but I could have told you Vincent
this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you
but I would change the lyrics of the song...
I would have changed the lyrics to something I should have done...
I would change the lyrics to...
I should have told you Andrea,
this world NEEDS someone as beautiful as you.
Shelley wrote, "I weep for Adonais- he is dead"
on this rainy rainy night devoid of stars
I weep for Andrea- she is dead
Beautiful poetess, beautiful soul
I wish you were around still to tell you so.
You wrote from the heart
and what a beautiful heart it was
a heart that had been broken and felt pain
a heart that flowed with passion like dew and pouring rain
it can be truly said, this world won't see your like again.
You wrote real poetry in an age of text messages and mundane emails
you found kernels of buried truth under lies of hidden veils
your words burst with the range and gaunt of human emotions
but your own poor soul found no healing lotions.
O weep for Andrea- she is dead
now poetry has nowhere to lay its head
the finger no longer moves nor writes
and all your tears can no longer bring back the muse
that wrote of life and death and wine and song
where did this world go so terribly wrong?
Your words were finally drowned in a pool of despair
I wept tears for you in the pool downstair
now back in my room on this rainy rainy night
a pounding gloom devoid of light.
In my mind the voice of Josh Groban singing Vincent,
and when no hope was left in sight on that starry starry night
you took your life as lovers often do
but I could have told you Vincent
this world was never meant for one as beautiful as you
but I would change the lyrics of the song...
I would have changed the lyrics to something I should have done...
I would change the lyrics to...
I should have told you Andrea,
this world NEEDS someone as beautiful as you.
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
When In Rome Do As The Werewolves Do
At the door of Set's colossal London mansion, Renfield was signing for an extremely long package from Purolator courier.
"What's inside?" Amadeus asked while eating a chocolate eclair.
"The body of the Were-Zomb-ire," Renfield replied as he opened it.
"It's dead again?" Amadeus wiped some chocolate off his mouth.
"Yes, it got electrocuted yesterday after it tripped over a black cat and fell into a large fount of Holy Water in the Vatican garden," Renfield answered.
"I wonder how it got to Rome?" Amadeus reached into a box and helped himself to his 25th chocolate eclair of the day.
"Moloch the demon took possession of its body and then used the creature's bat wings to fly to Rome," Renfield answered.
"Wow," Amadeus looked at the body of the Were-Zomb-ire in the very long box, "when Purolator says they can deliver anything, they really mean it."
"Of course they do," Renfield laughed, "how do you think I manage to get the products grown on my cocaine field in Colombia past U.S. customs."
"Really?" Amadeus momentarily stopped eating his 25th chocolate eclair of the day.
"Really," Renfield nodded.
"Wow," Amadeus continued eating his 25th chocolate eclair of the day.
"So I wonder what the poor demon Moloch will do since his host body of the Were-Zomb-ire has died?" Renfield started to read the Last Rites from the Necronomicon over the creature's body.
* * *
Welsh Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was in Rome on a mission for the British government.
He was to meet a representative of the Libyan Transitional Council in Rome and sign an agreement with the new Libyan government.
Rhys Petley was also a werewolf- a malady he suffered from ever since he was bitten by the demon Rahu many months ago.
This particular variation of the lycanthropy gene he received through the bite could turn him into a werewolf at any time- not only during the full moon.
While sitting in a cybercafe in Rome and watching a YouTube video of the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec (who looked a lot like Salma Hayek) in a low-cut red evening dress administering a bare-bottom spanking to vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing who lay across her lap, Magog Rhys Petley felt himself becoming sexually aroused.
He also felt himself turning into a werewolf.
After he turned into a werewolf which seemed to empty the cybercafe for some reason sending patrons screaming out into the street, Magog also felt some strange alien force trying to take possession of his body.
To be continued.
"What's inside?" Amadeus asked while eating a chocolate eclair.
"The body of the Were-Zomb-ire," Renfield replied as he opened it.
"It's dead again?" Amadeus wiped some chocolate off his mouth.
"Yes, it got electrocuted yesterday after it tripped over a black cat and fell into a large fount of Holy Water in the Vatican garden," Renfield answered.
"I wonder how it got to Rome?" Amadeus reached into a box and helped himself to his 25th chocolate eclair of the day.
"Moloch the demon took possession of its body and then used the creature's bat wings to fly to Rome," Renfield answered.
"Wow," Amadeus looked at the body of the Were-Zomb-ire in the very long box, "when Purolator says they can deliver anything, they really mean it."
"Of course they do," Renfield laughed, "how do you think I manage to get the products grown on my cocaine field in Colombia past U.S. customs."
"Really?" Amadeus momentarily stopped eating his 25th chocolate eclair of the day.
"Really," Renfield nodded.
"Wow," Amadeus continued eating his 25th chocolate eclair of the day.
"So I wonder what the poor demon Moloch will do since his host body of the Were-Zomb-ire has died?" Renfield started to read the Last Rites from the Necronomicon over the creature's body.
* * *
Welsh Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was in Rome on a mission for the British government.
He was to meet a representative of the Libyan Transitional Council in Rome and sign an agreement with the new Libyan government.
Rhys Petley was also a werewolf- a malady he suffered from ever since he was bitten by the demon Rahu many months ago.
This particular variation of the lycanthropy gene he received through the bite could turn him into a werewolf at any time- not only during the full moon.
While sitting in a cybercafe in Rome and watching a YouTube video of the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec (who looked a lot like Salma Hayek) in a low-cut red evening dress administering a bare-bottom spanking to vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing who lay across her lap, Magog Rhys Petley felt himself becoming sexually aroused.
He also felt himself turning into a werewolf.
After he turned into a werewolf which seemed to empty the cybercafe for some reason sending patrons screaming out into the street, Magog also felt some strange alien force trying to take possession of his body.
To be continued.
Monday, October 24, 2011
Moloch and Mammon
The Were-zomb-ire's teeth were chattering after having spent a night in the Vatican garden on a rather chilly Rome evening.
The demon Moloch who was using the Were-Zomb-ire's body as his host was starting to feel cold.
He was used to intense heat.
"Good morning," said the demon Mammon who happened to be in the neighbourhood.
"Mammon, what are you doing here?" Moloch through the Were-Zomb-ire's mouth asked the ancient Babylonian god of banking and commerce.
"Some of the Vatican bureaucrats who are under my control have just issued a statement through the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace calling for the creation of a World Financial Authority," Mammon smiled, "and I of course am going to be the one running that World Financial Authority when it's finally created."
"You haven't formed an alliance with the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl by any chance have you?" Moloch asked through chattering teeth.
"So what if I have?" Mammon shrugged, "by the way what you were doing spending all night in the Vatican garden?".
"I was trying to locate Pope Benedict XVI," Moloch growled through the Were-Zomb-ire.
"Have you ever heard those stories about that mysterious priest who goes down into the catacombs and takes saucers of milk and bread to feed all the hungry stray cats who live down there in the catacombs?" Mammon asked.
"Yes, I have heard those stories," Moloch nodded.
"Well that mysterious priest since 1981 has been Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger now Pope Benedict XVI," replied Mammon, "he was down in the catacombs last night doing it."
Mammon walked away whistling.
Moloch took a step and tripped over a black cat which caused him to fall into a fount of Holy Water.
"Hell, no," Moloch's Were-Zomb-ire body started to smulder.
To be continued.
The demon Moloch who was using the Were-Zomb-ire's body as his host was starting to feel cold.
He was used to intense heat.
"Good morning," said the demon Mammon who happened to be in the neighbourhood.
"Mammon, what are you doing here?" Moloch through the Were-Zomb-ire's mouth asked the ancient Babylonian god of banking and commerce.
"Some of the Vatican bureaucrats who are under my control have just issued a statement through the Pontifical Council for Justice and Peace calling for the creation of a World Financial Authority," Mammon smiled, "and I of course am going to be the one running that World Financial Authority when it's finally created."
"You haven't formed an alliance with the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl by any chance have you?" Moloch asked through chattering teeth.
"So what if I have?" Mammon shrugged, "by the way what you were doing spending all night in the Vatican garden?".
"I was trying to locate Pope Benedict XVI," Moloch growled through the Were-Zomb-ire.
"Have you ever heard those stories about that mysterious priest who goes down into the catacombs and takes saucers of milk and bread to feed all the hungry stray cats who live down there in the catacombs?" Mammon asked.
"Yes, I have heard those stories," Moloch nodded.
"Well that mysterious priest since 1981 has been Joseph Cardinal Ratzinger now Pope Benedict XVI," replied Mammon, "he was down in the catacombs last night doing it."
Mammon walked away whistling.
Moloch took a step and tripped over a black cat which caused him to fall into a fount of Holy Water.
"Hell, no," Moloch's Were-Zomb-ire body started to smulder.
To be continued.
Sunday, October 23, 2011
The Ballad of The Demon Moloch Possessed Were-Zomb-ire
Under the dance of the stars of celestial fire
demon Moloch possessed the body of Were-Zomb-ire
and flying on bats' wings he flew to Rome
and came within sight of Saint Peter's Dome
then he encountered the Guards Swiss
embracing them with a deadly kiss
they fell to the ground
without a single sound
their flesh melted in the air
a sight of unholy terror
then he walked through the Vatican garden
hoping to encounter Benedict in the bargain.
To be continued.
demon Moloch possessed the body of Were-Zomb-ire
and flying on bats' wings he flew to Rome
and came within sight of Saint Peter's Dome
then he encountered the Guards Swiss
embracing them with a deadly kiss
they fell to the ground
without a single sound
their flesh melted in the air
a sight of unholy terror
then he walked through the Vatican garden
hoping to encounter Benedict in the bargain.
To be continued.
Saturday, October 22, 2011
Aztec Vampire Princess Qonzilqointec Rising
The vampire Lev Tomi looked outside his office in the UN building in New York City.
In his mortal life, he had been the Marxist revolutionary Leon Trotsky.
He had been turned into a vampire by the Aztec Vampire Princess Qonzilqointec in Mexico City on August 21st, 1940 a day after an attack by a Stalinist agent who tried to assassinate him with an ice pick.
Failure to be turned into a vampire would have resulted in his death.
Although his death was publicly announced to the world so that his enemy Josef Stalin would no longer bother him.
Today Lev Tomi was the Head of the UN Secretariat on The Environment and Climate Change.
He was also directing the Occupy Wall Street protests throughout the world on behalf of his boss the Aztec Vampire Princess Qonzilqointec.
His mind went back to a conversation he had had with then Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev back in the late 1980s.
"In order for global Communism to triumph," he had told Gorbachev, "global capitalism must triumph first. Only when extreme laissez-faire capitalism reigns everywhere on the globe will the peoples of the world realize what an inhuman system it is and will rush to willingly embrace global Communism."
At Tomi's suggestion, Gorbachev let Central and Eastern Europe go, allowed for the dismantling of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany and even allowed the dissolution of the Soviet Union itself.
By the year 2000, it had looked like global capitalism had triumphed.
By the autumn of 2008, global capitalism had shown the world its inhuman face and continued to show the world its inhuman face ever since.
Now the Arab Spring, the anti-austerity bill riots in Greece and the Occupy Wall Street protests in cities all over the world would pave the way for the triumph of global Communism.
Although it is ironic Tomi reflected to himself that the coming One World Marxist-Leninist government would be headed by the exiled (currently living in exile on Saturn's moon Titan) Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl.
* * *
Dracul Van Helsing read the quote from Leon Trotsky in the rare book store he was in, "Let there be formed a United States of Europe. When the United States of Europe is formed, then the United States of the World shall arise. And global Communism will triumph."
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec appeared before him in a red evening dress and licked her fangs and then leaned over showing her ample bosom and whispered delicately in his ear, "Tenga cuidado..."
To be continued.
In his mortal life, he had been the Marxist revolutionary Leon Trotsky.
He had been turned into a vampire by the Aztec Vampire Princess Qonzilqointec in Mexico City on August 21st, 1940 a day after an attack by a Stalinist agent who tried to assassinate him with an ice pick.
Failure to be turned into a vampire would have resulted in his death.
Although his death was publicly announced to the world so that his enemy Josef Stalin would no longer bother him.
Today Lev Tomi was the Head of the UN Secretariat on The Environment and Climate Change.
He was also directing the Occupy Wall Street protests throughout the world on behalf of his boss the Aztec Vampire Princess Qonzilqointec.
His mind went back to a conversation he had had with then Soviet leader Mikhail Gorbachev back in the late 1980s.
