Michelangelo's Vision of A Donald Trump Presidency
German Chancellor Angela Merkel was anxious to discover who would win the U.S. Presidential election.
So she had paid Set Enterprises' €1 million to find out.
But Set Enterprises' genetically created Psychic Lobster refused to reveal that information.
The German Chancellor was anxious to know what would be the results of a Donald Trump Presidency.
So Set Enterprises' chief resident mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher
posed the question hypothetically to the psychic lobster, "What would a
Donald Trump Presidency be like?".
Michelangelo replied with a series of visions that he sent
telepathically from his lobster antennae to the screen of the computer
he was hooked up to.
All the visions were of Donald Trump sitting in the Oval Office:
1st Vision:
Trump (barking orders to his underlings) : What? How dare the Mexicans
reject my final offer to get them to pay for the wall I'm building? This
makes me look like I'm breaking my campaign promise to my supporters.
Get on the phone to the Pentagon and tell them to nuke Mexico City. This will show them who's boss.
2nd vision:
Trump (still barking orders): What? How dare Pope Francis condemn me as unChristian for nuking Mexico City?
Get on the phone to the Pentagon and tell them to nuke the Vatican.
This will show that godless atheistic communist in a cassock who's truly doing God's work.
3rd Vision:
Trump (still barking) : I didn't like that story CNN's Anderson Cooper did on me last night.
Get on the phone to the Pentagon and tell them to nuke CNN Headquarters in Atlanta.
This will make what General Sherman did look like a Sunday School barbeque.
4th Vision:
Trump (continuously barking): How dare the New York Times condemn me for
nuking Atlanta? It's not my fault the entire city happens to surround
CNN.
Get on the phone to the Pentagon and tell them to nuke the New York
Times Building in New York City. But phone my financial so-called Blind
Trust first and get them to sell all my investments and disperse all my
assets in the Big Apple first.
100th Vision:
Trump (the neverending bark): How dare the Republican governor of New
Mexico condemn me for making a radioactive wasteland of most of the
country and most of the planet?
Get on the phone to the Pentagon and tell them to nuke the state of New
Mexico. But pull any investments I might have in the Santa Fe Railway
first.
665th Vision:
Trump (still hot under his dog collar and barking wildly): How dare the
State of Hawaii vote to secede from the Union saying that it's now
governed by a lunatic tyrant worse than Nero and Caligula put together?
Get on the phone to the Pentagon and tell them to nuke Honolulu. But
sell any real estate and property I might hold in Hawaii first.
666th Vision: How dare the Pentagon refuse my orders to nuke Hawaii
saying that there's not much left of the U.S.A. ? Is it my fault that
there's so many damned traitors to the Commander-In-Chief living in this
country? I'm trying to be Presidential about this.
Get on the phone to the Pentagon and tell them to go nuke themselves.
And that's an order. If they refuse to go nuke themselves, they're
loosing their Armed Forces pensions.
(The resulting atomic mushroom cloud appearing over the Pentagon expands
and falls all over Washington D.C. taking the entire city including the
White House and Oval Office with its barking and raging occupant Donald
Trump with it)
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday June 1st
2016.
Wednesday, June 1, 2016
Tuesday, May 31, 2016
The Ghost White Salamander
The Ghost White Salamander
Belvedere was the ghost of a ghost white salamander who hung out with Salaman The Magician.
The two had met when the stage magician had been doing a magic show in Salt Lake City.
Belvedere did not believe that he had always been a ghost white salamander.
He believed an evil witch had turned him into a ghost white salamander when he refused to pay her for services rendered in a room above a Wild West saloon.
Since he had been turned into a salamander and was ghostly white in colour, he would have been labelled by zoologists a ghost white salamander.
He turned into the ghost of a ghost white salamander after being run over by an ox cart heading further west.
No one could see him until Salaman The Magician had spotted him in Salt Lake City.
Belvedere and Salaman had hit it off and the two hung out together ever since.
Belvedere would occasionally help Salaman out with his magic show.
Having a ghost as part of the show often left other stage magicians who were sitting in the audience as spectators scratching their heads wondering themselves how a certain trick could have been possibly done.
Salaman had recently been hired by the British government to put on a fake haunting using fake ghosts at a Scottish castle this past weekend.
"Why didn't you use a real ghost like me for the haunting?" Belvedere the ghost of the ghost white salamander asked Salaman.
"A lot of people don't find ghosts of ghost white salamanders scary," Salaman answered.
"Really?" Belvedere looked perplexed, "I find myself looking scary whenever I look into the mirror and find dandruff flakes falling out of my ectoplasm."
"Yes, that really is a strange phenomenon," Salaman had to admit.
"I really don't know how to stop it," Belvedere said sheepishly, "it makes me glad most people aren't able to see me."
"Eek!" The magician's lovely stage assistant Maria screamed when she entered the room, "What is that strange creature with dandruff flakes falling out of its ectoplasm?".
"Of which this moment is a prime example," Belvedere the ghost white salamander hung his head in shame.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday May 30th
2016.
Belvedere was the ghost of a ghost white salamander who hung out with Salaman The Magician.
The two had met when the stage magician had been doing a magic show in Salt Lake City.
Belvedere did not believe that he had always been a ghost white salamander.
He believed an evil witch had turned him into a ghost white salamander when he refused to pay her for services rendered in a room above a Wild West saloon.
Since he had been turned into a salamander and was ghostly white in colour, he would have been labelled by zoologists a ghost white salamander.
He turned into the ghost of a ghost white salamander after being run over by an ox cart heading further west.
No one could see him until Salaman The Magician had spotted him in Salt Lake City.
Belvedere and Salaman had hit it off and the two hung out together ever since.
Belvedere would occasionally help Salaman out with his magic show.
Having a ghost as part of the show often left other stage magicians who were sitting in the audience as spectators scratching their heads wondering themselves how a certain trick could have been possibly done.
Salaman had recently been hired by the British government to put on a fake haunting using fake ghosts at a Scottish castle this past weekend.
"Why didn't you use a real ghost like me for the haunting?" Belvedere the ghost of the ghost white salamander asked Salaman.
"A lot of people don't find ghosts of ghost white salamanders scary," Salaman answered.
"Really?" Belvedere looked perplexed, "I find myself looking scary whenever I look into the mirror and find dandruff flakes falling out of my ectoplasm."
"Yes, that really is a strange phenomenon," Salaman had to admit.
"I really don't know how to stop it," Belvedere said sheepishly, "it makes me glad most people aren't able to see me."
"Eek!" The magician's lovely stage assistant Maria screamed when she entered the room, "What is that strange creature with dandruff flakes falling out of its ectoplasm?".
"Of which this moment is a prime example," Belvedere the ghost white salamander hung his head in shame.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday May 30th
2016.
Tuesday, May 24, 2016
Salaman The Magician
Salaman The Magician had been summoned to 10 Downing Street to meet the Prime Minister David Cameron.
"I hear you're putting on a very successful magic show in London these days," Cameron said to Salaman.
"I try my best, Mr. Prime Minister," the white bearded magician smiled.
"I hear this past weekend, you had a frog leaping out from the bosom of a very beautiful woman in a low-cut evening dress and frightening Boris Johnson," Cameron smiled.
"As much as I'd like to claim credit for what turned out to be a very upstaging event during the show," the magician bowed his head, "alas, I was not the one responsible for that."
"Well no matter," Cameron got to the point, "the point is we're having a very important guest- a foreign dignitary- staying at a castle in Scotland tonight- the castle is said to be haunted. We want you to use your magic skills to make a ghost appear to the foreign dignitary and get him to adopt the same position on a certain international issue as that held by Her Majesty's Government here in the United Kingdom. Sorry to give you such short notice on this. But we just found out at the last moment that this gentleman is flying in for a secret conference on this issue at the said haunted castle in Scotland. We thought if anyone could put together a seemingly authentic haunting at the last moment, it would be a master magician such as yourself."
"All right, I'll do it," Salaman answered when he was handed a piece of paper by Cameron stating the amount the British government was willing to pay him for staging the supposedly authentic haunting.
"Great," Cameron shook his hand and the magician made his exit.
• • •
"Who'd have thought," Salaman shook his head as he got into the taxi outside 10 Downing Street, "that magic shows and haunted castles would soon play an important role in international relations."
Meanwhile over in Vietnam, Barack Obama was unaware that he was currently chatting with the actual real ghost of a Vietnamese Empress.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 24th
2016.
Sunday, May 22, 2016
Salaman The Magician Magic Show Runs Amok
Salaman The Magician Magic Show Runs Amok
Salaman The Magician had had a successful run with his magic show in London.
Audiences were raving about it.
Although on this night, the raving was done by Boris Johnson the former Mayor of London and Euro-sceptic Conservative MP who mistook the magician's sawing his beautiful female assistant in half in a box draped with the Union Jack as an endorsement of an EU superstate over a sovereign United Kingdom.
To settle things down, Salaman The Magician decided to saw his beautiful female assistant in half in a box draped with the European Union flag instead much to the cheers of the pro-Brexit crowd.
After sawing the woman in half and separating the European Union flag draped box, the audience shouted, "Don't bother putting her back together."
So the magician's assistant had to be put together backstage.
Sitting next to Boris Johnson in the audience was the ancient Babylonian Vampiress Lilith.
Lilith had been asked by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan to bump off Johnson because the Turkish despot and would be restored Sultan of a revived Ottoman Caliphate was offended by Boris Johnson's offensive limerick about him that won The Spectator Magazine's President Erdogan Offensive Poetry Competition.
The plan was for Nimrod (the builder of the Tower of Babel who was now a frog due to a vampiric kiss magic spell gone awry) to hide down the front of Lilith's lavender coloured evening dress between her cleavage (where Nimrod often liked to be for some reason) and then jump out at an appropriate moment during the performance to ribbit an Amazon River basin poison plant dart out of his mouth in Johnson's direction.
Unfortunately for Erdogan's homicidal plans, Nimrod had accidentally purchased a bottle of Bavarian Magic Mushroom Liquid Gel instead of Amazon River Basin Poison Plant Liquid Gel by mistake at a London chemist shop earlier in the day.
So when Nimrod jumped out from between Lilith's cleavage as the stage band played Beethoven's Ode To Joy as Salaman sawed the European Union draped flag box (with beautiful female assistant inside) in half, the ancient prince turned frog fired Bavarian Magic Mushroom Liquid Gel into Johnson's Adam's Apple.
Instead of immediately keeling over and dying on the spot (which would have occurred had the fast acting Poison Plant Liquid Gel been used), Johnson instead fell to his knees and said, "Is this a leather skirted dominatrix I see before me?".
As Johnson babbled about pirate ships under attack by bunny rabbits, Lilith and Nimrod hastily exited the theatre.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 21st
2016.
Salaman The Magician had had a successful run with his magic show in London.
Audiences were raving about it.
Although on this night, the raving was done by Boris Johnson the former Mayor of London and Euro-sceptic Conservative MP who mistook the magician's sawing his beautiful female assistant in half in a box draped with the Union Jack as an endorsement of an EU superstate over a sovereign United Kingdom.
To settle things down, Salaman The Magician decided to saw his beautiful female assistant in half in a box draped with the European Union flag instead much to the cheers of the pro-Brexit crowd.
After sawing the woman in half and separating the European Union flag draped box, the audience shouted, "Don't bother putting her back together."
So the magician's assistant had to be put together backstage.
Sitting next to Boris Johnson in the audience was the ancient Babylonian Vampiress Lilith.
Lilith had been asked by Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan to bump off Johnson because the Turkish despot and would be restored Sultan of a revived Ottoman Caliphate was offended by Boris Johnson's offensive limerick about him that won The Spectator Magazine's President Erdogan Offensive Poetry Competition.
The plan was for Nimrod (the builder of the Tower of Babel who was now a frog due to a vampiric kiss magic spell gone awry) to hide down the front of Lilith's lavender coloured evening dress between her cleavage (where Nimrod often liked to be for some reason) and then jump out at an appropriate moment during the performance to ribbit an Amazon River basin poison plant dart out of his mouth in Johnson's direction.
Unfortunately for Erdogan's homicidal plans, Nimrod had accidentally purchased a bottle of Bavarian Magic Mushroom Liquid Gel instead of Amazon River Basin Poison Plant Liquid Gel by mistake at a London chemist shop earlier in the day.
So when Nimrod jumped out from between Lilith's cleavage as the stage band played Beethoven's Ode To Joy as Salaman sawed the European Union draped flag box (with beautiful female assistant inside) in half, the ancient prince turned frog fired Bavarian Magic Mushroom Liquid Gel into Johnson's Adam's Apple.
Instead of immediately keeling over and dying on the spot (which would have occurred had the fast acting Poison Plant Liquid Gel been used), Johnson instead fell to his knees and said, "Is this a leather skirted dominatrix I see before me?".
As Johnson babbled about pirate ships under attack by bunny rabbits, Lilith and Nimrod hastily exited the theatre.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 21st
2016.
Thursday, May 19, 2016
Renfield Asks Donald Trump A Question
Renfield Asks Donald Trump A Question
Renfield R. Renfield's campaign for the U.S. Presidency was going nowhere.
He sat at 0.0% in the polls and had 0.0% of the delegates in either party- Republican or Democrat.
And to add insult to injury, still no one was telling him to drop out of the race like Hillary Clinton was telling Bernie Sanders or Donald Trump was telling Ted Cruz and John Kasich a month ago.
Renfield felt somewhat peeved.
He had recently found out however that he Renfield had actually been created in a genetics lab in Colorado Springs, Colorado (his creator Set Enterprises' resident mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher had been trying to re-create Nikola Tesla's experiments with ball lightning at the time) rather than a genetics lab in Britain.
That meant he Renfield was a natural born (or natural genetically created) American citizen and he no longer needed to tell everyone to ignore the U.S. Constitution while campaigning to be President (and that most American Presidents inevitably do once they enter office).
So Renfield decided he needed to do something radical to attract the attention of the U.S. media and public.
Then he thought of a question that he could ask Donald Trump- a question that no journalist had thought of asking Donald Trump before.
Renfield was positive that this question would catapult him into the national spotlight.
So he flew over to America to a Donald Trump campaign rally and posed as a journalist.
Trump surveyed the room for members of the press and pointed in Renfield's direction.
"You sir," he pointed at Renfield, "wearing the Porn Stars and Hookers For Renfield campaign button on your lapel, you have a question?".
"I do, Mr. Trump," Renfield grinned like the cat about to pounce on the canary, "when was the last time you had a hair cut?".
Trump looked shell shocked.
"What?" Trump sputtered.
"That should be an easy question for most people with their own natural hair on their head to answer, Mr. Trump," Renfield grinned again, "when was the last time you had a hair cut?".
"Throw that bum out of here," Donald Trump directed his handlers.
Trump's handlers then pounced on the Set Enterprises Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering posing as a journalist.
"What are you trying to cover up and hide, Mr. Trump?" Renfield shouted, "When was the last time you had a hair cut?".
"Throw that bum out of here!" Trump once again screamed.
"They're going to make bumper stickers," Renfield shouted, "bumper stickers that say RED SPIDER MONKEYS DIED FOR TRUMP'S FOLLICLE SINS."
"Throw that bum out of here," Trump raged with the fury of an Austrian painter addressing a rally in mid-1930s Nuremberg.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 19th
2016.
Renfield R. Renfield's campaign for the U.S. Presidency was going nowhere.
He sat at 0.0% in the polls and had 0.0% of the delegates in either party- Republican or Democrat.
And to add insult to injury, still no one was telling him to drop out of the race like Hillary Clinton was telling Bernie Sanders or Donald Trump was telling Ted Cruz and John Kasich a month ago.
Renfield felt somewhat peeved.
He had recently found out however that he Renfield had actually been created in a genetics lab in Colorado Springs, Colorado (his creator Set Enterprises' resident mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher had been trying to re-create Nikola Tesla's experiments with ball lightning at the time) rather than a genetics lab in Britain.
That meant he Renfield was a natural born (or natural genetically created) American citizen and he no longer needed to tell everyone to ignore the U.S. Constitution while campaigning to be President (and that most American Presidents inevitably do once they enter office).
So Renfield decided he needed to do something radical to attract the attention of the U.S. media and public.
Then he thought of a question that he could ask Donald Trump- a question that no journalist had thought of asking Donald Trump before.
Renfield was positive that this question would catapult him into the national spotlight.
So he flew over to America to a Donald Trump campaign rally and posed as a journalist.
Trump surveyed the room for members of the press and pointed in Renfield's direction.
"You sir," he pointed at Renfield, "wearing the Porn Stars and Hookers For Renfield campaign button on your lapel, you have a question?".
"I do, Mr. Trump," Renfield grinned like the cat about to pounce on the canary, "when was the last time you had a hair cut?".
Trump looked shell shocked.
"What?" Trump sputtered.
"That should be an easy question for most people with their own natural hair on their head to answer, Mr. Trump," Renfield grinned again, "when was the last time you had a hair cut?".
