Renfield's Analysis of The Vatican
And so the spokesman from the Vatican told the BBC News Interviewer, "Any resemblance between Pope Francis' Vatican and a Freemasonic Lodge is purely coincidental..."
"What do they mean by that?" Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield R. Renfield.
"It means that the Freemasons have taken over the Vatican," Renfield sipped his Scotch whisky.
"Does that mean the people in the Vatican are going to start wearing those funny looking Shriners' hats and drive around in those little go-cart kiddie cars like they do in the Shriners' parades?" Amadeus asked as he ate his licorice and his box of Jumbo pink candy popcorn.
"Oh probably," Renfield was busy wondering why Arnold Schwarzenegger was dressed as a 400 Star general in his latest TV commercial.
"Will the Pope be getting free tickets to see the Shriners' circus?" Amadeus asked as he reached into his bag of balloons to blow one up.
"Most likely," Renfield finished his whisky, "1st Century Rome was full of bread and circuses. 21st Century Rome will probably be the same."
"I suppose," Amadeus reflected, "that gladiatorial to the death combat and people being eaten by lions would really be the ultimate in reality entertainment."
"Indeed," Renfield nodded, "and you wouldn't have to worry about paying your losing talent. The profits would be out of this world."
"Download for free now from the App Store," Schwarzenegger said in his thick Austrian accent.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 29th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, December 29, 2015
Saturday, December 26, 2015
Amadeus and Renfield On Feast of Stephen
Amadeus and Renfield On Feast of Stephen
Amadeus Emanon had not touched his breakfast of a dozen egg omelette, 12 pancakes with maple syrup and a large helping of hash browns smothered in gravy.
Renfield sensed that something must be wrong.
"What is it, Amadeus?" Renfield happily munched away on his own breakfast of steak and eggs.
"Well, I've been listening to that radio station that's been playing Christmas songs the past few weeks and it played Christmas songs all day yesterday and then at exactly 12:01 AM today, it stopped playing Christmas songs. I was kind of hoping they'd play Christmas songs a while longer. After all there's supposed to be 12 days of Christmas aren't there?" Amadeus inquired.
"Well," Renfield reached for his bottle of whiskey and took a huge sip, "do you know what date this is, Amadeus?".
"December 26th," Amadeus replied.
"Exactly," Renfield belched, "Boxing Day. After all, people find it more important to save huge bundles of money on clothing and electronics than they do celebrating that God became human and became one with His own creation. And that's what Boxing Day is all about, Amadeus Emanon."
And that was Renfield's 21st Century Linus to Amadeus' 21st Century Charlie Brown.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday December 26th
2015.
Amadeus Emanon had not touched his breakfast of a dozen egg omelette, 12 pancakes with maple syrup and a large helping of hash browns smothered in gravy.
Renfield sensed that something must be wrong.
"What is it, Amadeus?" Renfield happily munched away on his own breakfast of steak and eggs.
"Well, I've been listening to that radio station that's been playing Christmas songs the past few weeks and it played Christmas songs all day yesterday and then at exactly 12:01 AM today, it stopped playing Christmas songs. I was kind of hoping they'd play Christmas songs a while longer. After all there's supposed to be 12 days of Christmas aren't there?" Amadeus inquired.
"Well," Renfield reached for his bottle of whiskey and took a huge sip, "do you know what date this is, Amadeus?".
"December 26th," Amadeus replied.
"Exactly," Renfield belched, "Boxing Day. After all, people find it more important to save huge bundles of money on clothing and electronics than they do celebrating that God became human and became one with His own creation. And that's what Boxing Day is all about, Amadeus Emanon."
And that was Renfield's 21st Century Linus to Amadeus' 21st Century Charlie Brown.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday December 26th
2015.
Thursday, December 24, 2015
Fox and Scully: An X-Files Christmas
Fox and Scully: An X-Files Christmas
Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing was dreaming.
And in his dream were FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully of the X-Files.
Mulder: Do you believe in the existence of demons, Scully?
Scully (looking at him) : Define demons, Mulder.
Mulder (laughs) : Ever the sceptic eh, Scully. Well I'm not talking about the inner demons that psychologists and psychiatrists talk about. Nor addictions be it drugs, alcohol, sex.
Scully: Sex addiction eh? (laughs) That's what you are, Mulder. A sex addict.
Mulder: Sex addict? You really think I'm a sex addict, Scully?
Scully (raises her skirt and crosses her legs) : A sex addict who isn't getting any sex. That makes you the most dangerous kind. A person who then has the ability to sense the Supernatural when it brushes in on the material plane of existence.
Mulder: I'd love to discuss this fascinating theory of yours sometime, Scully.
Scully: Sure, Mulder. Then I'll sleep with you. And the end result will be you'll just become a regular normal run-of-the-mill FBI agent. The X-Files will be shut down. And supernatural entities will then have free reign all over planet Earth to bring about their plans of chaos and disorder.
Mulder: Which brings me back to my original question, Scully. Do you believe in the existence of demons? Demons hereby being defined as usually unseen supernatural entities with the ability to occasionally penetrate this material plane of existence- entities that were once angels- but who fell either as a result of joining a chap called Lucifer in rebellion to overthrow God or angels who fell as a result of a desire or inclination to sleep with mortal women which they did- thereby resulting in their fall.
Scully (laughing) : A desire or inclination to sleep with mortal women? There's your sex addiction coming through again, Mulder.
Mulder: If you're going to carry on like this, Scully, maybe we should just go into the bedroom for a quickie right now and get this whole X-Files business over with once and for all.
Scully (laughing) : I'm sorry, Mulder. I do find it fascinating though that you have separated the two events.
Mulder: Two events?
Scully (smiling) : Of how angels became demons. First there were angels who joined Lucifer in rebellion against God. They fell and became demons. Then there were angels who lusted after mortal women - they gave in to this inclination and thus fell and became demons. So there were two sets of demons- angels who were originally revolutionaries and then angels who became horny and then literally became horny (along with pitchfork and tails) afterwards.
Mulder: Well according to the 1st Book of Enoch which is the long expanded non-Reader's Digest non-condensed narrative of the events described in Genesis Chapter 6, God had set those angels as Watchers over the Earth to watch over humanity. Why would God choose demons as Watchers? If you read the narrative carefully, those Watchers were originally good angels who fell as a result of giving in to their desire to sleep with mortal women.
Scully: All right, Mulder.
Mulder: I was told that in Eastern Orthodox Church tradition angels had up until the 1stComing of Christ to decide whether they were for or against God. Once Christ arrived the 1st time in incarnate form as a babe in Bethlehem, the choices angels had made up until that point in time decided their eternal fate. Michael, Gabriel and Raphael had consistently chosen for God so their eternal fate as good angels was finally sealed at Christ's 1st Coming. Just like for humans, the choice is open up until the moment of their death or until the 2nd Coming of Christ (whatever happens first in the respective lives of humans) to decide to be for or against God.
Scully (smiling) : This is fascinating, Mulder. You should have become a priest.
Mulder: I'd have problems with celibacy, Scully, for reasons you deduced earlier in our conversation.
Scully (smiles) : Are you saying that I'm right, Mulder?
Mulder: You're always right, Scully.
Scully (crossing and uncrossing her legs several times) : True compliments have their rewards, Mulder.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday December 23rd
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing was dreaming.
And in his dream were FBI agents Fox Mulder and Dana Scully of the X-Files.
Mulder: Do you believe in the existence of demons, Scully?
Scully (looking at him) : Define demons, Mulder.
Mulder (laughs) : Ever the sceptic eh, Scully. Well I'm not talking about the inner demons that psychologists and psychiatrists talk about. Nor addictions be it drugs, alcohol, sex.
Scully: Sex addiction eh? (laughs) That's what you are, Mulder. A sex addict.
Mulder: Sex addict? You really think I'm a sex addict, Scully?
Scully (raises her skirt and crosses her legs) : A sex addict who isn't getting any sex. That makes you the most dangerous kind. A person who then has the ability to sense the Supernatural when it brushes in on the material plane of existence.
Mulder: I'd love to discuss this fascinating theory of yours sometime, Scully.
Scully: Sure, Mulder. Then I'll sleep with you. And the end result will be you'll just become a regular normal run-of-the-mill FBI agent. The X-Files will be shut down. And supernatural entities will then have free reign all over planet Earth to bring about their plans of chaos and disorder.
Mulder: Which brings me back to my original question, Scully. Do you believe in the existence of demons? Demons hereby being defined as usually unseen supernatural entities with the ability to occasionally penetrate this material plane of existence- entities that were once angels- but who fell either as a result of joining a chap called Lucifer in rebellion to overthrow God or angels who fell as a result of a desire or inclination to sleep with mortal women which they did- thereby resulting in their fall.
Scully (laughing) : A desire or inclination to sleep with mortal women? There's your sex addiction coming through again, Mulder.
Mulder: If you're going to carry on like this, Scully, maybe we should just go into the bedroom for a quickie right now and get this whole X-Files business over with once and for all.
Scully (laughing) : I'm sorry, Mulder. I do find it fascinating though that you have separated the two events.
Mulder: Two events?
Scully (smiling) : Of how angels became demons. First there were angels who joined Lucifer in rebellion against God. They fell and became demons. Then there were angels who lusted after mortal women - they gave in to this inclination and thus fell and became demons. So there were two sets of demons- angels who were originally revolutionaries and then angels who became horny and then literally became horny (along with pitchfork and tails) afterwards.
Mulder: Well according to the 1st Book of Enoch which is the long expanded non-Reader's Digest non-condensed narrative of the events described in Genesis Chapter 6, God had set those angels as Watchers over the Earth to watch over humanity. Why would God choose demons as Watchers? If you read the narrative carefully, those Watchers were originally good angels who fell as a result of giving in to their desire to sleep with mortal women.
Scully: All right, Mulder.
Mulder: I was told that in Eastern Orthodox Church tradition angels had up until the 1stComing of Christ to decide whether they were for or against God. Once Christ arrived the 1st time in incarnate form as a babe in Bethlehem, the choices angels had made up until that point in time decided their eternal fate. Michael, Gabriel and Raphael had consistently chosen for God so their eternal fate as good angels was finally sealed at Christ's 1st Coming. Just like for humans, the choice is open up until the moment of their death or until the 2nd Coming of Christ (whatever happens first in the respective lives of humans) to decide to be for or against God.
Scully (smiling) : This is fascinating, Mulder. You should have become a priest.
Mulder: I'd have problems with celibacy, Scully, for reasons you deduced earlier in our conversation.
Scully (smiles) : Are you saying that I'm right, Mulder?
Mulder: You're always right, Scully.
Scully (crossing and uncrossing her legs several times) : True compliments have their rewards, Mulder.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday December 23rd
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, December 22, 2015
Renfield's Voyages of The Starship Perverterprise
Renfield's Voyages of The Starship Perverterprise
Renfield was on his computer watching a porno movie he wrote and produced called Star Dick.
The movie began with this narration:
"Star Dick... orgy date 3233.4321 ... I'm Captain James E. Quirk. These are the voyages of the Starship Perverterprise... its 5 year mission... to explore strange new positions... to seek out new forms of sexual deviation... to boldly go where no man has gone before..."
The Executive Producer of the film in the credits was listed as Gene Popacherry which was the pseudonym Renfield used for this particular movie.
Renfield watched the following scene from the movie:
(Captain's Quarters, Starship Perverterprise. Mr. Spook is bending over and Captain Quirk is directly behind him)
Mr. Spook: I must say, Captain, this is a very unusual positron.
Captain Quirk: Indeed Mr. Spook. It's a position I learned from reading the Kama Sutra that great ancient Indian work of literature. It's a book you should really read, Mr. Spook. Brush up on the earthling human side of your heritage. After all, a ship's science officer should not live on Volcanian logic and reasoning alone.
Mr. Spook: So it would appear, Captain. Now if you wouldn't mind disentangling yourself from my lower regions, I really wouldn't mind getting back to work.
Captain Quirk: Um... that may be a bit of a problem, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: May I inquire as to why that is so, Captain?
Captain Quirk: I must confess that I didn't read the rest of that particular chapter of the Kama Sutra, Mr. Spook. The part that gives instructions for disentanglement.
Mr. Spook: A fine mess you've got us into, Captain. Do you propose that we walk around the Perverterprise like this? Like a set of conjoined Siamese twins born into the condition of a permanent pose in a Turkish bath house orgy?
Captain Quirk: I'm trying to think, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: I wish you had done some thinking before hand, Captain. It's rushing ahead without using the principles of logic that often leads to catastrophic situations such as the one we currently find ourselves in.
Captain Quirk: Well I don't exactly recall you saying no when I first proposed this experiment, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: Well as the ship's science officer, I thought it might expand my knowledge of the universe. I wasn't counting on it expanding the cleft between my buttocks instead.
Captain Quirk: Hold on, Mr. Spook, I'm going to get my beeper out.
Mr. Spook: Oh God. Not again, Captain.
Captain Quirk: I was referring to my telecommunicator, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: Oh, thank heavens.
Captain Quirk (on his telecommunicator) : Are you there, Scatty?
Scatty (with a thick Scottish brogue) : I'm in the engine room, Captain. I'm eating some Scottish haggis and playing with the lever on my control panel.
Captain Quirk: Scatty, I need you to go down to the ship's library and get the volume of the Kama Sutra and bring it to my private quarters immediately.
Scatty: Why should I do that, Captain?
Captain Quirk: Because even though we live in the 23rd Century, our advanced space-based civilization seems to have forgotten how to use the Internet and Google.
Scatty: No, I mean, why do you require the Kama Sutra, Captain?
Captain Quirk: That's none of your business, Mr. Scat. Just get to the library and get the damned Kama Sutra and bring it here.
(Quirk angrily closes the top flap on his Telecommunicator)
Mr. Spook: With all due respect, Captain, I think Scatty is going to discover the reason why you need the Kama Sutra when he walks into the room and discovers us like this.
Captain Quirk: I'll worry about crossing that bridge when I come to it, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: I have the feeling Julius Caesar never encountered such a problem when he crossed the Rubicon.
Captain Quirk: Which explains how he ended up Dictator of the Roman Republic while I'm only the captain of the Starship Perverterprise.
(Quirk's telecommunicator goes off)
Quirk (opening up his telecommunicator) : What is it, Scatty?
Scatty: I canna leave the engine room, Captain. One of the engines is undergoing a meltdown.
Captain Quirk: An engine meltdown?
Scatty: Yes, Captain, ever since a reproduction print of the early 20th Century Modigliani reclining nude portrait painting of the famous immortal Sherrielock Holmes was placed in the engine room, our engines have experienced numerous meltdowns.
Mr. Spook (commenting) : The lobsters in the ship's aquarium have also experienced severe hyperventilating problems ever since that painting was unveiled, Captain.
Captain Quirk: All right, Scatty. I'll try to get ahold of Mr. Mumu or Officer Rockoff.
Scatty: I must remind you, Captain- that all of the ship's men are currently in the ship's theatre watching tonight's UFC Fight from Alpha Centauri.
Captain Quirk: Damn. I forgot about that.
Mr. Spook: If you wouldn't mind listening to a Volcanian observation of condescending superiority, Captain, it seems that all you earthling men ever think about is sex or sports.
Captain Quirk: I'm afraid you've got us there, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: And thanks to a temporary lapse in my Volcanian logical reasoning ability and judgement, I'm afraid you've got me there as well, Captain.
Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) : All right, Scatty. I'll try to get ahold of the ship's communications officer Lt. Ucausehardonia.
Scatty: All right, Captain. I must go now. There goes another engine.
Captain Quirk: So long, Scatty.
Mr. Spook: I hope you can get ahold of Lt. Ucausehardonia because my Volcanian ears can feel a 7 year itch coming on.
Captain Quirk: This is going to be embarrassing asking a woman to fetch the Kama Sutra from the library, Mr. Spook. When Lt. Ucausehardonia comes here and finds us like this, she's going to wonder about my sexual orientation.
Mr. Spook: My own judgement of your sexual orientation was made up the moment you suggested this bizarre exercise in physical gymnastics, Captain. I just went along with it because being a Volcanian, I'll try anything once- a cultural tradition I'll now be forced to re-evaluate in lieu of this particular incident.
Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) : Lt. Ucausehardonia?
Lt. Ucausehardonia: Lt. Ucausehardonia here, Captain.
Captain Quirk: Lt., I was wondering if you could go down to the library and pick up the volume of the Kama Sutra located there and bring it here to my private quarters.
Lt. Ucausehardonia (in a sexy sultry voice) : Gosh, you've been feeling awfully amorous the past 24 hours haven't you, Captain? I still haven't recovered from your historical re-enactment of Evel Knievel penetrating into the Grand Canyon that you performed on me last night.
Captain Quirk (his face turning red) :
Actually, I was just wanting to finish reading a particular chapter I've never finished reading.
Lt. Ucausehardonia: Well I'm afraid the ship's doctor Boner MacRoy checked that book out of the library when he left for 3 days vacation on the planet Orgasma, Captain.
Captain Quirk: All right, thanks anyways, Lt. (puts down the flap on his telecommunicator) : Shit! How could you do this to me, Boner?
Mr. Spook: So Captain, it appears that the good doctor has screwed you in more ways than one.
Captain Quirk: I'm... we're going to have to go down to the bridge and set an emergency course to the planet Orgasma to pick up that book.
Mr. Spook: So we'll have to walk the corridors of the Perverterprise looking like a kinky circus act in some Quentin Tarantino burlesque freak show.
Captain Quirk: I'm afraid so, Mr. Spook. I just hope that when we're down on the bridge, the Federation doesn't decide to hold one of their impromptu interplanetary televised teleconferencing calls. Where the whole galaxy will see us like this. Otherwise I'll have a terrible time trying to explain this to the Federation.
Mr. Spook: To say nothing of your girlfriend, Captain.
- A vampire novel chapter
and Renfieldian episode
of Star Dick: Voyages
of The Starship Perverterprise
written by Christopher
during the period
Friday December 18th
to
Monday December 21st
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Renfield was on his computer watching a porno movie he wrote and produced called Star Dick.