"In order for global Communism to triumph," he had told Gorbachev, "global capitalism must triumph first. Only when extreme laissez-faire capitalism reigns everywhere on the globe will the peoples of the world realize what an inhuman system it is and will rush to willingly embrace global Communism."
At Tomi's suggestion, Gorbachev let Central and Eastern Europe go, allowed for the dismantling of the Berlin Wall and the reunification of Germany and even allowed the dissolution of the Soviet Union itself.
By the year 2000, it had looked like global capitalism had triumphed.
By the autumn of 2008, global capitalism had shown the world its inhuman face and continued to show the world its inhuman face ever since.
Now the Arab Spring, the anti-austerity bill riots in Greece and the Occupy Wall Street protests in cities all over the world would pave the way for the triumph of global Communism.
Although it is ironic Tomi reflected to himself that the coming One World Marxist-Leninist government would be headed by the exiled (currently living in exile on Saturn's moon Titan) Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl.
* * *
Dracul Van Helsing read the quote from Leon Trotsky in the rare book store he was in, "Let there be formed a United States of Europe. When the United States of Europe is formed, then the United States of the World shall arise. And global Communism will triumph."
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec appeared before him in a red evening dress and licked her fangs and then leaned over showing her ample bosom and whispered delicately in his ear, "Tenga cuidado..."
To be continued.
Friday, October 21, 2011
If The Were-Zomb-ire Could Write Poetry
Blood baths are good for you
to bathe in blood is where it's at
burnt flesh and twisted limbs
ripped apart at the door
a menagerie of blood and gore
Death and destruction all around
New World Order's despotic crown
Change is acomin'
it's the demonic Spring
with Sauron Lord of the Ring
autumn moon is rising all blood red
looks like motorcyclist lost his head
Moloch's a headin' to Assisi
he ain't bringin' no Virgin Chi Chi
Kill! Kill!
Let's get our fill
Death is our ecstasy pill.
- A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
Friday evening October 21st 2011.
to bathe in blood is where it's at
burnt flesh and twisted limbs
ripped apart at the door
a menagerie of blood and gore
Death and destruction all around
New World Order's despotic crown
Change is acomin'
it's the demonic Spring
with Sauron Lord of the Ring
autumn moon is rising all blood red
looks like motorcyclist lost his head
Moloch's a headin' to Assisi
he ain't bringin' no Virgin Chi Chi
Kill! Kill!
Let's get our fill
Death is our ecstasy pill.
- A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
Friday evening October 21st 2011.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Where Will They Bury Gaddafi?
"So I hear Libyan leader Col. Muammar Gaddafi was killed today in his birthplace of Sirte," Amadeus Emanon remarked as he bit into his camel burger- a dish he was trying for the very first time.
"That's right," Renfield yawned as he looked at the video of Gaddafi's dead body at the BBC News website on his computer.
"Wasn't he one of the Boss' allies at one time?" Amadeus reached into a jar of pickles and added a pickle to his camel burger.
"That's right he was," Renfield nodded, "right up until the moment he started to lose the Libyan civil war- then the Boss quickly dropped him as an ally."
As the group The Black Eyed Peas started to sing the song My Humps on the radio, Amadeus bit into the most difficult portion of his camel burger and asked Renfield, "So what are you currently doing?".
"I'm trying to hack into the computers of the Libyan Transitional Council to see if I can discover the secret location where they plan to bury Col. Gaddafi's body," Renfield grinned.
"Do you suppose they'll bury him face downwards so he can see where he's going?" Amadeus felt musically motivated to add some black-eyed peas to his camel burger.
"I don't know," Renfield shook his head, "I'm trying to determine the site of his burial because I think it would be kind of nifty to fly there and raise Col. Gaddafi from the dead as a zombie."
"Have you ever wondered what they do with dying grapes?" Amadeus changed the topic as he reached into a box of raisins.
To be continued.
"That's right," Renfield yawned as he looked at the video of Gaddafi's dead body at the BBC News website on his computer.
"Wasn't he one of the Boss' allies at one time?" Amadeus reached into a jar of pickles and added a pickle to his camel burger.
"That's right he was," Renfield nodded, "right up until the moment he started to lose the Libyan civil war- then the Boss quickly dropped him as an ally."
As the group The Black Eyed Peas started to sing the song My Humps on the radio, Amadeus bit into the most difficult portion of his camel burger and asked Renfield, "So what are you currently doing?".
"I'm trying to hack into the computers of the Libyan Transitional Council to see if I can discover the secret location where they plan to bury Col. Gaddafi's body," Renfield grinned.
"Do you suppose they'll bury him face downwards so he can see where he's going?" Amadeus felt musically motivated to add some black-eyed peas to his camel burger.
"I don't know," Renfield shook his head, "I'm trying to determine the site of his burial because I think it would be kind of nifty to fly there and raise Col. Gaddafi from the dead as a zombie."
"Have you ever wondered what they do with dying grapes?" Amadeus changed the topic as he reached into a box of raisins.
To be continued.
Wednesday, October 19, 2011
The Mysterious Drip
Drip, drip, drip.
What was that dripping sound coming from the hotel room above him?
Ever since he had returned back to his hotel room, he had heard that dripping sound.
He phoned the desk downstairs.
No answer.
Hm, maybe he should walk down to the desk in person.
No, he'll just walk up to the hotel floor above him and knock on the door of the room above him.
When he walked up to the floor above him, he noticed the door of the room directly above him was open.
He walked into the room.
There impaled on the ceiling with coat hangers was an elderly couple who dripped blood on to the floor.
The man picked up the phone in the room and once again tried phoning the desk.
Still no answer.
The man ran downstairs to the main floor.
He approached the desk, peered over it and noticed the hotel clerk had been torn to shreds on the floor.
The man went into shock.
A previous guest who was unregistered had already checked out of the hotel (without paying) half an hour before.
The Were-Zomb-ire.
To be continued.
What was that dripping sound coming from the hotel room above him?
Ever since he had returned back to his hotel room, he had heard that dripping sound.
He phoned the desk downstairs.
No answer.
Hm, maybe he should walk down to the desk in person.
No, he'll just walk up to the hotel floor above him and knock on the door of the room above him.
When he walked up to the floor above him, he noticed the door of the room directly above him was open.
He walked into the room.
There impaled on the ceiling with coat hangers was an elderly couple who dripped blood on to the floor.
The man picked up the phone in the room and once again tried phoning the desk.
Still no answer.
The man ran downstairs to the main floor.
He approached the desk, peered over it and noticed the hotel clerk had been torn to shreds on the floor.
The man went into shock.
A previous guest who was unregistered had already checked out of the hotel (without paying) half an hour before.
The Were-Zomb-ire.
To be continued.
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Idol Talk At The Set Mansion
As Renfield entered the colossal mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set, he noticed a rather large and hideous looking creature leaving Set's study.
The creature had a rather angry looking expression on his face.
"Say wasn't that the demon Moloch who just left the Boss' study?" Renfield asked Amadeus.
"It was," Amadeus nodded as he continued to bite into a delicious Malaysian recipe for sweet and sour fish.
"What's he looking so angry about?" Renfield inquired.
"Apparently His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI didn't invite him to the Inter-Religious Dialogue and Pilgrimage For Peace which is being held in Assisi on October 27th of this year," Amadeus answered, "so Moloch is somewhat upset about that. Eastern Orthodox priests have been invited, Protestant ministers have been invited, Jewish rabbis have been invited, Muslim imams have been invited, Buddhist lamas have been invited and Hindu gurus have been invited. In fact, 200 representatives of various different religious faiths from over 50 countries have been invited. But Moloch wasn't invited."
"Why not?" Renfield bit into a tuna fish sandwich which Athelstan the valet had brought him.
"I don't think demons were invited," Amadeus sampled some of the Malaysian Princess Diyana Aleeya's delicious spaghetti.
"And why the Hell not?" Renfield felt sympathy for Moloch.
"I think it's precisely because of Hell that demons haven't been invited," Amadeus answered.
"I fail to follow such logic," Renfield drew a satanic inverted pentagram into his chocolate cake.
Suddenly Renfield's cell phone emitted a beeping sound.
"Who's that?" Amadeus took a sip of orange juice.
"It's a text message from the demon Moloch," Renfield replied, "he wants to know if he can borrow my creature the Were-Zomb-ire for a few days and get it to attack the Vatican in retaliation for the Pope not inviting him to attend the Assisi Inter-Religious Dialogue and Pilgrimage For Peace."
"And what answer are you giving him, sir?" Athelstan the valet inquired.
"If he can successfully trap the Were-Zomb-ire himself," Renfield replied, "he's welcome to him. So far all the traps I've set up around London to capture the Were-Zomb-ire have failed."
"And what sort of traps have you been using, sir?" Athelstan inquired.
"Giant mouse traps with giant pieces of cheese attached to them," Renfield answered.
"And who suggested that the Were-Zomb-ire likes cheese?" Athelstan looked surprised.
Renfield pointed towards Amadeus.
Athelstan looked quizzically at Amadeus.
"Well," Amadeus shrugged as he bit into a huge block of cheese, "since I like cheese, I thought maybe the Were-Zomb-ire might like cheese as well."
To be continued.
The creature had a rather angry looking expression on his face.
"Say wasn't that the demon Moloch who just left the Boss' study?" Renfield asked Amadeus.
"It was," Amadeus nodded as he continued to bite into a delicious Malaysian recipe for sweet and sour fish.
"What's he looking so angry about?" Renfield inquired.
"Apparently His Holiness Pope Benedict XVI didn't invite him to the Inter-Religious Dialogue and Pilgrimage For Peace which is being held in Assisi on October 27th of this year," Amadeus answered, "so Moloch is somewhat upset about that. Eastern Orthodox priests have been invited, Protestant ministers have been invited, Jewish rabbis have been invited, Muslim imams have been invited, Buddhist lamas have been invited and Hindu gurus have been invited. In fact, 200 representatives of various different religious faiths from over 50 countries have been invited. But Moloch wasn't invited."
"Why not?" Renfield bit into a tuna fish sandwich which Athelstan the valet had brought him.
"I don't think demons were invited," Amadeus sampled some of the Malaysian Princess Diyana Aleeya's delicious spaghetti.
"And why the Hell not?" Renfield felt sympathy for Moloch.
"I think it's precisely because of Hell that demons haven't been invited," Amadeus answered.
"I fail to follow such logic," Renfield drew a satanic inverted pentagram into his chocolate cake.
Suddenly Renfield's cell phone emitted a beeping sound.
"Who's that?" Amadeus took a sip of orange juice.
"It's a text message from the demon Moloch," Renfield replied, "he wants to know if he can borrow my creature the Were-Zomb-ire for a few days and get it to attack the Vatican in retaliation for the Pope not inviting him to attend the Assisi Inter-Religious Dialogue and Pilgrimage For Peace."
"And what answer are you giving him, sir?" Athelstan the valet inquired.
"If he can successfully trap the Were-Zomb-ire himself," Renfield replied, "he's welcome to him. So far all the traps I've set up around London to capture the Were-Zomb-ire have failed."
"And what sort of traps have you been using, sir?" Athelstan inquired.
"Giant mouse traps with giant pieces of cheese attached to them," Renfield answered.
"And who suggested that the Were-Zomb-ire likes cheese?" Athelstan looked surprised.
Renfield pointed towards Amadeus.
Athelstan looked quizzically at Amadeus.
"Well," Amadeus shrugged as he bit into a huge block of cheese, "since I like cheese, I thought maybe the Were-Zomb-ire might like cheese as well."
To be continued.
Monday, October 17, 2011
London At Midnight
On the streets of London town
Were-Zomb-ire prowls around
Headless Motorcyclist rides the street
with no head and two left feet
he runs people down
can't stop for half a crown
quite the terror this Halloween
more horror than ever seen.
-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
Monday evening October 17th 2011.
Were-Zomb-ire prowls around
Headless Motorcyclist rides the street
with no head and two left feet
he runs people down
can't stop for half a crown
quite the terror this Halloween
more horror than ever seen.
-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
Monday evening October 17th 2011.
Sunday, October 16, 2011
The Further Escapades of The Headless Motorcyclist
The body of Jefferson Harley suddenly realized that he couldn't see where he was going as he barreled along on his Harley-Davidson motorcycle.
He thought maybe his hair was too long so he decided to find a barber shop to cut his hair.
His motorcycle crashed through a barber shop and the rotating red and white and blue barber pole ended up atop his neck where his head should have been.
Hm, that rather speedy hair cut didn't seem to help much he figured.
Maybe he should have something to eat.
He crashed through the window of Frankie's Frankfurter Hot Dog Place and the Hot Dog Neon sign ended up atop his neck (where his head should have been) alongside the red and white and blue barber pole.