"Throw that bum out of here," Donald Trump directed his handlers.
Trump's handlers then pounced on the Set Enterprises Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering posing as a journalist.
"What are you trying to cover up and hide, Mr. Trump?" Renfield shouted, "When was the last time you had a hair cut?".
"Throw that bum out of here!" Trump once again screamed.
"They're going to make bumper stickers," Renfield shouted, "bumper stickers that say RED SPIDER MONKEYS DIED FOR TRUMP'S FOLLICLE SINS."
"Throw that bum out of here," Trump raged with the fury of an Austrian painter addressing a rally in mid-1930s Nuremberg.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 19th
2016.
Monday, May 16, 2016
Medusa and The Kraken In San Diego
Medusa and The Kraken In San Diego
The Kraken who called himself Emperor Napoleon VI (formerly Italian mad scientist Dr. Poseidon Prometheus prior to uploading his consciousness into a cyborgic octopus cybrid) was suntanning himself on a beach near San Diego, California.
His wife Medusa the ex-Gorgon (who had her head reattached to her body and her beauty restored- no more snaky dandruff flakes falling out of her hair- by British mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher) was lying next to him in a bikini.
She turned over.
"Say dear," she whispered, "would you mind putting some suntan lotion on my back?".
"All right," the Kraken picked up the Coppertone suntanning lotion with one of his eight arms and put some of the lotion on his tentacles (careful not to put some on his metallic cyborg hooks) and started rubbing her back applying the lotion.
"Oh God, that feels good," Medusa moaned, "I think I'll have an orgasm right here on the beach."
The Kraken suddenly stopped applying the lotion, "How do Californians feel about displays of orgasms in public?".
"You've never seen too many TV shows or movies about California have you?" Medusa looked at him.
"I was always too busy leafing through textbooks and scientific journals," the ex-scientist turned Kraken recalled, "the closest I got to anything Californian was eating a bunch of California raisins one time. Which almost got me deported from Italy for offending Tuscan grape growers."
A guy walking along the beach in dark sunglasses suddenly spots the Kraken.
"Hey," the man walked up to him, "aren't you the same Kraken who appeared in that Geico commercial on TV where you jumped out of a water hazard on a golf course and devoured a bunch of golfers?".
"I'm the same Kraken all right," Napoleon VI smiled photogenically.
"I was once beheaded by the Greek hero Perseus," Medusa spoke up anxious for the sandals and Hawaiian shorts and dark sunglasses wearing dude to be impressed by her as well.
"I never saw that movie," the dude replied, "although my kids did."
"Oh," Medusa looked disappointed.
"Can I have your autograph?" The dude asked the Kraken.
"Sure," the Kraken smiled again, "do you have a pen on you?".
The dude reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a pen bearing the logo Moonlite Bunny Ranch Nevada.
The Kraken took the pen with one of his tentacles and autographed the dude's autograph book.
"Moonlite Bunny Ranch Nevada?" The Kraken looked at the logo on the pen, "Did you ever run into a shapeshifting hamster/human called Renfield R. Renfield who often shops there?".
"I have on quite a number of occasions," the dude nodded, "in fact it was Mr. Renfield's posting a photo of him and me together in a hot tub with a bunch of working girls on that ranch on his Facebook page that has allowed me to add the title of having an ex-wife to my list of accomplishments."
"Renfield often has the habit of leaving chaos in his wake," the Kraken acknowledged.
"Yes, you should try Renfield's primordial void soup," Medusa grimaced, "I was sick for days afterwards."
"I must admit it didn't go well with my Kraken digestive system either," Napoleon VI recalled.
"Can I get a selfie with you and Medusa together?" The dude asked, "My golfing buddies will be so thrilled with you Mr. Kraken and my children will go nuts over seeing you Medusa with your head attached and minus all those slithering creepy crawly viper venomous reptiles in your curly locks of hair."
"Sure," the Kraken and Medusa agreed.
As they got their picture taken with the dude's smart phone, Bernie Sanders was walking along the beach handing out his Presidential campaign literature.
"Excuse me," Sen. Sanders addressed them, "but you three aren't registered Democrats by any chance are you?".
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday May 15th 2016.
The Kraken who called himself Emperor Napoleon VI (formerly Italian mad scientist Dr. Poseidon Prometheus prior to uploading his consciousness into a cyborgic octopus cybrid) was suntanning himself on a beach near San Diego, California.
His wife Medusa the ex-Gorgon (who had her head reattached to her body and her beauty restored- no more snaky dandruff flakes falling out of her hair- by British mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher) was lying next to him in a bikini.
She turned over.
"Say dear," she whispered, "would you mind putting some suntan lotion on my back?".
"All right," the Kraken picked up the Coppertone suntanning lotion with one of his eight arms and put some of the lotion on his tentacles (careful not to put some on his metallic cyborg hooks) and started rubbing her back applying the lotion.
"Oh God, that feels good," Medusa moaned, "I think I'll have an orgasm right here on the beach."
The Kraken suddenly stopped applying the lotion, "How do Californians feel about displays of orgasms in public?".
"You've never seen too many TV shows or movies about California have you?" Medusa looked at him.
"I was always too busy leafing through textbooks and scientific journals," the ex-scientist turned Kraken recalled, "the closest I got to anything Californian was eating a bunch of California raisins one time. Which almost got me deported from Italy for offending Tuscan grape growers."
A guy walking along the beach in dark sunglasses suddenly spots the Kraken.
"Hey," the man walked up to him, "aren't you the same Kraken who appeared in that Geico commercial on TV where you jumped out of a water hazard on a golf course and devoured a bunch of golfers?".
"I'm the same Kraken all right," Napoleon VI smiled photogenically.
"I was once beheaded by the Greek hero Perseus," Medusa spoke up anxious for the sandals and Hawaiian shorts and dark sunglasses wearing dude to be impressed by her as well.
"I never saw that movie," the dude replied, "although my kids did."
"Oh," Medusa looked disappointed.
"Can I have your autograph?" The dude asked the Kraken.
"Sure," the Kraken smiled again, "do you have a pen on you?".
The dude reached into his shorts pocket and pulled out a pen bearing the logo Moonlite Bunny Ranch Nevada.
The Kraken took the pen with one of his tentacles and autographed the dude's autograph book.
"Moonlite Bunny Ranch Nevada?" The Kraken looked at the logo on the pen, "Did you ever run into a shapeshifting hamster/human called Renfield R. Renfield who often shops there?".
"I have on quite a number of occasions," the dude nodded, "in fact it was Mr. Renfield's posting a photo of him and me together in a hot tub with a bunch of working girls on that ranch on his Facebook page that has allowed me to add the title of having an ex-wife to my list of accomplishments."
"Renfield often has the habit of leaving chaos in his wake," the Kraken acknowledged.
"Yes, you should try Renfield's primordial void soup," Medusa grimaced, "I was sick for days afterwards."
"I must admit it didn't go well with my Kraken digestive system either," Napoleon VI recalled.
"Can I get a selfie with you and Medusa together?" The dude asked, "My golfing buddies will be so thrilled with you Mr. Kraken and my children will go nuts over seeing you Medusa with your head attached and minus all those slithering creepy crawly viper venomous reptiles in your curly locks of hair."
"Sure," the Kraken and Medusa agreed.
As they got their picture taken with the dude's smart phone, Bernie Sanders was walking along the beach handing out his Presidential campaign literature.
"Excuse me," Sen. Sanders addressed them, "but you three aren't registered Democrats by any chance are you?".
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday May 15th 2016.
Friday, May 13, 2016
Renfield Meets Queen Elizabeth II
Renfield Meets Queen Elizabeth II
Renfield R. Renfield was feeling quite jealous of Amadeus Emanon these days.
Amadeus was getting lots of dates with beautiful women.
While he, Renfield, was striking out with beautiful women left, right and center.
He would definitely be ineligible to sign on as a designated hitter with a Major League Baseball team.
To top it off, Amadeus had recently been invited to a Royal event to mark Her Majesty The Queen's 90th Birthday.
And Renfield had received no invitation from the Palace to attend anything.
Still Renfield had heard that Her Majesty would be holding yet another Royal Garden Tea Party to celebrate Her 90th year.
So Renfield decided to shapeshift into a hamster and enter the event that way.
And that's exactly what he did.
He scurried under a table where he promptly shapeshifted back into his human form.
Then he crawled back out from under the table.
Just as Her Majesty The Queen was helping herself to a watercress sandwich.
"Oh dear, " said the Queen, "did you lose something?".
"Yes, I seem to have lost my pen given to me by my favourite grandmother," Renfield answered.
"Good heavens," said the Queen sympathetically, "I hope you found it."
"I did," Renfield pulled out a Moonlite Bunny Ranch Nevada pen from inside his vest pocket and quickly put it back before Her Majesty could read the logo.
"Is your favourite grandmother still alive?" The Queen asked.
"No," Renfield shook his head, "she was killed last year while big game hunting in Africa."
"Great Heavens," said the Queen.
"Yes, she was mistaken for an American dentist by a lioness girlfriend of the late lamented lion Cecil of Zimbabwe," Renfield spoke in pseudo-mournful tones.
"How awful," said the Queen.
"Yes, it didn't make for a pretty picture," Renfield agreed, "although surprisingly the picture did go viral on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter."
"And you are...?" The Queen extended her hand.
"Mr. Renfield R. Renfield," Renfield shook Her Majesty's hand and bowed.
"Renfield R. Renfield?" Her Majesty repeated the name, "Funny, I don't recall seeing that name on the invitation list."
"Well I occasionally do clandestine work on behalf of both MI-5 and MI- 6," Renfield answered, "so my name is very hush-hush. Top secret in other words."
"Oh, I see," the Queen nodded, "do you understand intelligence service code?".
"Some," Renfield nodded.
"Well as you know," the Queen said, "I was recently caught on camera saying that some Chinese government officials were very rude during last year's state visit by President Xi Jinping. Today I got a message from the British Embassy in Beijing saying that the said officials had just "got their buns tomatoed by Sherrielock Holmes for their rudeness". I take it that's some sort of code."
"Um... yes it is," Renfield's face turned as white as a hamster's."
"Hello, Renfield," a smiling Sherrielock Holmes stood behind the Queen.
"I'll leave you two alone," the Queen went over to talk to the French Ambassador to London.
Sherrielock Holmes was dressed in a red rose emblazoned white cocktail dress instead of her usual leather skirted dominatrix attire.
"I take it you snuck into this garden party without an invitation," Sherrielock smiled an even wider smile.
"Well... uh," Renfield turned as pale as the moon when it had eaten too much green cheese on a moonlit evening.
Sherrielock opened her dragon leathered Gucci purse and threw out Paris Hilton's pet Chihuahua and brought out a whip.
"No," Renfield pleaded.
Renfield's cries were drowned out by the 21-gun salute for the Queen.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 13th 2016.
Renfield R. Renfield was feeling quite jealous of Amadeus Emanon these days.
Amadeus was getting lots of dates with beautiful women.
While he, Renfield, was striking out with beautiful women left, right and center.
He would definitely be ineligible to sign on as a designated hitter with a Major League Baseball team.
To top it off, Amadeus had recently been invited to a Royal event to mark Her Majesty The Queen's 90th Birthday.
And Renfield had received no invitation from the Palace to attend anything.
Still Renfield had heard that Her Majesty would be holding yet another Royal Garden Tea Party to celebrate Her 90th year.
So Renfield decided to shapeshift into a hamster and enter the event that way.
And that's exactly what he did.
He scurried under a table where he promptly shapeshifted back into his human form.
Then he crawled back out from under the table.
Just as Her Majesty The Queen was helping herself to a watercress sandwich.
"Oh dear, " said the Queen, "did you lose something?".
"Yes, I seem to have lost my pen given to me by my favourite grandmother," Renfield answered.
"Good heavens," said the Queen sympathetically, "I hope you found it."
"I did," Renfield pulled out a Moonlite Bunny Ranch Nevada pen from inside his vest pocket and quickly put it back before Her Majesty could read the logo.
"Is your favourite grandmother still alive?" The Queen asked.
"No," Renfield shook his head, "she was killed last year while big game hunting in Africa."
"Great Heavens," said the Queen.
"Yes, she was mistaken for an American dentist by a lioness girlfriend of the late lamented lion Cecil of Zimbabwe," Renfield spoke in pseudo-mournful tones.
"How awful," said the Queen.
"Yes, it didn't make for a pretty picture," Renfield agreed, "although surprisingly the picture did go viral on Instagram, Facebook and Twitter."
"And you are...?" The Queen extended her hand.
"Mr. Renfield R. Renfield," Renfield shook Her Majesty's hand and bowed.
"Renfield R. Renfield?" Her Majesty repeated the name, "Funny, I don't recall seeing that name on the invitation list."
"Well I occasionally do clandestine work on behalf of both MI-5 and MI- 6," Renfield answered, "so my name is very hush-hush. Top secret in other words."
"Oh, I see," the Queen nodded, "do you understand intelligence service code?".
"Some," Renfield nodded.
"Well as you know," the Queen said, "I was recently caught on camera saying that some Chinese government officials were very rude during last year's state visit by President Xi Jinping. Today I got a message from the British Embassy in Beijing saying that the said officials had just "got their buns tomatoed by Sherrielock Holmes for their rudeness". I take it that's some sort of code."
"Um... yes it is," Renfield's face turned as white as a hamster's."
"Hello, Renfield," a smiling Sherrielock Holmes stood behind the Queen.
"I'll leave you two alone," the Queen went over to talk to the French Ambassador to London.
Sherrielock Holmes was dressed in a red rose emblazoned white cocktail dress instead of her usual leather skirted dominatrix attire.
"I take it you snuck into this garden party without an invitation," Sherrielock smiled an even wider smile.
"Well... uh," Renfield turned as pale as the moon when it had eaten too much green cheese on a moonlit evening.
Sherrielock opened her dragon leathered Gucci purse and threw out Paris Hilton's pet Chihuahua and brought out a whip.
"No," Renfield pleaded.
Renfield's cries were drowned out by the 21-gun salute for the Queen.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 13th 2016.
Wednesday, May 11, 2016
Amadeus Gets A Cheesecake and Renfield Gets A Walloping
Amadeus Gets A Cheesecake and Renfield Gets Walloped
Amadeus Emanon was sitting in a London tea shop with the New Orleans songstress and stage actress vampiress Angelique Dumont.
"I hear this stage magician Salaman the Magician puts on a wonderful show," Angelique said reading a review in one of the London entertainment weeklies.
"He does," Amadeus nodded, "I saw him a couple of weeks ago. I'm still totally mystified as to how he does his tricks. Like nothing I've ever seen.
Even better than Houdini, David Copperfield and Criss Angel in my opinion."
"You saw Salaman the Magician?" Angelique raised an eyebrow, "By yourself?".
"No, I was with Dulcinea Lucia," Amadeus replied.
"The gypsy fortune teller?" Angelique raised her other eyebrow.
"That's right," Amadeus nodded again.
"You went on a date with Dulcinea Lucia?" Angelique glared at Amadeus.
"That is correct," Amadeus put some honey in his tea.
"But I thought you and I were an item," Angelique's face flushed as red as her rouge red lipstick and her dinner the night before.
"I didn't know we were an item," Amadeus Emanon looked as surprised as a child's face on Christmas morning.
"You didn't know we were an item?" Angelique grabbed a piece of cheesecake off a passing waiter's tray and shoved it in Amadeus' face.
"Speaking of items, I didn't know cheesecake was on the menu," Amadeus wiped the cheesecake off his face.
. . .
In another corner of the tea shop, Renfield R. Renfield had his eyes on a very attractive woman wearing a green evening dress.
Renfield had recently been advised by his co-worker and fellow employee at Set Enterprises Dr. Cadbury Rocher that he needed to be more subtle in his approach with women.
Not to come on so strong.
Renfield decided to try this new approach that he had never before attempted.
So he walked past the woman and sang in a loud operatic style baritone voice, "Birds do it, bees do it, even dogs and trees do it..."
Purses apparently do it as well.
Because Renfield found himself clobbered over the head with the woman's rather heavy purse and found himself lying on the floor with the woman in the green evening dress stepping over him and leaving the restaurant.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 10th
2016.
Amadeus Emanon was sitting in a London tea shop with the New Orleans songstress and stage actress vampiress Angelique Dumont.
"I hear this stage magician Salaman the Magician puts on a wonderful show," Angelique said reading a review in one of the London entertainment weeklies.
"He does," Amadeus nodded, "I saw him a couple of weeks ago. I'm still totally mystified as to how he does his tricks. Like nothing I've ever seen.
Even better than Houdini, David Copperfield and Criss Angel in my opinion."
"You saw Salaman the Magician?" Angelique raised an eyebrow, "By yourself?".
"No, I was with Dulcinea Lucia," Amadeus replied.
"The gypsy fortune teller?" Angelique raised her other eyebrow.
"That's right," Amadeus nodded again.
"You went on a date with Dulcinea Lucia?" Angelique glared at Amadeus.