The movie began with this narration:
"Star Dick... orgy date 3233.4321 ... I'm Captain James E. Quirk. These are the voyages of the Starship Perverterprise... its 5 year mission... to explore strange new positions... to seek out new forms of sexual deviation... to boldly go where no man has gone before..."
The Executive Producer of the film in the credits was listed as Gene Popacherry which was the pseudonym Renfield used for this particular movie.
Renfield watched the following scene from the movie:
(Captain's Quarters, Starship Perverterprise. Mr. Spook is bending over and Captain Quirk is directly behind him)
Mr. Spook: I must say, Captain, this is a very unusual positron.
Captain Quirk: Indeed Mr. Spook. It's a position I learned from reading the Kama Sutra that great ancient Indian work of literature. It's a book you should really read, Mr. Spook. Brush up on the earthling human side of your heritage. After all, a ship's science officer should not live on Volcanian logic and reasoning alone.
Mr. Spook: So it would appear, Captain. Now if you wouldn't mind disentangling yourself from my lower regions, I really wouldn't mind getting back to work.
Captain Quirk: Um... that may be a bit of a problem, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: May I inquire as to why that is so, Captain?
Captain Quirk: I must confess that I didn't read the rest of that particular chapter of the Kama Sutra, Mr. Spook. The part that gives instructions for disentanglement.
Mr. Spook: A fine mess you've got us into, Captain. Do you propose that we walk around the Perverterprise like this? Like a set of conjoined Siamese twins born into the condition of a permanent pose in a Turkish bath house orgy?
Captain Quirk: I'm trying to think, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: I wish you had done some thinking before hand, Captain. It's rushing ahead without using the principles of logic that often leads to catastrophic situations such as the one we currently find ourselves in.
Captain Quirk: Well I don't exactly recall you saying no when I first proposed this experiment, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: Well as the ship's science officer, I thought it might expand my knowledge of the universe. I wasn't counting on it expanding the cleft between my buttocks instead.
Captain Quirk: Hold on, Mr. Spook, I'm going to get my beeper out.
Mr. Spook: Oh God. Not again, Captain.
Captain Quirk: I was referring to my telecommunicator, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: Oh, thank heavens.
Captain Quirk (on his telecommunicator) : Are you there, Scatty?
Scatty (with a thick Scottish brogue) : I'm in the engine room, Captain. I'm eating some Scottish haggis and playing with the lever on my control panel.
Captain Quirk: Scatty, I need you to go down to the ship's library and get the volume of the Kama Sutra and bring it to my private quarters immediately.
Scatty: Why should I do that, Captain?
Captain Quirk: Because even though we live in the 23rd Century, our advanced space-based civilization seems to have forgotten how to use the Internet and Google.
Scatty: No, I mean, why do you require the Kama Sutra, Captain?
Captain Quirk: That's none of your business, Mr. Scat. Just get to the library and get the damned Kama Sutra and bring it here.
(Quirk angrily closes the top flap on his Telecommunicator)
Mr. Spook: With all due respect, Captain, I think Scatty is going to discover the reason why you need the Kama Sutra when he walks into the room and discovers us like this.
Captain Quirk: I'll worry about crossing that bridge when I come to it, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: I have the feeling Julius Caesar never encountered such a problem when he crossed the Rubicon.
Captain Quirk: Which explains how he ended up Dictator of the Roman Republic while I'm only the captain of the Starship Perverterprise.
(Quirk's telecommunicator goes off)
Quirk (opening up his telecommunicator) : What is it, Scatty?
Scatty: I canna leave the engine room, Captain. One of the engines is undergoing a meltdown.
Captain Quirk: An engine meltdown?
Scatty: Yes, Captain, ever since a reproduction print of the early 20th Century Modigliani reclining nude portrait painting of the famous immortal Sherrielock Holmes was placed in the engine room, our engines have experienced numerous meltdowns.
Mr. Spook (commenting) : The lobsters in the ship's aquarium have also experienced severe hyperventilating problems ever since that painting was unveiled, Captain.
Captain Quirk: All right, Scatty. I'll try to get ahold of Mr. Mumu or Officer Rockoff.
Scatty: I must remind you, Captain- that all of the ship's men are currently in the ship's theatre watching tonight's UFC Fight from Alpha Centauri.
Captain Quirk: Damn. I forgot about that.
Mr. Spook: If you wouldn't mind listening to a Volcanian observation of condescending superiority, Captain, it seems that all you earthling men ever think about is sex or sports.
Captain Quirk: I'm afraid you've got us there, Mr. Spook.
Mr. Spook: And thanks to a temporary lapse in my Volcanian logical reasoning ability and judgement, I'm afraid you've got me there as well, Captain.
Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) : All right, Scatty. I'll try to get ahold of the ship's communications officer Lt. Ucausehardonia.
Scatty: All right, Captain. I must go now. There goes another engine.
Captain Quirk: So long, Scatty.
Mr. Spook: I hope you can get ahold of Lt. Ucausehardonia because my Volcanian ears can feel a 7 year itch coming on.
Captain Quirk: This is going to be embarrassing asking a woman to fetch the Kama Sutra from the library, Mr. Spook. When Lt. Ucausehardonia comes here and finds us like this, she's going to wonder about my sexual orientation.
Mr. Spook: My own judgement of your sexual orientation was made up the moment you suggested this bizarre exercise in physical gymnastics, Captain. I just went along with it because being a Volcanian, I'll try anything once- a cultural tradition I'll now be forced to re-evaluate in lieu of this particular incident.
Captain Quirk (on telecommunicator) : Lt. Ucausehardonia?
Lt. Ucausehardonia: Lt. Ucausehardonia here, Captain.
Captain Quirk: Lt., I was wondering if you could go down to the library and pick up the volume of the Kama Sutra located there and bring it here to my private quarters.
Lt. Ucausehardonia (in a sexy sultry voice) : Gosh, you've been feeling awfully amorous the past 24 hours haven't you, Captain? I still haven't recovered from your historical re-enactment of Evel Knievel penetrating into the Grand Canyon that you performed on me last night.
Captain Quirk (his face turning red) :
Actually, I was just wanting to finish reading a particular chapter I've never finished reading.
Lt. Ucausehardonia: Well I'm afraid the ship's doctor Boner MacRoy checked that book out of the library when he left for 3 days vacation on the planet Orgasma, Captain.
Captain Quirk: All right, thanks anyways, Lt. (puts down the flap on his telecommunicator) : Shit! How could you do this to me, Boner?
Mr. Spook: So Captain, it appears that the good doctor has screwed you in more ways than one.
Captain Quirk: I'm... we're going to have to go down to the bridge and set an emergency course to the planet Orgasma to pick up that book.
Mr. Spook: So we'll have to walk the corridors of the Perverterprise looking like a kinky circus act in some Quentin Tarantino burlesque freak show.
Captain Quirk: I'm afraid so, Mr. Spook. I just hope that when we're down on the bridge, the Federation doesn't decide to hold one of their impromptu interplanetary televised teleconferencing calls. Where the whole galaxy will see us like this. Otherwise I'll have a terrible time trying to explain this to the Federation.
Mr. Spook: To say nothing of your girlfriend, Captain.
- A vampire novel chapter
and Renfieldian episode
of Star Dick: Voyages
of The Starship Perverterprise
written by Christopher
during the period
Friday December 18th
to
Monday December 21st
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Sunday, December 20, 2015
Ziegevolk: A Poem
Ziegevolk: A Poem
The lights are dim
reach for Brothers Grimm
a book on the antiquated shelf
right next to a plastic elf.
Open the volume of ancient lore
cast the spell and open the door
The woods are peopled with these Bluebeard folk
who eat amphibious toads while frogs croak
These goat people known as Ziegevolk
never appear in ads for Coke
unlike the jolly fellow in the red suit
they wear clothes black as chimney soot
These goat people are quite horny
their pick up lines really corny
They emit many pheromones
as well as bedroom groans.
On nights just before Christmas the Ziegevolk Titus arises
a Bluebeard full of surprises
He slays people left and right
with sword held in hand so tight
The snow is blood red
and many lay dead
not a living soul
by the village pole
no one left to pay the tavern bill
for these dead folk who drank their fill
Titus was a tavern keeper's worst nightmare
he slew the customers before they paid their fare
A bleak Christmas for all
thanks to Titus' gall.
-A Christmas poem
about Ziegevolk
written by Christopher
Sunday December 20th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
The lights are dim
reach for Brothers Grimm
a book on the antiquated shelf
right next to a plastic elf.
Open the volume of ancient lore
cast the spell and open the door
The woods are peopled with these Bluebeard folk
who eat amphibious toads while frogs croak
These goat people known as Ziegevolk
never appear in ads for Coke
unlike the jolly fellow in the red suit
they wear clothes black as chimney soot
These goat people are quite horny
their pick up lines really corny
They emit many pheromones
as well as bedroom groans.
On nights just before Christmas the Ziegevolk Titus arises
a Bluebeard full of surprises
He slays people left and right
with sword held in hand so tight
The snow is blood red
and many lay dead
not a living soul
by the village pole
no one left to pay the tavern bill
for these dead folk who drank their fill
Titus was a tavern keeper's worst nightmare
he slew the customers before they paid their fare
A bleak Christmas for all
thanks to Titus' gall.
-A Christmas poem
about Ziegevolk
written by Christopher
Sunday December 20th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, December 16, 2015
Renfield's Personal Research On Sherrielock Holmes
Renfield's Research On Sherrielock Holmes
Amadeus and Renfield were sitting in their favourite Fish and Chips shop in London.
Renfield was having the Deluxe Grilled Cheese and Tuna Fish Sandwich Special.
Amadeus was having the All You Can Eat Fish n' Chips Special.
He was now on his 11th plate of fish and chips.
"I've noticed that for some reason I'm not able to fit into any of the clothes that people bought me as presents last Christmas," Amadeus said as he bit into his monster piece of cod.
"I wonder why that is," Renfield bit into his sandwich.
"I have no idea," Amadeus ordered his 12th plate of fish and chips.
"Anyways I've been doing some research on Sherrielock Holmes," Renfield sipped his Magic Mushroom and Marshmallow Laced Chocolate Latte.
"Your personal dominatrix?" Amadeus spoke in a loud voice.
"Shhh, quiet, not so loud," Renfield whispered to Amadeus.
The remark had caught the attention of other restaurant patrons particularly British Prime Minister David Cameron who sat there with a very peculiar look on his face.
"So what did you discover about Miss Holmes?" Amadeus ordered the chocolate pudding dessert.
"That she's 161 years old for one thing," Renfield stated.
"Wow, she doesn't look much over 30 if that," Amadeus was amazed, "she must have a lot of Oil of Olay around the house."
"That she's also Sherlock Holmes' twin sister," Renfield went on.
"Sherlock Holmes the famous detective?" Amadeus was astounded.
"The very same," Renfield put on his deerstalker cap.
"But I always thought he was a fictional character," Amadeus ordered the Moby Dick Omelette to go with his dessert.
"Dr. Watson just used his physician friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as a cover to protect Holmes' real existence," Renfield explained.
"But all those stories about him listed his address as 221 B Baker Street," Amadeus pointed out.
"It's little slip- ups in details like that which often cause the best laid plans of mice and men to go astray," Renfield ordered the Robbie Burns Eggnog Special, "that is in fact the means by which Prof. Moriarty discovered where Holmes lived, Moriarty being one of the Strand Magazine's most ardent subscribers. It was also that fact which led Holmes to discover the secret headquarters of Prof. Moriarty once he obtained a copy of the Strand Magazine's subscription and mailing list."
"Wow, so Holmes was actually a real person eh?" Amadeus started writing a letter to Santa Claus on his napkin.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "and Sherrielock Holmes was his virtually unknown twin sister."
"How did she become immortal?" Amadeus helped himself to one of the restaurant's Heavenly Cinnamon Buns, "She doesn't look like a vampiress. She doesn't have those prominent vampiric incisor fangs that most vampiresses do that's usually such a challenge for most dentists to clean."
"It was through the efforts of her lover and husband Louis Rocher a brilliant scientist," Renfield explained, "he used a compound he specially extracted from the Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom to make a potion that he gave her to drink and she became immortal."
"Did he drink the potion as well?" Amadeus sampled some of Renfield's Magic Mushroom and Marshmallow Chocolate Latte.
"No, for reasons totally unknown, he decided to wait to drink it," Renfield angrily took back his cup of Latte, "which was a mistake on his part because during the Great War of 1914-18, he was an RAF pilot and he was shot down and killed by the Red Baron just the day before the Red Baron himself was shot down and killed."
"Oh yes, that was Snoopy who killed the Red Baron, wasn't it?" Amadeus helped himself to some peanuts.
"Yes, Amadeus," Renfield sighed in an exasperating manner.
"Wait," Amadeus started sampling a chocolate eclair, "did you say this Louis' last name was Rocher?".
"Yes," Renfield watched as the plate of chocolate eclairs vanished into oblivion (if oblivion be another name for Amadeus' stomach).
"Is he any relation to Dr. Cadbury Rocher...?" Amadeus was interrupted.
"Yes, Louis Rocher was Cadbury's great-grandfather," Renfield nodded.
"Then that means that Sherrielock Holmes is..." Amadeus was again interrupted.
"Cadbury's great-grandmother," Renfield nodded again.
"Wow, Cadbury never mentioned that his great-grandmother was still alive," Amadeus paused as he realized there was nothing left on the table to eat.
"Just like the Boss never mentions that he has hemorrhoids when he's at social gatherings," Renfield pointed out, "there are some things you just don't talk about in public."
"So is that all you discovered about Sherrielock Holmes?" Amadeus ordered a slice of banana cream pie.
"No," Renfield grinned like the Giant Rat of Sumatra after he had eaten a monster block of cheese, "I discovered something that I suspect not even Sherrielock Holmes herself knows."
"What's that?" Amadeus dove into the banana cream pie with as much flourish as Tarzan would dive into a jungle stream where Jane was swimming in her birthday suit.
"I found out who Louis Rocher's father is," Renfield beamed from ear to ear.
"Presumably some man called Rocher," Amadeus got a banana caught in his hair and started to worry that people might mistake him for Donald Trump as he struggled to get it out.
"Louis' mother Isabelle Rocher was a single mother," Renfield explained, "but I discovered Louis Rocher's birth certificate in the Bibliotecheque Nationale de France right next to the Merovingian Bloodline Chart which shows that today's direct descendant of Mary Magdalene and the Merovingian Kings of France is none other than Rowan Atkinson aka Mr. Bean aka Johnny English."
"Jesus Christ," Amadeus got cream pie all over his face.
"Actually it turns out that it was Jesus' cousin Simeon of Nazareth who married Mary Magdalene and immigrated to France," Renfield was happy to outLangdon Robert Langdon, "but that information wouldn't sell massive quantities of books as Simeon of Nazareth isn't as well known as his cousin Jesus of Nazareth."
"No, I guess not," Amadeus wiped the cream pie off his face.
"Probably due to the fact that as Simeon of Nazareth lay dying after he was slain by an angry Gaul for helping himself to the last piece of cheese on a plate at a French village banquet, his prophecy that he would rise again on the Third Day after being buried near what is today Rennes-le-Chateau didn't pan out. Prophesying that you'd rise again from the dead and doing it brings you everlasting fame. Prophesying that you'd rise again from the dead and not doing it ensures history's loss of memory of you," Renfield reflected.
"I suppose so," Amadeus eagerly grabbed his plate of Baked Alaska from the waitress as he was trying to recall where he heard the name Sarah Palin before.
"So would you like to know what was the name of Louis Rocher's father on his 1874 birth certificate?" Renfield pulled a plum out of his mincemeat pie and thought what a good boy he was.
"Yes, the suspense is killing me as are these suspenders," Amadeus stated, "God, why do my pants feel so tight?".
"Yes, the name of Louis Rocher's father was none other than..." Renfield grinned, "drum roll please."
Amadeus handed him an egg roll from his coat pocket.
Renfield put the egg roll aside and wiped his hands with a napkin, "The name of Louis Rocher's father was none other than... Prof. James Moriarty."
"Sherlock Holmes' arch enemy?!" Amadeus spit a huge piece of Baked Alaska out of his mouth that went flying across the room and hit David Cameron in the face.
"The very same," Renfield grinned.
A London bobby rushed to Mr. Cameron's aid and shouted, "Prime Minister down! Prime Minister down!".
Outside the restaurant, zookeepers from the London Zoo could be seen chasing an escaped barking otter down the street.
"So Sherrielock Holmes was married to Prof. Moriarty's son?" Amadeus was astounded.
"Unknowingly of course," Renfield smiled.
"So that means Dr. Cadbury Rocher has Sherlock Holmes' twin sister for a great-grandmother and Sherlock Holmes' arch enemy for a great great grandfather?" Amadeus reflected on what this meant for the world as chaos reigned at David Cameron's table and on the otter filled streets of London outside.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
during the period
Thursday December 9th
to
Tuesday December 15th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Amadeus and Renfield were sitting in their favourite Fish and Chips shop in London.
Renfield was having the Deluxe Grilled Cheese and Tuna Fish Sandwich Special.
Amadeus was having the All You Can Eat Fish n' Chips Special.
He was now on his 11th plate of fish and chips.
"I've noticed that for some reason I'm not able to fit into any of the clothes that people bought me as presents last Christmas," Amadeus said as he bit into his monster piece of cod.
"I wonder why that is," Renfield bit into his sandwich.
"I have no idea," Amadeus ordered his 12th plate of fish and chips.
"Anyways I've been doing some research on Sherrielock Holmes," Renfield sipped his Magic Mushroom and Marshmallow Laced Chocolate Latte.
"Your personal dominatrix?" Amadeus spoke in a loud voice.
"Shhh, quiet, not so loud," Renfield whispered to Amadeus.
The remark had caught the attention of other restaurant patrons particularly British Prime Minister David Cameron who sat there with a very peculiar look on his face.
"So what did you discover about Miss Holmes?" Amadeus ordered the chocolate pudding dessert.
"That she's 161 years old for one thing," Renfield stated.
"Wow, she doesn't look much over 30 if that," Amadeus was amazed, "she must have a lot of Oil of Olay around the house."
"That she's also Sherlock Holmes' twin sister," Renfield went on.
"Sherlock Holmes the famous detective?" Amadeus was astounded.