Having a hot dog didn't seem to help either.
Maybe he should have a beer.
Just one beer wouldn't hurt.
Jefferson Harley's motorcycle crashed through the window of The Duck and Head Pub and took the Buttercup Pale Ale tap off the Buttercup Pale Ale keg with it.
The tap that read Buttercup Pale Ale ended up atop his neck (where his head should have been) alongside the red and white and blue barber pole and the Hot Dog shaped neon sign.
So just as the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow had a pumpkin atop his body instead of his head, so the Headless Motorcyclist of Wakey Meadows had a red and blue and white barber pole and a Hot Dog shaped neon sign and a Buttercup Pale Ale beer tap atop his body instead of his head.
To be continued.
He thought maybe his hair was too long so he decided to find a barber shop to cut his hair.
His motorcycle crashed through a barber shop and the rotating red and white and blue barber pole ended up atop his neck where his head should have been.
Hm, that rather speedy hair cut didn't seem to help much he figured.
Maybe he should have something to eat.
He crashed through the window of Frankie's Frankfurter Hot Dog Place and the Hot Dog Neon sign ended up atop his neck (where his head should have been) alongside the red and white and blue barber pole.
Having a hot dog didn't seem to help either.
Maybe he should have a beer.
Just one beer wouldn't hurt.
Jefferson Harley's motorcycle crashed through the window of The Duck and Head Pub and took the Buttercup Pale Ale tap off the Buttercup Pale Ale keg with it.
The tap that read Buttercup Pale Ale ended up atop his neck (where his head should have been) alongside the red and white and blue barber pole and the Hot Dog shaped neon sign.
So just as the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow had a pumpkin atop his body instead of his head, so the Headless Motorcyclist of Wakey Meadows had a red and blue and white barber pole and a Hot Dog shaped neon sign and a Buttercup Pale Ale beer tap atop his body instead of his head.
To be continued.
Friday, October 14, 2011
The Ripper's Mind of The Were-Zomb-ire
The brain of Jack The Ripper had gone missing
among the venomous snakes hissing
in the lab
that's so fab
and belongs to the Vampire Set
who has a cobra for a pet.
Renfield had found the brain you see
while drinking Orange Pekoe tea
he put it in the head of his Were-Zomb-ire
the creature that made London streets so dire.
The Ripper's brain guides the creature
and as a bonus feature
it has werewolf, zombie and vampire DNA
now on Earth there is Hell to pay.
-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
this ghoulish Friday night, October 14th 2011.
17 more days until Halloween.
among the venomous snakes hissing
in the lab
that's so fab
and belongs to the Vampire Set
who has a cobra for a pet.
Renfield had found the brain you see
while drinking Orange Pekoe tea
he put it in the head of his Were-Zomb-ire
the creature that made London streets so dire.
The Ripper's brain guides the creature
and as a bonus feature
it has werewolf, zombie and vampire DNA
now on Earth there is Hell to pay.
-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
this ghoulish Friday night, October 14th 2011.
17 more days until Halloween.
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The Legend of The Headless Motorcyclist
As Dr. Cadbury Rocher the chief scientist at Set Enterprises' lab instructed the leather clad motorcyclist to lift up his arm to receive the needle, a news bulletin broke in on the radio in the lab...
"This just in," the voice of BBC News said, "the infamous Were-Zomb-ire has attacked the Convent of the Order of Nuns of the Immaculate Heart of Our Lady of Fatima just outside London. The convent which had 21 living nuns just prior to the attack now has none..."
"This is what happens when mere amateurs try to practice science," Dr. Cadbury Rocher spat out a sneering reference to the shapeshifting hamster/human Renfield.
"So this shot you're going to give me is going to make me immortal, right doc?" the motorcyclist asked.
"It is or I'm not a member in good standing of the London Transhumanist Association," Dr. Rocher injected the serum, "this needle contains the DNA of a rare variety of fruit recently found growing in a lush valley in northeastern Iraq. I believe this fruit was the one that was growing on the Tree of Life in the Genesis account of the Garden of Eden."
"Wow," the motorcyclist smiled.
* * *
As Jefferson Harley sped on his motorcycle at 400 kilometres per hour down the streets of London, he relished the fact that he was going to live forever thanks to the injection that Dr. Cadbury Rocher had given him.
Harley raced towards the underpass in front of him.
He looked up at the bridge overpass above him.
"What an ugly looking gargoyle," Harley remarked, "I've never really noticed that before. This is what happens when someone tries to incorporate neo-medieval art into post-modern architecture."
The gargoyle who was actually the Were-Zomb-ire sitting atop the bridge was bothered by the noise of the motorcycle.
The Were-Zomb-ire jumped down on top of Jefferson Harley and ripped the motorcyclist's head off.
Since the motorcyclist had been injected with the serum of immortality, both body and head continued to live despite their Were-Zomb-ire enforced separation.
Harley's head was on the roadway pavement screaming, "Help!" Help!".
The headless body of Jefferson Harley continued to speed down the street driving the fast moving Harley-Davidson.
And thus was born the Legend of the Headless Motorcyclist.
To be continued.
"This just in," the voice of BBC News said, "the infamous Were-Zomb-ire has attacked the Convent of the Order of Nuns of the Immaculate Heart of Our Lady of Fatima just outside London. The convent which had 21 living nuns just prior to the attack now has none..."
"This is what happens when mere amateurs try to practice science," Dr. Cadbury Rocher spat out a sneering reference to the shapeshifting hamster/human Renfield.
"So this shot you're going to give me is going to make me immortal, right doc?" the motorcyclist asked.
"It is or I'm not a member in good standing of the London Transhumanist Association," Dr. Rocher injected the serum, "this needle contains the DNA of a rare variety of fruit recently found growing in a lush valley in northeastern Iraq. I believe this fruit was the one that was growing on the Tree of Life in the Genesis account of the Garden of Eden."
"Wow," the motorcyclist smiled.
* * *
As Jefferson Harley sped on his motorcycle at 400 kilometres per hour down the streets of London, he relished the fact that he was going to live forever thanks to the injection that Dr. Cadbury Rocher had given him.
Harley raced towards the underpass in front of him.
He looked up at the bridge overpass above him.
"What an ugly looking gargoyle," Harley remarked, "I've never really noticed that before. This is what happens when someone tries to incorporate neo-medieval art into post-modern architecture."
The gargoyle who was actually the Were-Zomb-ire sitting atop the bridge was bothered by the noise of the motorcycle.
The Were-Zomb-ire jumped down on top of Jefferson Harley and ripped the motorcyclist's head off.
Since the motorcyclist had been injected with the serum of immortality, both body and head continued to live despite their Were-Zomb-ire enforced separation.
Harley's head was on the roadway pavement screaming, "Help!" Help!".
The headless body of Jefferson Harley continued to speed down the street driving the fast moving Harley-Davidson.
And thus was born the Legend of the Headless Motorcyclist.
To be continued.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
London Swings Like A Pendulum Do
The ArchDruid of Canterbury Dr. Rowan Williams was performing a small wedding ceremony in a chapel inside Saint Paul's Cathedral.
It was the 11th marriage for the 10 times married and divorced Lord Justice Tiebe Sluttingham.
It was the 1st marriage for the 23 year-old escort girl.
"If any one here knows any just cause," the ArchDruid solemnly intoned, "why these two should not be lawfully wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace...."
The Were-Zomb-ire entered the chapel growling and snarling.
"Is someone here raising an objection?" the ArchDruid looked up.
The Were-Zomb-ire fell on top of the would-be groom Lord Justice Sluttingham and started tearing him to pieces.
"I'll take that as a yes," said the ArchDruid.
* * *
"So what's up?" Amadeus asked Renfield between mouthloads of mustard and mayonnaise laiden cold roast beef sandwiches.
"Well," Renfield was hooking up the antenna of the genetically engineered psychic lobster Michelangelo to the computer, "the Boss got an irate phone call from British Prime Minister David Cameron. It seems 10 Downing Street is pissed about my resurrected Were-Zomb-ire causing chaos and havoc throughout the streets of London."
"Really?" Amadeus reached for his bowl of soup and started slurping away.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "so the Boss asked me to use Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster to track down the whereabouts of said Were-Zomb-ire."
Michelangelo kept on looking over at Amadeus and his bowl of soup.
"Hm, Michelangelo seems to be distracted by your eating a bowl of soup for some reason," Renfield remarked, "what type of soup is it by the way?".
"Lobster bisque," Amadeus replied.
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster started freaking out.
To be continued.
It was the 11th marriage for the 10 times married and divorced Lord Justice Tiebe Sluttingham.
It was the 1st marriage for the 23 year-old escort girl.
"If any one here knows any just cause," the ArchDruid solemnly intoned, "why these two should not be lawfully wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace...."
The Were-Zomb-ire entered the chapel growling and snarling.
"Is someone here raising an objection?" the ArchDruid looked up.
The Were-Zomb-ire fell on top of the would-be groom Lord Justice Sluttingham and started tearing him to pieces.
"I'll take that as a yes," said the ArchDruid.
* * *
"So what's up?" Amadeus asked Renfield between mouthloads of mustard and mayonnaise laiden cold roast beef sandwiches.
"Well," Renfield was hooking up the antenna of the genetically engineered psychic lobster Michelangelo to the computer, "the Boss got an irate phone call from British Prime Minister David Cameron. It seems 10 Downing Street is pissed about my resurrected Were-Zomb-ire causing chaos and havoc throughout the streets of London."
"Really?" Amadeus reached for his bowl of soup and started slurping away.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "so the Boss asked me to use Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster to track down the whereabouts of said Were-Zomb-ire."
Michelangelo kept on looking over at Amadeus and his bowl of soup.
"Hm, Michelangelo seems to be distracted by your eating a bowl of soup for some reason," Renfield remarked, "what type of soup is it by the way?".
"Lobster bisque," Amadeus replied.
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster started freaking out.
To be continued.
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Coppertop Were-Zomb-ire
As Renfield sat looking depressed over the dead body of his most recent creation the Were-Zomb-ire, the redheaded cyborg Sophia entered the Set Enterprises lab wearing a tight fitting red mini dress, red silk nylons and red super spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.
She was followed by Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell the Executive Vice-President of Aulos Music and Recording Ltd. as well as a TV camera crew.
"What are you doing here?" Renfield asked the sexy and sultry cyborg.
"I'm here to shoot a TV commercial about your dead creation the Were-Zomb-ire," Sophia answered, "my recording manager Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell figures it will help my music career."
"Oh great," Renfield threw up his hands, "first someone posted a blog entry about my creation the Were-Zomb-ire's death at Xanga a site no one cares about (except for C.S. Lewis wannabes with a fetish for boobs and non-butterfly little read unpopular Malaysian bloggers who don't have a fetish for boobs) and now you're going to broadcast my failure to the entire world."
"That's right," Sophia adjusted her nylons and then smiled for the camera.
"Hit it," Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell gave her the thumbs up.
"I'm sitting here with colossal failure Renfield R, Renfield," Sophia smiled engagingly, "whose recent creation the Were-Zomb-ire a creature part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire was killed shortly after it was created. Mr. Renfield, what are your plans for the future?".
"Well, I've been offered the position of Secretary of State in a second Obama Administration for after the next U.S. election...." Renfield tried to smile.
"Let's try fitting your Were-Zomb-ire with a Duracell battery shall we?" Sophia cuts open the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach with a butcher knife and then inserts a Duracell battery and then stitches together the incision with thread and then delivers an electrical charge to the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach.
The Were-Zomb-ire then rises to life again.
"Duracell the Coppertop Battery," Sophia smiles at the camera, "the battery recommended and used by most professional mad scientists."
The Were-Zomb-ire then tears the door off the Set Enterprises lab and sets off to terrorize the City of London.
Amadeus Emanon enters through the now non-existent door of the Set Enterprises lab licking a maple walnut chocolate ice cream cone and remarking, "Hey Renfield, I noticed your Were-Zomb-ire came back to life and just stepped on the Energizer Bunny. It's no longer going and going..."
To be continued.
She was followed by Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell the Executive Vice-President of Aulos Music and Recording Ltd. as well as a TV camera crew.
"What are you doing here?" Renfield asked the sexy and sultry cyborg.
"I'm here to shoot a TV commercial about your dead creation the Were-Zomb-ire," Sophia answered, "my recording manager Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell figures it will help my music career."