"That is correct," Amadeus put some honey in his tea.
"But I thought you and I were an item," Angelique's face flushed as red as her rouge red lipstick and her dinner the night before.
"I didn't know we were an item," Amadeus Emanon looked as surprised as a child's face on Christmas morning.
"You didn't know we were an item?" Angelique grabbed a piece of cheesecake off a passing waiter's tray and shoved it in Amadeus' face.
"Speaking of items, I didn't know cheesecake was on the menu," Amadeus wiped the cheesecake off his face.
. . .
In another corner of the tea shop, Renfield R. Renfield had his eyes on a very attractive woman wearing a green evening dress.
Renfield had recently been advised by his co-worker and fellow employee at Set Enterprises Dr. Cadbury Rocher that he needed to be more subtle in his approach with women.
Not to come on so strong.
Renfield decided to try this new approach that he had never before attempted.
So he walked past the woman and sang in a loud operatic style baritone voice, "Birds do it, bees do it, even dogs and trees do it..."
Purses apparently do it as well.
Because Renfield found himself clobbered over the head with the woman's rather heavy purse and found himself lying on the floor with the woman in the green evening dress stepping over him and leaving the restaurant.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 10th
2016.
Sunday, May 8, 2016
The Dangling Outlaw: A Poem
The Dangling Outlaw: A Poem
(inspired by a comment I posted on my friend Sherrie de Valeria's blog:
https://
)
So gather around the campfire friends while I tell the tale
A tale that will make your faces ghostly pale
It's the story of the Dangling Outlaw
a tale that will make your skin craw'
Sam Ryan was his name
Outlawing was his game
He robbed trains
splattered brains
of men he shot in the street
keeping his vest and tie neat
He robbed banks
never said thanks
He rustled cattle
and stole a baby's rattle
Sam Ryan was as mean as mean could be
and dangled many a saloon girl on his knee
He laid them here
He laid them there
He laid them almost everywhere
like eggs from the Easter Bunny- that noble hare
Finally one day a posse was rounded up
and as Sam slept at the bar holding on to a cup
He was grabbed and taken away
The posse rode for many a day
until on the bare prairie
they found a lone tall tree
They threw a rope to the tallest branch
These men from the Double Square Ranch
And into the noose went Ryan's head
Grinned the sheriff, "You'll soon be dead"
They kicked the box from under him
And stood around drinking gin
But Ryan dangled and shouted "Never say die"
And as both the crow and time did fly
every one of the posse eventually succumbed to the Grim Reaper
And Sam lived 100 years into the Decade of the Beeper
but technology changed and so did the seasons
Why was Sam still alive? The universe has its reasons
30 years have passed since the Decade of the Beeper
And now Toms use their smart phone cameras to be a peeper
And occasionally they take a picture of Dangling Sam
And continue on their way without giving a damn
And Sam Ryan outlaw still dangles by rope on that lone prairie tree
He's had nothing to drink so nothing to pee
He still shouts at the top of his lungs
Far and wide as the prairie grass sprungs
"Never say die!" "Never say die!"
Great lines on silver screen come and go such as "Here's looking at you, kid" and "Mud in your eye"
But like repetitive parrot or Shakespearian actor who's forgotten his lines
Sam says the same thing over and over into these 2016 times
"Never say die!" Never say die!".
-A western narrative poem
written by Christopher
Sunday May 8th 2016.
(inspired by a comment I posted on my friend Sherrie de Valeria's blog:
https://
)
So gather around the campfire friends while I tell the tale
A tale that will make your faces ghostly pale
It's the story of the Dangling Outlaw
a tale that will make your skin craw'
Sam Ryan was his name
Outlawing was his game
He robbed trains
splattered brains
of men he shot in the street
keeping his vest and tie neat
He robbed banks
never said thanks
He rustled cattle
and stole a baby's rattle
Sam Ryan was as mean as mean could be
and dangled many a saloon girl on his knee
He laid them here
He laid them there
He laid them almost everywhere
like eggs from the Easter Bunny- that noble hare
Finally one day a posse was rounded up
and as Sam slept at the bar holding on to a cup
He was grabbed and taken away
The posse rode for many a day
until on the bare prairie
they found a lone tall tree
They threw a rope to the tallest branch
These men from the Double Square Ranch
And into the noose went Ryan's head
Grinned the sheriff, "You'll soon be dead"
They kicked the box from under him
And stood around drinking gin
But Ryan dangled and shouted "Never say die"
And as both the crow and time did fly
every one of the posse eventually succumbed to the Grim Reaper
And Sam lived 100 years into the Decade of the Beeper
but technology changed and so did the seasons
Why was Sam still alive? The universe has its reasons
30 years have passed since the Decade of the Beeper
And now Toms use their smart phone cameras to be a peeper
And occasionally they take a picture of Dangling Sam
And continue on their way without giving a damn
And Sam Ryan outlaw still dangles by rope on that lone prairie tree
He's had nothing to drink so nothing to pee
He still shouts at the top of his lungs
Far and wide as the prairie grass sprungs
"Never say die!" "Never say die!"
Great lines on silver screen come and go such as "Here's looking at you, kid" and "Mud in your eye"
But like repetitive parrot or Shakespearian actor who's forgotten his lines
Sam says the same thing over and over into these 2016 times
"Never say die!" Never say die!".
-A western narrative poem
written by Christopher
Sunday May 8th 2016.
Friday, May 6, 2016
Renfield's Speech To BAEEBV 5 Years Ago Today
"Do you recall what you did on this day 5 years ago today?" Amadeus asked Renfield.
"No," Renfield suddenly looked nervous.
He wondered what incriminating photo or video Amadeus might have had on him of what he did 5 years ago today.
"It was 5 years ago today that you gave a speech to the British Association of Employees Employed By Vampires better known as BAEEBV," Amadeus pointed out.
"Oh that," Renfield grinned.
Yes, that was back on May 6th 2011.
Renfield recalled getting a standing ovation for that speech.
As well as a blow job from a rising young pop music starlet afterwards.
Renfield sat there with a huge smile on his face.
"I have a video of your best moment that day," Amadeus showed him a video on his laptop's YouTube page.
"You do?" Renfield turned as pale as the silvery moon on a South Seas night.
Had Amadeus filmed his encounter with the rising young pop music starlet?
The video started playing.
It was of the best line that Renfield had delivered that evening- a paraphrase of a line from Lewis Carroll's poem The Walrus and The Carpenter in his book Through The Looking Glass.
"The time has come," Renfield said, "to talk of many things- of psychic lobsters and werewolves and lycanthropic MPs, of how Dracul Van Helsing manages to get vampiresses down on their knees."
"You know," Amadeus spoke up, "I understand the reference to psychic lobsters- that's Michelangelo. And the reference to werewolves and lycanthropic MPs- that's to Welsh werewolf British Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley. But what did you mean by Dracul Van Helsing managing to get vampiresses to their knees?".
"Well," Renfield's face turned red with jealousy, "Dracul Van Helsing seems to have the ability to get beautiful vampiresses to make out with him. I've never been able to get a beautiful vampiress to make out with me."
"You haven't been too successful with many beautiful mortal women either," Amadeus bit into his peanut butter and avocado sandwich.
"Harrumph," Renfield pouted.
Still that rising young pop music starlet had performed a huge favour on him the night of his standing ovation speech.
Then again, that gun he held to her head, the resulting action may not have been a result of her free will affection for him.
Still she had done the deed.
Which was more than could be said for the 99 other rising young pop music starlets whose brains (or lack thereof!) he had been forced to blow to kingdom come when they refused to blow on his sword.
Their deaths were still listed as unsolved in Interpol files.
And the poor Illuminati were taking the heat for his dastardly deeds in most on-line conspiracy theorist videos.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 6th
2016.
Thursday, May 5, 2016
Qonzilqointec and Dracul See Pope Francis Wearing A Cowboy Hat
Qonzilqointec and Dracul See Pope Francis Wearing A Cowboy Hat
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec and Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing were in Her Vampiric Highness' exclusive Mexico City penthouse apartment enjoying an exquisite meal and a bottle of the best Burgundy wine after a great evening of seeing Cinco de Mayo festivities.
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec was wearing a fiery red evening dress emblazoned with black lace around the arm sleeves.
Dracul Van Helsing was wearing a Humphrey Bogart Casablanca white style dinner jacket tuxedo and black bow tie.
"We're having roast lobster as the main entree," Qonzilqointec smiled.
"Lovely," Dracul nodded, "as long as it's not my friend Michelangelo."
"Speaking of which," Qonzilqointec smiled showing her white vampiric incisor fangs, "how did Set Enterprises' resident mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher manage to genetically create Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster?".
"Well," Dracul sipped his Burgundy wine,"I understand he extracted DNA from lobsters in a certain region of the world which according to a rare and unknown work of Herodotus that he had in his possession- these lobsters were said to have advanced psychic powers according to Ancient Greek sailors of the time who had ingested too much of the opium poppy."
"Who had ingested too much of the opium poppy?" Qonzilqointec asked, "the lobsters or the Greek sailors?".
"I'm not quite sure," Dracul looked reflective, "Dr. Cadbury Rocher was somewhat incoherent after downing a dozen glasses of Tennessee bourbon."
"And who had downed the dozen glasses of Tennessee bourbon?" Qonzilqointec smiled again, "You or Dr. Rocher?".
"I believe we were tied for twelve apiece at that point," Dracul recalled.
"And where in the world did he get those psychic lobsters whose DNA he extracted to genetically create Michelangelo?" Qonzilqointec smiled yet again.
Qonzilqointec had been used to smiling all evening for the 550-year-old Aztec vampiress had been mistaken by numerous American tourists for actress Salma Hayek (whose identical twin sister she could have easily passed for) at Cinco de Mayo festivities and they wanted their selfies taken with Qonzilqointec for uploads to Facebook and Instagram.
"Well according to a friend of mine who's a former U.S. Army Special Operations officer and former DARPA employee," Dracul recalled, "Dr. Cadbury Rocher had sent a group of beautiful but fierce warrioresses who called themselves the Sisterhood of the Black Dragons on a secret mission to the Black and Caspian Seas just prior to creating Michelangelo. So my friend who operated under the Special Ops code name Jack Daniels believes that it's probably in the Black Sea and Caspian Sea regions of the world where these psychic lobsters are found."
"That's interesting," Qonzilqointec wiped her mouth with a handkerchief after taking a large bite of lobster.
On the television in the living room which had the sound turned down, Donald Trump was telling Ohio Gov. John Kasich to take "Small bites. Small bites."
"Why is that interesting?" Dracul Van Helsing likewise took a large bite of lobster.
On the TV in the living room, Sarah Palin could be seen performing the Heimlich maneuver on John Kasich.
"Because these lobsters I ordered flown in fresh for this special occasion," Qonzilqointec sipped her Burgundy wine, "happen to come from the Black and Caspian Seas."
At that moment, both Qonzilqointec and Dracul Van Helsing had psychic visions by which they were teleported to the Vatican where they saw Pope Francis in his bedroom.
Pope Francis was on his way to an Ascension Day papal audience where he was to meet a group of real western cowboys from the western U.S. state of Wyoming.
Pope Francis had been advised by Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi and Cardinal Walter Kasper that when the cowboys are in Rome to do as the cowboys do.
So Pope Francis was wearing a pair of tight fitting blue jeans, buckled leather belt, red and black plaid shirt and a 10 gallon white Stetson cowboy hat.
He was looking at himself in his full length dressing mirror.
Pope Francis began singing that old Mac Davis country and western song,
"Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble
When you're perfect in every way...
I guess it has somethin' to do with the way
That I fill out my skin tight blue jeans."
Pope Francis looked down at the way he filled out his skin tight blue jeans.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 5th
2016.
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec and Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing were in Her Vampiric Highness' exclusive Mexico City penthouse apartment enjoying an exquisite meal and a bottle of the best Burgundy wine after a great evening of seeing Cinco de Mayo festivities.
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec was wearing a fiery red evening dress emblazoned with black lace around the arm sleeves.
Dracul Van Helsing was wearing a Humphrey Bogart Casablanca white style dinner jacket tuxedo and black bow tie.
"We're having roast lobster as the main entree," Qonzilqointec smiled.
"Lovely," Dracul nodded, "as long as it's not my friend Michelangelo."
"Speaking of which," Qonzilqointec smiled showing her white vampiric incisor fangs, "how did Set Enterprises' resident mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher manage to genetically create Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster?".
"Well," Dracul sipped his Burgundy wine,"I understand he extracted DNA from lobsters in a certain region of the world which according to a rare and unknown work of Herodotus that he had in his possession- these lobsters were said to have advanced psychic powers according to Ancient Greek sailors of the time who had ingested too much of the opium poppy."
"Who had ingested too much of the opium poppy?" Qonzilqointec asked, "the lobsters or the Greek sailors?".
"I'm not quite sure," Dracul looked reflective, "Dr. Cadbury Rocher was somewhat incoherent after downing a dozen glasses of Tennessee bourbon."
"And who had downed the dozen glasses of Tennessee bourbon?" Qonzilqointec smiled again, "You or Dr. Rocher?".
"I believe we were tied for twelve apiece at that point," Dracul recalled.
"And where in the world did he get those psychic lobsters whose DNA he extracted to genetically create Michelangelo?" Qonzilqointec smiled yet again.
Qonzilqointec had been used to smiling all evening for the 550-year-old Aztec vampiress had been mistaken by numerous American tourists for actress Salma Hayek (whose identical twin sister she could have easily passed for) at Cinco de Mayo festivities and they wanted their selfies taken with Qonzilqointec for uploads to Facebook and Instagram.
"Well according to a friend of mine who's a former U.S. Army Special Operations officer and former DARPA employee," Dracul recalled, "Dr. Cadbury Rocher had sent a group of beautiful but fierce warrioresses who called themselves the Sisterhood of the Black Dragons on a secret mission to the Black and Caspian Seas just prior to creating Michelangelo. So my friend who operated under the Special Ops code name Jack Daniels believes that it's probably in the Black Sea and Caspian Sea regions of the world where these psychic lobsters are found."
"That's interesting," Qonzilqointec wiped her mouth with a handkerchief after taking a large bite of lobster.
On the television in the living room which had the sound turned down, Donald Trump was telling Ohio Gov. John Kasich to take "Small bites. Small bites."
"Why is that interesting?" Dracul Van Helsing likewise took a large bite of lobster.
On the TV in the living room, Sarah Palin could be seen performing the Heimlich maneuver on John Kasich.
"Because these lobsters I ordered flown in fresh for this special occasion," Qonzilqointec sipped her Burgundy wine, "happen to come from the Black and Caspian Seas."
At that moment, both Qonzilqointec and Dracul Van Helsing had psychic visions by which they were teleported to the Vatican where they saw Pope Francis in his bedroom.
Pope Francis was on his way to an Ascension Day papal audience where he was to meet a group of real western cowboys from the western U.S. state of Wyoming.
Pope Francis had been advised by Cardinal Gianfranco Ravasi and Cardinal Walter Kasper that when the cowboys are in Rome to do as the cowboys do.
So Pope Francis was wearing a pair of tight fitting blue jeans, buckled leather belt, red and black plaid shirt and a 10 gallon white Stetson cowboy hat.
He was looking at himself in his full length dressing mirror.
Pope Francis began singing that old Mac Davis country and western song,
"Oh Lord, it's hard to be humble
When you're perfect in every way...
I guess it has somethin' to do with the way
That I fill out my skin tight blue jeans."
Pope Francis looked down at the way he filled out his skin tight blue jeans.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 5th
2016.
Monday, April 25, 2016
Renfield's Mysterious Client
Renfield's Mysterious Client
As Amadeus Emanon ate his 33rd apple turnover and pondered an invitation from a friend to join the Freemasons, Renfield R. Renfield was eating a tuna fish sandwich.
"It looks like we may have to replace the weigh scale in the bathroom," Amadeus stated.
"Why's that?" Renfield asked.
"For some reason it broke when I stepped on it this morning," Amadeus licked the icing off his fingers.
"That is strange," Renfield picked up his copy of The Times of London and started reading about a mysterious new elephant appearing on the streets of London and yet there were no reports of an escape from the London Zoo.
"So I hear someone has hired you to do a hit job," Amadeus opened his box of 3 dozen chocolate eclairs from the bakery.
"That's right," Renfield grinned, "I'm to track down the person or persons responsible for leaking the Panama Papers and to bump them off."
"Who hired you?" Amadeus was starting to wonder why his belt was feeling so tight this evening.
"I'm sorry," Renfield shook his head, "Under the terms of client/assassin confidentiality and privilege, I'm not allowed to reveal that information to you."
"Oh," Amadeus started licking the chocolate off his fingers.
"So I hear you've got a date with Dulcinea Lucia to go see a stage magician later this week," Renfield said as a large chip and green monster appeared on his shoulder.
"That's right," Amadeus used a napkin to wipe the chocolate off his chin.
