Renfield's Phone Call From British Government Official
A high-ranking official in the British government phoned Renfield R. Renfield to ask him how his questioning of Ukrainian Vampiress Inna Huculak (who was in the protective custody of the Mossad) went.
"So," the high-ranking British government official was anxious to know, "what have you discovered on your recent visit to Israel?".
"That locusts and wild honey don't taste as badly as I thought they would," replied Renfield who was staying at the John The Baptist Inn near the River Jordan.
"I was talking about your conversation with the Ukrainian Vampiress Inna Huculak regarding the Russian Vampiress Svetlana Kireeva of the FSB," said the high-ranking official.
"Oh," said Renfield as he bit into a locust and wild honey-covered tuna fish sandwich.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday July 30th
2014.
Thursday, July 31, 2014
Monday, July 28, 2014
Peter Whitstable In Voorschoten
Peter Whitstable In Voorschoten
Peter Whitstable the man they called "the Fox Mulder of Interpol" was in the Dutch town of Voorschoten near The Hague outside the apartment building where Maria Putina (daughter of Russian President Vladimir Putin) was said to have lived in the top penthouse with her Dutch boyfriend Jorrit Faassen up until a few days ago.
There were rumours she had now fled the country in the wake of anti-Russian feeling over the shooting down of Malaysian Airlines Flight MH17 on which 193 Dutch citizens had died.
But just on the off chance she was still in the apartment, Peter Whitstable waited outside with a small strange machine in his hands.
Peter Whitstable with his interest in the paranormal and all things supernatural had uncovered the design for the machine in a rare Medieval Latin manuscript written by the 13th Century English Franciscan monk, philosopher and scientist Roger Bacon.
The machine was said to prevent attacks by beings who were using astral projection to commit attacks.
Although Whitstable did not know how to build the machine using Bacon's design and instructions, he knew of a man who did.
The man was Dr. Cadbury Rocher the chief research scientist at Set Enterprises Laboratories in London.
Paying Dr. Rocher a small fee, the scientist designed the machine for Whitstable.
Whitstable in the past year had come across the existence of an entity that was using astral projection to carry out killings and assassinations.
The entity was a genetically created half-man half-goat hybrid satyr Pan Goatee.
Pan Goatee had enjoyed a brief stint as a pan pipes player for the rock group Nero Wilson and The Cleveland Cleavers.
He now worked as a hired assassin for both the U.S. government and anyone who could afford to hire him.
Pan Goatee carried out his killings using astral projection.
So in order to prevent some of the killings if Whitstable managed to uncover who was next on the Pan Goatee hit list, he used the Roger Bacon machine to set up an astral wall around the target to prevent Pan Goatee's entry.
Ironically at the time Whitstable had hired Dr. Cadbury Rocher to build the Roger Bacon Astral Fortress Machine for him, he had no idea that it was Dr. Rocher who had actually created the genetic hybrid half-man half-goat satyr Pan Goatee.
Through a series of mishaps, the creature had become lost to Set Enterprises and Pan Goatee had wandered across England on his own as a serial killer prior to joining the music group Nero Wilson and The Cleveland Cleavers.
Now Whitstable had discovered through intercepted emails that Pan Goatee had been hired by powerful interests in the U.S. to bump off Maria Putina as a warning to her father Vladimir to stop rocking the boat of the New World Order.
Unbeknownst to Whitstable and the powerful U.S. interests, the British being a more pragmatic people had hired someone else (Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for Set Enterprises) to bump off Putin himself.
There was a chance of course that Maria Putina was not in the apartment but Whitstable thought better safe than sorry as he stood outside.
He put on the pair of goggles that had been specially invented by Nikola Tesla to spot beings and entities flying in their astral bodies.
Whitstable had recognized and spotted the goggles in a second-hand store in Brooklyn.
He purchased them from the unknowing store owner for $10.
DARPA was continuing to desperately search for them and offering hundreds of millions of dollars to anyone as finder's fee for providing the secretive U.S. government research agency with the goggles.
Sure enough within a matter of minutes, Whitstable spotted Pan Goatee's astral body and astral machete flying towards the penthouse at the top of the apartment building.
Whitstable pushed a few buttons on the Roger Bacon Astral Fortress Machine.
An astral wall emerged around the penthouse.
Pan Goatee who of course wasn't wearing Tesla goggles did not spot the wall.
He flew directly into it and fell with a thud to the ground.
"I hate it when that happens," said the half-man half-goat satyr with hairy legs up in the air as he lay on the ground as someone walked by.
"I really should give up drinking," hiccoughed the unemployed former maker of Dutch wooden shoes whose business had gone up in smoke when it fell prey to a bad case of termites.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 27th
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Peter Whitstable the man they called "the Fox Mulder of Interpol" was in the Dutch town of Voorschoten near The Hague outside the apartment building where Maria Putina (daughter of Russian President Vladimir Putin) was said to have lived in the top penthouse with her Dutch boyfriend Jorrit Faassen up until a few days ago.
There were rumours she had now fled the country in the wake of anti-Russian feeling over the shooting down of Malaysian Airlines Flight MH17 on which 193 Dutch citizens had died.