"Oh great," Renfield threw up his hands, "first someone posted a blog entry about my creation the Were-Zomb-ire's death at Xanga a site no one cares about (except for C.S. Lewis wannabes with a fetish for boobs and non-butterfly little read unpopular Malaysian bloggers who don't have a fetish for boobs) and now you're going to broadcast my failure to the entire world."
"That's right," Sophia adjusted her nylons and then smiled for the camera.
"Hit it," Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell gave her the thumbs up.
"I'm sitting here with colossal failure Renfield R, Renfield," Sophia smiled engagingly, "whose recent creation the Were-Zomb-ire a creature part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire was killed shortly after it was created. Mr. Renfield, what are your plans for the future?".
"Well, I've been offered the position of Secretary of State in a second Obama Administration for after the next U.S. election...." Renfield tried to smile.
"Let's try fitting your Were-Zomb-ire with a Duracell battery shall we?" Sophia cuts open the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach with a butcher knife and then inserts a Duracell battery and then stitches together the incision with thread and then delivers an electrical charge to the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach.
The Were-Zomb-ire then rises to life again.
"Duracell the Coppertop Battery," Sophia smiles at the camera, "the battery recommended and used by most professional mad scientists."
The Were-Zomb-ire then tears the door off the Set Enterprises lab and sets off to terrorize the City of London.
Amadeus Emanon enters through the now non-existent door of the Set Enterprises lab licking a maple walnut chocolate ice cream cone and remarking, "Hey Renfield, I noticed your Were-Zomb-ire came back to life and just stepped on the Energizer Bunny. It's no longer going and going..."
To be continued.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
October Mists
October mists
increasing darkness
a month of ghosts and ghouls
and pumpkins cruelly carved
their insides cut out
and their shells
left with burning lights
on porches
and in windows.
Headless horsemen
in search of their heads
and horseless headsmen
in search of their horses.
The full moon rises
and werewolves howl
while monsters prowl
as Elvis checks in
at the Heartbreak Hotel.
-A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Saturday evening, October 8th 2011.
increasing darkness
a month of ghosts and ghouls
and pumpkins cruelly carved
their insides cut out
and their shells
left with burning lights
on porches
and in windows.
Headless horsemen
in search of their heads
and horseless headsmen
in search of their horses.
The full moon rises
and werewolves howl
while monsters prowl
as Elvis checks in
at the Heartbreak Hotel.
-A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Saturday evening, October 8th 2011.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Were-Zomb-ire
"So, what was it you invited me down to the lab to show me?" Amadeus asked as he ate a large piece of garlic sausage.
"I have created the world's first were-zomb-ire," Renfield laughed an evil laugh.
"What's a were-zomb-ire?" Amadeus checked his Eagle Scout's Iban-English Dictionary to see if he could find the word there.
"It's part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire," Renfield explained, "hence were-zomb-ire."
"How did you create it?" Amadeus took a salt shaker out of his pocket and poured more salt on his garlic sausage.
"I extracted DNA from our Boss who as we know is a vampire, extracted some DNA from Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley and extracted some DNA from that late 19th Century Irish-Canadian boxer Gordon "The Black Irish" Donnelly who as we know was raised from the dead as a zombie a couple of years ago and has subsequently never lost a fight in this century," Renfield boasted, "put all that DNA together in a test tube and shook it while I danced to that old Harry Belafonte song Day-O The Banana Boat Song and now you can see the finished results on the lab table- the world's first were-zomb-ire."
"Can I take a closer look?" Amadeus asked as he raised the blanket covering the creature on the lab table.
"Be my guest," Renfield smiled triumphantly.
* * *
As the pair entered the front door of the London mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set, Renfield had an angry pissed-off look on his face and Amadeus was smiling as he whistled Day-O The Banana Boat Song.
"I take it your were-zomb-ire experiment didn't work out so well, sir," the valet and butler Athelstan remarked as he helped Renfield remove his jacket.
"Harrumph," Renfield walked to his room.
"Well," Amadeus remarked as he ate some hot buttered popcorn he had purchased on his way back from the lab, "I accidently spilled some garlic sausage and salt on the creature. Garlic disagrees with vampires as we know and it turns out salt kills zombies- something I didn't know- I would have thought it would have been hot chili peppers as it is for the rest of us. Then after I spilled the garlic sausage and salt- I took out a bottle of water to quench my thirst- water I had picked up from the fount at Saint Francis Xavier Catholic Church- and I dropped the water on the creature- turned out to be Holy Water. Then when I dropped my contact lens on the floor and couldn't find where it went, I opened the curtain and the window to let in some sunlight which fried the creature and then it turns out the lab's neighbour the Duke of Marlborough was firing silver bullets into the air to protect his gold supply from thieves and one of the silver bullets came in through the window and struck the hairy werewolf face of the creature..."
"Say no more, sir," Athelstan raised his hand, " say no more..."
To be continued.
"I have created the world's first were-zomb-ire," Renfield laughed an evil laugh.
"What's a were-zomb-ire?" Amadeus checked his Eagle Scout's Iban-English Dictionary to see if he could find the word there.
"It's part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire," Renfield explained, "hence were-zomb-ire."
"How did you create it?" Amadeus took a salt shaker out of his pocket and poured more salt on his garlic sausage.
"I extracted DNA from our Boss who as we know is a vampire, extracted some DNA from Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley and extracted some DNA from that late 19th Century Irish-Canadian boxer Gordon "The Black Irish" Donnelly who as we know was raised from the dead as a zombie a couple of years ago and has subsequently never lost a fight in this century," Renfield boasted, "put all that DNA together in a test tube and shook it while I danced to that old Harry Belafonte song Day-O The Banana Boat Song and now you can see the finished results on the lab table- the world's first were-zomb-ire."
"Can I take a closer look?" Amadeus asked as he raised the blanket covering the creature on the lab table.
"Be my guest," Renfield smiled triumphantly.
* * *
As the pair entered the front door of the London mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set, Renfield had an angry pissed-off look on his face and Amadeus was smiling as he whistled Day-O The Banana Boat Song.
"I take it your were-zomb-ire experiment didn't work out so well, sir," the valet and butler Athelstan remarked as he helped Renfield remove his jacket.
"Harrumph," Renfield walked to his room.
"Well," Amadeus remarked as he ate some hot buttered popcorn he had purchased on his way back from the lab, "I accidently spilled some garlic sausage and salt on the creature. Garlic disagrees with vampires as we know and it turns out salt kills zombies- something I didn't know- I would have thought it would have been hot chili peppers as it is for the rest of us. Then after I spilled the garlic sausage and salt- I took out a bottle of water to quench my thirst- water I had picked up from the fount at Saint Francis Xavier Catholic Church- and I dropped the water on the creature- turned out to be Holy Water. Then when I dropped my contact lens on the floor and couldn't find where it went, I opened the curtain and the window to let in some sunlight which fried the creature and then it turns out the lab's neighbour the Duke of Marlborough was firing silver bullets into the air to protect his gold supply from thieves and one of the silver bullets came in through the window and struck the hairy werewolf face of the creature..."
"Say no more, sir," Athelstan raised his hand, " say no more..."
To be continued.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Renfield The Composer?
"What are you doing?" Amadeus asked Renfield as he ate the 11th of his two dozen chocolate eclairs.
"I'm analyzing the Greek debt situation for the boss," Renfield replied, "plus I just discovered that the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec is apparently behind the Occupy Wall Street protests so I'm doing an analysis of her motives for the boss."
"What are you writing in that music notation book?" Amadeus asked.
"Well in my own humble opinion, I've come to the conclusion that I can be just as great a composer as your namesake and part genetic sire Amadeus Mozart," Renfield answered, "so I'm composing some music."
"I'd hate to see what you'd try to accomplish if you were acting on behalf of your not so humble opinion," Amadeus downed the 12th eclair.
"Exactly," Renfield grinned, "I'm writing a duet for bagpipes and harmonica."
"I think that may be a duet for which the world is not yet prepared," Amadeus paraphrased an allusion Sherlock Holmes once made to the Giant Rat of Sumatra.
To be continued.
"I'm analyzing the Greek debt situation for the boss," Renfield replied, "plus I just discovered that the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec is apparently behind the Occupy Wall Street protests so I'm doing an analysis of her motives for the boss."
"What are you writing in that music notation book?" Amadeus asked.
"Well in my own humble opinion, I've come to the conclusion that I can be just as great a composer as your namesake and part genetic sire Amadeus Mozart," Renfield answered, "so I'm composing some music."
"I'd hate to see what you'd try to accomplish if you were acting on behalf of your not so humble opinion," Amadeus downed the 12th eclair.
"Exactly," Renfield grinned, "I'm writing a duet for bagpipes and harmonica."
"I think that may be a duet for which the world is not yet prepared," Amadeus paraphrased an allusion Sherlock Holmes once made to the Giant Rat of Sumatra.
To be continued.
Thursday, September 29, 2011
Johnny Cash vs. Belial Mammon
Johnny Cash vs. Belial Mammon
Country music and heavy metal in a duet together
Inspired by a poetry contest between
@RestlessButterfly and @CorvyusMorte
Johnny Cash : Down by the old oak tree
tranquil waters flowed free
in my sunlit youth
full of dreams forsooth...
Belial Mammon: Down by that fucking tree
where I lost my virginity
into that bloody stream
severed bodies I threw
Johnny Cash: It was there that fine June morn
Dad had just sewn oats and corn
that I saw you standing there
sunlight sparkling in your hair
Belial Mammon: It was night, no fucking morn
I was surfing cyberporn
into the moonlight you appeared
with your silk lingerie tattered rear
Johnny Cash: I fell in love I must admit
when I invited you to sit
we danced those summer nights away
skies were blue, no sign of gray
Belial Mammon: I pulled my pants down on the spot
my cock penetrated your moist twat
you turned over and offered your rear
which I sodomized until day appear
Johnny Cash: And on that autumn day in church
you left me standing in the lurch
for all that stood before that altar
was the minister and my best man Walter.
Belial Mammon: When you fucked the drummer in my band
and told him my semen tasted like sand
I killed you before my goat's head altar
told it you were a virgin, what a 'holler.
Johnny Cash: And now every day I cry and cry
my tears to me a sweet lullaby
you broke my heart, you done me wrong
all that's left for me is to sing this song.
Belial Mammon: And your blood I licked it all up
like drops in a communion cup
on your bits of flesh I did feast
your pussy tasted like yeast.
-A duet written for a country music and heavy metal singer
written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Thursday afternoon September 29th 2011.
Country music and heavy metal in a duet together
Inspired by a poetry contest between
@RestlessButterfly and @CorvyusMorte
Johnny Cash : Down by the old oak tree
tranquil waters flowed free
in my sunlit youth
full of dreams forsooth...
Belial Mammon: Down by that fucking tree
where I lost my virginity
into that bloody stream
severed bodies I threw
Johnny Cash: It was there that fine June morn
Dad had just sewn oats and corn
that I saw you standing there
sunlight sparkling in your hair
Belial Mammon: It was night, no fucking morn
I was surfing cyberporn
into the moonlight you appeared
with your silk lingerie tattered rear
Johnny Cash: I fell in love I must admit
when I invited you to sit
we danced those summer nights away
skies were blue, no sign of gray
Belial Mammon: I pulled my pants down on the spot
my cock penetrated your moist twat
you turned over and offered your rear
which I sodomized until day appear
Johnny Cash: And on that autumn day in church
you left me standing in the lurch
for all that stood before that altar
was the minister and my best man Walter.
Belial Mammon: When you fucked the drummer in my band
and told him my semen tasted like sand
I killed you before my goat's head altar
told it you were a virgin, what a 'holler.
Johnny Cash: And now every day I cry and cry
my tears to me a sweet lullaby
you broke my heart, you done me wrong
all that's left for me is to sing this song.
Belial Mammon: And your blood I licked it all up
like drops in a communion cup
on your bits of flesh I did feast
your pussy tasted like yeast.
-A duet written for a country music and heavy metal singer
written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Thursday afternoon September 29th 2011.
Friday, September 9, 2011
Amadeus Practices His Iban and Malay
Amadeus had been invited to eat at the same dinner table this evening as his boss the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.
Amadeus normally had a very healthy appetite but watching his boss eat, he'd always lose his appetite.
"Udah makai lemai nuan?" Amadeus asked as Athelstan brought Set his dessert.
"What?" Set looked perplexed.
"That's a phrase in the Iban language," Amadeus answered.
"Iban? Aren't those the people who used to hunt for human heads?" Set asked as he munched on a human foot.
Amadeus winced and looked the other direction.
He then picked up a puppet figure of Tony Blair and using a ventriloquist voice said, "Sudah makan petang kamu?".