"So how come that sexy gypsy fortune teller always goes on dates with you but never with me?" Renfield's face started turning as green as the grass at the height of spring.
"She says that you're a hypersexualized serial adulterer," Amadeus answered.
"Really?" Renfield was shocked, "I remember a few years ago some woman on my Facebook page accused me of being a hypersexualized serial adulterer."
"Well, there you go," Amadeus took a sip of chocolate milk.
"I wonder if there's any truth to that," Renfield pondered the question.
"No idea," Amadeus shrugged.
Renfield went over to the living room bookshelf and took out the volume called Sigmund Freud's Posthumously Written Dictionary of Post-Modern Psychiatric Conditions and looked up the term Hypersexualized Serial Adulterer and noticed his (Renfield's) own photo alongside the definition of the term.
"Find it?" Amadeus inquired.
"Yes," Renfield angrily sat down at the living room table and pouted.
"I wonder what the name of that magician is that Dulcinea Lucia wants me to see," Amadeus finished his 36th chocolate eclair.
"No fucking idea," Renfield fumed.
"Excuse me, sir," Athelstan the butler and valet entered the living room and spoke to Renfield, "but there's a call for you from 10 Downing Street on the secure phone line in the study."
"Oh," Renfield ran with great haste to the study.
"Hm," Amadeus reached for his bucket of KFC as he was growing tired of having eaten nothing but sweets all day, "I wonder what 10 Downing Street is calling Renfield about."
One of the world's great mysteries.
Like how they get the Caramilk inside the Caramilk bar Amadeus thought to himself as he eyed the Caramilk chocolate bar Renfield had left behind on the table.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday April 25th
2016.
As Amadeus Emanon ate his 33rd apple turnover and pondered an invitation from a friend to join the Freemasons, Renfield R. Renfield was eating a tuna fish sandwich.
"It looks like we may have to replace the weigh scale in the bathroom," Amadeus stated.
"Why's that?" Renfield asked.
"For some reason it broke when I stepped on it this morning," Amadeus licked the icing off his fingers.
"That is strange," Renfield picked up his copy of The Times of London and started reading about a mysterious new elephant appearing on the streets of London and yet there were no reports of an escape from the London Zoo.
"So I hear someone has hired you to do a hit job," Amadeus opened his box of 3 dozen chocolate eclairs from the bakery.
"That's right," Renfield grinned, "I'm to track down the person or persons responsible for leaking the Panama Papers and to bump them off."
"Who hired you?" Amadeus was starting to wonder why his belt was feeling so tight this evening.
"I'm sorry," Renfield shook his head, "Under the terms of client/assassin confidentiality and privilege, I'm not allowed to reveal that information to you."
"Oh," Amadeus started licking the chocolate off his fingers.
"So I hear you've got a date with Dulcinea Lucia to go see a stage magician later this week," Renfield said as a large chip and green monster appeared on his shoulder.
"That's right," Amadeus used a napkin to wipe the chocolate off his chin.
"So how come that sexy gypsy fortune teller always goes on dates with you but never with me?" Renfield's face started turning as green as the grass at the height of spring.
"She says that you're a hypersexualized serial adulterer," Amadeus answered.
"Really?" Renfield was shocked, "I remember a few years ago some woman on my Facebook page accused me of being a hypersexualized serial adulterer."
"Well, there you go," Amadeus took a sip of chocolate milk.
"I wonder if there's any truth to that," Renfield pondered the question.
"No idea," Amadeus shrugged.
Renfield went over to the living room bookshelf and took out the volume called Sigmund Freud's Posthumously Written Dictionary of Post-Modern Psychiatric Conditions and looked up the term Hypersexualized Serial Adulterer and noticed his (Renfield's) own photo alongside the definition of the term.
"Find it?" Amadeus inquired.
"Yes," Renfield angrily sat down at the living room table and pouted.
"I wonder what the name of that magician is that Dulcinea Lucia wants me to see," Amadeus finished his 36th chocolate eclair.
"No fucking idea," Renfield fumed.
"Excuse me, sir," Athelstan the butler and valet entered the living room and spoke to Renfield, "but there's a call for you from 10 Downing Street on the secure phone line in the study."
"Oh," Renfield ran with great haste to the study.
"Hm," Amadeus reached for his bucket of KFC as he was growing tired of having eaten nothing but sweets all day, "I wonder what 10 Downing Street is calling Renfield about."
One of the world's great mysteries.
Like how they get the Caramilk inside the Caramilk bar Amadeus thought to himself as he eyed the Caramilk chocolate bar Renfield had left behind on the table.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday April 25th
2016.
Friday, April 22, 2016
A Day In The Life of Set Enterprises Employees
Down in the Set Enterprises lab, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was in his aquarium where he was receiving a radio transmission from the future on his lobster antennae...
BBC World News Bulletin From The Future: And this news story from the world of Entertainment, film maker Martin Scorsese is teaming up with the creators of Monty Python to make a sequel to the film Life of Brian which will be called The Last Temptation of Brian...
. . .
Renfield R. Renfield was in the office of a powerful and highly influential British subject who was hiring him to locate and track down those responsible for leaking the Panama Papers and to bump them off.
. . .
Amadeus Emanon had been hired as a pianist to play at a birthday party for Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II on her 90th Birthday.
As one of the valets at the Royal birthday party wondered where the huge plate of raspberry jellied doughnuts had gone, he never thought of looking on top of the piano where they were located as Amadeus played and sang the lyrics of Prince's song, "She wore raspberry beret..."
. . .
Dr. Cadbury Rocher was giving a guest speech on The Importance of Science In Education to a conference of teachers in Philadelphia, U.S.A.
Dr. Rocher: Back in the 1950s, traditional educators were warning that if "John Dewey's ideas of so-called Progressive education were implemented into American classrooms on a massive scale, this would result in the dumbing down of America on a massive scale."
(Dr. Cadbury Rocher took off his glasses and wiped them)
Dr. Rocher: Whether the traditional educators of the 1950s were right or whether John Dewey and his progressive ideas were right, we can tell by observing the world around us today.
Dr. Cadbury Rocher looked around the auditorium as 90% of the audience were on their smart phones text messaging about their most recent bowel movements or menstrual periods or sharing nude photos of themselves or sharing photos of cats or weighing in on the latest new hot topic in social networking which was, "Is it cruel and insensitive to take one's goldfish into the bathtub with you when you're having a bath?".
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday April 21st
2016.
Tuesday, April 19, 2016
Renfield"s Proposal For Ending Public Washroom Discrimination
Renfield's Proposal For Ending Public Washroom Discrimination
Amadeus Emanon was watching CNN where Anderson Cooper was interviewing Renfield R. Renfield about his campaign for the U.S. Presidency.
Anderson: And we're here with Mr. Renfield R. Renfield... British born... or I should say... British genetically created... candidate for the U.S. Presidency... who's willing to accept the nomination of either party... or both parties... to become President... who currently stands at 0.0% in the polls... has 0.0% of the delegates in either Party... but still believes he stands an excellent chance of becoming America's next President... we'll be back right after these messages.
Amadeus went to the refrigerator to get himself some more milk and cookies.
He got back to the living room just as the last commercial was ending.
Voice of Arnold Schwarzenegger: Crap From Kim Kardashian's Excessively Large Booty... download for free from the App Store.
Anderson Cooper: And we're back. Now, Mr. Renfield, one of the emerging issues in this campaign is the fact that members of the LGBT community feel discriminated against by being forced to use public washrooms for the sex or gender that Nature cruelly assigned them at birth. Several states have passed legislation saying that people must go into public washrooms for the sex or gender that they were born with... Mr. Renfield, where do you stand on this important civil rights issue?
Renfield (grinning) : Well if I was elected President, one of my first acts would be to sign an Executive Order banning all public washrooms.
If there are no washrooms in public, no one would feel discriminated against.
(Anderson Cooper is silent for a whole minute)
Anderson (finally speaking) : I don't recall any of the other candidates running for President... not even Donald Trump... coming up with such an idea.
Renfield (grinning even more): That's because Donald Trump is a divider not a uniter. He divides people. I'm a uniter. I unite people. When I'm elected President, the American people will be united and as one in not being able to find a washroom in a public place. That way no one will feel discriminated against.
Meanwhile down at the Set Enterprises lab, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was freaking out in his aquarium over a vision he was having of a Renfield Presidency in America.
CNN News Bulletin From The Future: The streets of New York City were running red with blood today as millions of people were fighting a quite literal Game of Thrones battle to find a throne somewhere in the city to relieve themselves...
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 19th
2016.
Amadeus Emanon was watching CNN where Anderson Cooper was interviewing Renfield R. Renfield about his campaign for the U.S. Presidency.
Anderson: And we're here with Mr. Renfield R. Renfield... British born... or I should say... British genetically created... candidate for the U.S. Presidency... who's willing to accept the nomination of either party... or both parties... to become President... who currently stands at 0.0% in the polls... has 0.0% of the delegates in either Party... but still believes he stands an excellent chance of becoming America's next President... we'll be back right after these messages.
Amadeus went to the refrigerator to get himself some more milk and cookies.
He got back to the living room just as the last commercial was ending.
Voice of Arnold Schwarzenegger: Crap From Kim Kardashian's Excessively Large Booty... download for free from the App Store.
Anderson Cooper: And we're back. Now, Mr. Renfield, one of the emerging issues in this campaign is the fact that members of the LGBT community feel discriminated against by being forced to use public washrooms for the sex or gender that Nature cruelly assigned them at birth. Several states have passed legislation saying that people must go into public washrooms for the sex or gender that they were born with... Mr. Renfield, where do you stand on this important civil rights issue?
Renfield (grinning) : Well if I was elected President, one of my first acts would be to sign an Executive Order banning all public washrooms.
If there are no washrooms in public, no one would feel discriminated against.
(Anderson Cooper is silent for a whole minute)
Anderson (finally speaking) : I don't recall any of the other candidates running for President... not even Donald Trump... coming up with such an idea.
Renfield (grinning even more): That's because Donald Trump is a divider not a uniter. He divides people. I'm a uniter. I unite people. When I'm elected President, the American people will be united and as one in not being able to find a washroom in a public place. That way no one will feel discriminated against.
Meanwhile down at the Set Enterprises lab, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was freaking out in his aquarium over a vision he was having of a Renfield Presidency in America.
CNN News Bulletin From The Future: The streets of New York City were running red with blood today as millions of people were fighting a quite literal Game of Thrones battle to find a throne somewhere in the city to relieve themselves...
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 19th
2016.
Monday, April 18, 2016
Solomon and The Temple of Baal At Palmyra
Solomon and The Temple of Baal At Palmyra
"And Solomon built Tadmor in the wilderness, and all the store cities, which he built in Hamath."
-II Chronicles 8:4
"When he (Solomon) had therefore built this city, and encompassed it with very strong walls, he gave it the name Tadmor; and that is the name it is still called by at this day among the Syrians; but the Greeks name it Palmyra."
-Josephus, Antiquities of The Jews Book VIII, 6:1
"Palmyra was in ancient times an important city of central Syria, located in an oasis 215 kilometers northeast of Damascus and 120 kilometers southwest of the Euphrates. It has long been a vital caravan city for travelers crossing the Syrian desert and was known as the Bride of the Desert. The Greek name for the city Palmyra is a translation of its original Aramaic name Tadmor which means "palm tree". Tadmor is today the name of a small city next to the ancient ruins of Palmyra and is heavily dependent on tourism. The ancient site of Palmyra is itself an UNESCO World Heritage Site."
-Tourist Brochure About Palmyra, Syria prior to the outbreak of the Syrian Civil War in 2011.
King Solomon stood and surveyed the city that he was building- the city of Tadmor (the city that would later be called by the Greeks Palmyra).
Night was approaching.
A full moon was rising.
A beautiful dark-haired dark skinned and dark eyed woman approached him.
She was wearing a beautiful purple evening dress- slit at the sides and low-cut at the front.
A necklace of diamonds cut in the shape and form of human skulls hung around her neck.
"Thou art Solomon the wisest of the wise?" She asked as she stood before him.
"I am," Solomon answered.
"I am Allatallahbel the Priestess of Baal," she curtsied in front of him making sure he caught a glimpse of her ample and succulent breasts.
"What can I do for you, Allatallahbel?" Solomon shifted uncomfortably in his robes.
"I wish you to build in this city a temple to Baal that's as splendid as your Temple to your god Yahweh in your city of Jerusalem," she answered.
"Well," he answered, "why should I do that?".
"This night, I shall give you six hundred and sixty-six good reasons why you should do that," she approached and rubbed her thigh against his.
"Six hundred and sixty-six eh?" Solomon breathed deeply, "that's a lot of reasons."
The next morning after Allatallahbel had given Solomon her 666 reasons, she stroked his head in her arms, "Art thou convinced?".
"I am," Solomon had to agree.
"Any other woman give you so many reasons to do something?" Allatallahbel laughed.
"One," Solomon answered.
"Really?" Allatallahbel became jealous, "who?".
"Her name was Isis," Solomon recalled, "she was the wife of the architect Hiram Abiff who helped build my Temple."
(For more on Isis and who Hiram Abiff really was, please read:
https://draculvanhelsing.
https://draculvanhelsing.
)
"I see," Allatallahbel stared angrily at the morning sunrise.
"Art thou angry?" Solomon kissed her on the lips, "let me show you my master mason's tool again. That should make you happy."
"You say her name is Isis?" Allatallahbel ate some lobster which she gave to Solomon and he likewise did eat even though it was forbidden him as an Israelite to do so.
"Yes," Solomon nodded.
After she had eaten the lobster meat, Allatallahbel stood and showed her magnificent nude form and then spake and prophesied, "This magnificent Temple to Baal that you shall build in this city, o Solomon, one day replicas to it shall be built in cities all over the world and then Baal shall come."
"Really?" Solomon rubbed what he felt was an itchy invisible third eye in his forehead.
"Yes, and it will all be due to..." Allatallahbel laughed.
"Due to who?" Solomon asked.
"Due to ISIS," Allatallahbel laughed like the demons of Hell, "Thou evil woman, who darest to trespass on what should have been mine, thy name shall be as mud and darkened and vilified."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday April 18th
2016.
"And Solomon built Tadmor in the wilderness, and all the store cities, which he built in Hamath."
-II Chronicles 8:4
"When he (Solomon) had therefore built this city, and encompassed it with very strong walls, he gave it the name Tadmor; and that is the name it is still called by at this day among the Syrians; but the Greeks name it Palmyra."
-Josephus, Antiquities of The Jews Book VIII, 6:1
"Palmyra was in ancient times an important city of central Syria, located in an oasis 215 kilometers northeast of Damascus and 120 kilometers southwest of the Euphrates. It has long been a vital caravan city for travelers crossing the Syrian desert and was known as the Bride of the Desert. The Greek name for the city Palmyra is a translation of its original Aramaic name Tadmor which means "palm tree". Tadmor is today the name of a small city next to the ancient ruins of Palmyra and is heavily dependent on tourism. The ancient site of Palmyra is itself an UNESCO World Heritage Site."
-Tourist Brochure About Palmyra, Syria prior to the outbreak of the Syrian Civil War in 2011.
King Solomon stood and surveyed the city that he was building- the city of Tadmor (the city that would later be called by the Greeks Palmyra).
Night was approaching.
A full moon was rising.
A beautiful dark-haired dark skinned and dark eyed woman approached him.
She was wearing a beautiful purple evening dress- slit at the sides and low-cut at the front.
A necklace of diamonds cut in the shape and form of human skulls hung around her neck.
"Thou art Solomon the wisest of the wise?" She asked as she stood before him.
"I am," Solomon answered.
"I am Allatallahbel the Priestess of Baal," she curtsied in front of him making sure he caught a glimpse of her ample and succulent breasts.
"What can I do for you, Allatallahbel?" Solomon shifted uncomfortably in his robes.
"I wish you to build in this city a temple to Baal that's as splendid as your Temple to your god Yahweh in your city of Jerusalem," she answered.
"Well," he answered, "why should I do that?".
"This night, I shall give you six hundred and sixty-six good reasons why you should do that," she approached and rubbed her thigh against his.
"Six hundred and sixty-six eh?" Solomon breathed deeply, "that's a lot of reasons."
The next morning after Allatallahbel had given Solomon her 666 reasons, she stroked his head in her arms, "Art thou convinced?".
"I am," Solomon had to agree.
"Any other woman give you so many reasons to do something?" Allatallahbel laughed.
"One," Solomon answered.
"Really?" Allatallahbel became jealous, "who?".
"Her name was Isis," Solomon recalled, "she was the wife of the architect Hiram Abiff who helped build my Temple."
(For more on Isis and who Hiram Abiff really was, please read:
https://draculvanhelsing.
https://draculvanhelsing.
)
"I see," Allatallahbel stared angrily at the morning sunrise.
"Art thou angry?" Solomon kissed her on the lips, "let me show you my master mason's tool again. That should make you happy."