But just on the off chance she was still in the apartment, Peter Whitstable waited outside with a small strange machine in his hands.
Peter Whitstable with his interest in the paranormal and all things supernatural had uncovered the design for the machine in a rare Medieval Latin manuscript written by the 13th Century English Franciscan monk, philosopher and scientist Roger Bacon.
The machine was said to prevent attacks by beings who were using astral projection to commit attacks.
Although Whitstable did not know how to build the machine using Bacon's design and instructions, he knew of a man who did.
The man was Dr. Cadbury Rocher the chief research scientist at Set Enterprises Laboratories in London.
Paying Dr. Rocher a small fee, the scientist designed the machine for Whitstable.
Whitstable in the past year had come across the existence of an entity that was using astral projection to carry out killings and assassinations.
The entity was a genetically created half-man half-goat hybrid satyr Pan Goatee.
Pan Goatee had enjoyed a brief stint as a pan pipes player for the rock group Nero Wilson and The Cleveland Cleavers.
He now worked as a hired assassin for both the U.S. government and anyone who could afford to hire him.
Pan Goatee carried out his killings using astral projection.
So in order to prevent some of the killings if Whitstable managed to uncover who was next on the Pan Goatee hit list, he used the Roger Bacon machine to set up an astral wall around the target to prevent Pan Goatee's entry.
Ironically at the time Whitstable had hired Dr. Cadbury Rocher to build the Roger Bacon Astral Fortress Machine for him, he had no idea that it was Dr. Rocher who had actually created the genetic hybrid half-man half-goat satyr Pan Goatee.
Through a series of mishaps, the creature had become lost to Set Enterprises and Pan Goatee had wandered across England on his own as a serial killer prior to joining the music group Nero Wilson and The Cleveland Cleavers.
Now Whitstable had discovered through intercepted emails that Pan Goatee had been hired by powerful interests in the U.S. to bump off Maria Putina as a warning to her father Vladimir to stop rocking the boat of the New World Order.
Unbeknownst to Whitstable and the powerful U.S. interests, the British being a more pragmatic people had hired someone else (Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for Set Enterprises) to bump off Putin himself.
There was a chance of course that Maria Putina was not in the apartment but Whitstable thought better safe than sorry as he stood outside.
He put on the pair of goggles that had been specially invented by Nikola Tesla to spot beings and entities flying in their astral bodies.
Whitstable had recognized and spotted the goggles in a second-hand store in Brooklyn.
He purchased them from the unknowing store owner for $10.
DARPA was continuing to desperately search for them and offering hundreds of millions of dollars to anyone as finder's fee for providing the secretive U.S. government research agency with the goggles.
Sure enough within a matter of minutes, Whitstable spotted Pan Goatee's astral body and astral machete flying towards the penthouse at the top of the apartment building.
Whitstable pushed a few buttons on the Roger Bacon Astral Fortress Machine.
An astral wall emerged around the penthouse.
Pan Goatee who of course wasn't wearing Tesla goggles did not spot the wall.
He flew directly into it and fell with a thud to the ground.
"I hate it when that happens," said the half-man half-goat satyr with hairy legs up in the air as he lay on the ground as someone walked by.
"I really should give up drinking," hiccoughed the unemployed former maker of Dutch wooden shoes whose business had gone up in smoke when it fell prey to a bad case of termites.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 27th
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Wednesday, July 23, 2014
Renfield In Israel
Renfield In Israel
Renfield flew his Boss' private plane from London to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv since U.S. and European commercial airlines suspended their flights there due to a Hamas rocket landing one mile away from the airport.
Renfield was to meet the Mossad agent called The Controller of The Golem.
He would then be taken to meet Ukrainian Vampiress Inna Hukulak who was in the protective custody of Mossad after she had been rescued by Israeli commandos from an FSB interrogation center in Moscow last month.
From Miss Hukulak, he would be given detailed information about Miss Hukulak's personal arch-enemy the Russian Vampiress Svetlana Kireeva of the FSB.
Miss Kireeva would then be the one to use to get close to Russian President Vladimir Putin.
Renfield's meeting with the Controller of The Golem had been arranged by MI-6 Agent Diablos Nocturna.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday July 22nd
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Renfield flew his Boss' private plane from London to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv since U.S. and European commercial airlines suspended their flights there due to a Hamas rocket landing one mile away from the airport.
Renfield was to meet the Mossad agent called The Controller of The Golem.
He would then be taken to meet Ukrainian Vampiress Inna Hukulak who was in the protective custody of Mossad after she had been rescued by Israeli commandos from an FSB interrogation center in Moscow last month.
From Miss Hukulak, he would be given detailed information about Miss Hukulak's personal arch-enemy the Russian Vampiress Svetlana Kireeva of the FSB.
Miss Kireeva would then be the one to use to get close to Russian President Vladimir Putin.
Renfield's meeting with the Controller of The Golem had been arranged by MI-6 Agent Diablos Nocturna.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday July 22nd
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Monday, July 21, 2014
Renfield Meets Diablos Nocturna In London
Renfield Meets Diablos Nocturna In London
Renfield R. Renfield had gone to a fish and chips shop in central London to meet with an MI-6 agent called Diablos Nocturna who had contacted him and requested the meeting.