"What's that?" Set asked.
"It's Malay," Amadeus replied.
"What do those phrases mean in English?" Set inquired.
"Have you had your dinner already?" Amadeus answered with a question.
"Well, obviously," Set belched.
To be continued.
Amadeus normally had a very healthy appetite but watching his boss eat, he'd always lose his appetite.
"Udah makai lemai nuan?" Amadeus asked as Athelstan brought Set his dessert.
"What?" Set looked perplexed.
"That's a phrase in the Iban language," Amadeus answered.
"Iban? Aren't those the people who used to hunt for human heads?" Set asked as he munched on a human foot.
Amadeus winced and looked the other direction.
He then picked up a puppet figure of Tony Blair and using a ventriloquist voice said, "Sudah makan petang kamu?".
"What's that?" Set asked.
"It's Malay," Amadeus replied.
"What do those phrases mean in English?" Set inquired.
"Have you had your dinner already?" Amadeus answered with a question.
"Well, obviously," Set belched.
To be continued.
Saturday, September 3, 2011
The General And The CIA Special Archives
The General was touring CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia.
He was the director designate of the CIA.
He had served in both Iraq and Afghanistan and was a decorated soldier.
He had been called to Headquarters in Langley to receive a special briefing on a theft that had occurred at the CIA Special Archives.
"Special Archives?" the General asked his briefer.
"These are items that are so sensitive to national security that they're not even put on computer for fear of attack by hackers," the briefer explained, "so they're kept as paper documents in a special secure fire proof safe on this floor."
"And someone recently broke in and stole one of the documents?" the General asked.
"That is correct, sir," said the briefer, "although one might use the term some thing. It was a hamster that walked into the safe when one of our agents was going through the Special Archives and helped himself to the file- that is the hamster helped himself to the file."
"Hamster?" the General was flabbergasted, "you mean like one of those furry-?..."
"Exactly sir," the briefer nodded, "one of those cute cuddly furry little things that are so popular with children. That ride their hamster wheels around and around in cages."
"And you've got photos and videos of the hamster stealing the file?" the General asked.
"Indeed we do, sir," the briefer said, "otherwise we wouldn't have suspected a hamster. Hamsters are rather small in size as you no doubt know sir so that's why no one saw it. But after the theft was detected, we re-checked the security cameras on this floor and through close-ups spotted the hamster."
"And I suppose you lost track of the hamster?" the General sighed.
"We lost track of the hamster, yes, sir," the briefer answered, "but not our rodent sniffing cat special agent whom we call Bourne Feline."
"The CIA has a rodent sniffing cat special agent called Bourne Feline?" the General shook his head.
"Yes, sir, the cost of his cat food which comes under CIA special appropriations was a subject of intense heated debate earlier this summer between Republican and Democrat over whether it should be subject to cuts if the U.S. debt ceiling was to be raised," the briefer explained, "it was almost a deal killer for the debt deal that is until President Obama asked his daughter Malia to step in and speak to a closed session of Congress and tell members of both parties what an extremely cute kitty cat it was."
"A little child shall lead them," the General quoted Scripture.
"I beg your pardon, sir," his briefer blinked.
"Continue," the General waved his hand.
"So Bourne Feline using his rodent sniffing skills tracked the scent of the hamster down to a motel room in the town of Mineral, Virginia which coincidentally was also the epicenter of last month's major East Coast earthquake," the briefer noted.
"And when our agents got there, did they find a hamster?" the General asked.
"No, sir, the hamster appears to have dropped off the face of the Earth," the briefer answered, "when our agents got there, a British subject by the name of Renfield R. Renfield was busy banging the town's very beautiful local lady of the evening."
"And what are Mr. Renfield's last known whereabouts?" the General inquired.
"Mr. Renfield was last seen floating down a flooded highway in Vermont," the briefer briefed.
"Best to concentrate our efforts on recapturing the scent of the hamster," the General ordered.
"Very good, sir," the briefer saluted.
"Oh, one more thing," the General turned around, "what was in the file that was stolen?".
"The file relates how when Apollo 11 landed on the moon in July, 1969, they found a casket containing a vampire on the lunar surface," the briefer related.
"Really?" now it was the General's turn to blink.
"Yes, sir," the briefer nodded, "when Commander Neil Armstrong asked what was to be done about the coffin, one of NASA's senior higher-ups ordered Armstrong to put the casket and the respective vampire aboard the lunar module and bring it back to Earth."
"A NASA top official ordered that a casket containing a vampire be brought back to Earth?" the General was incredulous.
"Yes, sir," the briefer acknowledged, "in retrospect the decision wouldn't exactly be considered rocket science."
To be continued.
He was the director designate of the CIA.
He had served in both Iraq and Afghanistan and was a decorated soldier.
He had been called to Headquarters in Langley to receive a special briefing on a theft that had occurred at the CIA Special Archives.
"Special Archives?" the General asked his briefer.
"These are items that are so sensitive to national security that they're not even put on computer for fear of attack by hackers," the briefer explained, "so they're kept as paper documents in a special secure fire proof safe on this floor."
"And someone recently broke in and stole one of the documents?" the General asked.
"That is correct, sir," said the briefer, "although one might use the term some thing. It was a hamster that walked into the safe when one of our agents was going through the Special Archives and helped himself to the file- that is the hamster helped himself to the file."
"Hamster?" the General was flabbergasted, "you mean like one of those furry-?..."
"Exactly sir," the briefer nodded, "one of those cute cuddly furry little things that are so popular with children. That ride their hamster wheels around and around in cages."
"And you've got photos and videos of the hamster stealing the file?" the General asked.
"Indeed we do, sir," the briefer said, "otherwise we wouldn't have suspected a hamster. Hamsters are rather small in size as you no doubt know sir so that's why no one saw it. But after the theft was detected, we re-checked the security cameras on this floor and through close-ups spotted the hamster."
"And I suppose you lost track of the hamster?" the General sighed.
"We lost track of the hamster, yes, sir," the briefer answered, "but not our rodent sniffing cat special agent whom we call Bourne Feline."
"The CIA has a rodent sniffing cat special agent called Bourne Feline?" the General shook his head.
"Yes, sir, the cost of his cat food which comes under CIA special appropriations was a subject of intense heated debate earlier this summer between Republican and Democrat over whether it should be subject to cuts if the U.S. debt ceiling was to be raised," the briefer explained, "it was almost a deal killer for the debt deal that is until President Obama asked his daughter Malia to step in and speak to a closed session of Congress and tell members of both parties what an extremely cute kitty cat it was."
"A little child shall lead them," the General quoted Scripture.
"I beg your pardon, sir," his briefer blinked.
"Continue," the General waved his hand.
"So Bourne Feline using his rodent sniffing skills tracked the scent of the hamster down to a motel room in the town of Mineral, Virginia which coincidentally was also the epicenter of last month's major East Coast earthquake," the briefer noted.
"And when our agents got there, did they find a hamster?" the General asked.
"No, sir, the hamster appears to have dropped off the face of the Earth," the briefer answered, "when our agents got there, a British subject by the name of Renfield R. Renfield was busy banging the town's very beautiful local lady of the evening."
"And what are Mr. Renfield's last known whereabouts?" the General inquired.
"Mr. Renfield was last seen floating down a flooded highway in Vermont," the briefer briefed.
"Best to concentrate our efforts on recapturing the scent of the hamster," the General ordered.
"Very good, sir," the briefer saluted.
"Oh, one more thing," the General turned around, "what was in the file that was stolen?".
"The file relates how when Apollo 11 landed on the moon in July, 1969, they found a casket containing a vampire on the lunar surface," the briefer related.
"Really?" now it was the General's turn to blink.
"Yes, sir," the briefer nodded, "when Commander Neil Armstrong asked what was to be done about the coffin, one of NASA's senior higher-ups ordered Armstrong to put the casket and the respective vampire aboard the lunar module and bring it back to Earth."
"A NASA top official ordered that a casket containing a vampire be brought back to Earth?" the General was incredulous.
"Yes, sir," the briefer acknowledged, "in retrospect the decision wouldn't exactly be considered rocket science."
To be continued.
Friday, September 2, 2011
Dinner Is Set Or Rather A Dinner For Set
The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was preparing to feed.
He just didn't suck blood.
He had a virtual blood bath with his victims.
The man and woman were chained in the dungeon of his mansion.
He had swooped down when he saw them kissing in Hyde Park and grabbed both of them in his taloned hands.
He shredded their clothes after he chained them.
He then used his long taloned nails to cut through and pierce every single inch of skins on their bodies.
The blood squirted out and Set thirstily drank.
Eventually after a couple of hours, the couple finally died.
Set wiped a trace of blood off his satisfied smile.
"Beg your pardon, sir," Athelstan his valet and butler called from the top of the stairs, "it's your loyal servant Col. Muammar Gaddafi calling for help."
"He's no longer in control of the country of Libya is he?" Set asked sneeringly.
"That is correct, sir," Athelstan nodded.
"Then he is no longer of any use to us," Set helped himself to an ear, a nose and an eyeball and started chewing.
To be continued.
He just didn't suck blood.
He had a virtual blood bath with his victims.
The man and woman were chained in the dungeon of his mansion.
He had swooped down when he saw them kissing in Hyde Park and grabbed both of them in his taloned hands.
He shredded their clothes after he chained them.
He then used his long taloned nails to cut through and pierce every single inch of skins on their bodies.
The blood squirted out and Set thirstily drank.
Eventually after a couple of hours, the couple finally died.
Set wiped a trace of blood off his satisfied smile.
"Beg your pardon, sir," Athelstan his valet and butler called from the top of the stairs, "it's your loyal servant Col. Muammar Gaddafi calling for help."
"He's no longer in control of the country of Libya is he?" Set asked sneeringly.
"That is correct, sir," Athelstan nodded.
"Then he is no longer of any use to us," Set helped himself to an ear, a nose and an eyeball and started chewing.
To be continued.
Thursday, September 1, 2011
The Magician
He stands there in the dark
a sizzling human spark
he has come to perform for you
a stage taming of the shrew
by sawing a lovely damsel in half
though sawn she wiggles her calf
sex and violence seem to merge
satisfying some primeval urge
that is why we stand and clap
seeing this and the water trap
for to death he seemingly sends the girl
with a wave of baton and moustache twirl
but then he brings her back
with speed of lightning crack.
Saw, whip, torture seems fun
underneath the shot of circus gun
there our dark passions come out to play
sending into shadows shades of gray
but when the spot light shines and curtains part
we realize why magic is a seductive art
for one moment frozen in time
thanatos and eros dance sublime
and two urges
civility submerges
go down in the depths with the girl in slit dress
the magician does things we wouldn't confess
so that's why we keep coming back
to watch her emerge from a torturer's rack.
-The Magician
a poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Thursday evening, September 1st 2011.
a sizzling human spark
he has come to perform for you
a stage taming of the shrew
by sawing a lovely damsel in half
though sawn she wiggles her calf
sex and violence seem to merge
satisfying some primeval urge
that is why we stand and clap
seeing this and the water trap
for to death he seemingly sends the girl
with a wave of baton and moustache twirl
but then he brings her back
with speed of lightning crack.
Saw, whip, torture seems fun
underneath the shot of circus gun
there our dark passions come out to play
sending into shadows shades of gray
but when the spot light shines and curtains part
we realize why magic is a seductive art
for one moment frozen in time
thanatos and eros dance sublime
and two urges
civility submerges
go down in the depths with the girl in slit dress
the magician does things we wouldn't confess
so that's why we keep coming back
to watch her emerge from a torturer's rack.
-The Magician
a poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Thursday evening, September 1st 2011.
Wednesday, August 31, 2011
No Room At The Inn Because There Is No Inn In Vermont
Walking across the flooded roads of Vermont was a tall blonde man carrying pieces of wood.
One would think he was gathering fire wood because of the power outages.
But when people stranded by the washed-out roads were suddenly attacked by creatures who were trying to take their blood, the man sprang into action.
Staking vampires left, right and center.
Renfield R. Renfield who had been standing in the middle of a washed out road in very tall rubber boots and thinking he had picked a most inopportune moment to visit Vermont looked on with amusement.
"Well fancy running into you here, Dracul Van Helsing," Renfield laughed.
"Fancy running into you, Renfield R. Renfield," Van Helsing replied. "it's too bad you weren't a vampire because then under international law, I could stake and kill you."
"Yes, a pity for you," Renfield agreed, "but not for me."
"What are you doing in Vermont?" Van Helsing asked.
"Amadeus told me there was a great and beautiful inn in Vermont," Renfield replied, "told me to visit it."