"You say her name is Isis?" Allatallahbel ate some lobster which she gave to Solomon and he likewise did eat even though it was forbidden him as an Israelite to do so.
"Yes," Solomon nodded.
After she had eaten the lobster meat, Allatallahbel stood and showed her magnificent nude form and then spake and prophesied, "This magnificent Temple to Baal that you shall build in this city, o Solomon, one day replicas to it shall be built in cities all over the world and then Baal shall come."
"Really?" Solomon rubbed what he felt was an itchy invisible third eye in his forehead.
"Yes, and it will all be due to..." Allatallahbel laughed.
"Due to who?" Solomon asked.
"Due to ISIS," Allatallahbel laughed like the demons of Hell, "Thou evil woman, who darest to trespass on what should have been mine, thy name shall be as mud and darkened and vilified."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday April 18th
2016.
Friday, April 15, 2016
Lizards and Wizards: A Poem
Lizards and Wizards: A Poem
It was a land where giant tulip bulbs grew
that grew in soil blood drenched through and through
The bulbs blood red in colour
like the soil that bled the Earth-Mother
And eating the bulbs were huge flamingoes
not pink like on your lawn goes
but blood red like the seed of human sacrifice
when all other oblations no longer suffice
And rising rising from the blood soaked ground
in a huge puff of red tinged smoke that twirled round and round
arose a wild-haired wild eyed looking wizard
who in a test tube carried a small red lizard
He lifted up high his feathered wand
in the clouds emerged a land beyond
With his left hand he lifted high his trusted wand
and with his right, emptied the test tube like a martini shaker for Bond
The lizard then fell to the earth beneath
an infernal inheritance to bequeath
The lizard grew into a huge red dragon
one possibly stolen from Hades' wagon
The dragon then sprouted wings
like Pegasus at Pierian Springs
And flew into the land that lay beyond the clouds
A land soon to be covered by death's dark shrouds.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday April 14th 2016.
It was a land where giant tulip bulbs grew
that grew in soil blood drenched through and through
The bulbs blood red in colour
like the soil that bled the Earth-Mother
And eating the bulbs were huge flamingoes
not pink like on your lawn goes
but blood red like the seed of human sacrifice
when all other oblations no longer suffice
And rising rising from the blood soaked ground
in a huge puff of red tinged smoke that twirled round and round
arose a wild-haired wild eyed looking wizard
who in a test tube carried a small red lizard
He lifted up high his feathered wand
in the clouds emerged a land beyond
With his left hand he lifted high his trusted wand
and with his right, emptied the test tube like a martini shaker for Bond
The lizard then fell to the earth beneath
an infernal inheritance to bequeath
The lizard grew into a huge red dragon
one possibly stolen from Hades' wagon
The dragon then sprouted wings
like Pegasus at Pierian Springs
And flew into the land that lay beyond the clouds
A land soon to be covered by death's dark shrouds.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday April 14th 2016.
Saturday, April 9, 2016
Renfield's Preferred Political System and Lobster Dreams of Perry Mason
Renfield's Preferred Political System and Lobster Dreams of Perry Mason
"Say, Renfield," Amadeus asked his friend as he flipped through a Political Science textbook, "in your opinion, what's the best political system and form of government?".
"An absolute monarchy with myself as absolute monarch," Renfield replied.
Meanwhile down in his lobster tank at the Set Enterprises laboratory, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was fast asleep.
He, along with his creator Dr. Cadbury Rocher, had been watching a grueling television marathon of old episodes of the Perry Mason TV show with Raymond Burr.
Now he was fast asleep in his aquarium while Cadbury Rocher was in his even more secret lab (unknown to all at Set Enterprises) working on what he considered his master creation- a genetically created replica of the winged horse Pegasus.
In Michelangelo's dream, he was dreaming of an old black and white episode of Perry Mason with Raymond Burr that was never shown on television because it was considered too hot for the America of the late 1950s to handle.
The name of the episode was Perry Mason Solves The Case of The Tomatoed Buns.
Special guest star for the episode was Sherlock Holmes' twin sister- the quite literally immortal (as in never dying due to eating immortal life giving Supernatural mushrooms) leather skirted dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes.
This was the courtroom scene from that episode that Michelangelo dreamed:
Perry Mason: Now Miss Holmes, when we use the term "tomatoed buns", I take it we're not talking about a certain food item we can select down at our local neighbourhood smorgasbord buffet, are we?
Miss Holmes (raising one of her black silk nylon legs on the witness stand and adjusting both her skirt and one of her spiked stiletto high heeled shoes): Indeed, Mr. Mason, we are not.
A large crack suddenly appeared on the glass of Michelangelo's aquarium as the lobster started hyperventilating under water over this dream sequence.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday April 8th
2016.
"Say, Renfield," Amadeus asked his friend as he flipped through a Political Science textbook, "in your opinion, what's the best political system and form of government?".
"An absolute monarchy with myself as absolute monarch," Renfield replied.
Meanwhile down in his lobster tank at the Set Enterprises laboratory, Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was fast asleep.
He, along with his creator Dr. Cadbury Rocher, had been watching a grueling television marathon of old episodes of the Perry Mason TV show with Raymond Burr.
Now he was fast asleep in his aquarium while Cadbury Rocher was in his even more secret lab (unknown to all at Set Enterprises) working on what he considered his master creation- a genetically created replica of the winged horse Pegasus.
In Michelangelo's dream, he was dreaming of an old black and white episode of Perry Mason with Raymond Burr that was never shown on television because it was considered too hot for the America of the late 1950s to handle.
The name of the episode was Perry Mason Solves The Case of The Tomatoed Buns.
Special guest star for the episode was Sherlock Holmes' twin sister- the quite literally immortal (as in never dying due to eating immortal life giving Supernatural mushrooms) leather skirted dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes.
This was the courtroom scene from that episode that Michelangelo dreamed:
Perry Mason: Now Miss Holmes, when we use the term "tomatoed buns", I take it we're not talking about a certain food item we can select down at our local neighbourhood smorgasbord buffet, are we?
Miss Holmes (raising one of her black silk nylon legs on the witness stand and adjusting both her skirt and one of her spiked stiletto high heeled shoes): Indeed, Mr. Mason, we are not.
A large crack suddenly appeared on the glass of Michelangelo's aquarium as the lobster started hyperventilating under water over this dream sequence.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday April 8th
2016.
Thursday, April 7, 2016
Cthulhu At The Vatican: A Poem
Cthulhu At The Vatican: A Poem
One fine night on the Tiber
a man drank sweet apple cider
when suddenly from the river's depth
rose a monster causing him to say "What the heck!"
The creature had an octopus head
causing the man to drop his bread
It had webbed human looking arms and legs
Said the man, "I better get to Meg's!"
An Italian bistro just down the street
The creature had snake like bunions on its feet
It stood hundreds of meters tall
and soon approached the Vatican wall
as Pope Francis lectured Trump on lack of charity
in the midst of much Curial hilarity
The creature had huge dragon like wings on its back
and gave some Vatican Swiss Guards the permanent sack
although it had no authority to do so
but what the heck, it made a fine YouTube show
as the post went viral with epic flow
The creature went into the finely wrapped box marked Pope Francis' God of Surprises
and threw out the flowers there- Mother Earth's irises
It then sat in the box
quiet like a hunted fox
waiting for its unveiling
causing Cardinals to hit the railing
when bursting forth like a jack in the box
it would resemble Baphomet's unwashed socks
The final document of the Synod on The Family
would add to that dreaded abode of the damned-ly.
-A poem written by Christopher
Thursday Evening
April 7th 2016.
One fine night on the Tiber
a man drank sweet apple cider
when suddenly from the river's depth
rose a monster causing him to say "What the heck!"
The creature had an octopus head
causing the man to drop his bread
It had webbed human looking arms and legs
Said the man, "I better get to Meg's!"
An Italian bistro just down the street
The creature had snake like bunions on its feet
It stood hundreds of meters tall
and soon approached the Vatican wall
as Pope Francis lectured Trump on lack of charity
in the midst of much Curial hilarity
The creature had huge dragon like wings on its back
and gave some Vatican Swiss Guards the permanent sack
although it had no authority to do so
but what the heck, it made a fine YouTube show
as the post went viral with epic flow
The creature went into the finely wrapped box marked Pope Francis' God of Surprises
and threw out the flowers there- Mother Earth's irises
It then sat in the box
quiet like a hunted fox
waiting for its unveiling
causing Cardinals to hit the railing
when bursting forth like a jack in the box
it would resemble Baphomet's unwashed socks
The final document of the Synod on The Family
would add to that dreaded abode of the damned-ly.
-A poem written by Christopher
Thursday Evening
April 7th 2016.
Tuesday, April 5, 2016
Pan Goatee and The Feathered Serpent
Pan Goatee and The Winged Serpent
Pan Goatee was busy cutting off the heads of ugly women who were out walking their dogs (the four-legged kind) the past few nights.
"I've never seen so many dogs out walking their dogs," Pan Goatee remarked as he lopped off repulsive looking heads left, right and center.
He lopped off the head of one ugly looking woman who thought she could actually race him across the street at a stop light.
And then lopped off the head of another ugly looking woman who tried to enter his favourite oyster and sushi bar before him.
As he sat enjoying eating his oysters and thinking about the beautiful Aphrodite possibly emerging from one of his oyster shells, he got a call on his Samsung Galaxy S7 Smart Phone.
It came from a wealthy Neo-Nazi sympathizing German industrialist and arms manufacturer who was backing Donald Trump's race for the U.S. Presidency.
It had come to the industrialist's attention that the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl and his goddaughter the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec were trying to forge an alliance with Mitt Romney to stop Trump winning the Republican Party Presidential nomination.
A CIA agent (who surprisingly was pro-Bernie Sanders) was going to serve as go-between for a proposed Phoenix, Arizona summit meeting between the 3.
The agent whose name was actually Johnny Begood would apparently be playing the part of a masked Saquasohuh (Blue Star) Kachina dancer in a ritual ceremony in the plaza of a Hopi Indian village in northeastern Arizona tonight.
The industrialist asked Pan Goatee if he wouldn't mind astral projecting to this village and bumping off the said pro-Bernie Sanders CIA agent.
Pan Goatee said "yes for a fee of one million Euros" to which the German industrialist agreed.
The money would be wired to Pan Goatee's British Virgin Islands offshore account.
As Pan Goatee put his smart phone back in his pocket, he breathed a sigh of relief that he decided to use the British Virgin Islands for his offshore bank accounts rather than Panama in lieu of the leaking of the Panama Papers at Panamanian law firm Mossack Fonseca.
Pan Goatee then astral projected to the said village at the Hopi reservation in northeastern Arizona.
He noticed the man wearing the Saquasohuh Blue Star Kachina bird costume (though he hadn't put on his bird's head mask yet) and deduced this must be CIA agent Johnny Begood.
Pan Goatee immediately beheaded the man with his machete.
At that moment a beautiful (which was a good thing for her being in the presence of Pan Goatee) Hopi girl (about 19) who was going to play the role of tribal princess in tonight's ceremony walked into the room and said, "Why did you do that? He was supposed to dance for our ceremony tonight and now we have no one."
"I think this costume would fit me," Pan Goatee said looking down at Begood's body, "I could put it on and do the dance."
"All right," said the Hopi princess looking at her watch, "Hurry up and put it on. We just have half an hour. It will take 5 minutes for you to get the costume on and then another 25 minutes for me to teach you the dance- assuming you're a quick learner."
"I'm a quick learner," Pan Goatee flashed a smile which was whiter than usual since he had started using an ultra-bright whitening toothpaste a week ago.
So Pan Goatee put the costume on and then learned the dance and then went out into the plaza of the village where he did the dance.
He was starting to feel extremely hot under the mask (having put a little too much Tabasco sauce on his oysters) so he took off the mask.
The Hopi elders noticed a CNN news crew and a Fox News crew and a BBC News crew there filming the ceremony.
"Oh my God," one of the elders cried, "a Kachina has removed his mask in the presence of the uninitiated."
"This means the beginning of the Apocalypse," another elder shouted.
Anderson Cooper gulped as he looked at the live feed.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 5th
2016.
Pan Goatee was busy cutting off the heads of ugly women who were out walking their dogs (the four-legged kind) the past few nights.
"I've never seen so many dogs out walking their dogs," Pan Goatee remarked as he lopped off repulsive looking heads left, right and center.
He lopped off the head of one ugly looking woman who thought she could actually race him across the street at a stop light.
And then lopped off the head of another ugly looking woman who tried to enter his favourite oyster and sushi bar before him.
As he sat enjoying eating his oysters and thinking about the beautiful Aphrodite possibly emerging from one of his oyster shells, he got a call on his Samsung Galaxy S7 Smart Phone.
It came from a wealthy Neo-Nazi sympathizing German industrialist and arms manufacturer who was backing Donald Trump's race for the U.S. Presidency.
It had come to the industrialist's attention that the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl and his goddaughter the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec were trying to forge an alliance with Mitt Romney to stop Trump winning the Republican Party Presidential nomination.
A CIA agent (who surprisingly was pro-Bernie Sanders) was going to serve as go-between for a proposed Phoenix, Arizona summit meeting between the 3.
The agent whose name was actually Johnny Begood would apparently be playing the part of a masked Saquasohuh (Blue Star) Kachina dancer in a ritual ceremony in the plaza of a Hopi Indian village in northeastern Arizona tonight.
The industrialist asked Pan Goatee if he wouldn't mind astral projecting to this village and bumping off the said pro-Bernie Sanders CIA agent.
Pan Goatee said "yes for a fee of one million Euros" to which the German industrialist agreed.
The money would be wired to Pan Goatee's British Virgin Islands offshore account.
As Pan Goatee put his smart phone back in his pocket, he breathed a sigh of relief that he decided to use the British Virgin Islands for his offshore bank accounts rather than Panama in lieu of the leaking of the Panama Papers at Panamanian law firm Mossack Fonseca.
Pan Goatee then astral projected to the said village at the Hopi reservation in northeastern Arizona.
He noticed the man wearing the Saquasohuh Blue Star Kachina bird costume (though he hadn't put on his bird's head mask yet) and deduced this must be CIA agent Johnny Begood.
Pan Goatee immediately beheaded the man with his machete.
At that moment a beautiful (which was a good thing for her being in the presence of Pan Goatee) Hopi girl (about 19) who was going to play the role of tribal princess in tonight's ceremony walked into the room and said, "Why did you do that? He was supposed to dance for our ceremony tonight and now we have no one."
"I think this costume would fit me," Pan Goatee said looking down at Begood's body, "I could put it on and do the dance."
"All right," said the Hopi princess looking at her watch, "Hurry up and put it on. We just have half an hour. It will take 5 minutes for you to get the costume on and then another 25 minutes for me to teach you the dance- assuming you're a quick learner."
"I'm a quick learner," Pan Goatee flashed a smile which was whiter than usual since he had started using an ultra-bright whitening toothpaste a week ago.
So Pan Goatee put the costume on and then learned the dance and then went out into the plaza of the village where he did the dance.
He was starting to feel extremely hot under the mask (having put a little too much Tabasco sauce on his oysters) so he took off the mask.
The Hopi elders noticed a CNN news crew and a Fox News crew and a BBC News crew there filming the ceremony.
"Oh my God," one of the elders cried, "a Kachina has removed his mask in the presence of the uninitiated."
"This means the beginning of the Apocalypse," another elder shouted.
Anderson Cooper gulped as he looked at the live feed.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 5th
2016.
Tuesday, March 29, 2016
Set Sees An Optometrist
Set Sees An Optometrist
The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set entered through the front door of his colossal London mansion.
His valet Athelstan stood there to put away his black top hat, his black cape and black jackal headed walking stick.
Set growled when, on the dresser at the entrance, he noticed the evening headline of The Times of London-Pope Francis Enjoys Eating Lebanese Donairs With Egyptian God Osiris At High Altar of Saint Peter's Basilica.
"What's that in your hand, Boss?" a donair eating Amadeus Emanon asked the billionaire Egyptian vampire as he entered the sitting room.
"It's a prescription," Set replied as he put the piece of paper down on a desk.
"Prescription?" Renfield R. Renfield looked up from the cup of Bavarian Magic Mushroom laced tea that he was drinking, "You doing drugs again, Boss?".
"No, it's an optical prescription," Set answered, "from an optometrist. It's a prescription for a new pair of glasses."
"You need glasses, Boss?" Amadeus wondered where his dropped crumb of donair had got to against the background of the floor's Persian carpet.
"Yes, I do," Set snorted through his nostrils.
"Admittedly, sir," Athelstan stated sympathetically, "the size of writing they use in Egyptian hieroglyphs these days leaves a lot to be desired."
"You shouldn't have got a prescription for glasses, Boss," Renfield inhaled his tea the way an 18th Century English gentleman would have inhaled snuff, "you'd look much better with contact lenses."
"And how am I suppose to put contact lenses in my eyes every night without looking like a post-paternity discovering and post-maternity discovering Oedipus Rex?" Set held up his 66 inch fingernails.