"The very same," Renfield put on his deerstalker cap.
"But I always thought he was a fictional character," Amadeus ordered the Moby Dick Omelette to go with his dessert.
"Dr. Watson just used his physician friend Sir Arthur Conan Doyle as a cover to protect Holmes' real existence," Renfield explained.
"But all those stories about him listed his address as 221 B Baker Street," Amadeus pointed out.
"It's little slip- ups in details like that which often cause the best laid plans of mice and men to go astray," Renfield ordered the Robbie Burns Eggnog Special, "that is in fact the means by which Prof. Moriarty discovered where Holmes lived, Moriarty being one of the Strand Magazine's most ardent subscribers. It was also that fact which led Holmes to discover the secret headquarters of Prof. Moriarty once he obtained a copy of the Strand Magazine's subscription and mailing list."
"Wow, so Holmes was actually a real person eh?" Amadeus started writing a letter to Santa Claus on his napkin.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "and Sherrielock Holmes was his virtually unknown twin sister."
"How did she become immortal?" Amadeus helped himself to one of the restaurant's Heavenly Cinnamon Buns, "She doesn't look like a vampiress. She doesn't have those prominent vampiric incisor fangs that most vampiresses do that's usually such a challenge for most dentists to clean."
"It was through the efforts of her lover and husband Louis Rocher a brilliant scientist," Renfield explained, "he used a compound he specially extracted from the Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom to make a potion that he gave her to drink and she became immortal."
"Did he drink the potion as well?" Amadeus sampled some of Renfield's Magic Mushroom and Marshmallow Chocolate Latte.
"No, for reasons totally unknown, he decided to wait to drink it," Renfield angrily took back his cup of Latte, "which was a mistake on his part because during the Great War of 1914-18, he was an RAF pilot and he was shot down and killed by the Red Baron just the day before the Red Baron himself was shot down and killed."
"Oh yes, that was Snoopy who killed the Red Baron, wasn't it?" Amadeus helped himself to some peanuts.
"Yes, Amadeus," Renfield sighed in an exasperating manner.
"Wait," Amadeus started sampling a chocolate eclair, "did you say this Louis' last name was Rocher?".
"Yes," Renfield watched as the plate of chocolate eclairs vanished into oblivion (if oblivion be another name for Amadeus' stomach).
"Is he any relation to Dr. Cadbury Rocher...?" Amadeus was interrupted.
"Yes, Louis Rocher was Cadbury's great-grandfather," Renfield nodded.
"Then that means that Sherrielock Holmes is..." Amadeus was again interrupted.
"Cadbury's great-grandmother," Renfield nodded again.
"Wow, Cadbury never mentioned that his great-grandmother was still alive," Amadeus paused as he realized there was nothing left on the table to eat.
"Just like the Boss never mentions that he has hemorrhoids when he's at social gatherings," Renfield pointed out, "there are some things you just don't talk about in public."
"So is that all you discovered about Sherrielock Holmes?" Amadeus ordered a slice of banana cream pie.
"No," Renfield grinned like the Giant Rat of Sumatra after he had eaten a monster block of cheese, "I discovered something that I suspect not even Sherrielock Holmes herself knows."
"What's that?" Amadeus dove into the banana cream pie with as much flourish as Tarzan would dive into a jungle stream where Jane was swimming in her birthday suit.
"I found out who Louis Rocher's father is," Renfield beamed from ear to ear.
"Presumably some man called Rocher," Amadeus got a banana caught in his hair and started to worry that people might mistake him for Donald Trump as he struggled to get it out.
"Louis' mother Isabelle Rocher was a single mother," Renfield explained, "but I discovered Louis Rocher's birth certificate in the Bibliotecheque Nationale de France right next to the Merovingian Bloodline Chart which shows that today's direct descendant of Mary Magdalene and the Merovingian Kings of France is none other than Rowan Atkinson aka Mr. Bean aka Johnny English."
"Jesus Christ," Amadeus got cream pie all over his face.
"Actually it turns out that it was Jesus' cousin Simeon of Nazareth who married Mary Magdalene and immigrated to France," Renfield was happy to outLangdon Robert Langdon, "but that information wouldn't sell massive quantities of books as Simeon of Nazareth isn't as well known as his cousin Jesus of Nazareth."
"No, I guess not," Amadeus wiped the cream pie off his face.
"Probably due to the fact that as Simeon of Nazareth lay dying after he was slain by an angry Gaul for helping himself to the last piece of cheese on a plate at a French village banquet, his prophecy that he would rise again on the Third Day after being buried near what is today Rennes-le-Chateau didn't pan out. Prophesying that you'd rise again from the dead and doing it brings you everlasting fame. Prophesying that you'd rise again from the dead and not doing it ensures history's loss of memory of you," Renfield reflected.
"I suppose so," Amadeus eagerly grabbed his plate of Baked Alaska from the waitress as he was trying to recall where he heard the name Sarah Palin before.
"So would you like to know what was the name of Louis Rocher's father on his 1874 birth certificate?" Renfield pulled a plum out of his mincemeat pie and thought what a good boy he was.
"Yes, the suspense is killing me as are these suspenders," Amadeus stated, "God, why do my pants feel so tight?".
"Yes, the name of Louis Rocher's father was none other than..." Renfield grinned, "drum roll please."
Amadeus handed him an egg roll from his coat pocket.
Renfield put the egg roll aside and wiped his hands with a napkin, "The name of Louis Rocher's father was none other than... Prof. James Moriarty."
"Sherlock Holmes' arch enemy?!" Amadeus spit a huge piece of Baked Alaska out of his mouth that went flying across the room and hit David Cameron in the face.
"The very same," Renfield grinned.
A London bobby rushed to Mr. Cameron's aid and shouted, "Prime Minister down! Prime Minister down!".
Outside the restaurant, zookeepers from the London Zoo could be seen chasing an escaped barking otter down the street.
"So Sherrielock Holmes was married to Prof. Moriarty's son?" Amadeus was astounded.
"Unknowingly of course," Renfield smiled.
"So that means Dr. Cadbury Rocher has Sherlock Holmes' twin sister for a great-grandmother and Sherlock Holmes' arch enemy for a great great grandfather?" Amadeus reflected on what this meant for the world as chaos reigned at David Cameron's table and on the otter filled streets of London outside.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
during the period
Thursday December 9th
to
Tuesday December 15th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, December 15, 2015
The Young Renfield
The Young Renfield
Dr. Cadbury Rocher was thinking back to the first Christmas after he had genetically created Renfield R. Renfield from a combination of human and hamster DNA.
He remembered the young Renfield building his first snowman outside the Set Enterprises premises at the start of his work day.
When Dr. Rocher walked out of the grounds after work, there was a huge puddle of water outside the gate and the young Renfield was crying bucketloads of tears.
"What happened, Renfield?" Dr. Rocher asked.
"Well," Renfield blubbered, "I thought Frosty could use a sun tan but when I put the sun lamp on him and left for a while, he melted."
Poor Renfield, Cadbury laughed and shook his head.
Surely, Renfield had changed.
Meanwhile on this day outside Dr. Rocher's lab, Renfield tried to pick up the short skirted actress Lucy Liu (who plays Joan Watson on Elementary) and was sent flying by her kick boxing kick over the fence back into the Set Enterprises yard.
His copy of his own book Renfield's Surefire Pick- Up Lines To Pick Up Women was left lying in the snow on the very spot where Frosty the Snowman had melted years before.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 15th
2015.
Dr. Cadbury Rocher was thinking back to the first Christmas after he had genetically created Renfield R. Renfield from a combination of human and hamster DNA.
He remembered the young Renfield building his first snowman outside the Set Enterprises premises at the start of his work day.
When Dr. Rocher walked out of the grounds after work, there was a huge puddle of water outside the gate and the young Renfield was crying bucketloads of tears.
"What happened, Renfield?" Dr. Rocher asked.
"Well," Renfield blubbered, "I thought Frosty could use a sun tan but when I put the sun lamp on him and left for a while, he melted."
Poor Renfield, Cadbury laughed and shook his head.
Surely, Renfield had changed.
Meanwhile on this day outside Dr. Rocher's lab, Renfield tried to pick up the short skirted actress Lucy Liu (who plays Joan Watson on Elementary) and was sent flying by her kick boxing kick over the fence back into the Set Enterprises yard.
His copy of his own book Renfield's Surefire Pick- Up Lines To Pick Up Women was left lying in the snow on the very spot where Frosty the Snowman had melted years before.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 15th
2015.
Monday, December 14, 2015
Sleipnir: A Poem
Sleipnir: A Poem
From Sleipnir
to reindeer
what a path was trod
from flying steed of Odin the Norse god
to aerodynamic reindeer carrying a red suited bod
oh what metamorphoses have taken place
Joseph Campbell noted till he was blue in the face
but now we'll return to the beginning of the tale
just shortly after Jonah was snack for a whale
There was a Norse warrior Marlon Brando godfather like in appearance
whose body was so wide he needed plenty of room for clearance
he talked like he had marbles in his mouth
no one understood him from north to south
He made people offers they couldn't refuse
And if they did, they wound up with body parts they could no longer use.
Now there was a Norseman who pissed off this godfatheresque Chief
And doing so would cause him a lot of grief
Godfather told Loki to put a horse's head in his bed
Severed from his body, the horse would be dead.
Now Svadilfari was the name of this stallion
if he were a car, he'd get many miles to the gallon
Now Loki was a pervert of perverts beyond measure
his deeds would be something Caligula would treasure
When Loki saw Svaldifari was a handsome stud
his knees turned to jelly and his toes to mud
Loki turned himself into a mare
with long mane flowing hair
and they got it on in the buff- all naked and bare
So no horse's head
wound up in warrior bed
Instead Loki gave birth to an 8-legged horse
Commented Mr. Ed, "Of course. Of course."
And so Sleipnir was born
with 8 legs but no horn.
And so Odin rides this 8-legged steed across the skies
still seen by those on psychedelic highs.
-A poem written by Christopher
Monday December 14th 2015
where Norse mythology meets
The Godfather Part One.
Sent from my iPhone
From Sleipnir
to reindeer
what a path was trod
from flying steed of Odin the Norse god
to aerodynamic reindeer carrying a red suited bod
oh what metamorphoses have taken place
Joseph Campbell noted till he was blue in the face
but now we'll return to the beginning of the tale
just shortly after Jonah was snack for a whale
There was a Norse warrior Marlon Brando godfather like in appearance
whose body was so wide he needed plenty of room for clearance
he talked like he had marbles in his mouth
no one understood him from north to south
He made people offers they couldn't refuse
And if they did, they wound up with body parts they could no longer use.
Now there was a Norseman who pissed off this godfatheresque Chief
And doing so would cause him a lot of grief
Godfather told Loki to put a horse's head in his bed
Severed from his body, the horse would be dead.
Now Svadilfari was the name of this stallion
if he were a car, he'd get many miles to the gallon
Now Loki was a pervert of perverts beyond measure
his deeds would be something Caligula would treasure
When Loki saw Svaldifari was a handsome stud
his knees turned to jelly and his toes to mud
Loki turned himself into a mare
with long mane flowing hair
and they got it on in the buff- all naked and bare
So no horse's head
wound up in warrior bed
Instead Loki gave birth to an 8-legged horse
Commented Mr. Ed, "Of course. Of course."
And so Sleipnir was born
with 8 legs but no horn.
And so Odin rides this 8-legged steed across the skies
still seen by those on psychedelic highs.
-A poem written by Christopher
Monday December 14th 2015
where Norse mythology meets
The Godfather Part One.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, December 10, 2015
Amadeus' Dream of Donald Trump On Judgement Day
Amadeus' Dream of Donald Trump On Judgement Day
Amadeus Emanon was having a dream about the last words Donald Trump would ever speak on Judgement Day.
Trump: What sort of total loser totally fucked up Creator God casts a great individual such as myself into Hell?
"That would be me," Christ replied doing an excellent voice impersonation of comedian Bob Newhart in delivering that particular line.
Trump's agonizing scream could be heard as he plunged downward, "I'm FIRE-d!".
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday December 10th
2015.
Amadeus Emanon was having a dream about the last words Donald Trump would ever speak on Judgement Day.
Trump: What sort of total loser totally fucked up Creator God casts a great individual such as myself into Hell?
"That would be me," Christ replied doing an excellent voice impersonation of comedian Bob Newhart in delivering that particular line.
Trump's agonizing scream could be heard as he plunged downward, "I'm FIRE-d!".
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday December 10th
2015.
Wednesday, December 9, 2015
Zombie Christ Nativity Scene
Zombie Christ Nativity Scene
Cardinal JM was contemplating a lawsuit as he stared at the Nativity scene on his desk.
It was his own personally designed Nativity scene that he had made back in 2012- when he thought the pagan gods of the ancient world would be returning to Earth.
Unfortunately a Russian nuclear submarine with a laser death ray had vapourized and disintegrated the returning space ships of Osiris and Quetzalcoatl with their deity occupants back on December 21st 2012.
Then back on Halloween night last year, the great scientific genius Dr. Cadbury Rocher had managed to reassemble the particles of Osiris and Quetzalcoatl and put them back together again.
Dr. Rocher did this work clandestinely since most of the time Dr. Rocher was employed by Set Enterprises owned by the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set (and Set probably wouldn't be too pleased by having his brother, brother-in-law and rival Osiris reassembled yet again).
But getting back to his beloved Nativity scene, Cardinal JM wiped a tear from his eye, he had made back in 2012 a fierce looking Zombie Christ Child with fangs visited by 3 zombie wise men.
And he had just discovered that a couple in Ohio in the U.S. had been displaying a larger sized Nativity scene (with the exact same theme as his) on their property the past couple of Christmasses.
What use was it being a great artist and thinker if other people swiped your ideas?
Cardinal JM wiped another tear from his eye.
He helped himself to some human fingers from his appetizer bowl as he gazed lovingly at the Zombie Christ Child.
He blew his nose into his handkerchief and wiped away a few more tears.
He went over to his prized collection of The Collected Writings of Cardinal Walter Kasper on his mantelpiece.
Pope Francis had said reading Cardinal Kasper was like "doing theology on one's knees".
Vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing had added, "Yes while vomiting into the toilet."
Van Helsing and Pope Francis held widely contrasting views on Cardinal Kasper's theology.
Cardinal JM looked at his watch.
It was time to join his private secretary Father Oliver Thomas Wardenclyffe in prayers to Hecate the Greek goddess of witchcraft in their private chapel to her.
They would ask Hecate for her witchcraft blessing on the coming Papal Year of Mercy.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday December 9th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Cardinal JM was contemplating a lawsuit as he stared at the Nativity scene on his desk.
It was his own personally designed Nativity scene that he had made back in 2012- when he thought the pagan gods of the ancient world would be returning to Earth.
Unfortunately a Russian nuclear submarine with a laser death ray had vapourized and disintegrated the returning space ships of Osiris and Quetzalcoatl with their deity occupants back on December 21st 2012.
Then back on Halloween night last year, the great scientific genius Dr. Cadbury Rocher had managed to reassemble the particles of Osiris and Quetzalcoatl and put them back together again.
Dr. Rocher did this work clandestinely since most of the time Dr. Rocher was employed by Set Enterprises owned by the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set (and Set probably wouldn't be too pleased by having his brother, brother-in-law and rival Osiris reassembled yet again).
But getting back to his beloved Nativity scene, Cardinal JM wiped a tear from his eye, he had made back in 2012 a fierce looking Zombie Christ Child with fangs visited by 3 zombie wise men.
And he had just discovered that a couple in Ohio in the U.S. had been displaying a larger sized Nativity scene (with the exact same theme as his) on their property the past couple of Christmasses.
What use was it being a great artist and thinker if other people swiped your ideas?
Cardinal JM wiped another tear from his eye.
He helped himself to some human fingers from his appetizer bowl as he gazed lovingly at the Zombie Christ Child.
He blew his nose into his handkerchief and wiped away a few more tears.
He went over to his prized collection of The Collected Writings of Cardinal Walter Kasper on his mantelpiece.
Pope Francis had said reading Cardinal Kasper was like "doing theology on one's knees".
Vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing had added, "Yes while vomiting into the toilet."
Van Helsing and Pope Francis held widely contrasting views on Cardinal Kasper's theology.
Cardinal JM looked at his watch.
It was time to join his private secretary Father Oliver Thomas Wardenclyffe in prayers to Hecate the Greek goddess of witchcraft in their private chapel to her.
They would ask Hecate for her witchcraft blessing on the coming Papal Year of Mercy.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday December 9th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, December 8, 2015
The Unicorn
The Unicorn
In the Blue Canadian Rockies
of which Vera Lynn so magnificently sang
today Dracul Van Helsing wandered not on the banks of Lake Louise of which she sang
but a mountain stream near Banff
frozen with ice and covered by majestic white snow
The trees had now shed their autumn fashions of gold, red and rusty brown
in exchange for coverings of luminous white
which sparkled and sang silent songs of praise
in honour of Jack Frost their designer.
This fairy tale world seen in snow globes
now come alive in reality
The occasional deer walked by
and Dracul bowed in greeting to these majestic creatures.
They stared at him strangely
wondering why he didn't hold up small objects that flashed light
the way other creatures of his kind did when they saw us- we deer folk
But for Dracul- a glimpse of these majestic creatures with his eyes was enough
They would go as images to the camera that was his memory
No need to make idols of these gentle creatures and post their images on the walls of Temples called Facebook and Instagram
For they were not gods
The deer knew they were not gods
Only foolish creatures of Dracul's own kind fancied themselves gods
and thought they could impart this godhood by a Benediction of a flash of light shot forth by these tiny objects they carried.
And so Dracul walked along the path
which followed the snow covered brook
An occasional snow white covered rabbit hopped by and looked at him
They reminded him of his friend from many years back- Jack O' Hare
They looked, said Hello with their eyes and then hopped off their respective ways
Dracul knelt down by the brook
to glance at an open spot of flowing water
amidst the snow and the ice
He looked down at the reflection in the water
and that's when he saw it- the shiny white silver horn that sparkled and glistened despite the lack of sun in the wintery cloud swept day
He looked up
and there stood a horse of pure white
truly as white as the fallen snow.