"Really?" Van Helsing smiled.
He had an idea of how the 7-year-old genetic clone's mind worked- for while Amadeus was grown in the Set Laboratories test tube to be born an adult- in many ways Amadeus was still a child in his mind set.
"Was this Inn called The Stratford Inn?" Van Helsing asked.
"Why, yes it was," Renfield nodded, "you know it?".
"And he knew about it from an old 1980s TV show he watched called Newhart?" Van Helsing inquired.
"Yes," Renfied replied, "you know how to get there?".
"Newhart was a fictional TV show- a situation comedy," Van Helsing explained, "there is no Stratford Inn in reality."
"You mean I got drenched and pouring wet for nothing?" Renfield sighed.
"Yes," said Van Helsing as he killed yet another vampire.
"Too bad Amadeus wasn't a vampire," Renfield seethed, "I'd buy a stake off you and use it where it would do the most good when I get back to England."
To be continued.
One would think he was gathering fire wood because of the power outages.
But when people stranded by the washed-out roads were suddenly attacked by creatures who were trying to take their blood, the man sprang into action.
Staking vampires left, right and center.
Renfield R. Renfield who had been standing in the middle of a washed out road in very tall rubber boots and thinking he had picked a most inopportune moment to visit Vermont looked on with amusement.
"Well fancy running into you here, Dracul Van Helsing," Renfield laughed.
"Fancy running into you, Renfield R. Renfield," Van Helsing replied. "it's too bad you weren't a vampire because then under international law, I could stake and kill you."
"Yes, a pity for you," Renfield agreed, "but not for me."
"What are you doing in Vermont?" Van Helsing asked.
"Amadeus told me there was a great and beautiful inn in Vermont," Renfield replied, "told me to visit it."
"Really?" Van Helsing smiled.
He had an idea of how the 7-year-old genetic clone's mind worked- for while Amadeus was grown in the Set Laboratories test tube to be born an adult- in many ways Amadeus was still a child in his mind set.
"Was this Inn called The Stratford Inn?" Van Helsing asked.
"Why, yes it was," Renfield nodded, "you know it?".
"And he knew about it from an old 1980s TV show he watched called Newhart?" Van Helsing inquired.
"Yes," Renfied replied, "you know how to get there?".
"Newhart was a fictional TV show- a situation comedy," Van Helsing explained, "there is no Stratford Inn in reality."
"You mean I got drenched and pouring wet for nothing?" Renfield sighed.
"Yes," said Van Helsing as he killed yet another vampire.
"Too bad Amadeus wasn't a vampire," Renfield seethed, "I'd buy a stake off you and use it where it would do the most good when I get back to England."
To be continued.
Saturday, August 27, 2011
A Peace That Strikes Terror
A pin dropped on the empty streets
and the echo seemed to shake the Statue of Liberty
no traffic
no transit
no buses
no planes
ironically Irene is a Greek word meaning peace
and the city is devoid of noise
seemingly at peace
but the peace over the Big Apple
seems to be the peace of the grave
and the approaching sound of wind and water
could be the approaching hoofbeats of death.
-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
Saturday evening, August 27th 2011
and the echo seemed to shake the Statue of Liberty
no traffic
no transit
no buses
no planes
ironically Irene is a Greek word meaning peace
and the city is devoid of noise
seemingly at peace
but the peace over the Big Apple
seems to be the peace of the grave
and the approaching sound of wind and water
could be the approaching hoofbeats of death.
-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
Saturday evening, August 27th 2011
Thursday, August 25, 2011
Alfred Hitchcock Sings Good Night Or Was It Good Evening?
In the Malaysian province of Sarawak, the owner of a large farm sat down to watch that old TV show Alfred Hitchcock Presents on his large screen TV.
Hitchcock said, "Slamat lemai..."
In the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur, a Malaysian bank executive sat down to watch that old TV show Alfred Hitchcock Presents on her large screen TV.
Hitchcock said, "Selamat petang..."
In London, England, Amadeus Emanon sat down to watch that old TV show Alfred Hitchcock Presents on the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set's large screen TV.
Hitchcock said, "Good evening..."
In his motel room in Virginia, Renfield was rehearsing for a conversation with a Malaysian woman over Skype he'd be having later that evening.
"You're very bajik," Renfield rehearsed his Iban.
He paused.
"You're very cantik," he rehearsed his Malay.
From the motel room to the right of him, he heard a wife sob to her husband, "You never tell me I'm pretty anymore..."
Renfield then imagined what the woman would say back to him...
"You're very sigat," she'd say in Iban.
"You're very tampan," she'd then say in Malay.
"I find Johnny Depp so handsome," said the 78-old-grandmother in the motel room to the left of him, "I'd like to fuck his brains out..."
"Grandma," admonished her granddaughter, "not in front of the great-grandkids..."
"Of course I wouldn't do it in front of the great-grandkids," the elderly woman retorted, "I'd take Johnny into the shower with me..."
On Renfield's motel room TV screen, an emergency bulletin flashed on the screen.
The announcer said, "We interrupt this episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents to inform you that a state of emergency has been declared in Virginia, North Carolina, Maryland, New Jersey and New York due to fears of a direct hit by the looming monster storm Hurricane Irene..."
"Holy shit," Renfield said as he looked at the screen.
He had no idea what the Iban and Malay words were for the phrase he just used.
To be continued.
Hitchcock said, "Slamat lemai..."
In the Malaysian capital of Kuala Lumpur, a Malaysian bank executive sat down to watch that old TV show Alfred Hitchcock Presents on her large screen TV.
Hitchcock said, "Selamat petang..."
In London, England, Amadeus Emanon sat down to watch that old TV show Alfred Hitchcock Presents on the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set's large screen TV.
Hitchcock said, "Good evening..."
In his motel room in Virginia, Renfield was rehearsing for a conversation with a Malaysian woman over Skype he'd be having later that evening.
"You're very bajik," Renfield rehearsed his Iban.
He paused.
"You're very cantik," he rehearsed his Malay.
From the motel room to the right of him, he heard a wife sob to her husband, "You never tell me I'm pretty anymore..."
Renfield then imagined what the woman would say back to him...
"You're very sigat," she'd say in Iban.
"You're very tampan," she'd then say in Malay.
"I find Johnny Depp so handsome," said the 78-old-grandmother in the motel room to the left of him, "I'd like to fuck his brains out..."
"Grandma," admonished her granddaughter, "not in front of the great-grandkids..."
"Of course I wouldn't do it in front of the great-grandkids," the elderly woman retorted, "I'd take Johnny into the shower with me..."
On Renfield's motel room TV screen, an emergency bulletin flashed on the screen.
The announcer said, "We interrupt this episode of Alfred Hitchcock Presents to inform you that a state of emergency has been declared in Virginia, North Carolina, Maryland, New Jersey and New York due to fears of a direct hit by the looming monster storm Hurricane Irene..."
"Holy shit," Renfield said as he looked at the screen.
He had no idea what the Iban and Malay words were for the phrase he just used.
To be continued.
Wednesday, August 24, 2011
Ghost of Josef Stalin On Social Networking Sites
Michelangelo the genetically engineered Psychic Lobster was again feeling bored in his solo lobster tank in the Set Laboratories Lab outside London.
He decided he'd once again kill time through his genetically engineered ability to enter people's dreams.
First he'd see if Renfield was asleep and dreaming.
He entered the mind of Renfield who was currently asleep and dreaming in a motel room in the U.S. state of Virginia.
Renfield was dreaming that he was in the drive-through lane at a McDonald's restaurant.
Speaking into the drive-through intercom, Renfield said, "Lapar amai pour sex."
He was showing off his skills at being able to speak 3 languages- Iban, French and English simultaneously.
Michelangelo shook his lobster head (and thus his antennae as well).
Renfield would always be Renfield.
Michelangelo decided he would then enter the dreams of Piers Morgan the host of CNN"s news talk show Piers Morgan Tonight.
Piers Morgan was dreaming that he was talking to the ghost of late Soviet dictator Josef Stalin on his show.
Complained Stalin's ghost, "You know as I look around at the world today, I've always regretted the fact that both myself and my state the U.S.S.R. kicked the bucket before the advent of Internet social networking sites.
I mean one of the drawbacks of being in control of a police state in my day was that you had to spend so much money on having a vast secret police service to spy and find out what your people were saying, doing and thinking.
These days thanks to sites like Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr, people automatically post for the entire world to see what they're saying, doing and thinking.
It would have made running a totalitarian state so much easier had these sites been around when I was busy dictating."
To be continued.
He decided he'd once again kill time through his genetically engineered ability to enter people's dreams.
First he'd see if Renfield was asleep and dreaming.
He entered the mind of Renfield who was currently asleep and dreaming in a motel room in the U.S. state of Virginia.
Renfield was dreaming that he was in the drive-through lane at a McDonald's restaurant.
Speaking into the drive-through intercom, Renfield said, "Lapar amai pour sex."
He was showing off his skills at being able to speak 3 languages- Iban, French and English simultaneously.
Michelangelo shook his lobster head (and thus his antennae as well).
Renfield would always be Renfield.
Michelangelo decided he would then enter the dreams of Piers Morgan the host of CNN"s news talk show Piers Morgan Tonight.
Piers Morgan was dreaming that he was talking to the ghost of late Soviet dictator Josef Stalin on his show.
Complained Stalin's ghost, "You know as I look around at the world today, I've always regretted the fact that both myself and my state the U.S.S.R. kicked the bucket before the advent of Internet social networking sites.
I mean one of the drawbacks of being in control of a police state in my day was that you had to spend so much money on having a vast secret police service to spy and find out what your people were saying, doing and thinking.
These days thanks to sites like Facebook, Twitter and Tumblr, people automatically post for the entire world to see what they're saying, doing and thinking.
It would have made running a totalitarian state so much easier had these sites been around when I was busy dictating."
To be continued.
Tuesday, August 23, 2011
Renfield And The Virginia Earthquake
Renfield R. Renfield was lying in bed in the motel room with a big huge smile on his face- probably the biggest smile he had on his face in his entire life.
The phone rang.
Renfield happily reached for it.
"Hello," Renfield grinned up at the ceiling.
"Renfield," it was his colleague Amadeus Emanon's voice, "are you all right? Are you okay? Is everything fine?".
"Was never better," Renfield said as he smoked a cigarette for the first time in his life.
"But I just heard on BBC News that a major earthquake has hit Virginia," Amadeus gasped, "it was felt as far away as Toronto, Ontario, Canada. The shaking could be felt in North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Washington DC and New York City."
"Earthquake?" said Renfield who was in the American state of Virginia on special assignment for his boss the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set, "I don't recall any earthquake. I remember picking up a very attractive hooker last night."
"But they said a major earthquake struck which had its epicenter in Virginia very very very close to where you're staying occurred at around 1:51 PM local time," Amadeus explained.
"Really?" Renfield looked at his watch, "gee that was around the exact same time I finally came..."
"You da man," the attractive looking hooker in bed next to him moaned in post-orgasmic super ecstasy, "you most definitely DA Man."
To be continued.
The phone rang.
Renfield happily reached for it.
"Hello," Renfield grinned up at the ceiling.
"Renfield," it was his colleague Amadeus Emanon's voice, "are you all right? Are you okay? Is everything fine?".
"Was never better," Renfield said as he smoked a cigarette for the first time in his life.
"But I just heard on BBC News that a major earthquake has hit Virginia," Amadeus gasped, "it was felt as far away as Toronto, Ontario, Canada. The shaking could be felt in North Carolina, Pennsylvania, Washington DC and New York City."
"Earthquake?" said Renfield who was in the American state of Virginia on special assignment for his boss the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set, "I don't recall any earthquake. I remember picking up a very attractive hooker last night."
"But they said a major earthquake struck which had its epicenter in Virginia very very very close to where you're staying occurred at around 1:51 PM local time," Amadeus explained.
"Really?" Renfield looked at his watch, "gee that was around the exact same time I finally came..."
"You da man," the attractive looking hooker in bed next to him moaned in post-orgasmic super ecstasy, "you most definitely DA Man."
To be continued.
Sunday, August 21, 2011
A Marxist Werewolf In Madrid
Walking in Madrid in the middle of the pouring rain...
... I was walking in Madrid in the middle of the pouring rain...
... wearing the coat of a werewolf in the middle of the pouring rain...
... The Senorita in red asked me, "Are you a Christian, child?"...
and I answered, "Marxist-Leninist."
Magog Rhys Petley was beginning to feel that he was the central character in a badly written parody of a Marc Cohn hit song.