"Good point," Renfield answered.
"Actually it would be a bad point," Amadeus quipped, "if he tried putting a contact lens in his eye."
Renfield blamed the magic mushroom laced tea for suddenly analyzing situations with the mental capacity of your average voter in rural British Columbia.
Amadeus sang Handel's Hallelujah Chorus when he successfully found the crumb of donair on the Persian carpet.
"So Renfield, did you get that text message I sent you earlier this evening?" Set asked as he helped himself to a bowl of human fingers.
"I did, Boss," Renfield acknowledged.
"What message was this, Boss?" Amadeus started filing his finger nails with his nail file.
"I ran into Sherrielock Holmes earlier this evening," Set explained, "which reminds me, Athelstan, would you mind leaving a tube of medicinal ointment by my sarcophagus this morning and also ask my lovely Filipino nurse to be on standby to apply the said ointment to my said buttocks?".
"Of course, sir," Athelstan bowed.
"Getting back to the message," Set proceeded to answer Amadeus' question, "Sherrielock Holmes informed me that my nephew Horus was actually depicted in Egyptian hieroglyphs with the head of a hawk not a falcon. When I heard this, the thought hit me that I may have unjustly decapitated a back alley urinator the other night when I noticed a falcon headed spirit with an ancient Egyptian accent possessing his body. Sherrielock told me that it was actually the Egyptian moon god Khonsu who had the head of a falcon and so I thought maybe I had decapitated Khonsu's earthly human vessel instead. I don't want to alienate any other members in good standing of the Egyptian pantheon as I need all the allies I can get for my coming global war against Osiris and Isis and Horus. So I asked Renfield via text message who it was that had a falcon head among Egypt's ancient deities and who had a hawk head? I asked him to do some research on the topic for me to illuminate me when I got home."
"I went to the library and did some research on that very topic, Boss," Renfield helped himself to a drumstick from a bucket of KFC, "but your illumination won't come in the form of a membership application from the Illuminati as 99% of those members support the goals of Osiris and Isis and Horus in the coming global war."
"That means I'm allied with Jesus of Nazareth of all people. How's that for bloody irony?" Set spit a bloodied human hand (still holding on to a clothing iron) out of his mouth.
"Say, Boss," Amadeus helped himself to the plate of crackers with caviar that Athelstan offered him, "surely you yourself should remember which deity had which head. Hawk or falcon? Horus or Khonsu? After all you're taking the word of an admittedly extremely young looking and very attractive 162-year-old leather skirted dominatrix when you yourself are a vampire and Egyptian deity well over 3 millennia old and you knew these entities from the very beginning. Why text message Renfield to do research on the topic? Why not use your own memory?".
"Because," Set raged and foamed as he spit a mortal human tongue out of his mouth, "like I've always told you whenever you constantly ask me why I'm using 2 totally different colours of nail polish on each hand, I've been suffering from extreme dementia ever since I watched that A & E documentary on the lives of Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian last year."
"And that," Renfield smiled, "is why the Boss no longer trusts his memory. That's why he asked me to research the matter of Horus and Khonsu and who was hawk and who was falcon. That's also why he's asked me to manage his banking and chequing accounts as he goes through this difficult period."
Amadeus looked out the window at the new BMW that Renfield had bought himself earlier this week and was now parked on the driveway.
"So," Renfield put on his reading glasses and flipped through his notebook to read Set what he had discovered on this subject, "Apparently whether Horus was falcon headed or hawk headed depended on which hieroglyphs were being used in which district of Egypt. Horus was often depicted with the head of a falcon and in other places he was depicted with the head of a hawk. Even Khonsu (that Miss Sherrielock Holmes mentioned as being falcon headed) was depicted in many districts of Egypt as having the head of a hawk. So it all depended on which district of Egypt you were living in and what particular hieroglyphic image was being used."
"I wonder what boiled tana leaves taste like," Amadeus mused aloud about the variety of ancient Egyptian leaves that were used to keep the mummy Kharis alive in the Universal Pictures Mummy horror films of the early 1940s.
"So in your opinion, Renfield," Set ignored the question posed by Amadeus' filmographical botanical culinary musings, "which of those two deities was most likely to have a falcon head and which was most likely to have a hawk head?".
"Well in my humble opinion," Renfield adjusted his I'm The World's Greatest Lover t- shirt, "it was usually Horus who was depicted as falcon headed most of the time and Khonsu who was depicted as hawk headed."
"So then Sherrielock Holmes was wrong?" Set queried.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "but I wouldn't say that aloud to her unless you wanted to have trouble sitting down for the next century."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 4th
2016.
The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set entered through the front door of his colossal London mansion.
His valet Athelstan stood there to put away his black top hat, his black cape and black jackal headed walking stick.
Set growled when, on the dresser at the entrance, he noticed the evening headline of The Times of London-Pope Francis Enjoys Eating Lebanese Donairs With Egyptian God Osiris At High Altar of Saint Peter's Basilica.
"What's that in your hand, Boss?" a donair eating Amadeus Emanon asked the billionaire Egyptian vampire as he entered the sitting room.
"It's a prescription," Set replied as he put the piece of paper down on a desk.
"Prescription?" Renfield R. Renfield looked up from the cup of Bavarian Magic Mushroom laced tea that he was drinking, "You doing drugs again, Boss?".
"No, it's an optical prescription," Set answered, "from an optometrist. It's a prescription for a new pair of glasses."
"You need glasses, Boss?" Amadeus wondered where his dropped crumb of donair had got to against the background of the floor's Persian carpet.
"Yes, I do," Set snorted through his nostrils.
"Admittedly, sir," Athelstan stated sympathetically, "the size of writing they use in Egyptian hieroglyphs these days leaves a lot to be desired."
"You shouldn't have got a prescription for glasses, Boss," Renfield inhaled his tea the way an 18th Century English gentleman would have inhaled snuff, "you'd look much better with contact lenses."
"And how am I suppose to put contact lenses in my eyes every night without looking like a post-paternity discovering and post-maternity discovering Oedipus Rex?" Set held up his 66 inch fingernails.
"Good point," Renfield answered.
"Actually it would be a bad point," Amadeus quipped, "if he tried putting a contact lens in his eye."
Renfield blamed the magic mushroom laced tea for suddenly analyzing situations with the mental capacity of your average voter in rural British Columbia.
Amadeus sang Handel's Hallelujah Chorus when he successfully found the crumb of donair on the Persian carpet.
"So Renfield, did you get that text message I sent you earlier this evening?" Set asked as he helped himself to a bowl of human fingers.
"I did, Boss," Renfield acknowledged.
"What message was this, Boss?" Amadeus started filing his finger nails with his nail file.
"I ran into Sherrielock Holmes earlier this evening," Set explained, "which reminds me, Athelstan, would you mind leaving a tube of medicinal ointment by my sarcophagus this morning and also ask my lovely Filipino nurse to be on standby to apply the said ointment to my said buttocks?".
"Of course, sir," Athelstan bowed.
"Getting back to the message," Set proceeded to answer Amadeus' question, "Sherrielock Holmes informed me that my nephew Horus was actually depicted in Egyptian hieroglyphs with the head of a hawk not a falcon. When I heard this, the thought hit me that I may have unjustly decapitated a back alley urinator the other night when I noticed a falcon headed spirit with an ancient Egyptian accent possessing his body. Sherrielock told me that it was actually the Egyptian moon god Khonsu who had the head of a falcon and so I thought maybe I had decapitated Khonsu's earthly human vessel instead. I don't want to alienate any other members in good standing of the Egyptian pantheon as I need all the allies I can get for my coming global war against Osiris and Isis and Horus. So I asked Renfield via text message who it was that had a falcon head among Egypt's ancient deities and who had a hawk head? I asked him to do some research on the topic for me to illuminate me when I got home."
"I went to the library and did some research on that very topic, Boss," Renfield helped himself to a drumstick from a bucket of KFC, "but your illumination won't come in the form of a membership application from the Illuminati as 99% of those members support the goals of Osiris and Isis and Horus in the coming global war."
"That means I'm allied with Jesus of Nazareth of all people. How's that for bloody irony?" Set spit a bloodied human hand (still holding on to a clothing iron) out of his mouth.
"Say, Boss," Amadeus helped himself to the plate of crackers with caviar that Athelstan offered him, "surely you yourself should remember which deity had which head. Hawk or falcon? Horus or Khonsu? After all you're taking the word of an admittedly extremely young looking and very attractive 162-year-old leather skirted dominatrix when you yourself are a vampire and Egyptian deity well over 3 millennia old and you knew these entities from the very beginning. Why text message Renfield to do research on the topic? Why not use your own memory?".
"Because," Set raged and foamed as he spit a mortal human tongue out of his mouth, "like I've always told you whenever you constantly ask me why I'm using 2 totally different colours of nail polish on each hand, I've been suffering from extreme dementia ever since I watched that A & E documentary on the lives of Paris Hilton, Lindsay Lohan and Kim Kardashian last year."
"And that," Renfield smiled, "is why the Boss no longer trusts his memory. That's why he asked me to research the matter of Horus and Khonsu and who was hawk and who was falcon. That's also why he's asked me to manage his banking and chequing accounts as he goes through this difficult period."
Amadeus looked out the window at the new BMW that Renfield had bought himself earlier this week and was now parked on the driveway.
"So," Renfield put on his reading glasses and flipped through his notebook to read Set what he had discovered on this subject, "Apparently whether Horus was falcon headed or hawk headed depended on which hieroglyphs were being used in which district of Egypt. Horus was often depicted with the head of a falcon and in other places he was depicted with the head of a hawk. Even Khonsu (that Miss Sherrielock Holmes mentioned as being falcon headed) was depicted in many districts of Egypt as having the head of a hawk. So it all depended on which district of Egypt you were living in and what particular hieroglyphic image was being used."
"I wonder what boiled tana leaves taste like," Amadeus mused aloud about the variety of ancient Egyptian leaves that were used to keep the mummy Kharis alive in the Universal Pictures Mummy horror films of the early 1940s.
"So in your opinion, Renfield," Set ignored the question posed by Amadeus' filmographical botanical culinary musings, "which of those two deities was most likely to have a falcon head and which was most likely to have a hawk head?".
"Well in my humble opinion," Renfield adjusted his I'm The World's Greatest Lover t- shirt, "it was usually Horus who was depicted as falcon headed most of the time and Khonsu who was depicted as hawk headed."
"So then Sherrielock Holmes was wrong?" Set queried.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "but I wouldn't say that aloud to her unless you wanted to have trouble sitting down for the next century."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 4th
2016.
Monday, March 28, 2016
Easter Reflections In A World Haunted By The Zombie Apocalypse
Easter Reflections In A World Haunted By The Zombie Apocalypse
Jesus rose from the dead
But Jesus is not a zombie
He is not the Living Dead
He is the Living fully living and truly alive (in a glorified body- perfectly alive now and forever)
-A poem written by Christopher
Easter Monday
Monday March 28th
2016.
Jesus rose from the dead
But Jesus is not a zombie
He is not the Living Dead
He is the Living fully living and truly alive (in a glorified body- perfectly alive now and forever)
-A poem written by Christopher
Easter Monday
Monday March 28th
2016.
Wednesday, March 23, 2016
A Tale of Two Hybrids
A Tale of Two Hybrids
Pan Goatee was walking down the street of the city cutting off the heads of any ugly looking women who happened to cross his path.
When one attractive looking teen-aged girl requested taking a selfie with her and Pan Goatee cutting off the head of her ugly looking friend, Pan Goatee obliged but he put a bag over the ugly looking girl's head first.
"No use ruining your Facebook friends' day by having to look at an ugly looking person," Pan Goatee explained.
The girl took a selfie of herself smiling with her arms around a beaming photogenic Pan Goatee while the beaming satyr serial killer held up the paper bag wearing severed head of her ugly looking friend that dripped blood to the ground.
. . .
Another captured ISIS prisoner was taken into the interrogation chamber at a secret location in London where his interrogator Renfield R. Renfield was awaiting him.
Renfield was a freelance interrogator often used by Scotland Yard, MI-5 and MI-6 as well as the CIA (he was even used by a chapter of the PTA in Southern California at one juncture in time to deal with a couple of particularly obnoxious parents who were often disruptive at local PTA meetings).
Renfield's particularly unique form of interrogation was kept secret from the general public as it would no doubt upset the politically correct bleeding hearts among them.
Whenever the political elites in the West made use of those like Renfield, the streets of Western Civilization were usually safe.
When their conscience gave in to the cries of political correctness and they temporarily laid aside the Renfields of the world, that's when attacks like those that happened in Paris last year and yesterday in Brussels occurred.
Now after the Brussels attack, captured ISIS prisoners that were held at secret locales throughout Europe were wheeled into Renfield's interrogation center nicknamed The King and I Hotel (to honour those song lyrics from the musical The King and I that went, "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you...").
There inside The King and I Hotel interrogation center, Renfield would interview the prisoners in a very un-Oprah Winfreyesque fashion.
As the prisoner was wheeled into the room, Renfield was putting a couple of human eyeballs, severed hands, severed feet, and other severed body parts into a Ziploc plastic bag.
"Oh hello," Renfield flashed a warm friendly smile at the prisoner, "I'm just finishing up with the last of the fellow who was brought in before you."
As the ISIS prisoner gulped and swallowed hard, Renfield handed the Ziploc bag to a Scotland Yard policeman.
"Would you mind putting this in the refrigerator for me? I'll take it home so my boss can have it as a midnight snack later," he said referring to his regular employer the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.
The policeman bowed and left.
"So," Renfield decided to make casual friendly chit chat before getting down to the nitty gritty of things, "Did you hear what that airhead Hillary Clinton said after winning in Arizona? She said she was proud to serve in an administration that didn't use torture. What an airhead. Barry Goldwater must have rolled over in his grave upon hearing that. Thank God (or I guess you say Allah don't you?) that such a stupid ugly old bat isn't running for Prime Minister of Britain."
Renfield looked at his Rolex watch, "Well, time to get down to business."
He took a pair of pliers out of the drawer.
"I always wondered," Renfield held up a pair of pliers, "how do you say 'Can you give me a blow job please?' in Arabic. I notice there's a lot of attractive looking Arab girls walking the streets of London these days and women are always much more impressed when you can speak to them in their language. So how do you say that?".
"I'm not going to tell you," the ISIS prisoner was defiant.
"Wrong answer," Renfield started pulling out the man's fingernails with the pliers while he recited the lines from an old Palmolive dishwashing liquid commercial from the 1960s, "It looks like you've got dishpan hands. You're probably using the wrong sort of dishwashing liquid. All that chapped skin doesn't look so good. Why not switch to Palmolive? Your hands will be soaking in them in a second."
Renfield put the man's hands in a dish of liquid.
The man started screaming his head off.
"Oops, me bad," Renfield grinned apologetically, "I must have accidentally put sulfuric acid instead of Palmolive dishwashing liquid in that dish."
Suddenly a knock at the door and a Scotland Yard policeman wheeled in a dolly with a huge tea pot and two cups.
"Oh, coffee break time," Renfield looked at his Rolex again, "The Interrogators' Union won these privileges for hardworking union members such as myself."
Renfield put one of the teacups down between the bound prisoner's genitals and then proceeded to pick up the teapot and sing Anna's song from The King and I, "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you... a cup of tea..."
Renfield poured tea into the teacup between the man's genitals and then continued pouring even as the cup overflowed.
"Hm, your cup overfloweth," Renfield put the tea pot down and scratched his head, "I must remember to ask a Japanese geisha next time I see one how to do that properly in Japanese tea ceremony fashion."
As the prisoner screamed his head off, Renfield asked him, "Speaking of which, do you know how to say 'Can I have a blow job please?' in Japanese ?".
When the prisoner shook his head, Renfield said, "Wrong answer" and proceeded to use the pliers on the man's toe nails while reciting, "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, this little piggy went "Waaaah... waaaah... all the way home."
The prisoner started screaming.
"Yes," Renfield nodded his head smiling, "but more of a "Waaaah... waaaah!" Let's try it again one more time shall we until you get it right?".
Renfield then started pulling off the man's actual toes while reciting the childhood verse.
And such is a day in the life of interrogator Renfield R. Renfield- the bane of ISIS' existence- as he extracts personal information of a pick-up line nature for himself and secrets that governments could use to stop further terrorist attacks.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 23rd
2016.
Pan Goatee was walking down the street of the city cutting off the heads of any ugly looking women who happened to cross his path.
When one attractive looking teen-aged girl requested taking a selfie with her and Pan Goatee cutting off the head of her ugly looking friend, Pan Goatee obliged but he put a bag over the ugly looking girl's head first.
"No use ruining your Facebook friends' day by having to look at an ugly looking person," Pan Goatee explained.
The girl took a selfie of herself smiling with her arms around a beaming photogenic Pan Goatee while the beaming satyr serial killer held up the paper bag wearing severed head of her ugly looking friend that dripped blood to the ground.
. . .