And on its head a single horn
whose luminosity would outshine the magnificence of any jewel in any crown
The majestic creature looked at Dracul
And Dracul looked at the majestic creature.
Their eyes met
a reading of souls
The Unicorn felt Dracul's pain and sorrow
The thorns that had pierced his heart, soul and mind the past few years
And Dracul felt the Unicorn's love and peace.
There were some who said the Unicorn no longer existed
There were many who said the Unicorn never existed
There was one- the Transhumanist scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher
who thought he could through DNA manipulation
genetically create a Unicorn.
The foolishness of these fancies born of cynicism and sheer materialism
And the phantasms that might spring from the mind of megalomania and hubris
They were nothing when compared to the real thing-
the real Unicorn.
The Unicorn imparted his blessing, bowed and went on its way
Dracul walked on with a feeling
of what it felt the first Christmas Day.
-A Dracul Van Helsing poem
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 8th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
In the Blue Canadian Rockies
of which Vera Lynn so magnificently sang
today Dracul Van Helsing wandered not on the banks of Lake Louise of which she sang
but a mountain stream near Banff
frozen with ice and covered by majestic white snow
The trees had now shed their autumn fashions of gold, red and rusty brown
in exchange for coverings of luminous white
which sparkled and sang silent songs of praise
in honour of Jack Frost their designer.
This fairy tale world seen in snow globes
now come alive in reality
The occasional deer walked by
and Dracul bowed in greeting to these majestic creatures.
They stared at him strangely
wondering why he didn't hold up small objects that flashed light
the way other creatures of his kind did when they saw us- we deer folk
But for Dracul- a glimpse of these majestic creatures with his eyes was enough
They would go as images to the camera that was his memory
No need to make idols of these gentle creatures and post their images on the walls of Temples called Facebook and Instagram
For they were not gods
The deer knew they were not gods
Only foolish creatures of Dracul's own kind fancied themselves gods
and thought they could impart this godhood by a Benediction of a flash of light shot forth by these tiny objects they carried.
And so Dracul walked along the path
which followed the snow covered brook
An occasional snow white covered rabbit hopped by and looked at him
They reminded him of his friend from many years back- Jack O' Hare
They looked, said Hello with their eyes and then hopped off their respective ways
Dracul knelt down by the brook
to glance at an open spot of flowing water
amidst the snow and the ice
He looked down at the reflection in the water
and that's when he saw it- the shiny white silver horn that sparkled and glistened despite the lack of sun in the wintery cloud swept day
He looked up
and there stood a horse of pure white
truly as white as the fallen snow.
And on its head a single horn
whose luminosity would outshine the magnificence of any jewel in any crown
The majestic creature looked at Dracul
And Dracul looked at the majestic creature.
Their eyes met
a reading of souls
The Unicorn felt Dracul's pain and sorrow
The thorns that had pierced his heart, soul and mind the past few years
And Dracul felt the Unicorn's love and peace.
There were some who said the Unicorn no longer existed
There were many who said the Unicorn never existed
There was one- the Transhumanist scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher
who thought he could through DNA manipulation
genetically create a Unicorn.
The foolishness of these fancies born of cynicism and sheer materialism
And the phantasms that might spring from the mind of megalomania and hubris
They were nothing when compared to the real thing-
the real Unicorn.
The Unicorn imparted his blessing, bowed and went on its way
Dracul walked on with a feeling
of what it felt the first Christmas Day.
-A Dracul Van Helsing poem
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 8th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, December 7, 2015
Nostradamus and The Force Awakens
Nostradamus and The Force Awakens
Vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing and Peter Whitstable the Fox Mulder of Interpol were discussing a movie that both men had seen when they were younger but neither man could remember the name.
The plot was about a movie within a movie.
A movie was opening in a small single cinema theatre.
The movie was about a group of young people opening up the grave of Nostradamus to locate his golden (or was it silver?) mask.
Outside the theatre, a group of young people were preparing for opening night of this movie.
Two friends were excited about seeing the film.
A beautiful young woman who worked as an usherette at the cinema was putting on her short skirted usherette uniform.
And so on.
And so forth.
In the lobby of the cinema, there was a motorcycle with a mannequin sitting on it wearing the Mask of Nostradamus.
When the movie started, it showed a group of young people in France opening up the grave of Nostradamus.
A movie theatre goer returning from the washroom decided to take off the Mask of Nostradamus from the motorcycle riding mannequin in the lobby.
At the same time on the movie screen in the theatre, someone was removing the Mask of Nostradamus from Nostradamus' corpse.
The movie goer in the cinema lobby then put on the Mask of Nostradamus himself.
On the screen within the movie, one of the young people desecrating and robbing Nostradamus' grave likewise put on the mask in the movie.
The young person in the movie screamed and threw off the mask as he received an instantaneous case of facial boils as well as the bubonic plague through contact with the mask.
The young person in the lobby likewise screamed when he came down with the exact same ailments (facial boils and bubonic plague) after coming into contact with the mask.
Anyways what happened to the young people in the movie in that graveyard in France likewise happened to the young people in that single theatre cinema in a small American city.
"That was an interesting film," Dracul commented, "never saw it again on television or video or anywhere else. I first saw it in a single cinema theatre myself which made it more terrifying given the premises of the plot. Those were the days before the advent of the multiplex cineplexes. There was the occasional duplex cinemas which had two theatres. There was something quaint and cozy about those old single theatre cinemas. Not many left anymore."
"And like me, you can't remember the name of the film?" Peter Whitstable scratched his head.
"No," Dracul shook his head, "I'm still trying to remember the name of a movie I saw on TCM a few months ago about a guy who visited a beautiful woman with a lovely singing voice who lived in a house on the moon every time he time travelled between the present and the past."
"I hate that when you can't remember the name of something," Whitstable grimaced then laughed.
"It can be very aggravating at times," Dracul Van Helsing agreed.
"You're probably wondering why I brought that movie up," Whitstable queried.
"I suspect there's method to your madness," Dracul smiled.
"Are you familiar with the research of the lovely biochemist and geneticist Victoria Chang at the University of Maryland?" Whistable inquired.
"No, I'm not," Dracul replied, "how lovely is she?".
"Very lovely, indeed," Whitstable answered, "anyways Miss Chang has discovered a trace of alien ET DNA within the human genome. Dating back roughly around 6000 years ago- about the time the angelic Watchers were said to have mated with mortal human women according to Genesis Chapter 6 and the 1st Book of Enoch. The time period also spoken of by ancient alien astronaut theorists on the History Channel TV program Ancient Aliens."
"That's interesting," Dracul acknowledged, "but what does that have to do with the Nostradamus film you mentioned?".
"Well, I was recently contacted by a film editor who works in the movie industry," Whitstable explained, "he was one of the many editors who worked on the new Star Wars film The Force Awakens. He says a new scene has suddenly been added to the movie and he finds it somewhat strange. So he managed to clandestinely email me the scene. I too found it strange. So on a lark or maybe call it a psychic hunch, I emailed the scene to Victoria Chang and told her to show it to some of her subjects in her alien ET human genome research."
"And what happened when Miss Chang showed that scene to her alien ET human genome subjects?" Dracul inquired.
"Well," Peter wrote down the X-Files slogan The Truth Is Out There on the piece of paper in front of him, "some of the subjects actually turned into ETs- gray aliens or little green men and women and a few into raving multi-headed monsters with bulging eyes and reptilian claws."
"Those in the last category mentioned will presumably be able to get jobs with the IRS, " Dracul reflected thoughtfully.
"But according to Miss Chang's hypothesis," Peter Whitstable helped himself to one of the James Bond style martinis that Van Helsing had made, "every one on the planet has a slight trace of this alien ET DNA within their genetic make-up. So what will happen when millions and millions of people go into movie theatres to see what will probably be the biggest movie blockbuster of this decade Star Wars The Force Awakens? Will viewing that particular scene likewise trigger the alien ET DNA in their bodies and turn numerous theatre goers into alien grays or little green beings or multi-headed monsters with bulging eyes and reptilian claws?".
"It will be déjà vu Nostradamus all over again," Dracul sipped his own martini, "although hopefully minus the facial boils and outbreak of bubonic plague."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday December 5th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing and Peter Whitstable the Fox Mulder of Interpol were discussing a movie that both men had seen when they were younger but neither man could remember the name.
The plot was about a movie within a movie.
A movie was opening in a small single cinema theatre.
The movie was about a group of young people opening up the grave of Nostradamus to locate his golden (or was it silver?) mask.
Outside the theatre, a group of young people were preparing for opening night of this movie.
Two friends were excited about seeing the film.
A beautiful young woman who worked as an usherette at the cinema was putting on her short skirted usherette uniform.
And so on.
And so forth.
In the lobby of the cinema, there was a motorcycle with a mannequin sitting on it wearing the Mask of Nostradamus.
When the movie started, it showed a group of young people in France opening up the grave of Nostradamus.
A movie theatre goer returning from the washroom decided to take off the Mask of Nostradamus from the motorcycle riding mannequin in the lobby.
At the same time on the movie screen in the theatre, someone was removing the Mask of Nostradamus from Nostradamus' corpse.
The movie goer in the cinema lobby then put on the Mask of Nostradamus himself.
On the screen within the movie, one of the young people desecrating and robbing Nostradamus' grave likewise put on the mask in the movie.
The young person in the movie screamed and threw off the mask as he received an instantaneous case of facial boils as well as the bubonic plague through contact with the mask.
The young person in the lobby likewise screamed when he came down with the exact same ailments (facial boils and bubonic plague) after coming into contact with the mask.
Anyways what happened to the young people in the movie in that graveyard in France likewise happened to the young people in that single theatre cinema in a small American city.
"That was an interesting film," Dracul commented, "never saw it again on television or video or anywhere else. I first saw it in a single cinema theatre myself which made it more terrifying given the premises of the plot. Those were the days before the advent of the multiplex cineplexes. There was the occasional duplex cinemas which had two theatres. There was something quaint and cozy about those old single theatre cinemas. Not many left anymore."
"And like me, you can't remember the name of the film?" Peter Whitstable scratched his head.
"No," Dracul shook his head, "I'm still trying to remember the name of a movie I saw on TCM a few months ago about a guy who visited a beautiful woman with a lovely singing voice who lived in a house on the moon every time he time travelled between the present and the past."
"I hate that when you can't remember the name of something," Whitstable grimaced then laughed.
"It can be very aggravating at times," Dracul Van Helsing agreed.
"You're probably wondering why I brought that movie up," Whitstable queried.
"I suspect there's method to your madness," Dracul smiled.
"Are you familiar with the research of the lovely biochemist and geneticist Victoria Chang at the University of Maryland?" Whistable inquired.
"No, I'm not," Dracul replied, "how lovely is she?".
"Very lovely, indeed," Whitstable answered, "anyways Miss Chang has discovered a trace of alien ET DNA within the human genome. Dating back roughly around 6000 years ago- about the time the angelic Watchers were said to have mated with mortal human women according to Genesis Chapter 6 and the 1st Book of Enoch. The time period also spoken of by ancient alien astronaut theorists on the History Channel TV program Ancient Aliens."
"That's interesting," Dracul acknowledged, "but what does that have to do with the Nostradamus film you mentioned?".
"Well, I was recently contacted by a film editor who works in the movie industry," Whitstable explained, "he was one of the many editors who worked on the new Star Wars film The Force Awakens. He says a new scene has suddenly been added to the movie and he finds it somewhat strange. So he managed to clandestinely email me the scene. I too found it strange. So on a lark or maybe call it a psychic hunch, I emailed the scene to Victoria Chang and told her to show it to some of her subjects in her alien ET human genome research."
"And what happened when Miss Chang showed that scene to her alien ET human genome subjects?" Dracul inquired.
"Well," Peter wrote down the X-Files slogan The Truth Is Out There on the piece of paper in front of him, "some of the subjects actually turned into ETs- gray aliens or little green men and women and a few into raving multi-headed monsters with bulging eyes and reptilian claws."
"Those in the last category mentioned will presumably be able to get jobs with the IRS, " Dracul reflected thoughtfully.
"But according to Miss Chang's hypothesis," Peter Whitstable helped himself to one of the James Bond style martinis that Van Helsing had made, "every one on the planet has a slight trace of this alien ET DNA within their genetic make-up. So what will happen when millions and millions of people go into movie theatres to see what will probably be the biggest movie blockbuster of this decade Star Wars The Force Awakens? Will viewing that particular scene likewise trigger the alien ET DNA in their bodies and turn numerous theatre goers into alien grays or little green beings or multi-headed monsters with bulging eyes and reptilian claws?".
"It will be déjà vu Nostradamus all over again," Dracul sipped his own martini, "although hopefully minus the facial boils and outbreak of bubonic plague."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday December 5th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, December 2, 2015
The Crunch Kraken of Notre Dame
The Crunch Kraken of Notre Dame
After the Kraken found out he was unable to defeat the Cherubim with their flaming swords that guarded the Tree of Life at the east of the Garden of Eden, he quickly fled the Middle East.
Medusa herself stayed behind to do some shopping in the fashion districts of Dubai.
She caught up with the Kraken in Paris.
The Kraken, who in his former pre-Kraken existence had been the noted Italian mad scientist Dr. Poseidon Prometheus, now called himself Napoleon VI.
Since today was December 2nd, he decided he'd officially Crown himself Emperor of the French since it was on this date back in 1804 that Napoleon I had crowned himself Emperor of France at Notre Dame Cathedral and it was on this date back in 1852 that Napoleon III had proclaimed himself Emperor of the French.
Napoleon VI went down to the Louvre and helped himself to the Crown of Napoleon I.
The security guards decided not to argue with him since he was a Kraken (they had seen the Geico Insurance TV commercials where a kraken had caused havoc on a golf course).
Outside the Louvre, he strangled a bunch of Islamist terrorists who got in his way (they had not seen the Geico kraken golf course commercials since their major entertainment fare these days consisted of producing and starring in beheading videos).
When Medusa arrived in their hotel room, the Kraken was standing there holding the Imperial Crown of Napoleon I in one of his eight spiked tentacle metallic hands.
He announced he was going down to Notre Dame Cathedral to have the Monsignor there crown him Emperor Napoleon VI of France.
Medusa insisted that was fine but she had better pick up a new dress for the Coronation first.
So some 3-4 hours later and now in their 66th dress shop in Paris' exclusive fashion district, the Kraken looked at the Rolex watch on one of his 8 tentacled arms and sighed, "I'd really like to get to Notre Dame before it closes."
"Oh, be quiet, you big grump," Medusa gazed in the mirror at the dress she was currently wearing, "being crowned Empress of the French is a once in a lifetime experience."
. . .
Later in Notre Dame Cathedral, Medusa wore a beautiful gold coloured evening dress that Helen of Troy would have probably dumped Paris for and the Kraken wore his post-human Transhuman cyborg octopus test tube birthday suit since he was unable to find a tux that would fit him at the All Night Men's Formal Wear Rental Store that they had visited.
The Monsignor of Notre Dame Cathedral was shocked when confronted with the sight of a Kraken wanting himself crowned Emperor Napoleon VI of France.
"I better phone my superiors for permission first," the Monsignor said.
. . .
"The bells, the bells," the hunchback papal assistant Quasihomo held his hands over his ears as the papal cell phone went off.
Later Quasihomo entered the papal apartment where Pope Francis was in bed reading a book called How To Look Humble and Self- Effacing In Public (Hint: Only Use A Compact Ford Or Volvo Or Similar Vehicle As Your Popemobile).
"Holy Father, the Monsignor of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is on the line," Quasihomo explained, "he says that a Kraken calling himself Napoleon VI and the former Gorgon called Medusa want themselves crowned Emperor and Empress of France inside the Cathedral."
Pope Francis reached for his copy of Dogmatic Theology For Dummies, "Did you say a Kraken calling himself Napoleon VI and the former Gorgon called Medusa want themselves crowned Emperor and Empress of France inside Notre Dame Cathedral ?".
"Yes," said Quasihomo.
"Well, who am I to judge?" said Pope Francis.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday December 2nd
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
After the Kraken found out he was unable to defeat the Cherubim with their flaming swords that guarded the Tree of Life at the east of the Garden of Eden, he quickly fled the Middle East.
Medusa herself stayed behind to do some shopping in the fashion districts of Dubai.
She caught up with the Kraken in Paris.
The Kraken, who in his former pre-Kraken existence had been the noted Italian mad scientist Dr. Poseidon Prometheus, now called himself Napoleon VI.
Since today was December 2nd, he decided he'd officially Crown himself Emperor of the French since it was on this date back in 1804 that Napoleon I had crowned himself Emperor of France at Notre Dame Cathedral and it was on this date back in 1852 that Napoleon III had proclaimed himself Emperor of the French.
Napoleon VI went down to the Louvre and helped himself to the Crown of Napoleon I.
The security guards decided not to argue with him since he was a Kraken (they had seen the Geico Insurance TV commercials where a kraken had caused havoc on a golf course).
Outside the Louvre, he strangled a bunch of Islamist terrorists who got in his way (they had not seen the Geico kraken golf course commercials since their major entertainment fare these days consisted of producing and starring in beheading videos).
When Medusa arrived in their hotel room, the Kraken was standing there holding the Imperial Crown of Napoleon I in one of his eight spiked tentacle metallic hands.
He announced he was going down to Notre Dame Cathedral to have the Monsignor there crown him Emperor Napoleon VI of France.
Medusa insisted that was fine but she had better pick up a new dress for the Coronation first.
So some 3-4 hours later and now in their 66th dress shop in Paris' exclusive fashion district, the Kraken looked at the Rolex watch on one of his 8 tentacled arms and sighed, "I'd really like to get to Notre Dame before it closes."
"Oh, be quiet, you big grump," Medusa gazed in the mirror at the dress she was currently wearing, "being crowned Empress of the French is a once in a lifetime experience."
. . .
Later in Notre Dame Cathedral, Medusa wore a beautiful gold coloured evening dress that Helen of Troy would have probably dumped Paris for and the Kraken wore his post-human Transhuman cyborg octopus test tube birthday suit since he was unable to find a tux that would fit him at the All Night Men's Formal Wear Rental Store that they had visited.