The far leftist Labour Member of Parliament from Wales had been battling an acute outbreak of lycanthropy ever since he got bitten by the ancient Hindu demon Rahu several months ago.
Part of the curse was that he did not turn into a werewolf only during the full moon but also whenever he was deeply aroused by something.
And lately the agitation of rioters in Britain the past couple of weeks had been turning him into a werewolf.
Now Scotland Yard was under the impression that he was responsible for organizing the riots.
So Magog decided to leave the country for a while until the heat died down.
Coming to Spain may not have been the brightest idea in the world.
All of these beautiful young Spanish senoritas were getting him sexually aroused.
Not to mention the streets of Madrid were crowded because of Papal World Youth Day celebrations.
And now here in Madrid as he stood in the middle of the pouring rain, thunder and lightning flashed all around him.
Water and several hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity was probably not a good combination Magog figured.
But it still might put an end to his werewolf's curse.
Magog drank his buttermilk.
He had discovered that drinking buttermilk seemed to serve as an antidote to his outbreaks of Rahu-bite induced lycanthropy.
The beautiful young Senorita in red had asked him if he was a Christian.
No doubt because of all the visitors here to the Papal World Youth Day.
She walked down the streets in her red dress which fit even more tightly around her lovely figure because of the wetness caused by the rain.
As the glass of buttermilk had been emptied and she continued to swish elegantly down the streets in her spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes, Magog felt himself getting aroused.
As he turned hairy and started crawling around on all fours, the woman in red turned around and faced him without fear, "To remove the curse, seek the help of the Key."
She then turned and vanished down a Madrid alleyway.
"A key?" Magog thought to himself as he started to howl.
Where was he going to find a key in this tumultuous weather?
What did she mean by the Key?
Thunder and lightning flashed all around him.
To be continued.
... I was walking in Madrid in the middle of the pouring rain...
... wearing the coat of a werewolf in the middle of the pouring rain...
... The Senorita in red asked me, "Are you a Christian, child?"...
and I answered, "Marxist-Leninist."
Magog Rhys Petley was beginning to feel that he was the central character in a badly written parody of a Marc Cohn hit song.
The far leftist Labour Member of Parliament from Wales had been battling an acute outbreak of lycanthropy ever since he got bitten by the ancient Hindu demon Rahu several months ago.
Part of the curse was that he did not turn into a werewolf only during the full moon but also whenever he was deeply aroused by something.
And lately the agitation of rioters in Britain the past couple of weeks had been turning him into a werewolf.
Now Scotland Yard was under the impression that he was responsible for organizing the riots.
So Magog decided to leave the country for a while until the heat died down.
Coming to Spain may not have been the brightest idea in the world.
All of these beautiful young Spanish senoritas were getting him sexually aroused.
Not to mention the streets of Madrid were crowded because of Papal World Youth Day celebrations.
And now here in Madrid as he stood in the middle of the pouring rain, thunder and lightning flashed all around him.
Water and several hundreds of thousands of volts of electricity was probably not a good combination Magog figured.
But it still might put an end to his werewolf's curse.
Magog drank his buttermilk.
He had discovered that drinking buttermilk seemed to serve as an antidote to his outbreaks of Rahu-bite induced lycanthropy.
The beautiful young Senorita in red had asked him if he was a Christian.
No doubt because of all the visitors here to the Papal World Youth Day.
She walked down the streets in her red dress which fit even more tightly around her lovely figure because of the wetness caused by the rain.
As the glass of buttermilk had been emptied and she continued to swish elegantly down the streets in her spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes, Magog felt himself getting aroused.
As he turned hairy and started crawling around on all fours, the woman in red turned around and faced him without fear, "To remove the curse, seek the help of the Key."
She then turned and vanished down a Madrid alleyway.
"A key?" Magog thought to himself as he started to howl.
Where was he going to find a key in this tumultuous weather?
What did she mean by the Key?
Thunder and lightning flashed all around him.
To be continued.
Thursday, August 18, 2011
Vampire On The Beach
Dracul Van Helsing was taking a break from vampire hunting and vampire slaying and was taking a refreshing night time swim in a lake.
The only thing he had on the beach was his towel.
The vampire flew on to the beach in the basking glow of the full moon.
He smiled and licked his lips.
There was renowned vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing without a wooden stake or Holy Water or a Cross.
The only thing he had on the beach was a towel- a very beautiful towel judging from the intricate woven patterns on it- but a towel just the same.
He, the vampire smiled, would be known as the vampire who slayed Dracul Van Helsing.
"Greetings, Dracul Van Helsing," the vampire said as the vampire slayer emerged from the water, "so here you are without a Cross or Holy Water or a wooden stake. Prepare to meet your Maker, oh foolish one."
Van Helsing hit the vampire with the towel and the vampire started to disintegrate.
"This," Van Helsing calmly explained as the vampire disintegrated, "is a towel woven by a Malaysian Iban woman. It was hand woven on a back-strap loom which is called Pua. In Iban culture, weaving is considered sacred and is able to mediate between man and the spirit world. Spiritual power is woven into the designs. The designs on this patterned towel convey in its intricate designs the story of Christ's Death on The Cross and His Resurrection."
"Now you tell me," were the vampire's last words before his head disintegrated.
Further on down the beach, a TV commercial was being shot and filmed for Canada's Dairy Queen Restaurants (Dairy Queen is famous in Canada for its ice cream cones and ice cream sundaes and banana splits and a special ice cream dessert called an Ice Cream Blizzard).
"Well," said the TV Commercial spokesman for Dairy Queen Restaurants, "here at Dairy Queen, we don't just give you a great tasting Ice Cream Blizzard Sundae for only $2.99, here at Dairy Queen, we show you a vampire hunter slaying a vampire with only a wet towel..."
To be continued.
The only thing he had on the beach was his towel.
The vampire flew on to the beach in the basking glow of the full moon.
He smiled and licked his lips.
There was renowned vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing without a wooden stake or Holy Water or a Cross.
The only thing he had on the beach was a towel- a very beautiful towel judging from the intricate woven patterns on it- but a towel just the same.
He, the vampire smiled, would be known as the vampire who slayed Dracul Van Helsing.
"Greetings, Dracul Van Helsing," the vampire said as the vampire slayer emerged from the water, "so here you are without a Cross or Holy Water or a wooden stake. Prepare to meet your Maker, oh foolish one."
Van Helsing hit the vampire with the towel and the vampire started to disintegrate.
"This," Van Helsing calmly explained as the vampire disintegrated, "is a towel woven by a Malaysian Iban woman. It was hand woven on a back-strap loom which is called Pua. In Iban culture, weaving is considered sacred and is able to mediate between man and the spirit world. Spiritual power is woven into the designs. The designs on this patterned towel convey in its intricate designs the story of Christ's Death on The Cross and His Resurrection."
"Now you tell me," were the vampire's last words before his head disintegrated.
Further on down the beach, a TV commercial was being shot and filmed for Canada's Dairy Queen Restaurants (Dairy Queen is famous in Canada for its ice cream cones and ice cream sundaes and banana splits and a special ice cream dessert called an Ice Cream Blizzard).
"Well," said the TV Commercial spokesman for Dairy Queen Restaurants, "here at Dairy Queen, we don't just give you a great tasting Ice Cream Blizzard Sundae for only $2.99, here at Dairy Queen, we show you a vampire hunter slaying a vampire with only a wet towel..."
To be continued.
Tuesday, August 16, 2011
Freddy Krueger Rap Song
It's Freddy Krueger
carrying a luger
after he got his arm caught in the door
razor fingernails crushed on the floor
so now he's switched modus operandi
and after a deep whiff of brandy
he's entering nightmares once more
tallying up his score
with blood and gore
but without his trademark arm of fright
most dreamers call it a night
they've seen a gun before
mopping blood off the floor
and Freddy with just a gun
he's a bit of a bore.
-A rappin' hip hop song
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Tuesday night, August 16th 2011
inspired by the Wes Craven
NIghtmare On Elm Street flicks.
carrying a luger
after he got his arm caught in the door
razor fingernails crushed on the floor
so now he's switched modus operandi
and after a deep whiff of brandy
he's entering nightmares once more
tallying up his score
with blood and gore
but without his trademark arm of fright
most dreamers call it a night
they've seen a gun before
mopping blood off the floor
and Freddy with just a gun
he's a bit of a bore.
-A rappin' hip hop song
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Tuesday night, August 16th 2011
inspired by the Wes Craven
NIghtmare On Elm Street flicks.
Wednesday, August 10, 2011
The Marxist Werewolf and The London Riots
"So you're back in England after a few weeks in Norway?" Amadeus said as he bit into the sample of Norwegian lutefisk that Renfield had brought him.
"Yes, Scotland Yard has hired me to start interrogating some of the rioters who have been rioting the past week," said Renfield.
"London, Manchester, Bristol, Birmingham, Liverpool," Amadeus shook his head, "it's just awful. Those pics of burnt out parts of London they showed on the news last night looked like what London looked like after a night of Nazi Luftwaffe blitz bombing back during World War II."
"But it's now Renfield to the rescue," Renfield grinned.
"I wonder if there's any solid connection between these riots," Amadeus pondered.
"Well in confidential reports I've seen," Renfield noted, "apparently a wolf was seen in the vicinity shortly before each riot broke out."
"A wolf?" Amadeus was perplexed.
"Personally I think it's a werewolf," Renfield stated.
"A werewolf?" Amadeus' jaw dropped, "but the riots didn't always start right after sunset nor was there a full moon present."
"Yes, but someone who has been bitten by the ancient Hindu demon Rahu can turn into a werewolf at any time," said Renfield, "I've been having the Boss' cyborg Sophia spy on far-Left Welsh Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley and I've come to believe that this Marxist parliamentarian has been responsible for several werewolf attacks in Britain the past several months. And now he seems to be organizing riots against the British government no doubt in hopes of overthrowing our country's capitalist system."
"Wow, a Marxist werewof," Amadeus was blown away.
Renfield went over to the window and closed it since there was such a powerful breeze at the moment.
To be continued.
"Yes, Scotland Yard has hired me to start interrogating some of the rioters who have been rioting the past week," said Renfield.
"London, Manchester, Bristol, Birmingham, Liverpool," Amadeus shook his head, "it's just awful. Those pics of burnt out parts of London they showed on the news last night looked like what London looked like after a night of Nazi Luftwaffe blitz bombing back during World War II."
"But it's now Renfield to the rescue," Renfield grinned.
"I wonder if there's any solid connection between these riots," Amadeus pondered.
"Well in confidential reports I've seen," Renfield noted, "apparently a wolf was seen in the vicinity shortly before each riot broke out."
"A wolf?" Amadeus was perplexed.
"Personally I think it's a werewolf," Renfield stated.
"A werewolf?" Amadeus' jaw dropped, "but the riots didn't always start right after sunset nor was there a full moon present."
"Yes, but someone who has been bitten by the ancient Hindu demon Rahu can turn into a werewolf at any time," said Renfield, "I've been having the Boss' cyborg Sophia spy on far-Left Welsh Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley and I've come to believe that this Marxist parliamentarian has been responsible for several werewolf attacks in Britain the past several months. And now he seems to be organizing riots against the British government no doubt in hopes of overthrowing our country's capitalist system."
"Wow, a Marxist werewof," Amadeus was blown away.
Renfield went over to the window and closed it since there was such a powerful breeze at the moment.
To be continued.
Wednesday, July 27, 2011
Renfield and The Norwegian Terror Suspect
"I'm not having much fun interrogating Anders Behring Breivik," Renfield said over the phone from Oslo, Norway.
"Why not?" Amadeus asked.
"Because the guy's willing to talk," Renfield complained, "how can I torture a suspect when he's willing to talk? It's much more fun when they refuse to talk so then I can torture them. I'm having to end up asking the guy questions from Trivia Night down at our old George and Dragon Pub that we used to go to and when he doesn't know the answers or answers incorrectly, then I get the chance to torture him."
"I see," Amadeus commented.
"And another thing, I thought this guy was supposed to be a fundamentalist Christian," Renfield complained, "and yet he says he believes in Darwinian evolution. I didn't think fundamentalist Christians believed in Darwinian evolution. He says in his long-winded 1,500 page manifesto "... it is essential that science takes an undisputed precedence over biblical teachings." Furthermore the guy's a Freemason. I thought Lucifer was the Great Architect of the Universe in Freemasonic teachings. Fundamentalist Christians are worshipping Lucifer now? He also writes on page 1307 of his long-winded 1,500 page manifesto that "If you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and God, then you are a religious Christian. Myself and many more like me do not necessarily have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and God." Is that the thinking of fundamentalist Christians nowadays?".