Another captured ISIS prisoner was taken into the interrogation chamber at a secret location in London where his interrogator Renfield R. Renfield was awaiting him.
Renfield was a freelance interrogator often used by Scotland Yard, MI-5 and MI-6 as well as the CIA (he was even used by a chapter of the PTA in Southern California at one juncture in time to deal with a couple of particularly obnoxious parents who were often disruptive at local PTA meetings).
Renfield's particularly unique form of interrogation was kept secret from the general public as it would no doubt upset the politically correct bleeding hearts among them.
Whenever the political elites in the West made use of those like Renfield, the streets of Western Civilization were usually safe.
When their conscience gave in to the cries of political correctness and they temporarily laid aside the Renfields of the world, that's when attacks like those that happened in Paris last year and yesterday in Brussels occurred.
Now after the Brussels attack, captured ISIS prisoners that were held at secret locales throughout Europe were wheeled into Renfield's interrogation center nicknamed The King and I Hotel (to honour those song lyrics from the musical The King and I that went, "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you...").
There inside The King and I Hotel interrogation center, Renfield would interview the prisoners in a very un-Oprah Winfreyesque fashion.
As the prisoner was wheeled into the room, Renfield was putting a couple of human eyeballs, severed hands, severed feet, and other severed body parts into a Ziploc plastic bag.
"Oh hello," Renfield flashed a warm friendly smile at the prisoner, "I'm just finishing up with the last of the fellow who was brought in before you."
As the ISIS prisoner gulped and swallowed hard, Renfield handed the Ziploc bag to a Scotland Yard policeman.
"Would you mind putting this in the refrigerator for me? I'll take it home so my boss can have it as a midnight snack later," he said referring to his regular employer the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.
The policeman bowed and left.
"So," Renfield decided to make casual friendly chit chat before getting down to the nitty gritty of things, "Did you hear what that airhead Hillary Clinton said after winning in Arizona? She said she was proud to serve in an administration that didn't use torture. What an airhead. Barry Goldwater must have rolled over in his grave upon hearing that. Thank God (or I guess you say Allah don't you?) that such a stupid ugly old bat isn't running for Prime Minister of Britain."
Renfield looked at his Rolex watch, "Well, time to get down to business."
He took a pair of pliers out of the drawer.
"I always wondered," Renfield held up a pair of pliers, "how do you say 'Can you give me a blow job please?' in Arabic. I notice there's a lot of attractive looking Arab girls walking the streets of London these days and women are always much more impressed when you can speak to them in their language. So how do you say that?".
"I'm not going to tell you," the ISIS prisoner was defiant.
"Wrong answer," Renfield started pulling out the man's fingernails with the pliers while he recited the lines from an old Palmolive dishwashing liquid commercial from the 1960s, "It looks like you've got dishpan hands. You're probably using the wrong sort of dishwashing liquid. All that chapped skin doesn't look so good. Why not switch to Palmolive? Your hands will be soaking in them in a second."
Renfield put the man's hands in a dish of liquid.
The man started screaming his head off.
"Oops, me bad," Renfield grinned apologetically, "I must have accidentally put sulfuric acid instead of Palmolive dishwashing liquid in that dish."
Suddenly a knock at the door and a Scotland Yard policeman wheeled in a dolly with a huge tea pot and two cups.
"Oh, coffee break time," Renfield looked at his Rolex again, "The Interrogators' Union won these privileges for hardworking union members such as myself."
Renfield put one of the teacups down between the bound prisoner's genitals and then proceeded to pick up the teapot and sing Anna's song from The King and I, "Getting to know you, getting to know all about you... a cup of tea..."
Renfield poured tea into the teacup between the man's genitals and then continued pouring even as the cup overflowed.
"Hm, your cup overfloweth," Renfield put the tea pot down and scratched his head, "I must remember to ask a Japanese geisha next time I see one how to do that properly in Japanese tea ceremony fashion."
As the prisoner screamed his head off, Renfield asked him, "Speaking of which, do you know how to say 'Can I have a blow job please?' in Japanese ?".
When the prisoner shook his head, Renfield said, "Wrong answer" and proceeded to use the pliers on the man's toe nails while reciting, "This little piggy went to market, this little piggy stayed home, this little piggy had roast beef, this little piggy had none, this little piggy went "Waaaah... waaaah... all the way home."
The prisoner started screaming.
"Yes," Renfield nodded his head smiling, "but more of a "Waaaah... waaaah!" Let's try it again one more time shall we until you get it right?".
Renfield then started pulling off the man's actual toes while reciting the childhood verse.
And such is a day in the life of interrogator Renfield R. Renfield- the bane of ISIS' existence- as he extracts personal information of a pick-up line nature for himself and secrets that governments could use to stop further terrorist attacks.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 23rd
2016.
Sunday, March 20, 2016
The Headless Horseman In New York: A Poem
A can of Dew Kickstart one could barely swallow
when one saw the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow
riding his horse down Fifth Avenue
swiping from a traffic cop a bowl of Irish stew
but realizing he had no mouth to eat it
he threw it aside quoting Michael Jackson, "Beat it."
He then rode to Park Avenue
and starting to feel a little blue
sang that grand old tune
by the light of silvery moon,
"Puttin' on the Ritz
Dressed up like a million dollar trouper
Trying hard to look like Gary Cooper"
And having no head the Headless Horseman failed miserably at looking like Gary Cooper
he more resembled Donald Trump minus his red spider monkey fur toup-er
And thus he left New York a Presidential party pooper.
-A poem written by Christopher
Sunday March 20th 2016.
Friday, March 18, 2016
The Puppy Monkey Baby: Licensed To Thrill Or To Kill?
The Puppy Monkey Baby: Licensed To Thrill Or To Kill?
Russian Assistant Deputy Foreign Minister Nikolai Sonavitch was in London, England for a secret conference to see if the conflicts in Ukraine and Syria could be solved simultaneously.
The meeting was very hush hush and top secret.
Not even Barack Obama or even Alex Jones knew about it.
The chairman for the meeting would be a British parliamentarian named Magog Rhys Petley.
Nikolai was in his hotel room at the Saint James Hotel and had not been called to the meeting yet because apparently Petley was busy scouring the streets of London trying to find a carton of buttermilk.
Meanwhile reports on the radio said that a werewolf was seen walking the streets of London.
Nikolai turned off the radio and put on the television.
The TV was showing the Mountain Dew Kickstart commercial with Puppy Monkey Baby:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=
"How did the capitalist warmongers at Mountain Dew find out about Dr. Nicht Werhoffen's secret Puppy Monkey Baby creation in his top secret Moscow lab?" The lifelong Bolshevik Sonavitch wanted to know.
Dr. Nicht Werhoffen was the Russian FSB's leading mad scientist.
Dr. Werhoffen was formerly a mad scientist for the Stasi (the East German Secret Police) but had to seek employment elsewhere when the Berlin Wall came down.
The commercial it turned out (as Nikolai Sonavitch started to feel thirsty) was part of a documentary the BBC was doing on the Puppy Monkey Baby phenomenon.
As Sonavitch phoned down to the front desk and asked them to send up 3 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart, the BBC was interviewing Set Enterprises' chief corporate mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher.
Said Rocher, "The Puppy Monkey Baby is so yesterday. I created one back in 2001. Unfortunately it was applying for a job on the upper floors of one of the World Trade Center towers the morning of September 11th 2001. Set Enterprises' corporate lawyers still aren't sure whether to sue the Estate of Osama Bin Laden, the trio of George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld or the Illuminati over that loss."
Shit, the British beat us in creating a Puppy Monkey Baby, Sonavitch thought to himself as the hotel porter brought in the 3 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart.
Sonavitch opened the first can and started drinking.
That old movie from 1942 The Cat People with Simone Simon was on one of the other channels so he started watching.
He was soon on his 3rd can of Mountain Dew Kickstart.
On the screen, the old Black and White movie suddenly turned into a coloured film and a beautiful leather skirted Asian dominatrix woman who called herself Sherrielock Holmes was standing there in the midst of a bunch of fiery red coloured cats.
"That's funny, I don't remember this scene," Nikolai Sonavitch commented.
The hotel room door suddenly opened and a Puppy Monkey Baby entered the room.
"Puppy Monkey Baby," the Puppy Monkey Baby kept repeating over and over.
The Puppy Monkey Baby jumped up on the coffee table in front of Sonavitch and did a little dance.
He then jumped on to Sonavitch's lap and proceeded to lick him on the face all the while saying Puppy Monkey Baby.
He then kissed Sonavitch on the lips and then pulled a carving knife out of his diaper and slashed the assistant deputy foreign minister of Russia to death.
The Puppy Monkey Baby then shapeshifted into his natural form of satyr serial killer and hired contract assassin Pan Goatee.
Said Goatee, "That was fun. I always thought it would be cool to play the part of Judas Iscariot but be quick about it."
He picked up the remaining can of Mountain Dew Kickstart and finished it saying, "There's no need to let this new Holy Trinity or 3-in-1 to go to waste."
He downed the Kickstart, belched and put the can back on the table.
"I'll let the cleaning staff pocket the return deposit money for this," Pan Goatee couldn't help but grin at his own personal generosity.
He turned back into a Puppy Monkey Baby again, "My audience- the hotel security cameras- awaits."
He went out the door and into the hall saying over and over again, "Puppy Monkey Baby... Puppy Monkey Baby... Puppy Monkey Baby... "
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 18th
2016
Russian Assistant Deputy Foreign Minister Nikolai Sonavitch was in London, England for a secret conference to see if the conflicts in Ukraine and Syria could be solved simultaneously.
The meeting was very hush hush and top secret.
Not even Barack Obama or even Alex Jones knew about it.
The chairman for the meeting would be a British parliamentarian named Magog Rhys Petley.
Nikolai was in his hotel room at the Saint James Hotel and had not been called to the meeting yet because apparently Petley was busy scouring the streets of London trying to find a carton of buttermilk.
Meanwhile reports on the radio said that a werewolf was seen walking the streets of London.
Nikolai turned off the radio and put on the television.
The TV was showing the Mountain Dew Kickstart commercial with Puppy Monkey Baby:
https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=
"How did the capitalist warmongers at Mountain Dew find out about Dr. Nicht Werhoffen's secret Puppy Monkey Baby creation in his top secret Moscow lab?" The lifelong Bolshevik Sonavitch wanted to know.
Dr. Nicht Werhoffen was the Russian FSB's leading mad scientist.
Dr. Werhoffen was formerly a mad scientist for the Stasi (the East German Secret Police) but had to seek employment elsewhere when the Berlin Wall came down.
The commercial it turned out (as Nikolai Sonavitch started to feel thirsty) was part of a documentary the BBC was doing on the Puppy Monkey Baby phenomenon.
As Sonavitch phoned down to the front desk and asked them to send up 3 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart, the BBC was interviewing Set Enterprises' chief corporate mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher.
Said Rocher, "The Puppy Monkey Baby is so yesterday. I created one back in 2001. Unfortunately it was applying for a job on the upper floors of one of the World Trade Center towers the morning of September 11th 2001. Set Enterprises' corporate lawyers still aren't sure whether to sue the Estate of Osama Bin Laden, the trio of George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld or the Illuminati over that loss."
Shit, the British beat us in creating a Puppy Monkey Baby, Sonavitch thought to himself as the hotel porter brought in the 3 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart.
Sonavitch opened the first can and started drinking.
That old movie from 1942 The Cat People with Simone Simon was on one of the other channels so he started watching.
He was soon on his 3rd can of Mountain Dew Kickstart.
On the screen, the old Black and White movie suddenly turned into a coloured film and a beautiful leather skirted Asian dominatrix woman who called herself Sherrielock Holmes was standing there in the midst of a bunch of fiery red coloured cats.
"That's funny, I don't remember this scene," Nikolai Sonavitch commented.
The hotel room door suddenly opened and a Puppy Monkey Baby entered the room.
"Puppy Monkey Baby," the Puppy Monkey Baby kept repeating over and over.
The Puppy Monkey Baby jumped up on the coffee table in front of Sonavitch and did a little dance.
He then jumped on to Sonavitch's lap and proceeded to lick him on the face all the while saying Puppy Monkey Baby.
He then kissed Sonavitch on the lips and then pulled a carving knife out of his diaper and slashed the assistant deputy foreign minister of Russia to death.
The Puppy Monkey Baby then shapeshifted into his natural form of satyr serial killer and hired contract assassin Pan Goatee.
Said Goatee, "That was fun. I always thought it would be cool to play the part of Judas Iscariot but be quick about it."
He picked up the remaining can of Mountain Dew Kickstart and finished it saying, "There's no need to let this new Holy Trinity or 3-in-1 to go to waste."
He downed the Kickstart, belched and put the can back on the table.
"I'll let the cleaning staff pocket the return deposit money for this," Pan Goatee couldn't help but grin at his own personal generosity.
He turned back into a Puppy Monkey Baby again, "My audience- the hotel security cameras- awaits."
He went out the door and into the hall saying over and over again, "Puppy Monkey Baby... Puppy Monkey Baby... Puppy Monkey Baby... "
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 18th
2016
Thursday, March 17, 2016
What Connor McFinn Saw On Saint Patrick's Day
What Connor McFinn Saw On Saint Patrick's Day
Connor McFinn stumbled out of his house on the way to the pub.
Usually most nights it was the reverse.
But his brainless Irish-American nephew from Boston was visiting.
And to mark Saint Paddy's Day, his brainless nephew had bought some bottles of American beer and laced it with green food dye.
"Faith and begorrah," his nephew brutally murdered the accent of his homeland with the same severity that MacBeth had stabbed Duncan, " 'tis a fine Irish tradition to drink green beer on Saint Paddy's Day."
"No, it isn't, you moron," Connor said in an exasperated voice, "maybe in America but not here in Ireland. Here in Ireland, we toast Saint Paddy with Guinness or Murphy's or some fine local stout. This beer is an abomination and blasphemy against the Holy Saint Patrick himself."
"Abomination and blasphemy against Saint Paddy himself," his nephew spewed green beer out of his mouth all over the brown sofa with the same velocity as an ex-DARPA employee would spew bourbon and coffee all over his computer screen after reading a humourous blog post, "surely you exaggerate, Uncle."
After drinking several green beers, his nephew lay passed out on the floor.
Connor had been forced to drink several pints of the abominable blasphemous substance to please his sister's brainless son.
Once the misfit lay on the floor snoring away, Connor got up and stumbled out the door to head down to the local pub to drink a pint of Guinness and toast the Apostle and Patron Saint of Ireland the proper Irish way.
As he stumbled his way through the meadows and forests to get to the village, he hit his head on a low-lying tree branch.
As Connor sat there dazed under the tree, he noticed a bunch of giant snakes approaching him.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Connor made the Sign of the Cross, "this is what comes from drinking a witch's brew of green beer."
The huge giant serpents with giant fangs approached him.
This couldn't be happening, Connor thought to himself.
After all, the Holy Saint Patrick had personally driven all the snakes out of Ireland.
"Get away," Connor shouted, "you're not real. You're a figment of a warped imagination brought on by drinking that Devil's brew of green beer."
Seeing as how the snakes actually proceeded to eat Connor McFinn in literal objective reality (although that concept would be disputed and denied by a great many modern and post-modern philosophers), his brainless Irish-American nephew's green beer was a Devil's brew from a witch's cauldron indeed.
-A short story
and vampire novel
chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 17th
2016.
Connor McFinn stumbled out of his house on the way to the pub.
Usually most nights it was the reverse.
But his brainless Irish-American nephew from Boston was visiting.
And to mark Saint Paddy's Day, his brainless nephew had bought some bottles of American beer and laced it with green food dye.
"Faith and begorrah," his nephew brutally murdered the accent of his homeland with the same severity that MacBeth had stabbed Duncan, " 'tis a fine Irish tradition to drink green beer on Saint Paddy's Day."
"No, it isn't, you moron," Connor said in an exasperated voice, "maybe in America but not here in Ireland. Here in Ireland, we toast Saint Paddy with Guinness or Murphy's or some fine local stout. This beer is an abomination and blasphemy against the Holy Saint Patrick himself."
"Abomination and blasphemy against Saint Paddy himself," his nephew spewed green beer out of his mouth all over the brown sofa with the same velocity as an ex-DARPA employee would spew bourbon and coffee all over his computer screen after reading a humourous blog post, "surely you exaggerate, Uncle."
After drinking several green beers, his nephew lay passed out on the floor.
Connor had been forced to drink several pints of the abominable blasphemous substance to please his sister's brainless son.
Once the misfit lay on the floor snoring away, Connor got up and stumbled out the door to head down to the local pub to drink a pint of Guinness and toast the Apostle and Patron Saint of Ireland the proper Irish way.
As he stumbled his way through the meadows and forests to get to the village, he hit his head on a low-lying tree branch.
As Connor sat there dazed under the tree, he noticed a bunch of giant snakes approaching him.
"Jesus, Mary and Joseph," Connor made the Sign of the Cross, "this is what comes from drinking a witch's brew of green beer."