The Monsignor of Notre Dame Cathedral was shocked when confronted with the sight of a Kraken wanting himself crowned Emperor Napoleon VI of France.
"I better phone my superiors for permission first," the Monsignor said.
. . .
"The bells, the bells," the hunchback papal assistant Quasihomo held his hands over his ears as the papal cell phone went off.
Later Quasihomo entered the papal apartment where Pope Francis was in bed reading a book called How To Look Humble and Self- Effacing In Public (Hint: Only Use A Compact Ford Or Volvo Or Similar Vehicle As Your Popemobile).
"Holy Father, the Monsignor of Notre Dame Cathedral in Paris is on the line," Quasihomo explained, "he says that a Kraken calling himself Napoleon VI and the former Gorgon called Medusa want themselves crowned Emperor and Empress of France inside the Cathedral."
Pope Francis reached for his copy of Dogmatic Theology For Dummies, "Did you say a Kraken calling himself Napoleon VI and the former Gorgon called Medusa want themselves crowned Emperor and Empress of France inside Notre Dame Cathedral ?".
"Yes," said Quasihomo.
"Well, who am I to judge?" said Pope Francis.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday December 2nd
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, December 1, 2015
Heat At The Paris Climate Summit
Heat At The Paris Climate Summit
The head of French Intelligence was watching a British TV commercial along with Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol.
"This man ate good old fashioned British oatmeal and grew up to be Prime Minister of Great Britain..."
A photo of Sir Winston Churchill is shown on the screen.
"This man did not eat British oatmeal and grew up to be one of the world's biggest degenerates..."
An image of Renfield R. Renfield is shown on the screen.
Announcer: Which of these two do you want your children to become?
(For more on the background of this commercial, please read
https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2015/11/29/renfields-new-image/ )
"Isn't Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set?" The head of French Intelligence asked Whitstable.
"He is," Whitstable nodded.
"That vampire Dracula," the Head of French Intelligence looked at a 150-year-old police mugshot of Vlad the Impaler, "didn't he seduce a lot of mortal women back in 19th Century London?".
"He did," Whitstable nodded again.
"I hear now that there's a mortal... a vampire hunter... who seduces beautiful vampiresses... he doesn't kill them... he slays them another way... he makes wild passionate love to them and they're never the same again," the Head of French Intelligence reflected with a look of great admiration on his face.
"Really? I've never heard about that," Whitstable picked up his copy of Everything You've Always Wanted To Know About Contemporary Vampire Hunters.
. . .
The Paris-based Egyptian vampiress Isis looked flushed as she sat in her purple evening dress.
Her husband Osiris had finally got his mojo back thanks to a Vatican Cardinal locating his ancient phallus in the Vatican Archives and thanks to scientific genius Dr. Cadbury Rocher carefully performing surgical reattachment on the millennia old Egyptian deity.
Last night was the first time in over 3 millennia that they had made out.
What a way to start the Paris Climate Change Conference- by heating up the night.
Still, Isis had to admit that her husband wasn't as good a lover as a mortal that she had once made out with - a vampire hunter.
Isis' face really flushed bright red when Dracul Van Helsing suddenly walked through the door of the Parisienne cafe she was in.
. . .
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec sat in her shamrock green evening dress as she plotted climate change conference strategy with Lev Tomi the head of the UN Secretariat On The Environment and Climate Change.
In his mortal life, Lev Tomi had been Leon Trotsky (he had been turned into a vampire by the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec in a hospital room in Mexico City on August 21st 1940 as he lay dying of an ice-axe blow to the head).
As Lev Tomi got up to sign an autograph book for a French Trotskyite, Qonzilqointec's face suddenly flushed bright red.
Vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing had walked through the door.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 1st
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
The head of French Intelligence was watching a British TV commercial along with Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol.
"This man ate good old fashioned British oatmeal and grew up to be Prime Minister of Great Britain..."
A photo of Sir Winston Churchill is shown on the screen.
"This man did not eat British oatmeal and grew up to be one of the world's biggest degenerates..."
An image of Renfield R. Renfield is shown on the screen.
Announcer: Which of these two do you want your children to become?
(For more on the background of this commercial, please read
https://draculvanhelsing.wordpress.com/2015/11/29/renfields-new-image/ )
"Isn't Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set?" The head of French Intelligence asked Whitstable.
"He is," Whitstable nodded.
"That vampire Dracula," the Head of French Intelligence looked at a 150-year-old police mugshot of Vlad the Impaler, "didn't he seduce a lot of mortal women back in 19th Century London?".
"He did," Whitstable nodded again.
"I hear now that there's a mortal... a vampire hunter... who seduces beautiful vampiresses... he doesn't kill them... he slays them another way... he makes wild passionate love to them and they're never the same again," the Head of French Intelligence reflected with a look of great admiration on his face.
"Really? I've never heard about that," Whitstable picked up his copy of Everything You've Always Wanted To Know About Contemporary Vampire Hunters.
. . .
The Paris-based Egyptian vampiress Isis looked flushed as she sat in her purple evening dress.
Her husband Osiris had finally got his mojo back thanks to a Vatican Cardinal locating his ancient phallus in the Vatican Archives and thanks to scientific genius Dr. Cadbury Rocher carefully performing surgical reattachment on the millennia old Egyptian deity.
Last night was the first time in over 3 millennia that they had made out.
What a way to start the Paris Climate Change Conference- by heating up the night.
Still, Isis had to admit that her husband wasn't as good a lover as a mortal that she had once made out with - a vampire hunter.
Isis' face really flushed bright red when Dracul Van Helsing suddenly walked through the door of the Parisienne cafe she was in.
. . .
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec sat in her shamrock green evening dress as she plotted climate change conference strategy with Lev Tomi the head of the UN Secretariat On The Environment and Climate Change.
In his mortal life, Lev Tomi had been Leon Trotsky (he had been turned into a vampire by the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec in a hospital room in Mexico City on August 21st 1940 as he lay dying of an ice-axe blow to the head).
As Lev Tomi got up to sign an autograph book for a French Trotskyite, Qonzilqointec's face suddenly flushed bright red.
Vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing had walked through the door.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 1st
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Sunday, November 29, 2015
Renfield's New Image
Renfield's New Image
"What are you smiling about?" Amadeus asked Renfield.
"A woman from an oatmeal cereal company is coming by to visit me," Renfield grinned, "they may use me as their poster boy for ads and TV commercials promoting a wholesome family friendly image to sell their oatmeal cereal products."
Amadeus choked on the 3-foot deli submarine sandwich he was eating, "You're about as wholesome and family friendly as that obscene porno version of The Cat In The Hat I watched on The Family Channel on satellite TV from North America last night- the one I had to switch to another channel after watching 5 minutes of it."
"I'm afraid the Americans are light years ahead of the British in acknowledging the depths of human depravity that they feel young minds are capable of absorbing," Renfield explained, "this fact was explained in an interview right after that news documentary I watched that was trying to explain why America's prisons and psychiatric hospitals seem to be bursting at the seams. They never were able to find an answer to that question. One of the experts who appeared in that documentary later appeared on the interview show that was on afterwards where he talked about how Elm Street's Freddy Krueger was in fact a healthy role model for young children."
"And so now you'll do for British youth what Freddy Krueger did for American," Amadeus was starting to lose his appetite which was a rare thing.
"Hey I can be as wholesome and family friendly as Beatrix Potter or the author of The Wind and The Willows," Renfield harrumphed.
Renfield was perturbed by the fact Amadeus was lying on the rug overcome by a huge fit of laughter the likes of which he had never seen before.
"When Miss Claresholm from the British Oatmeal Co. gets here, tell her I'll be in the study," Renfield went upstairs to the study and closed the door.
He went on to his computer.
Renfield owned a small porno film company in Southern California and was working on a promotional trailer for one of the new films being produced.
Renfield turned on the camera and spoke into the computer,
"Star Dick... orgy date 3233.4321 ... I'm Captain James E. Quirk. These are the voyages of the Starship Perverterprise... its 5 year mission... to explore strange new positions... to seek out new forms of sexual deviation... to boldly go where no man has gone before..."
Renfield heard a loud feminine gasp behind him.
He turned and standing there was the British Oatmeal Company's Miss Claresholm alongside Amadeus.
"Amadeus," Renfield raged, "don't you ever knock before entering a room?".
Miss Claresholm turned and ran down the stairs.
"Wait Miss Claresholm," Renfield ran down the stairs, "I can be wholesome and genuinely family friendly. Would you like to hear my impersonation of Linus reciting Chapter 2 of The Gospel of Luke from A Charlie Brown Christmas?".
Renfield tripped and fell down the stairs knocking himself out in the process.
In his unconscious dream, a short leather skirted and black silk nylons and red spiked stiletto Sherrielock Holmes gave him a well- deserved spanking.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 10th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
"What are you smiling about?" Amadeus asked Renfield.
"A woman from an oatmeal cereal company is coming by to visit me," Renfield grinned, "they may use me as their poster boy for ads and TV commercials promoting a wholesome family friendly image to sell their oatmeal cereal products."
Amadeus choked on the 3-foot deli submarine sandwich he was eating, "You're about as wholesome and family friendly as that obscene porno version of The Cat In The Hat I watched on The Family Channel on satellite TV from North America last night- the one I had to switch to another channel after watching 5 minutes of it."
"I'm afraid the Americans are light years ahead of the British in acknowledging the depths of human depravity that they feel young minds are capable of absorbing," Renfield explained, "this fact was explained in an interview right after that news documentary I watched that was trying to explain why America's prisons and psychiatric hospitals seem to be bursting at the seams. They never were able to find an answer to that question. One of the experts who appeared in that documentary later appeared on the interview show that was on afterwards where he talked about how Elm Street's Freddy Krueger was in fact a healthy role model for young children."
"And so now you'll do for British youth what Freddy Krueger did for American," Amadeus was starting to lose his appetite which was a rare thing.
"Hey I can be as wholesome and family friendly as Beatrix Potter or the author of The Wind and The Willows," Renfield harrumphed.
Renfield was perturbed by the fact Amadeus was lying on the rug overcome by a huge fit of laughter the likes of which he had never seen before.
"When Miss Claresholm from the British Oatmeal Co. gets here, tell her I'll be in the study," Renfield went upstairs to the study and closed the door.
He went on to his computer.
Renfield owned a small porno film company in Southern California and was working on a promotional trailer for one of the new films being produced.
Renfield turned on the camera and spoke into the computer,
"Star Dick... orgy date 3233.4321 ... I'm Captain James E. Quirk. These are the voyages of the Starship Perverterprise... its 5 year mission... to explore strange new positions... to seek out new forms of sexual deviation... to boldly go where no man has gone before..."
Renfield heard a loud feminine gasp behind him.
He turned and standing there was the British Oatmeal Company's Miss Claresholm alongside Amadeus.
"Amadeus," Renfield raged, "don't you ever knock before entering a room?".
Miss Claresholm turned and ran down the stairs.
"Wait Miss Claresholm," Renfield ran down the stairs, "I can be wholesome and genuinely family friendly. Would you like to hear my impersonation of Linus reciting Chapter 2 of The Gospel of Luke from A Charlie Brown Christmas?".
Renfield tripped and fell down the stairs knocking himself out in the process.
In his unconscious dream, a short leather skirted and black silk nylons and red spiked stiletto Sherrielock Holmes gave him a well- deserved spanking.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 10th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Friday, November 27, 2015
Day In The Life of Dr. Cadbury Rocher
Day In The Life of Dr. Cadbury Rocher
The brilliant scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher (who some called "mad", others called "insane" and the politically correct called "sanity challenged") sat in his office overlooking the laboratory of Set Enterprises.
He looked down at the laboratory and noticed Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster sleeping peacefully in his lobster tank.
Which was a good thing.
The lobster tank had mysteriously exploded on 7 different occasions the past few weeks.
And the higher-ups on the Board of Directors of Set Enterprises were starting to take notice.
Especially the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set's new personal chartered accountant Ayn Rand Nosferatu.
A strange woman. Not quite human. Not quite vampire.
And different from both in that x-rays showed that she had within her chest an ancient Chinese abacus in the place where her heart should have been.
Her office was quite intimidating.
She had a statue of the Titan Atlas shrugging and casting the world down at the feet of a raven that had on its head a marble bust of Adam Smith.
The face of Atlas bore a striking resemblance to Donald Trump and the inscription below the statue read, "Do not give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, your wretched refuse or your homeless."
On the wall was an oil painting of a sour looking Ebenezer Scrooge.
The painting was titled Portrait of Ebenezer Scrooge Prior To His Visit By The Communist Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future.
Ayn Rand Nosferatu told Dr. Rocher in no uncertain terms that the company would not be buying any more lobster tanks.
Dr. Cadbury Rocher then turned to thoughts of his great grandmother.
It was embarrassing.
His great grandmother was 161 years old, still alive and didn't look a day over 30.
And to top it off, Renfield R. Renfield had recently hired his (Rocher's) great grandmother as his personal dominatrix.
Dr. Cadbury Rocher stood up as memories of his own childhood came back to mind.
He subconsciously rubbed his buttocks.
His great grandmother was certainly a woman who knew how to spank.
His great grandmother Sherrielock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes' twin sister) who kept her maiden name had managed to achieve immortality by eating a Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom that had been specially treated by his great grandfather Dr. Louis Rocher (who was also a great scientific genius) to offset the possible harmful side effect of turning to stone once the mushroom was eaten.
Dr. Louis Rocher had decided not to eat the Supernatural Mushroom right away himself.
He would wait to eat it.
That was a mistake on his part.
As a fighter pilot for the RAF, Louis Rocher ended up dying after being shot down by the Red Baron Manfred Von Richtofen on April 20th 1918 (just a day prior to the Red Baron's own demise on April 21st 1918).
So the end result was that his great grandmother was immortal without the love of her love Louis by her side.
As Cadbury Rocher looked down at the laboratory, he began to wonder if there was any correlation between Michelangelo's lobster tanks exploding and nude drawings, sketches and paintings of his great grandmother Sherrielock Holmes being found in the laboratory.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 27th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
The brilliant scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher (who some called "mad", others called "insane" and the politically correct called "sanity challenged") sat in his office overlooking the laboratory of Set Enterprises.
He looked down at the laboratory and noticed Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster sleeping peacefully in his lobster tank.
Which was a good thing.
The lobster tank had mysteriously exploded on 7 different occasions the past few weeks.
And the higher-ups on the Board of Directors of Set Enterprises were starting to take notice.
Especially the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set's new personal chartered accountant Ayn Rand Nosferatu.
A strange woman. Not quite human. Not quite vampire.
And different from both in that x-rays showed that she had within her chest an ancient Chinese abacus in the place where her heart should have been.
Her office was quite intimidating.
She had a statue of the Titan Atlas shrugging and casting the world down at the feet of a raven that had on its head a marble bust of Adam Smith.
The face of Atlas bore a striking resemblance to Donald Trump and the inscription below the statue read, "Do not give me your tired, your poor, your huddled masses, your wretched refuse or your homeless."
On the wall was an oil painting of a sour looking Ebenezer Scrooge.
The painting was titled Portrait of Ebenezer Scrooge Prior To His Visit By The Communist Ghosts of Christmas Past, Present and Future.
Ayn Rand Nosferatu told Dr. Rocher in no uncertain terms that the company would not be buying any more lobster tanks.
Dr. Cadbury Rocher then turned to thoughts of his great grandmother.
It was embarrassing.
His great grandmother was 161 years old, still alive and didn't look a day over 30.
And to top it off, Renfield R. Renfield had recently hired his (Rocher's) great grandmother as his personal dominatrix.
Dr. Cadbury Rocher stood up as memories of his own childhood came back to mind.
He subconsciously rubbed his buttocks.
His great grandmother was certainly a woman who knew how to spank.
His great grandmother Sherrielock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes' twin sister) who kept her maiden name had managed to achieve immortality by eating a Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom that had been specially treated by his great grandfather Dr. Louis Rocher (who was also a great scientific genius) to offset the possible harmful side effect of turning to stone once the mushroom was eaten.
Dr. Louis Rocher had decided not to eat the Supernatural Mushroom right away himself.
He would wait to eat it.
That was a mistake on his part.
As a fighter pilot for the RAF, Louis Rocher ended up dying after being shot down by the Red Baron Manfred Von Richtofen on April 20th 1918 (just a day prior to the Red Baron's own demise on April 21st 1918).
So the end result was that his great grandmother was immortal without the love of her love Louis by her side.
As Cadbury Rocher looked down at the laboratory, he began to wonder if there was any correlation between Michelangelo's lobster tanks exploding and nude drawings, sketches and paintings of his great grandmother Sherrielock Holmes being found in the laboratory.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 27th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, November 26, 2015
Haunting Visions and The Black Hand In The Garden
Haunting Visions and The Black Hand In The Garden
The retired elderly priest sat at his desk reading a copy of Saint Augustine's major work The City of God.
Feeling a bit drowsy, he took off his glasses and put them on his desk.
He went over to his arm chair to rest.
He fell asleep.
He dreamed he was standing in Saint Peter's Square amongst a group of religious pilgrims.
They were waiting for the Pope to appear at the Vatican window to give his blessing.
Suddenly black darkened skies appeared over the dome of Saint Peter's Basilica.
Huge raindrops the colour of blood fell from the sky.
The blood red rain drops fell on to the square turning it into a flowing river of blood.
People screamed and started to run.
The rain suddenly stopped and a peculiar rainbow that continued to drip blood appeared over the dome of the Basilica.
People turned into pillars of salt as they stood and gazed at the rainbow.
The retired elderly priest was knocked to the ground by a Middle Eastern looking man who shouted "Allah Akbar!".
Loud speakers in the square suddenly started playing the voice of Barack Obama saying, "The United States strongly condemns these attacks. However we also strongly say that none of this would have happened had the world strongly listened to what the United States government dictated which is that Syrian President Bashar al-Assad must go in any and all circumstances without any discussion or questioning of U.S. State Department communiques and my own Executive Orders. The Syrian people and the Syrian people alone should decide who their leaders should be. And bearing that in mind, we say and we insist that Bashar Assad should go without any more questioning or discussion and he has no more part to play whatsoever in Syria's future. So our Imperial wisdom hath decreed."
