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.