"Well maybe since the advent of Rick Warren and the Church has now become Purpose Driven rather than Christ driven, that's the feeling of fundamentalist Christians these days," Amadeus answered.
To be continued.
"Why not?" Amadeus asked.
"Because the guy's willing to talk," Renfield complained, "how can I torture a suspect when he's willing to talk? It's much more fun when they refuse to talk so then I can torture them. I'm having to end up asking the guy questions from Trivia Night down at our old George and Dragon Pub that we used to go to and when he doesn't know the answers or answers incorrectly, then I get the chance to torture him."
"I see," Amadeus commented.
"And another thing, I thought this guy was supposed to be a fundamentalist Christian," Renfield complained, "and yet he says he believes in Darwinian evolution. I didn't think fundamentalist Christians believed in Darwinian evolution. He says in his long-winded 1,500 page manifesto "... it is essential that science takes an undisputed precedence over biblical teachings." Furthermore the guy's a Freemason. I thought Lucifer was the Great Architect of the Universe in Freemasonic teachings. Fundamentalist Christians are worshipping Lucifer now? He also writes on page 1307 of his long-winded 1,500 page manifesto that "If you have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and God, then you are a religious Christian. Myself and many more like me do not necessarily have a personal relationship with Jesus Christ and God." Is that the thinking of fundamentalist Christians nowadays?".
"Well maybe since the advent of Rick Warren and the Church has now become Purpose Driven rather than Christ driven, that's the feeling of fundamentalist Christians these days," Amadeus answered.
To be continued.
Saturday, July 23, 2011
Renfield's Joy Then Despair
"You look awfully happy again," Amadeus remarked to Renfield.
"That's because Norwegian police just hired me to do a freelance interrogation of the main suspect in yesterday's terror attack in Oslo and at some kids' summer camp," Renfield smiled, "this interrogation will offer me the chance to practice my Norwegian."
"But you don't speak Norwegian," Amadeus pointed out.
"That's why it will give me the chance to practice Norwegian," Renfield laughed.
Suddenly the phone rang.
Renfield picked it up.
Moments later, Renfield burst into tears.
"What's the matter?" Amadeus asked.
"Singer Amy Winehouse is dead at age 27," Renfield sobbed uncontrollably.
"Wow, I never thought I'd see you cry at the death of a fellow human being," Amadeus was flabbergasted at this show of compassion on Renfield's part.
"Normally I wouldn't," Renfield said between sobs and tears, "but just yesterday I placed a 2500 pound sterling bet with my bookie predicting that the age at which Amy Winehouse would die would be 28."
To be continued.
"That's because Norwegian police just hired me to do a freelance interrogation of the main suspect in yesterday's terror attack in Oslo and at some kids' summer camp," Renfield smiled, "this interrogation will offer me the chance to practice my Norwegian."
"But you don't speak Norwegian," Amadeus pointed out.
"That's why it will give me the chance to practice Norwegian," Renfield laughed.
Suddenly the phone rang.
Renfield picked it up.
Moments later, Renfield burst into tears.
"What's the matter?" Amadeus asked.
"Singer Amy Winehouse is dead at age 27," Renfield sobbed uncontrollably.
"Wow, I never thought I'd see you cry at the death of a fellow human being," Amadeus was flabbergasted at this show of compassion on Renfield's part.
"Normally I wouldn't," Renfield said between sobs and tears, "but just yesterday I placed a 2500 pound sterling bet with my bookie predicting that the age at which Amy Winehouse would die would be 28."
To be continued.
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
Renfield and Rebecca Black's Moment
"I noticed Rebecca Black has just released a new song and video called My Moment," Amadeus Emanon remarked as he spilled hot buttered popcorn all over his freshly washed shirt.
"That was the wonderful thing about being in a coma for two months," Renfield said through mouth loads of tuna fish sandwich, "I missed all the fuss and kefuffle over Rebecca Black's song Friday."
"I happen to like Rebecca Black's song Friday," Amadeus looked at the calendar and noticed that it was a Tuesday.
"Well, if you don't mind me saying so, Amadeus, I've always thought you a bit weird," Renfield put some bananas and chocolate sauce on top of his tuna fish sandwich.
"I noticed Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing on his relationship status at Facebook says In a complicated relationship with Rebecca Black and Robinson Crusoe's manservant Friday," Amadeus then helped himself to his plate of fish n' chips.
"Really?" Renfield was shocked, "But Rebecca Black is only 13 years old. I didn't know Van Helsing liked them that young and wouldn't a manservant be a reference to a guy? I didn't know Van Helsing swung both ways."
"I believe his relationship status is meant to be a joke," Amadeus explained, "since Rebecca Black had a hit song called Friday and as for Robinson Crusoe's manservant Friday, he's a fictional character in a fictional novel called Robinson Crusoe that was written by British writer Daniel Defoe back in 1719."
"Well not everyone has the advantage of a classical education such as yourself," Renfield snorted between mouthfuls of tuna fish and banana and chocolate sauce sandwiches.
"Well, I've never had a formal classical education," Amadeus replied, "I just read a great deal of the books in the Boss' library. Maybe if you read the books in there instead of all the porno girlie magazines, you'd be classically educated too."
"I don't look at porno photos of women in magazines," Renfield protested, "I look at them on the Net."
"So Van Helsing doesn't really pursue 13-year-old girls nor is he bisexual," Amadeus put some more malt vinegar on his fish, "in fact he's 100% excessively heterosexual."
"How can someone be excessively heterosexual?" Renfield put his sandwich down and stared at Amadeus quizzically.
"Well those were the words that South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan used of him in a conversation I had with her once," Amadeus bit into the batter of fresh Atlantic cod.
"Really?" Renfield bit his lip, "Damn! I knew I should have videotaped what Dracul and Hyung were doing in that hotel room in Cannes that time we had a room next to them. It would have made for one hot tape."
To be continued.
"That was the wonderful thing about being in a coma for two months," Renfield said through mouth loads of tuna fish sandwich, "I missed all the fuss and kefuffle over Rebecca Black's song Friday."
"I happen to like Rebecca Black's song Friday," Amadeus looked at the calendar and noticed that it was a Tuesday.
"Well, if you don't mind me saying so, Amadeus, I've always thought you a bit weird," Renfield put some bananas and chocolate sauce on top of his tuna fish sandwich.
"I noticed Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing on his relationship status at Facebook says In a complicated relationship with Rebecca Black and Robinson Crusoe's manservant Friday," Amadeus then helped himself to his plate of fish n' chips.
"Really?" Renfield was shocked, "But Rebecca Black is only 13 years old. I didn't know Van Helsing liked them that young and wouldn't a manservant be a reference to a guy? I didn't know Van Helsing swung both ways."
"I believe his relationship status is meant to be a joke," Amadeus explained, "since Rebecca Black had a hit song called Friday and as for Robinson Crusoe's manservant Friday, he's a fictional character in a fictional novel called Robinson Crusoe that was written by British writer Daniel Defoe back in 1719."
"Well not everyone has the advantage of a classical education such as yourself," Renfield snorted between mouthfuls of tuna fish and banana and chocolate sauce sandwiches.
"Well, I've never had a formal classical education," Amadeus replied, "I just read a great deal of the books in the Boss' library. Maybe if you read the books in there instead of all the porno girlie magazines, you'd be classically educated too."
"I don't look at porno photos of women in magazines," Renfield protested, "I look at them on the Net."
"So Van Helsing doesn't really pursue 13-year-old girls nor is he bisexual," Amadeus put some more malt vinegar on his fish, "in fact he's 100% excessively heterosexual."
"How can someone be excessively heterosexual?" Renfield put his sandwich down and stared at Amadeus quizzically.
"Well those were the words that South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan used of him in a conversation I had with her once," Amadeus bit into the batter of fresh Atlantic cod.
"Really?" Renfield bit his lip, "Damn! I knew I should have videotaped what Dracul and Hyung were doing in that hotel room in Cannes that time we had a room next to them. It would have made for one hot tape."
To be continued.
Sunday, July 17, 2011
Citizen Renfield
"So what are you looking pleased as punch about?" Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield R. Renfield as the latter sat at his computer grinning away like a Cheshire cat.
"I've been thinking," Renfield couldn't keep the grin off his face, "that if this News of the World phone hacking scandal continues to deepen, the Boss might be able to pick up the remains of Rupert Murdoch's news empire at bargain basement prices and he'll naturally name me the head of this new news empire and I shall use it to control the world."
"There's a dreadful thought," Amadeus saw such a future and knew it wouldn't work for humanity.
"So hopefully the Murdoch empire will go down, down, down," said Renfield, "and we shall pick up the pieces."
"But you've hacked into other people's phones and computers on numerous occasions yourself, haven't you?" Amadeus asked.
"Yes, but there's a difference between me and Rupert Murdoch's reporters in that," Renfield answered.
"What's that?" Amadeus asked.
"I've never been caught," Renfield stuck out his chest proudly.
To be continued.
"I've been thinking," Renfield couldn't keep the grin off his face, "that if this News of the World phone hacking scandal continues to deepen, the Boss might be able to pick up the remains of Rupert Murdoch's news empire at bargain basement prices and he'll naturally name me the head of this new news empire and I shall use it to control the world."
"There's a dreadful thought," Amadeus saw such a future and knew it wouldn't work for humanity.
"So hopefully the Murdoch empire will go down, down, down," said Renfield, "and we shall pick up the pieces."
"But you've hacked into other people's phones and computers on numerous occasions yourself, haven't you?" Amadeus asked.
"Yes, but there's a difference between me and Rupert Murdoch's reporters in that," Renfield answered.
"What's that?" Amadeus asked.
"I've never been caught," Renfield stuck out his chest proudly.
To be continued.
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
Michelangelo The Psychic Lobster And A Radio Transmission From The Future
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was picking up yet another radio transmission from the future on his antenna.
This had happened to him a few times in the past- he'd pick up radio transmissions from the future.
And now it was happening to him in the present- picking up a radio transmission from the future.
He wondered how a philosopher of the subject of space and time would think of the terms he was currently using.
Anyhow he decided to tune in on this particular radio transmission from the future.
It seemed to be a radio news broadcast from July 2021- 10 years from now this month.
He heard the announcer's voice, "Today New York State became the first state in the Union to pass a bill legalizing inter-species marriage. The bill was passed by the state legislature after a controversial debate and signed into law by New York Gov. Yet An Other Flaky Cuomo. The first to take the plunge were a woman and her wild salmon love interest. Next to get hitched were a man and his horse..."
Michelangelo decided to tune off the transmission.
He felt perspiration and sweat on his brow despite the fact he seemed to be in a tank of fairly cool water.
He then noticed one of the female lab technicians in the Set Enterprises Lab looking at him intently with her eyes and licking her lips.
That expression in her eyes... was it one of hunger? Or one of lust?
As the female lab technician raised her lab coat and her skirt exposing her upper thighs, Michelangelo backed away from the scene to the other side of the tank.
Michelangelo was glad that he was not living in the year 2021.
The way that female human looked at him just then...
The poor fellow reflected that he just might find himself in the boiling hot waters of the bonds of unholy matrimony in the year 2021...
To be continued.
This had happened to him a few times in the past- he'd pick up radio transmissions from the future.
And now it was happening to him in the present- picking up a radio transmission from the future.
He wondered how a philosopher of the subject of space and time would think of the terms he was currently using.
Anyhow he decided to tune in on this particular radio transmission from the future.
It seemed to be a radio news broadcast from July 2021- 10 years from now this month.
He heard the announcer's voice, "Today New York State became the first state in the Union to pass a bill legalizing inter-species marriage. The bill was passed by the state legislature after a controversial debate and signed into law by New York Gov. Yet An Other Flaky Cuomo. The first to take the plunge were a woman and her wild salmon love interest. Next to get hitched were a man and his horse..."
Michelangelo decided to tune off the transmission.
He felt perspiration and sweat on his brow despite the fact he seemed to be in a tank of fairly cool water.
He then noticed one of the female lab technicians in the Set Enterprises Lab looking at him intently with her eyes and licking her lips.
That expression in her eyes... was it one of hunger? Or one of lust?
As the female lab technician raised her lab coat and her skirt exposing her upper thighs, Michelangelo backed away from the scene to the other side of the tank.
Michelangelo was glad that he was not living in the year 2021.
The way that female human looked at him just then...
The poor fellow reflected that he just might find himself in the boiling hot waters of the bonds of unholy matrimony in the year 2021...
To be continued.
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