An earthquake suddenly shook the City of Rome and the Basilica was destroyed.
The retired elderly priest suddenly awoke with a start.
He suddenly heard a tapping at his door.
He got up from his armchair and went over to the door to answer it.
He opened the door and looked around.
No one there.
He was about to shut the door when suddenly he noticed a severed charcoal burnt Black Hand crawling through the garden.
Grabbing his Breviary and his rosary, the retired elderly priest walked out to the garden and said the Saint Michael Prayer as well as a prayer of Exorcism.
He looked around.
The Black Hand was gone.
Still the elderly priest could not shake off the feeling that the Black Hand would be back bringing war and death in its wake.
Making the Sign of the Cross, the retired elderly priest - Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI- left the grounds of the Vatican Garden and returned to his living quarters and shut the door.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 26th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
The retired elderly priest sat at his desk reading a copy of Saint Augustine's major work The City of God.
Feeling a bit drowsy, he took off his glasses and put them on his desk.
He went over to his arm chair to rest.
He fell asleep.
He dreamed he was standing in Saint Peter's Square amongst a group of religious pilgrims.
They were waiting for the Pope to appear at the Vatican window to give his blessing.
Suddenly black darkened skies appeared over the dome of Saint Peter's Basilica.
Huge raindrops the colour of blood fell from the sky.
The blood red rain drops fell on to the square turning it into a flowing river of blood.
People screamed and started to run.
The rain suddenly stopped and a peculiar rainbow that continued to drip blood appeared over the dome of the Basilica.
People turned into pillars of salt as they stood and gazed at the rainbow.
The retired elderly priest was knocked to the ground by a Middle Eastern looking man who shouted "Allah Akbar!".
Loud speakers in the square suddenly started playing the voice of Barack Obama saying, "The United States strongly condemns these attacks. However we also strongly say that none of this would have happened had the world strongly listened to what the United States government dictated which is that Syrian President Bashar al-Assad must go in any and all circumstances without any discussion or questioning of U.S. State Department communiques and my own Executive Orders. The Syrian people and the Syrian people alone should decide who their leaders should be. And bearing that in mind, we say and we insist that Bashar Assad should go without any more questioning or discussion and he has no more part to play whatsoever in Syria's future. So our Imperial wisdom hath decreed."
An earthquake suddenly shook the City of Rome and the Basilica was destroyed.
The retired elderly priest suddenly awoke with a start.
He suddenly heard a tapping at his door.
He got up from his armchair and went over to the door to answer it.
He opened the door and looked around.
No one there.
He was about to shut the door when suddenly he noticed a severed charcoal burnt Black Hand crawling through the garden.
Grabbing his Breviary and his rosary, the retired elderly priest walked out to the garden and said the Saint Michael Prayer as well as a prayer of Exorcism.
He looked around.
The Black Hand was gone.
Still the elderly priest could not shake off the feeling that the Black Hand would be back bringing war and death in its wake.
Making the Sign of the Cross, the retired elderly priest - Pope Emeritus Benedict XVI- left the grounds of the Vatican Garden and returned to his living quarters and shut the door.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 26th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, November 25, 2015
Five Fingers of Death: The Black Hand and Writing On The Wall
Five Fingers of Death: The Black Hand and Writing On The Wall
"The moving finger writes and having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a Word of it."
-The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
. . .
The Turkish diplomat walked the streets of Moscow.
He wrapped his scarf around his face as much to hide himself as to keep out the Russian cold.
It had been a hectic couple of days ever since Turkey had shot down a Russian plane.
The diplomat was struggling to ensure that the incident didn't lead to the outbreak of war.
He stood looking at the view of the Kremlin from his vantage point.
The diplomat suddenly felt a tapping on his shoe.
He looked down and saw a severed charcoal burnt Black Hand.
The Black Hand crawled up his pants and then up his jacket and then proceeded to strangle him with his scarf.
The diplomat fell to the ground quite dead.
The Black Hand then grabbed a Samsung Galaxy 6 Smart Phone from a shocked tourist (who ran away after the phone was grabbed not wanting to argue with a moving severed hand) and took a photo of the dead Turkish diplomat on the ground with the walls of the Kremlin as a backdrop.
It then posted the photo on Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan's Facebook page with the inscription written in both Turkish and Russian, "Go fuck yourself, you syphilis infested running dog of Turkey."
And then signed it,
"Yours respectfully,
Vladimir Putin."
The Black Hand then pulled down the Turkish diplomat's pants and undershorts.
The hand then interrupted a mugging on a nearby Moscow street corner to grab the mugger's large butcher knife.
Both would-be mugger and would-be victim fled at the sight of the severed charcoal burnt Black Hand carrying the knife down the street.
The Black Hand then returned to the slain Turkish diplomat and cut off his penis.
It then stuck the penis in the Turkish diplomat's mouth and once again took another photo with the Samsung Galaxy 6 Smart Phone.
It then posted the photo to Recep Tayyip Erdogan's Twitter account with the message, "Chew on this for awhile you mongrelized motherfucker" adding the hash tag
#CaitlynJennerWannabe.
The hand then grabbed the penis and crawled into a nearby Moscow post office.
It helped itself to some postage stamps, an envelope and some string.
It put the diplomat's penis in the envelope, grabbed some glue, sealed the envelope, attached the appropriate postage and then grabbed a pen and addressed the envelope to
Recep Tayyip Erdogan
Chief Eunuch
Turkish Presidential Palace
Ankara, Turkey
And then wrote a notation on the back of the envelope in Turkish:
Attention Erdogan:
Now you have one.
It then dropped the appropriately addressed and proper postage stamped envelope into a nearby mail box.
All in all a good day's work for the severed charcoal burnt Black Hand who had been causing trouble throughout the world ever since the Battle of Kosovo in 1389.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday November 25th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
"The moving finger writes and having writ,
Moves on: nor all thy Piety nor Wit Shall lure it back to cancel half a line,
Nor all thy tears wash out a Word of it."
-The Rubaiyat of Omar Khayyam
. . .
The Turkish diplomat walked the streets of Moscow.
He wrapped his scarf around his face as much to hide himself as to keep out the Russian cold.
It had been a hectic couple of days ever since Turkey had shot down a Russian plane.
The diplomat was struggling to ensure that the incident didn't lead to the outbreak of war.
He stood looking at the view of the Kremlin from his vantage point.
The diplomat suddenly felt a tapping on his shoe.
He looked down and saw a severed charcoal burnt Black Hand.
The Black Hand crawled up his pants and then up his jacket and then proceeded to strangle him with his scarf.
The diplomat fell to the ground quite dead.
The Black Hand then grabbed a Samsung Galaxy 6 Smart Phone from a shocked tourist (who ran away after the phone was grabbed not wanting to argue with a moving severed hand) and took a photo of the dead Turkish diplomat on the ground with the walls of the Kremlin as a backdrop.
It then posted the photo on Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan's Facebook page with the inscription written in both Turkish and Russian, "Go fuck yourself, you syphilis infested running dog of Turkey."
And then signed it,
"Yours respectfully,
Vladimir Putin."
The Black Hand then pulled down the Turkish diplomat's pants and undershorts.
The hand then interrupted a mugging on a nearby Moscow street corner to grab the mugger's large butcher knife.
Both would-be mugger and would-be victim fled at the sight of the severed charcoal burnt Black Hand carrying the knife down the street.
The Black Hand then returned to the slain Turkish diplomat and cut off his penis.
It then stuck the penis in the Turkish diplomat's mouth and once again took another photo with the Samsung Galaxy 6 Smart Phone.
It then posted the photo to Recep Tayyip Erdogan's Twitter account with the message, "Chew on this for awhile you mongrelized motherfucker" adding the hash tag
#CaitlynJennerWannabe.
The hand then grabbed the penis and crawled into a nearby Moscow post office.
It helped itself to some postage stamps, an envelope and some string.
It put the diplomat's penis in the envelope, grabbed some glue, sealed the envelope, attached the appropriate postage and then grabbed a pen and addressed the envelope to
Recep Tayyip Erdogan
Chief Eunuch
Turkish Presidential Palace
Ankara, Turkey
And then wrote a notation on the back of the envelope in Turkish:
Attention Erdogan:
Now you have one.
It then dropped the appropriately addressed and proper postage stamped envelope into a nearby mail box.
All in all a good day's work for the severed charcoal burnt Black Hand who had been causing trouble throughout the world ever since the Battle of Kosovo in 1389.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday November 25th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, November 24, 2015
Magog Rhys Petley: The Last Werewolf
Magog Rhys Petley: The Last Werewolf
Welsh werewolf British Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley sat in a pub drinking a strong whiskey soda.
He usually drank buttermilk as there was an antidote in buttermilk that counteracted the peculiar form of lycanthropy gene he had received ever since he was bitten more than 4 years ago by Rahu the demon responsible for lunar and solar eclipses in Hindu religious tradition.
As a result of that bite, he could occasionally turn into a werewolf even if there wasn't a full moon.
But today Magog didn't really care whether he turned into a werewolf or not.
Although he really should be happy.
He had spent most of his life as a backbench MP- whether Labour was the government or whether Labour was the opposition.
Being a far far Left MP and an out and out Marxist-Leninist had confined him to the back benches of the Labour Party particularly when Tony Blair was in power.
Now that fellow far Leftist Jeremy Corbyn was the new leader of the Labour Party, he was now the Party's Foreign Affairs critic and sat on the Opposition front benches.
But Magog decided that he had been far happier sitting on the back benches.
Sitting on the front benches was much ado about nothing.
Besides nobody noticed when you ran out to the washroom when you sat on the back benches.
And recent Marxists elected to power were turning out to be a huge disappointment Magog thought to himself as he used his pub table candle to burn his personally autographed photo of Greek Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras.
Then over a week ago, his favourite cafe in Paris had been shot up by ISIS terrorists.
He was pretty sure that bullet holes in the windows would take away from the ambience of the place he loved so well.
And now Turkey had shot down a Russian war plane.
There was talk of world war in the corridors of Westminster.
Coincidentally, a Russian submarine had been spotted off the coast of Scotland a few days ago.
And swear words in Russian had recently appeared on the Twitter accounts of Russian naval sailors after they had discovered what were the ingredients in the Scottish haggis they had been eating all week.
The world was going to Hell in a hand basket, Magog thought to himself.
Turning into a werewolf really wouldn't make much of a difference.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 24th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Welsh werewolf British Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley sat in a pub drinking a strong whiskey soda.
He usually drank buttermilk as there was an antidote in buttermilk that counteracted the peculiar form of lycanthropy gene he had received ever since he was bitten more than 4 years ago by Rahu the demon responsible for lunar and solar eclipses in Hindu religious tradition.
As a result of that bite, he could occasionally turn into a werewolf even if there wasn't a full moon.
But today Magog didn't really care whether he turned into a werewolf or not.
Although he really should be happy.
He had spent most of his life as a backbench MP- whether Labour was the government or whether Labour was the opposition.
Being a far far Left MP and an out and out Marxist-Leninist had confined him to the back benches of the Labour Party particularly when Tony Blair was in power.
Now that fellow far Leftist Jeremy Corbyn was the new leader of the Labour Party, he was now the Party's Foreign Affairs critic and sat on the Opposition front benches.
But Magog decided that he had been far happier sitting on the back benches.
Sitting on the front benches was much ado about nothing.
Besides nobody noticed when you ran out to the washroom when you sat on the back benches.
And recent Marxists elected to power were turning out to be a huge disappointment Magog thought to himself as he used his pub table candle to burn his personally autographed photo of Greek Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras.
Then over a week ago, his favourite cafe in Paris had been shot up by ISIS terrorists.
He was pretty sure that bullet holes in the windows would take away from the ambience of the place he loved so well.
And now Turkey had shot down a Russian war plane.
There was talk of world war in the corridors of Westminster.
Coincidentally, a Russian submarine had been spotted off the coast of Scotland a few days ago.
And swear words in Russian had recently appeared on the Twitter accounts of Russian naval sailors after they had discovered what were the ingredients in the Scottish haggis they had been eating all week.
The world was going to Hell in a hand basket, Magog thought to himself.
Turning into a werewolf really wouldn't make much of a difference.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 24th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, November 23, 2015
Sherrielock Holmes
Sherrielock Holmes
It was the autumn of 1893.
And London dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes (the virtually unknown twin sister of Sherlock Holmes whose existence was vigourously denied by the Holmes family) had been entertaining a client in her London apartments.
"Well," said her client, "it's good thing I'm giving a speech in the House of Commons this afternoon. That means I'll be standing. I don't think I'll be able to sit today."
Her client exited the apartment and she could hear her client's London bobby bodyguard say, "The street seems to be clear of any reporters, Mr. Prime Minister. I think it's safe to enter your carriage."
Sherrielock returned to her own thoughts as she put away the cane and wooden paddle.
She was thinking of a young man she had met in Paris that summer.
Louis.
A promising young physics and chemistry student at the Sorbonne.
The man was a genius.
He claimed to have in his possession the notebooks of the legendary Faust- the Renaissance alchemist whose tale and exploits had been made famous by England's Christopher Marlowe and Germany's Goethe.
He was also studying the work of the monk geneticist Gregor Johann Mendel.
He also had hopes of discovering the secret of immortality..
How Sherrielock longed to be immortal.
And to be immortal without being confined to the nocturnal existence of vampires and vampiresses.
. . .
Sherrielock Holmes walked through London's Chinatown taking in the vibrant sights and unique aromas.
She wondered to herself if she went into one of the district's nefarious opium dens if she'd spot her twin brother there- partaking of that strange vaporous dragon because he hadn't any interesting cases lately.
She noticed a vendor with a stall and sign that said Ling Po's Marvelous Mushrooms.
"So, Mr. Ling Po," she smiled at the vendor, "what's your most wonderful mushroom?".
"That would be the Lingzhi Supernatural Mushroom, Missy," the old vendor replied with a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh, a supernatural mushroom," Sherrie smiled as she threw back her long dark hair.
"Yes, it's said to eat it under certain conditions that it will grant one immortality," Ling Po smiled.
"Oh well, then I shall buy some and eat it," Sherrielock opened her purse.
"Wait, Missy," Ling Po held up his hand.
"What is it?" Sherrie asked.
"The form of immortality the Lingzhi Supernatural Mushroom will give you may not be the immortality you desire," warned Ling Po.
"No?" Sherrie looked quizzical.
"The warriors of the first Chinese Emperor Qin Shi Huang were promised immortality by the Chinese sorceress Wu Xian should they eat the Lingzhi Supernatural Mushroom boiled with a thousand year old egg," Ling Po stated, "and in a sense they were granted immortality after they ate this strange brew. They turned to stone."
"Turned to stone?" Sherrie struggled to get her coiled snake hairpin out of her hair.
"Yes, they became terracotta sculptures who were buried as funerary art when the Emperor Qin Shi Huang was buried circa 210-209 BC," Ling Po explained, "and whether the request of the Emperor's No. 1 wife was followed and Qin was buried face downwards so "he could see where he's going" (his No. 1 wife's words), I'm not sure. Nevertheless the Emperor's stoned Terracotta Army was buried with him."
"And has this tomb ever been found?" Sherrie asked as she raided her hair desperately searching for her hairpin.
"No," Ling Po shook his head sadly, "There are rumours that the tomb is located in the Lintong District of Shaanxi Province in China but so far it has not been found."
"I see," Sherrie finally found her coiled snake hairpin, "nevertheless I'll take the Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom. But I promise I won't eat it boiled with a thousand year old egg."
. . .
Sherrie walked through the streets of London vigourously clutching her bag of Linghzi Supernatural Mushrooms.
She was certain her handsome young French physicist chemist boyfriend could find a scientific way by which the Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom could be consumed that would grant one immortality without turning one to stone.
Her Louis.
Her handsome brave intelligent young Louis.
When she visited Paris the next time, she should really convince Louis to return with her to London to live.
Her Louis.
Physicist.
Chemist.
Scientific prodigy.
Genius extraordinaire.
Her Louis.
Monsieur Louis Rocher.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday November 21st
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
It was the autumn of 1893.
And London dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes (the virtually unknown twin sister of Sherlock Holmes whose existence was vigourously denied by the Holmes family) had been entertaining a client in her London apartments.
"Well," said her client, "it's good thing I'm giving a speech in the House of Commons this afternoon. That means I'll be standing. I don't think I'll be able to sit today."
Her client exited the apartment and she could hear her client's London bobby bodyguard say, "The street seems to be clear of any reporters, Mr. Prime Minister. I think it's safe to enter your carriage."
Sherrielock returned to her own thoughts as she put away the cane and wooden paddle.
She was thinking of a young man she had met in Paris that summer.
Louis.
A promising young physics and chemistry student at the Sorbonne.
The man was a genius.
He claimed to have in his possession the notebooks of the legendary Faust- the Renaissance alchemist whose tale and exploits had been made famous by England's Christopher Marlowe and Germany's Goethe.
He was also studying the work of the monk geneticist Gregor Johann Mendel.
He also had hopes of discovering the secret of immortality..
How Sherrielock longed to be immortal.
And to be immortal without being confined to the nocturnal existence of vampires and vampiresses.
. . .
Sherrielock Holmes walked through London's Chinatown taking in the vibrant sights and unique aromas.
She wondered to herself if she went into one of the district's nefarious opium dens if she'd spot her twin brother there- partaking of that strange vaporous dragon because he hadn't any interesting cases lately.
She noticed a vendor with a stall and sign that said Ling Po's Marvelous Mushrooms.
"So, Mr. Ling Po," she smiled at the vendor, "what's your most wonderful mushroom?".
"That would be the Lingzhi Supernatural Mushroom, Missy," the old vendor replied with a twinkle in his eye.
"Oh, a supernatural mushroom," Sherrie smiled as she threw back her long dark hair.
"Yes, it's said to eat it under certain conditions that it will grant one immortality," Ling Po smiled.
"Oh well, then I shall buy some and eat it," Sherrielock opened her purse.
"Wait, Missy," Ling Po held up his hand.
"What is it?" Sherrie asked.
"The form of immortality the Lingzhi Supernatural Mushroom will give you may not be the immortality you desire," warned Ling Po.
"No?" Sherrie looked quizzical.