The huge giant serpents with giant fangs approached him.
This couldn't be happening, Connor thought to himself.
After all, the Holy Saint Patrick had personally driven all the snakes out of Ireland.
"Get away," Connor shouted, "you're not real. You're a figment of a warped imagination brought on by drinking that Devil's brew of green beer."
Seeing as how the snakes actually proceeded to eat Connor McFinn in literal objective reality (although that concept would be disputed and denied by a great many modern and post-modern philosophers), his brainless Irish-American nephew's green beer was a Devil's brew from a witch's cauldron indeed.
-A short story
and vampire novel
chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 17th
2016.
Tuesday, March 15, 2016
Passing The Torch: Julius Caesar On The Ides of March
Passing The Torch: Julius Caesar On The Ides of March
The great Shakespearian actor Quentin O' Sullivan was starring in a West End London theatre production of William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar.
After the performance he met a fellow performer the New Orleans actress and songstress Angelique Dumont for late night/early morning drinks in a cocktail lounge.
Miss Dumont was playing Mina Harker in a musical version of Bram Stoker's Dracula.
When they parted, Quentin O' Sullivan laughed to himself as he walked down the street.
There were rumours that Miss Angelique Dumont was herself a Vampiress.
Quentin laughed.
Oh where, oh where do these silly rumours get started?
He turned to look back in Angelique's direction but there was no sign of the purple evening dress wearing lovely brunette songstress and actress.
Only a small bat flying down the street.
Quentin laughed again.
He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow on his bed when he got home.
He dreamed a dream.
He dreamed he was in a theatre audience watching a live stage performance of Julius Caesar.
He could not see who was playing Caesar.
When Caesar fell after being stabbed by Brutus, Cassius and their fellow conspirators, the figure of Caesar dropped the Imperial Roman laurel crown of Emperor that Mark Antony had once offered him.
Donald Trump appeared on stage and picked up the blood soaked laurel wreath crown.
"Thank you, thank you very much ladies and gentlemen," Donald Trump waved to the crowd, "The people of Ohio suck. But what can you say about a state that produces a comedian the likes of Drew Carey? However I thank all the intelligent voters who voted for me in all the places we won tonight. Thank you. And please light a votive candle to my genius and pray to my image. Thank you. Thank you very much."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 15th
2016.
The great Shakespearian actor Quentin O' Sullivan was starring in a West End London theatre production of William Shakespeare's Julius Caesar.
After the performance he met a fellow performer the New Orleans actress and songstress Angelique Dumont for late night/early morning drinks in a cocktail lounge.
Miss Dumont was playing Mina Harker in a musical version of Bram Stoker's Dracula.
When they parted, Quentin O' Sullivan laughed to himself as he walked down the street.
There were rumours that Miss Angelique Dumont was herself a Vampiress.
Quentin laughed.
Oh where, oh where do these silly rumours get started?
He turned to look back in Angelique's direction but there was no sign of the purple evening dress wearing lovely brunette songstress and actress.
Only a small bat flying down the street.
Quentin laughed again.
He fell asleep as soon as his head hit the pillow on his bed when he got home.
He dreamed a dream.
He dreamed he was in a theatre audience watching a live stage performance of Julius Caesar.
He could not see who was playing Caesar.
When Caesar fell after being stabbed by Brutus, Cassius and their fellow conspirators, the figure of Caesar dropped the Imperial Roman laurel crown of Emperor that Mark Antony had once offered him.
Donald Trump appeared on stage and picked up the blood soaked laurel wreath crown.
"Thank you, thank you very much ladies and gentlemen," Donald Trump waved to the crowd, "The people of Ohio suck. But what can you say about a state that produces a comedian the likes of Drew Carey? However I thank all the intelligent voters who voted for me in all the places we won tonight. Thank you. And please light a votive candle to my genius and pray to my image. Thank you. Thank you very much."
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 15th
2016.
Monday, March 14, 2016
Donald Trump: Making One's Hair Stand On End
Donald Trump: Making One's Hair Stand On End
Gypsy fortune teller Dulcinea Lucia had had a strange dream overnight.
In the dream, she dreamed that she was in a radio station broadcast studio where U.S. Presidential candidate Donald Trump was making a guest appearance on the Coast-To-Coast AM radio show with George Noory.
The interview in the dream went like this:
George Noory: Now you have said on previous occasions that you considered running for President in 2012 against Barack Obama? The question I have for you is, why didn't you do so?
Donald Trump: Well, George, I had seriously considered doing that. In fact I had decided to go ahead and do that. But then one night after a night of passionate love making with my current wife... who is... who is... who is...
George Noory (helping out) : Melania?
Donald Trump: Yes... Melania... thank you, George... yes after a night of wild passionate love making with... Melania... I was examining my hair in the mirror and then my hair started speaking to me in an audible voice...
George Noory: Wait a minute... let's get this straight... you say, your hair started speaking to you in an audible voice?
Donald Trump: Yes, my hair started speaking to me in an audible voice... something which I found even more incredible than Oral Roberts seeing a 900-ft. Jesus after eating some wild mushrooms... I often wondered where he found a yardstick or a measuring tape long enough to measure him... but anyways, yes... my hair spoke to me in an audible voice.
George Noory: And what did your hair say to you?
Donald Trump: It told me not to run in 2012. It kept saying, "Wait until 2016. Wait until 2016."
George Noory: Why 2016?
Donald Trump (unwrapping a fortune cookie and eating it on the air) : Because 2016 is the Year of the Monkey in the Chinese zodiac.
George Noory: Well so far this has been quite a hair raising interview with Donald Trump... we'll be right back after this commercial message...
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 14th
2016.
Gypsy fortune teller Dulcinea Lucia had had a strange dream overnight.
In the dream, she dreamed that she was in a radio station broadcast studio where U.S. Presidential candidate Donald Trump was making a guest appearance on the Coast-To-Coast AM radio show with George Noory.
The interview in the dream went like this:
George Noory: Now you have said on previous occasions that you considered running for President in 2012 against Barack Obama? The question I have for you is, why didn't you do so?
Donald Trump: Well, George, I had seriously considered doing that. In fact I had decided to go ahead and do that. But then one night after a night of passionate love making with my current wife... who is... who is... who is...
George Noory (helping out) : Melania?
Donald Trump: Yes... Melania... thank you, George... yes after a night of wild passionate love making with... Melania... I was examining my hair in the mirror and then my hair started speaking to me in an audible voice...
George Noory: Wait a minute... let's get this straight... you say, your hair started speaking to you in an audible voice?
Donald Trump: Yes, my hair started speaking to me in an audible voice... something which I found even more incredible than Oral Roberts seeing a 900-ft. Jesus after eating some wild mushrooms... I often wondered where he found a yardstick or a measuring tape long enough to measure him... but anyways, yes... my hair spoke to me in an audible voice.
George Noory: And what did your hair say to you?
Donald Trump: It told me not to run in 2012. It kept saying, "Wait until 2016. Wait until 2016."
George Noory: Why 2016?
Donald Trump (unwrapping a fortune cookie and eating it on the air) : Because 2016 is the Year of the Monkey in the Chinese zodiac.
George Noory: Well so far this has been quite a hair raising interview with Donald Trump... we'll be right back after this commercial message...
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 14th
2016.
Sunday, March 13, 2016
Night of The Unknown Light: The Dark Sun Becomes Manifest
Night of The Unknown Light: The Dark Sun Becomes Manifest
The date was January 25th 1938.
It was just a little after 6 PM.
The location was The Berghof the Berchtesgaden chalet home of German Fuhrer Adolf Hitler located in the Bavarian Alps.
Hitler was examining some documents handed to him by a member of the Nazi Occult Bureau the Ahnenerbe.
The Ahnenerbe representative was one Franz Kohler.
"What are these?" Hitler asked.
"They are translations of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs telling of a myth about the Egyptian sun god Ra that has never been mentioned in most history books," Kohler explained to the Fuhrer.
"And what is this myth mentioned in the hieroglyphs?" Hitler asked.
"That the Egyptian sun god Ra walked around in the dark of night and was unseen," Kohler replied.
"That is a curious myth," Hitler acknowledged, "a sun god walking around at night and not being seen."
"There is more," Kohler pointed out, "occasionally every so often Ra could be seen as he walked at night."
"And when did this strange phenomenon occur?" The Fuhrer inquired.
"When great empires were required to shed massive amounts of blood in appeasement to the gods so that the gods would come and walk the earth again," Kohler answered.
"Interesting," Hitler laid aside his copy of National Geographic Magazine where he had been looking at photographs of red spider monkeys prior to Kohler's arrival, "what crazy people those ancient Egyptians were."
"Maybe there was something to their ideas, Excellency," Kohler stated.
"How so?" Hitler helped himself to some iced tea an American drink he found quite quaint.
"Some of our German astronomers have theorized the existence of a dwarf dark sun in our solar system- a sun the size of a planet that is generally unseen to the human eye or our telescopes on earth," Kohler explained, "but occasionally this dwarf dark sun will make an appearance in the night sky."
"That is interesting," Hitler stood up and shook Kohler's hand, "thank you for sharing this with me."
Kohler bowed and left the Berghof.
At 6:30 PM, the Fuhrer gazed up at the night sky from the open air balcony of his Berchtesgaden Bavarian Berghof chalet.
Suddenly the night sky was ablaze like an immense moving furnace provoking a very strong blood red glow. The edge of the furnace was white as if the sun was about to come up.
There were immense arches of bright crimson red light with shifting areas of green and blue.
The spectacular vision in the night sky lasted until 9:30 PM.
3 hours in total the Fuhrer viewed the phenomenon.
3 hours of light in the night sky counterbalanced against 3 hours of darkness in the noonday sky on the day of Christ's Crucifixion.
When the spectacular display ended, Hitler said to his aides,"Now, we shall shed blood."
Less than 2 months later on March 12th, 1938, Hitler invaded Austria in a forced union and annexation called the Anschluss.
Hitler's conquest of Europe had begun.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday March 12th 2016.
The date was January 25th 1938.
It was just a little after 6 PM.
The location was The Berghof the Berchtesgaden chalet home of German Fuhrer Adolf Hitler located in the Bavarian Alps.
Hitler was examining some documents handed to him by a member of the Nazi Occult Bureau the Ahnenerbe.
The Ahnenerbe representative was one Franz Kohler.
"What are these?" Hitler asked.
"They are translations of ancient Egyptian hieroglyphs telling of a myth about the Egyptian sun god Ra that has never been mentioned in most history books," Kohler explained to the Fuhrer.
"And what is this myth mentioned in the hieroglyphs?" Hitler asked.
"That the Egyptian sun god Ra walked around in the dark of night and was unseen," Kohler replied.
"That is a curious myth," Hitler acknowledged, "a sun god walking around at night and not being seen."
"There is more," Kohler pointed out, "occasionally every so often Ra could be seen as he walked at night."
"And when did this strange phenomenon occur?" The Fuhrer inquired.
"When great empires were required to shed massive amounts of blood in appeasement to the gods so that the gods would come and walk the earth again," Kohler answered.
"Interesting," Hitler laid aside his copy of National Geographic Magazine where he had been looking at photographs of red spider monkeys prior to Kohler's arrival, "what crazy people those ancient Egyptians were."
"Maybe there was something to their ideas, Excellency," Kohler stated.
"How so?" Hitler helped himself to some iced tea an American drink he found quite quaint.
"Some of our German astronomers have theorized the existence of a dwarf dark sun in our solar system- a sun the size of a planet that is generally unseen to the human eye or our telescopes on earth," Kohler explained, "but occasionally this dwarf dark sun will make an appearance in the night sky."
"That is interesting," Hitler stood up and shook Kohler's hand, "thank you for sharing this with me."
Kohler bowed and left the Berghof.
At 6:30 PM, the Fuhrer gazed up at the night sky from the open air balcony of his Berchtesgaden Bavarian Berghof chalet.
Suddenly the night sky was ablaze like an immense moving furnace provoking a very strong blood red glow. The edge of the furnace was white as if the sun was about to come up.
There were immense arches of bright crimson red light with shifting areas of green and blue.
The spectacular vision in the night sky lasted until 9:30 PM.
3 hours in total the Fuhrer viewed the phenomenon.
3 hours of light in the night sky counterbalanced against 3 hours of darkness in the noonday sky on the day of Christ's Crucifixion.
When the spectacular display ended, Hitler said to his aides,"Now, we shall shed blood."
Less than 2 months later on March 12th, 1938, Hitler invaded Austria in a forced union and annexation called the Anschluss.
Hitler's conquest of Europe had begun.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday March 12th 2016.
Thursday, March 10, 2016
The Magician: Then and Now
The Magician: Then and Now
The magician looked into the reflecting pool of water.
He spoke words that had not been heard on earth in millennia, "Itha tubacca moya illaca lama saranamuth."
The pool showed an image of an elderly Norwegian man Sigurd in a nursing home.
Sigurd flipped through his art books for the man had been an artist for most of his life.
The magician lowered his right hand into the reflecting bowl of water.
He chanted again in an unknown tongue.
Then he removed his hand out of the water.
In his hand he clutched a human heart and threw it into a bucket of human hearts.
The elderly Norwegian man Sigurd was found dead in his room in the nursing home.
The cause of death would be ruled heart attack.
The bucket of hearts the Magician would lay at the feet of the idol of an ancient deity.
. . .
An identical idol statue of the same deity the pagan worshipping Vatican Cardinal JM was praying to along with his personal secretary Father Oliver Thomas Wardenclyffe.
Most of the time Cardinal JM and his assistant prayed to Ancient Greek gods but occasionally ancient Egyptian.
Tonight they were praying to a deity that was never worshipped by the ancient Egyptians.
Only feared.
The deity was the female demon Ammit known as the Eater of Hearts and the Devourer of the Dead.
She had the head of a crocodile, the upper torso of a lion and the lower torso of a hippopotamus.
"Amen," Cardinal JM made the sign of an inverted cross.
Father Wardenclyffe managed to contort and twist his own body into a yogic position that made him resemble the figure of the Baphomet.
. . .
The beautiful and sexy dark eyed raven haired gypsy fortune teller Dulcinea Lucia was in her psychic reading shop on London's Carnaby Street gazing into her crystal ball.
But the image she saw in her crystal ball was not of the future but of the past.
It was the image of practicing occultic Germanic Thule Society adept Dietrich Eckhart as he lay on his deathbed on the evening of December 26th 1923.
The last words of Eckhart were, "Follow Hitler! He will dance but it is I who have called the tune!".
In a clock shop somewhere in London, an old clock that had a picture of Sir Winston Churchill on it suddenly stopped ticking.
In a museum in Berlin, a clock that had stopped ticking in April 1945 suddenly sprang to life again.
And somewhere on the globe, a high-flying falcon raised an eerie cry.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 10th
2016.
The magician looked into the reflecting pool of water.
He spoke words that had not been heard on earth in millennia, "Itha tubacca moya illaca lama saranamuth."
The pool showed an image of an elderly Norwegian man Sigurd in a nursing home.
Sigurd flipped through his art books for the man had been an artist for most of his life.
The magician lowered his right hand into the reflecting bowl of water.
He chanted again in an unknown tongue.
Then he removed his hand out of the water.
In his hand he clutched a human heart and threw it into a bucket of human hearts.
The elderly Norwegian man Sigurd was found dead in his room in the nursing home.
The cause of death would be ruled heart attack.
The bucket of hearts the Magician would lay at the feet of the idol of an ancient deity.
. . .
An identical idol statue of the same deity the pagan worshipping Vatican Cardinal JM was praying to along with his personal secretary Father Oliver Thomas Wardenclyffe.
Most of the time Cardinal JM and his assistant prayed to Ancient Greek gods but occasionally ancient Egyptian.
Tonight they were praying to a deity that was never worshipped by the ancient Egyptians.
Only feared.
The deity was the female demon Ammit known as the Eater of Hearts and the Devourer of the Dead.
She had the head of a crocodile, the upper torso of a lion and the lower torso of a hippopotamus.
"Amen," Cardinal JM made the sign of an inverted cross.
Father Wardenclyffe managed to contort and twist his own body into a yogic position that made him resemble the figure of the Baphomet.
. . .
The beautiful and sexy dark eyed raven haired gypsy fortune teller Dulcinea Lucia was in her psychic reading shop on London's Carnaby Street gazing into her crystal ball.
But the image she saw in her crystal ball was not of the future but of the past.
It was the image of practicing occultic Germanic Thule Society adept Dietrich Eckhart as he lay on his deathbed on the evening of December 26th 1923.
The last words of Eckhart were, "Follow Hitler! He will dance but it is I who have called the tune!".
In a clock shop somewhere in London, an old clock that had a picture of Sir Winston Churchill on it suddenly stopped ticking.
In a museum in Berlin, a clock that had stopped ticking in April 1945 suddenly sprang to life again.
And somewhere on the globe, a high-flying falcon raised an eerie cry.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 10th
2016.
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