"The warriors of the first Chinese Emperor Qin Shi Huang were promised immortality by the Chinese sorceress Wu Xian should they eat the Lingzhi Supernatural Mushroom boiled with a thousand year old egg," Ling Po stated, "and in a sense they were granted immortality after they ate this strange brew. They turned to stone."
"Turned to stone?" Sherrie struggled to get her coiled snake hairpin out of her hair.
"Yes, they became terracotta sculptures who were buried as funerary art when the Emperor Qin Shi Huang was buried circa 210-209 BC," Ling Po explained, "and whether the request of the Emperor's No. 1 wife was followed and Qin was buried face downwards so "he could see where he's going" (his No. 1 wife's words), I'm not sure. Nevertheless the Emperor's stoned Terracotta Army was buried with him."
"And has this tomb ever been found?" Sherrie asked as she raided her hair desperately searching for her hairpin.
"No," Ling Po shook his head sadly, "There are rumours that the tomb is located in the Lintong District of Shaanxi Province in China but so far it has not been found."
"I see," Sherrie finally found her coiled snake hairpin, "nevertheless I'll take the Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom. But I promise I won't eat it boiled with a thousand year old egg."
. . .
Sherrie walked through the streets of London vigourously clutching her bag of Linghzi Supernatural Mushrooms.
She was certain her handsome young French physicist chemist boyfriend could find a scientific way by which the Linghzi Supernatural Mushroom could be consumed that would grant one immortality without turning one to stone.
Her Louis.
Her handsome brave intelligent young Louis.
When she visited Paris the next time, she should really convince Louis to return with her to London to live.
Her Louis.
Physicist.
Chemist.
Scientific prodigy.
Genius extraordinaire.
Her Louis.
Monsieur Louis Rocher.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday November 21st
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, November 19, 2015
Part XVII The Giant Rat of Sumatra
Part XVII The Giant Rat of Sumatra
The Steinenfrank Circus had been closed down by Lincolnshire County authorities for knowingly bringing rodents into county boundaries.
And there was no way for them to deny it with the body of the Giant Rat of Sumatra on the premises.
It was evening and Dr. Faustus aka Hemlock the Magician was loading his belongings into his caravan wagon.
He was returning to Germany along with Vittoria Donna Gina.
Vittoria stood there in a lovely black evening dress and Sherlock Holmes kissed her elegantly black leather glove clad hand.
"England shall miss you, Miss Vittoria," Holmes said as he gazed into her eyes.
"And you, Mr.Holmes, shall you miss me?" Her deep dark jet black eyes gazed into the detective's soul.
"I shall indeed, Miss Vittoria," Holmes spoke softly.
Vittoria grabbed the man from 221B Baker Street and kissed him passionately on the lips.
"Oh God, the game is more than afoot," Holmes whispered after the kiss.
"I feel it to be so," Vittoria sighed in ecstasy as she held Holmes in a passionate embrace.
"It's time to be going, Miss Vittoria," Faust's voice showed more than a hint of anger and jealousy.
"Good-bye, Mr. Holmes," Vittoria smiled at the deerstalker cap clad gentleman.
"Au revoir, ma cherie d'amour," Holmes reluctantly let go of the enchanting Vittoria Donna Gina.
She lifted her dress to walk up the steps of the caravan trailer.
Holmes dropped his pipe on the ground so he could look up as his hands fiddled around on the ground to find the pipe.
"I did not know the world's greatest detective was also the world's greatest pervert," Faust remarked dryly.
"As Abraham Lincoln shrewdly observed, a man without vices is inevitably also a man without virtues," was Holmes' reply.
Faust harrumphed.
"So will you now experiment with rats over in Germany?" Holmes inquired.
In his mind's eye, Holmes pictured Germany's Kaiser Wilhelm II on a giant glass slide under a giant microscope.
"I shall continue my work in Mendel's new science of genetics," was Faust's reply, "I'm thinking of working with the Bavarian Forest's rich supply of magic mushrooms to create new pharmaceuticals and perhaps someday in the field of human genetics I shall create an übermensch."
"I imagine Nietzsche would approve," Holmes lit his pipe.
. . .
Sherlock Holmes rode the train from Stamford to London with veterinarian Fred Clegg.
"So you have some business to attend to in London, Mr. Clegg?" Holmes asked the veterinarian as he gazed out at the English countryside.
"Some brief business, yes, Mr. Holmes," Clegg gazed at the detective.
"And then back to your veterinary practice and livery stable business?" Holmes asked.
"Indeed, Mr. Holmes," Clegg smiled.
"Ever consider any other plans in your future besides running a horse drawn omnibus service in the seaside resort of Morecambe?" Holmes asked.
"Well, I've sometimes thought of going out to Canada," Clegg answered.
"Canada, eh?" Holmes felt a sudden craving for beer and back bacon.
"Yes, the Northwest Territories," Clegg nodded, "possibly the Alberta Territory. They say there's lots of good potential ranch land and farmland in and around the area of the Red Deer River Badlands."
"That was the area where the geologist Tyrrell discovered 10 years ago bones belonging to one of those giant creatures we call dinosaurs?" Holmes asked.
"That was the area all right," Clegg smiled.
"I wonder if any such creatures are around today," Holmes mused aloud.
"Only in the House of Lords," Clegg winked.
Holmes laughed.
"What about you, Mr. Holmes?" Clegg asked, "Returning to your old haunts in London?".
"Eventually, Mr. Clegg," Holmes looked pained as he talked, "I have some family business to attend to in Paris."
"Oh really?" Clegg seemed surprised.
"Yes, it's my twin sister Sherrielock Holmes," Holmes frowned, "she's done something of potential embarrassment to the family."
"I didn't even know you had a twin sister," Clegg seemed genuinely shocked, "Dr. Watson has only mentioned an older brother Mycroft in his articles about you."
"Dr. Watson doesn't know about Sherrielock," Holmes lit a pipe, "she's the black sheep of the family."
"Oh," Clegg nodded sympathetically.
"I can only deduce what she does for a living," Holmes looked out the window again, "in her room, she has all sorts of whips and riding crops and wooden paddles and sinister looking hairbrushes. In her closet, all sorts of leather corsets and black velvet skirts. And her clientele is mainly made up of members of the British Cabinet and the House of Lords."
"And she's now in Paris?" Fred Clegg asked.
"Yes, it's come to my attention that she has appeared in several nude drawings and paintings done by that notorious Montmartre artist Toulouse-Lautrec," Holmes' face turned red, "such exposure the Holmes family doesn't really need."
"You have my sympathy, Mr. Holmes," Fred Clegg extended his hand.
"Thank you, Clegg," the detective shook the veterinarian's hand.
"And will you be telling Dr. Watson of our adventure with the Giant Rat of Sumatra?" Clegg asked.
"No," Holmes shook his head, "I don't want every vampire hunter in the world pursuing the lovely Miss Vittoria Donna Gina. So if the matter of the Matilda Briggs and the Giant Rat of Sumatra should ever come up, I'll just tell Dr. Watson that it's a story for which the world is not yet prepared."
-A Sherlock Holmes novella chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 12th
2015.
-THE END-
Sent from my iPhone
The Steinenfrank Circus had been closed down by Lincolnshire County authorities for knowingly bringing rodents into county boundaries.
And there was no way for them to deny it with the body of the Giant Rat of Sumatra on the premises.
It was evening and Dr. Faustus aka Hemlock the Magician was loading his belongings into his caravan wagon.
He was returning to Germany along with Vittoria Donna Gina.
Vittoria stood there in a lovely black evening dress and Sherlock Holmes kissed her elegantly black leather glove clad hand.
"England shall miss you, Miss Vittoria," Holmes said as he gazed into her eyes.
"And you, Mr.Holmes, shall you miss me?" Her deep dark jet black eyes gazed into the detective's soul.
"I shall indeed, Miss Vittoria," Holmes spoke softly.
Vittoria grabbed the man from 221B Baker Street and kissed him passionately on the lips.
"Oh God, the game is more than afoot," Holmes whispered after the kiss.
"I feel it to be so," Vittoria sighed in ecstasy as she held Holmes in a passionate embrace.
"It's time to be going, Miss Vittoria," Faust's voice showed more than a hint of anger and jealousy.
"Good-bye, Mr. Holmes," Vittoria smiled at the deerstalker cap clad gentleman.
"Au revoir, ma cherie d'amour," Holmes reluctantly let go of the enchanting Vittoria Donna Gina.
She lifted her dress to walk up the steps of the caravan trailer.
Holmes dropped his pipe on the ground so he could look up as his hands fiddled around on the ground to find the pipe.
"I did not know the world's greatest detective was also the world's greatest pervert," Faust remarked dryly.
"As Abraham Lincoln shrewdly observed, a man without vices is inevitably also a man without virtues," was Holmes' reply.
Faust harrumphed.
"So will you now experiment with rats over in Germany?" Holmes inquired.
In his mind's eye, Holmes pictured Germany's Kaiser Wilhelm II on a giant glass slide under a giant microscope.
"I shall continue my work in Mendel's new science of genetics," was Faust's reply, "I'm thinking of working with the Bavarian Forest's rich supply of magic mushrooms to create new pharmaceuticals and perhaps someday in the field of human genetics I shall create an übermensch."
"I imagine Nietzsche would approve," Holmes lit his pipe.
. . .
Sherlock Holmes rode the train from Stamford to London with veterinarian Fred Clegg.
"So you have some business to attend to in London, Mr. Clegg?" Holmes asked the veterinarian as he gazed out at the English countryside.
"Some brief business, yes, Mr. Holmes," Clegg gazed at the detective.
"And then back to your veterinary practice and livery stable business?" Holmes asked.
"Indeed, Mr. Holmes," Clegg smiled.
"Ever consider any other plans in your future besides running a horse drawn omnibus service in the seaside resort of Morecambe?" Holmes asked.
"Well, I've sometimes thought of going out to Canada," Clegg answered.
"Canada, eh?" Holmes felt a sudden craving for beer and back bacon.
"Yes, the Northwest Territories," Clegg nodded, "possibly the Alberta Territory. They say there's lots of good potential ranch land and farmland in and around the area of the Red Deer River Badlands."
"That was the area where the geologist Tyrrell discovered 10 years ago bones belonging to one of those giant creatures we call dinosaurs?" Holmes asked.
"That was the area all right," Clegg smiled.
"I wonder if any such creatures are around today," Holmes mused aloud.
"Only in the House of Lords," Clegg winked.
Holmes laughed.
"What about you, Mr. Holmes?" Clegg asked, "Returning to your old haunts in London?".
"Eventually, Mr. Clegg," Holmes looked pained as he talked, "I have some family business to attend to in Paris."
"Oh really?" Clegg seemed surprised.
"Yes, it's my twin sister Sherrielock Holmes," Holmes frowned, "she's done something of potential embarrassment to the family."
"I didn't even know you had a twin sister," Clegg seemed genuinely shocked, "Dr. Watson has only mentioned an older brother Mycroft in his articles about you."
"Dr. Watson doesn't know about Sherrielock," Holmes lit a pipe, "she's the black sheep of the family."
"Oh," Clegg nodded sympathetically.
"I can only deduce what she does for a living," Holmes looked out the window again, "in her room, she has all sorts of whips and riding crops and wooden paddles and sinister looking hairbrushes. In her closet, all sorts of leather corsets and black velvet skirts. And her clientele is mainly made up of members of the British Cabinet and the House of Lords."
"And she's now in Paris?" Fred Clegg asked.
"Yes, it's come to my attention that she has appeared in several nude drawings and paintings done by that notorious Montmartre artist Toulouse-Lautrec," Holmes' face turned red, "such exposure the Holmes family doesn't really need."
"You have my sympathy, Mr. Holmes," Fred Clegg extended his hand.
"Thank you, Clegg," the detective shook the veterinarian's hand.
"And will you be telling Dr. Watson of our adventure with the Giant Rat of Sumatra?" Clegg asked.
"No," Holmes shook his head, "I don't want every vampire hunter in the world pursuing the lovely Miss Vittoria Donna Gina. So if the matter of the Matilda Briggs and the Giant Rat of Sumatra should ever come up, I'll just tell Dr. Watson that it's a story for which the world is not yet prepared."
-A Sherlock Holmes novella chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 12th
2015.
-THE END-
Sent from my iPhone
Friday, November 13, 2015
Friday The 13th Massacre Pan Goatee Style
Friday The 13th Massacre Pan Goatee Style
It was Friday the 13th.
A festive holiday for serial killers everywhere.
In honour of that serial killer with the hockey mask and big knife who's always penalized for slashing- Jason.
Friday the 13th was to serial killers what Christmas, Hanukkah and Diwali were to other people.
Serial killer Pan Goatee, who now worked as a contract hired assassin for the U.S. government and therefore just did serial killing as a hobby, grabbed his laser light beam machete.
When Pan Goatee decided that he was far more intelligent than your average run of the mill serial killers a year and a half ago, he noticed that many serial killers predominantly killed beautiful women as their victims.
This was strange, Pan Goatee thought to himself on an evening of profound philosophical reflection.
God only knows, Pan contemplated, there were too few beautiful women and too many ugly women in the world already.
Particularly in those so-called advanced western countries where The Oprah Show enjoyed immense popularity after that no-good interfering busybody spent decades telling women that they were good just the way they were.
This piece of sophist reasoning had led to an explosion of female ugliness unprecedented in human history.
If the angelic sons of God had come down to earth today and had seen the daughters of men like they did in Genesis Chapter 6 (where it was written back then, "That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose" thus leading to the procreation of Nephilim- giants), it would surely be written today, "That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were ugly; they regurgitated en masse and hurriedly left the planet never to return".
There would be no giants in the earth these days.
Thus Pan Goatee had a moment of intellectual epiphany and he would do what no serial killer had done before.
He would only bump off ugly women.
And in so doing, make the world a more beautiful place to live.
Surely those great practitioners of aesthetics and lovers of beauty like Nietzsche, Oscar Wilde and the Greek god Apollo would most wholeheartedly approve.
And so Pan Goatee headed out that morning of Friday November 13th on his own personal urban beautification improvement project.
As he walked down a back alley, he noticed a woman walking her dog straight ahead.
Some strange looking man came walking down the alley and frightened the dog.
The dog started barking and the woman turned and pulled the dog away from the maniacal looking man.
At the moment she turned around, Pan Goatee noticed how repulsively ugly she was.
"Egad," Pan Goatee emptied his breakfast on the side of the lane, "Some dog is out taking her dog for a walk."
As the maniac man passed him by looking thoroughly crazed and insane, Pan Goatee walked up to the ugly looking woman and beheaded her.
"This wouldn't have happened if you had had the courtesy to wear a paper bag over your head when you went out today," Pan Goatee remarked as he beheaded her.
The four-legged dog barked and snarled.
Pan Goatee beheaded him as well.
"We must put an end to noise pollution in the city," Pan Goatee commented as he permanently silenced the yippy creature's excessive barking.
Pan Goatee looked back down the alley at the maniacal looking man who seemed to be walking around in circles as he walked.
"Hm," Pan Goatee thought to himself, "We can't have such deranged looking maniacs wandering the streets either. They're a threat to civilization."
Pan Goatee walked up to the maniacal deranged looking man and beheaded him.
"We must stop insanity in its tracks while we still have the time," was Pan Goatee's verbal homespun bit of philosophy as he sent the man to Hades' Home For The Chronically Insane.
He then kicked the maniac's severed head down the alley where it went a fair distance.
Hm, he really should try out to play for Manchester United or maybe a position as a field goal kicker for an NFL team.
That afternoon he beheaded an ugly female cyclist who not only visually assaulted the city with her looks but was also using her bike on the sidewalks instead of the streets as well.
He then beheaded a couple of ugly looking women pedestrians who got too close to him on the sidewalk as he walked along.
After a successful day of beheadings, he went home and read some Nietzsche and Oscar Wilde before going to bed.
Jason would have been proud.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 13th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
It was Friday the 13th.
A festive holiday for serial killers everywhere.
In honour of that serial killer with the hockey mask and big knife who's always penalized for slashing- Jason.
Friday the 13th was to serial killers what Christmas, Hanukkah and Diwali were to other people.
Serial killer Pan Goatee, who now worked as a contract hired assassin for the U.S. government and therefore just did serial killing as a hobby, grabbed his laser light beam machete.
When Pan Goatee decided that he was far more intelligent than your average run of the mill serial killers a year and a half ago, he noticed that many serial killers predominantly killed beautiful women as their victims.
This was strange, Pan Goatee thought to himself on an evening of profound philosophical reflection.
God only knows, Pan contemplated, there were too few beautiful women and too many ugly women in the world already.
Particularly in those so-called advanced western countries where The Oprah Show enjoyed immense popularity after that no-good interfering busybody spent decades telling women that they were good just the way they were.
This piece of sophist reasoning had led to an explosion of female ugliness unprecedented in human history.
If the angelic sons of God had come down to earth today and had seen the daughters of men like they did in Genesis Chapter 6 (where it was written back then, "That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were fair; and they took them wives of all which they chose" thus leading to the procreation of Nephilim- giants), it would surely be written today, "That the sons of God saw the daughters of men that they were ugly; they regurgitated en masse and hurriedly left the planet never to return".
There would be no giants in the earth these days.
Thus Pan Goatee had a moment of intellectual epiphany and he would do what no serial killer had done before.
He would only bump off ugly women.
And in so doing, make the world a more beautiful place to live.
Surely those great practitioners of aesthetics and lovers of beauty like Nietzsche, Oscar Wilde and the Greek god Apollo would most wholeheartedly approve.
And so Pan Goatee headed out that morning of Friday November 13th on his own personal urban beautification improvement project.
As he walked down a back alley, he noticed a woman walking her dog straight ahead.
Some strange looking man came walking down the alley and frightened the dog.
The dog started barking and the woman turned and pulled the dog away from the maniacal looking man.
At the moment she turned around, Pan Goatee noticed how repulsively ugly she was.
"Egad," Pan Goatee emptied his breakfast on the side of the lane, "Some dog is out taking her dog for a walk."
As the maniac man passed him by looking thoroughly crazed and insane, Pan Goatee walked up to the ugly looking woman and beheaded her.
"This wouldn't have happened if you had had the courtesy to wear a paper bag over your head when you went out today," Pan Goatee remarked as he beheaded her.
The four-legged dog barked and snarled.
Pan Goatee beheaded him as well.
"We must put an end to noise pollution in the city," Pan Goatee commented as he permanently silenced the yippy creature's excessive barking.
Pan Goatee looked back down the alley at the maniacal looking man who seemed to be walking around in circles as he walked.
"Hm," Pan Goatee thought to himself, "We can't have such deranged looking maniacs wandering the streets either. They're a threat to civilization."
Pan Goatee walked up to the maniacal deranged looking man and beheaded him.
"We must stop insanity in its tracks while we still have the time," was Pan Goatee's verbal homespun bit of philosophy as he sent the man to Hades' Home For The Chronically Insane.
He then kicked the maniac's severed head down the alley where it went a fair distance.
Hm, he really should try out to play for Manchester United or maybe a position as a field goal kicker for an NFL team.
That afternoon he beheaded an ugly female cyclist who not only visually assaulted the city with her looks but was also using her bike on the sidewalks instead of the streets as well.
He then beheaded a couple of ugly looking women pedestrians who got too close to him on the sidewalk as he walked along.
After a successful day of beheadings, he went home and read some Nietzsche and Oscar Wilde before going to bed.
Jason would have been proud.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 13th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, November 12, 2015
Osiris' Vision For One World Government
Osiris' Vision For One World Government
Having got his mojo back recently (after paying his arch-enemy brother's top research scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher a huge amount of money to re-attach a certain long lost body part), Osiris was sitting in a Rome night club hoping to get it on with the ladies.
A drunken diplomat who sat next to him up at the bar said to him, "Excuse me, sir, I was just having a conversation with my friend here," he gestured to the empty seat next to him, "about what form a one- world government should take if one should ever happen to come into place. What form do you think it will take?."
Osiris had been brushing up on world history ever since he had been brought back into material existence by the accelerated high particle beams of an ET laser death ray gun fired in reverse a year ago this past Halloween.
Thus he was able to answer the question.
"Well," Osiris dropped an ancient cyclops' eyeball into his martini, "I don't think either an extreme laissez-faire capitalism nor a Soviet style Communism shall succeed in establishing a one-world government."
"No, what will succeed then?" The diplomat bought another round of drinks for himself and his invisible bunny rabbit friend sitting next to him.
"I believe it will be a globalized form of German National Socialism," Osiris answered, "but one that will be truly global and not Germanic. It will be the political and economic system of the Third Reich on a world-wide scale but one devoid of its racial theories and notions of racial superiority. In this globalized form of an international National Socialism, all races and ethnic groups will be accepted. It will be certain individuals that will be persecuted but for their beliefs and not for their racial or ethnic backgrounds- individuals who do not follow the global hive mindset (what Teilhard de Chardin would probably consider an Incarnation of his Noosphere). Those individuals will be persecuted and maybe eliminated.
The rest will follow the world leader without question under the slogan One Planet One People One Leader.
And of course instead of doing everything for the Fatherland, they will do everything for Mother Earth."
"Wow," the diplomat pondered this for a moment and then turned to his invisible friend (who had not touched his Harvey Wallbanger), "what do you think about that, Harvey, old boy?".
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 12th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Having got his mojo back recently (after paying his arch-enemy brother's top research scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher a huge amount of money to re-attach a certain long lost body part), Osiris was sitting in a Rome night club hoping to get it on with the ladies.
A drunken diplomat who sat next to him up at the bar said to him, "Excuse me, sir, I was just having a conversation with my friend here," he gestured to the empty seat next to him, "about what form a one- world government should take if one should ever happen to come into place. What form do you think it will take?."
Osiris had been brushing up on world history ever since he had been brought back into material existence by the accelerated high particle beams of an ET laser death ray gun fired in reverse a year ago this past Halloween.
Thus he was able to answer the question.
"Well," Osiris dropped an ancient cyclops' eyeball into his martini, "I don't think either an extreme laissez-faire capitalism nor a Soviet style Communism shall succeed in establishing a one-world government."
"No, what will succeed then?" The diplomat bought another round of drinks for himself and his invisible bunny rabbit friend sitting next to him.
"I believe it will be a globalized form of German National Socialism," Osiris answered, "but one that will be truly global and not Germanic. It will be the political and economic system of the Third Reich on a world-wide scale but one devoid of its racial theories and notions of racial superiority. In this globalized form of an international National Socialism, all races and ethnic groups will be accepted. It will be certain individuals that will be persecuted but for their beliefs and not for their racial or ethnic backgrounds- individuals who do not follow the global hive mindset (what Teilhard de Chardin would probably consider an Incarnation of his Noosphere). Those individuals will be persecuted and maybe eliminated.
The rest will follow the world leader without question under the slogan One Planet One People One Leader.
And of course instead of doing everything for the Fatherland, they will do everything for Mother Earth."
"Wow," the diplomat pondered this for a moment and then turned to his invisible friend (who had not touched his Harvey Wallbanger), "what do you think about that, Harvey, old boy?".
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 12th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, November 11, 2015
The Apparition
The Apparition
Stu Nichols was a reporter and news correspondent newly walking the Vatican beat.
He strolled through the Vatican Gardens waiting for the Cardinal he was to interview.
In the distance, he saw what looked to be a priest or monk standing by one of the bushes.
The monk or priest beckoned to him.
Stu approached.
The man had extremely long wild looking hair and a very long flowing beard.
As Stu approached, he noticed the Cross around the monk-priest's neck was not a Crucifix or even a Latin rite Cross.
It was a Russian Orthodox style Cross.
The man also had the most hypnotic looking eyes he had ever seen.
Stu stopped in his tracks.
For he suddenly recognized the man.
From photos from history books in his student days at Oxford.
Rasputin.
The Mad Monk.
Who helped pave the way for the fall of the Czar through his manipulations and control over the Russian Imperial Family.
The figure suddenly vanished into thin air.
"Good evening, Mr. Nichols," the voice of Cardinal JM startled the reporter as the Vatican prelate approached from the side, "It looks like you've seen a ghost."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday November 11th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Stu Nichols was a reporter and news correspondent newly walking the Vatican beat.
He strolled through the Vatican Gardens waiting for the Cardinal he was to interview.
In the distance, he saw what looked to be a priest or monk standing by one of the bushes.
The monk or priest beckoned to him.
Stu approached.
The man had extremely long wild looking hair and a very long flowing beard.
As Stu approached, he noticed the Cross around the monk-priest's neck was not a Crucifix or even a Latin rite Cross.
It was a Russian Orthodox style Cross.
The man also had the most hypnotic looking eyes he had ever seen.
Stu stopped in his tracks.
For he suddenly recognized the man.
From photos from history books in his student days at Oxford.
Rasputin.
The Mad Monk.
Who helped pave the way for the fall of the Czar through his manipulations and control over the Russian Imperial Family.
The figure suddenly vanished into thin air.
"Good evening, Mr. Nichols," the voice of Cardinal JM startled the reporter as the Vatican prelate approached from the side, "It looks like you've seen a ghost."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday November 11th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Tuesday, November 10, 2015
Renfield and The Modigliani Painting
Renfield and The Modigliani Painting
"You look pale," Amadeus commented as he ate his 17th dish of vanilla ice cream.
"It's this article I read on the BBC News website," Renfield looked as white as a ghost.
This is the article:
http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-34775073
"The Modigliani painting Nu couche (Reclining nude) was sold this past Monday at Christie's in New York for $170.4 million U.S.," Amadeus read the story on his iPhone, "Hm, that woman in the painting looks familiar."
"She should," Renfield turned the colour of a polar bear, "that's Sherrielock Holmes."
"Your personal dominatrix?" Amadeus asked Renfield as Athelstan the butler entered the room to take away the tea pot.
"You didn't have to mention her profession in such a loud voice," Renfield now looked as red as a lobster.
"It says here this painting was painted back in 1917 and 1918," Amadeus reached for some dates to eat, "gosh, Sherrielock still looks good for her age."
"That's the thing," Renfield turned back to the colour of an albino again, "when she told me that she was Sherlock Holmes' twin sister from the late 19th Century, I thought maybe she had just eaten too many magic mushrooms or something. I didn't take her seriously. I know she isn't a vampiress from those times she walked me while I was wearing a dog collar in Hyde Park during daylight hours. So how did she achieve immortality?".
"And she didn't do it in Dorian Gray style either," Amadeus spilled red strawberry jam all over himself, "seeing as how her image in the painting still looks wonderful."
"Unless she's got another painting in her attic somewhere," Renfield now looked like a snow man.
The power suddenly went out.
"The power is out," Renfield stated the obvious.
While they listened to the sound of Athelstan tripping and falling in the dark as he struggled to find the mansion's spare electric generator, Amadeus' iPhone rang.
"That was Dr. Cadbury Rocher down at the Set Enterprises lab," Amadeus said, "apparently Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a major psychic episode in the aquarium. He not only knocked out the power in the facility but blew out the entire electrical grid of the entire City of London as well."
"It's that damn painting," Renfield's eyes glowed in the dark, "I know it is."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 10th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
"You look pale," Amadeus commented as he ate his 17th dish of vanilla ice cream.
"It's this article I read on the BBC News website," Renfield looked as white as a ghost.
This is the article:
http://www.bbc.com/news/entertainment-arts-34775073
"The Modigliani painting Nu couche (Reclining nude) was sold this past Monday at Christie's in New York for $170.4 million U.S.," Amadeus read the story on his iPhone, "Hm, that woman in the painting looks familiar."
"She should," Renfield turned the colour of a polar bear, "that's Sherrielock Holmes."
"Your personal dominatrix?" Amadeus asked Renfield as Athelstan the butler entered the room to take away the tea pot.
"You didn't have to mention her profession in such a loud voice," Renfield now looked as red as a lobster.
"It says here this painting was painted back in 1917 and 1918," Amadeus reached for some dates to eat, "gosh, Sherrielock still looks good for her age."
"That's the thing," Renfield turned back to the colour of an albino again, "when she told me that she was Sherlock Holmes' twin sister from the late 19th Century, I thought maybe she had just eaten too many magic mushrooms or something. I didn't take her seriously. I know she isn't a vampiress from those times she walked me while I was wearing a dog collar in Hyde Park during daylight hours. So how did she achieve immortality?".
"And she didn't do it in Dorian Gray style either," Amadeus spilled red strawberry jam all over himself, "seeing as how her image in the painting still looks wonderful."
"Unless she's got another painting in her attic somewhere," Renfield now looked like a snow man.
The power suddenly went out.
"The power is out," Renfield stated the obvious.
While they listened to the sound of Athelstan tripping and falling in the dark as he struggled to find the mansion's spare electric generator, Amadeus' iPhone rang.
"That was Dr. Cadbury Rocher down at the Set Enterprises lab," Amadeus said, "apparently Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a major psychic episode in the aquarium. He not only knocked out the power in the facility but blew out the entire electrical grid of the entire City of London as well."
"It's that damn painting," Renfield's eyes glowed in the dark, "I know it is."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 10th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Friday, November 6, 2015
All You Can Eat Buffet
All You Can Eat Buffet
Ben noticed the huge line-up ahead on the sidewalk as he walked down the street.
"Is there a big concert or something?" Ben asked the last person in line as he walked by.
"No, this line-up is for a new all you can eat buffet," the man answered.
"Really?" Ben was surprised, "They must have really really good food if there's this long a line up for it."
"There's a special promotional offer for today," the last man in line explained, "they'll pay you $20 if you can handle the all you can eat buffet according to this promotional pamphlet flyer here."
"What?" Ben was incredulous, "you can eat all you want and then they'll pay you $20 at the end?".
"That's right," the last man in line nodded.
"Well, I might as well join in," Ben got behind the man.
The line seemed to be moving pretty quickly and before Ben knew it, he was the first person in line before the door that said All You Can Eat Buffet.
The door opened and Ben walked in.
The door immediately closed behind him.
"So," Ben asked the maitre'd at the door, "how do you expect to make a profit if you give people an all you can eat buffet and then you pay them at the end?".
"You only get the money if you can survive handling the buffet," the maitre'd explained, "and besides the all you can eat buffet isn't for you... it's for... him."
The maitre'd pushed Ben into a room which had a huge pit on the floor with a sign beside it that said Glemp the Giant Cannibal.
The giant's hands emerged from the pit and grabbed Ben.
Before Ben knew it, he was in the giant's mouth where he was crunched and munched to pieces by Glemp's huge teeth.
Ben did not get his $20.
-A short story
written by Christopher
Friday November 6th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Ben noticed the huge line-up ahead on the sidewalk as he walked down the street.
"Is there a big concert or something?" Ben asked the last person in line as he walked by.
"No, this line-up is for a new all you can eat buffet," the man answered.
"Really?" Ben was surprised, "They must have really really good food if there's this long a line up for it."
"There's a special promotional offer for today," the last man in line explained, "they'll pay you $20 if you can handle the all you can eat buffet according to this promotional pamphlet flyer here."
"What?" Ben was incredulous, "you can eat all you want and then they'll pay you $20 at the end?".
"That's right," the last man in line nodded.
"Well, I might as well join in," Ben got behind the man.
The line seemed to be moving pretty quickly and before Ben knew it, he was the first person in line before the door that said All You Can Eat Buffet.
The door opened and Ben walked in.
The door immediately closed behind him.
"So," Ben asked the maitre'd at the door, "how do you expect to make a profit if you give people an all you can eat buffet and then you pay them at the end?".
"You only get the money if you can survive handling the buffet," the maitre'd explained, "and besides the all you can eat buffet isn't for you... it's for... him."
The maitre'd pushed Ben into a room which had a huge pit on the floor with a sign beside it that said Glemp the Giant Cannibal.
The giant's hands emerged from the pit and grabbed Ben.
Before Ben knew it, he was in the giant's mouth where he was crunched and munched to pieces by Glemp's huge teeth.
Ben did not get his $20.
-A short story
written by Christopher
Friday November 6th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, November 5, 2015
Cardinal JM and Osiris
Cardinal JM and Osiris
The Vatican Cardinal JM was in a downtown Rome lounge waiting to meet the ancient Egyptian vampire Osiris.
His personal secretary Father Oliver Thomas Wardenclyffe would not be accompanying him as he usually did to such meetings.
Father Wardenclyffe would be attending a performance of a new ballet Swan Lake In The Desert at the U. S. Embassy this night.
The original avante-garde ballet was being performed by the U.S. Marine Corps Barack Obama Performing Arts Division.
"Your Eminence," The Vampire Osiris dressed in a tuxedo and tie greeted Cardinal JM.
"Your Most Exalted Ancient Egyptian Highness," Cardinal JM bowed.
"You look well, JM," Osiris stated.
"You're looking somewhat green this evening," the Cardinal observed, "aren't you feeling well?".
"I've always looked green," Osiris snapped irritably, "if you ever bothered to look at pictures of my painted image on the walls of Egyptian temples and tombs. It was a condition brought about by eating too many jars of pickles when I was younger."
"I apologize for my abysmal ignorance, your Highness," Cardinal JM looked flustered, "ancient Greek religion is my field of study."
"It wasn't Catholicism?" Osiris inquired.
"I know very little about Catholicism," Cardinal JM replied, "which probably explains why I was named a Cardinal. If I had known even less, I would have probably been elected Pope at the Papal Conclave back in 2013."
"Why did you arrange for us to meet tonight?" Osiris ordered a martini with extra olives from the waiter.
"I have a gift for you," Cardinal JM put a small box on the table, "this was recently found in the Vatican Archives."
Osiris opened the box and cried, "My original phallus."
"Yes," Cardinal JM nodded and smiled, "the one that your brother Set cut off so brutally in Egypt many millennia ago in a procedure which these days may or may not be covered under modern Obamacare, I'd have to check on that."
"The one piece of my original 14 dismembered body parts that my sister, wife and lover Isis was never able to find," Osiris wept.
"It was found back in 1922 by a Jesuit Egyptologist who died after being bitten by an asp on his ass," the Cardinal explained, "our aging archivist only got around to cataloging it this year."
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday November 4th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
The Vatican Cardinal JM was in a downtown Rome lounge waiting to meet the ancient Egyptian vampire Osiris.
His personal secretary Father Oliver Thomas Wardenclyffe would not be accompanying him as he usually did to such meetings.
Father Wardenclyffe would be attending a performance of a new ballet Swan Lake In The Desert at the U. S. Embassy this night.
The original avante-garde ballet was being performed by the U.S. Marine Corps Barack Obama Performing Arts Division.
"Your Eminence," The Vampire Osiris dressed in a tuxedo and tie greeted Cardinal JM.
"Your Most Exalted Ancient Egyptian Highness," Cardinal JM bowed.
"You look well, JM," Osiris stated.
"You're looking somewhat green this evening," the Cardinal observed, "aren't you feeling well?".
"I've always looked green," Osiris snapped irritably, "if you ever bothered to look at pictures of my painted image on the walls of Egyptian temples and tombs. It was a condition brought about by eating too many jars of pickles when I was younger."
"I apologize for my abysmal ignorance, your Highness," Cardinal JM looked flustered, "ancient Greek religion is my field of study."
"It wasn't Catholicism?" Osiris inquired.
"I know very little about Catholicism," Cardinal JM replied, "which probably explains why I was named a Cardinal. If I had known even less, I would have probably been elected Pope at the Papal Conclave back in 2013."
"Why did you arrange for us to meet tonight?" Osiris ordered a martini with extra olives from the waiter.
"I have a gift for you," Cardinal JM put a small box on the table, "this was recently found in the Vatican Archives."
Osiris opened the box and cried, "My original phallus."
"Yes," Cardinal JM nodded and smiled, "the one that your brother Set cut off so brutally in Egypt many millennia ago in a procedure which these days may or may not be covered under modern Obamacare, I'd have to check on that."
"The one piece of my original 14 dismembered body parts that my sister, wife and lover Isis was never able to find," Osiris wept.
"It was found back in 1922 by a Jesuit Egyptologist who died after being bitten by an asp on his ass," the Cardinal explained, "our aging archivist only got around to cataloging it this year."
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday November 4th
2015.
Sent from my iPhone
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