"You!" Renfield R. Renfield recognized the man as soon as he saw him.
For he had known the man prior to his becoming the MI-6 agent whose code name was Diablos Nocturna.
"Hello Renfield," the man smiled at him.
"So you work for MI-6 now?" Renfield said as he picked up a menu.
"That's right," Diablos replied.
Later after both men had finished their fish and chips, they got down to discussing business.
They discussed the recent shooting down of Malaysia Airlines Flight MH17 over eastern Ukraine and the efforts by pro-Russian rebels in the region to sabotage a proper international investigation into the incident.
"Anyways," Diablos Nocturna now spoke in the coded parlance of the language of international espionage, "certain parties have decided that it would probably be in the best interests of the world community at large if Russian President Vladimir Putin were to make a sudden and unexpected (for him!) departure from the world stage."
"From the world stage?" Renfield perked up his ears.
"More specifically from this particular plane of existence," Diablos added for clarification.
"Oh," Renfield smiled as he was starting to get the drift of the conversation.
He was starting to feel like the Nicolas Cage character in the 2008 film Bangkok Dangerous.
Although of course Renfield would not be subject to the sudden pangs of conscience that the Nicolas Cage character was.
A fact of which MI-6's Diablos Nocturna was aware.
"Anyhow there would be a great deal of money in it for you if you could help bring about Mr. Putin's sudden and unexpected departure from the world stage and this plane of existence," Diablos went on.
"How much money are we talking about?" Renfield sipped his tea.
Diablos Nocturna wrote the amount on a napkin and handed it to him.
Renfield swallowed his tea in one gulp as he gazed at the amount.
"All right I'll do it," Renfield dabbed his lips with another napkin and then put the napkin with the monetary figure written on it into his wallet.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 20th
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Renfield R. Renfield had gone to a fish and chips shop in central London to meet with an MI-6 agent called Diablos Nocturna who had contacted him and requested the meeting.
"You!" Renfield R. Renfield recognized the man as soon as he saw him.
For he had known the man prior to his becoming the MI-6 agent whose code name was Diablos Nocturna.
"Hello Renfield," the man smiled at him.
"So you work for MI-6 now?" Renfield said as he picked up a menu.
"That's right," Diablos replied.
Later after both men had finished their fish and chips, they got down to discussing business.
They discussed the recent shooting down of Malaysia Airlines Flight MH17 over eastern Ukraine and the efforts by pro-Russian rebels in the region to sabotage a proper international investigation into the incident.
"Anyways," Diablos Nocturna now spoke in the coded parlance of the language of international espionage, "certain parties have decided that it would probably be in the best interests of the world community at large if Russian President Vladimir Putin were to make a sudden and unexpected (for him!) departure from the world stage."
"From the world stage?" Renfield perked up his ears.
"More specifically from this particular plane of existence," Diablos added for clarification.
"Oh," Renfield smiled as he was starting to get the drift of the conversation.
He was starting to feel like the Nicolas Cage character in the 2008 film Bangkok Dangerous.
Although of course Renfield would not be subject to the sudden pangs of conscience that the Nicolas Cage character was.
A fact of which MI-6's Diablos Nocturna was aware.
"Anyhow there would be a great deal of money in it for you if you could help bring about Mr. Putin's sudden and unexpected departure from the world stage and this plane of existence," Diablos went on.
"How much money are we talking about?" Renfield sipped his tea.
Diablos Nocturna wrote the amount on a napkin and handed it to him.
Renfield swallowed his tea in one gulp as he gazed at the amount.
"All right I'll do it," Renfield dabbed his lips with another napkin and then put the napkin with the monetary figure written on it into his wallet.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 20th
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Thursday, June 26, 2014
Amadeus To Fly Through Spain
Amadeus To Fly Through Spain
There were many times, Renfield R. Renfield had observed, when the genetically cloned concert pianist Amadeus Emanon seemed to have the mind of a child.
Today was one of them.
"What are you looking so apprehensive about?" Renfield asked Amadeus.
"The Boss asked me to accompany him on a short business trip," Amadeus answered.
"So?" Renfield shrugged.
"We're going to be flying through Spain," Amadeus sighed.
"What's the matter with flying through Spain?" Renfield asked as he continued to sketch his drawing of soccer player Luis Suarez lying on a couch in psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal Lecter's office.
"Well according to that movie we watched last night," Amadeus answered, "the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plane."
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday June 25th
2014.
There were many times, Renfield R. Renfield had observed, when the genetically cloned concert pianist Amadeus Emanon seemed to have the mind of a child.
Today was one of them.
"What are you looking so apprehensive about?" Renfield asked Amadeus.
"The Boss asked me to accompany him on a short business trip," Amadeus answered.
"So?" Renfield shrugged.
"We're going to be flying through Spain," Amadeus sighed.
"What's the matter with flying through Spain?" Renfield asked as he continued to sketch his drawing of soccer player Luis Suarez lying on a couch in psychiatrist Dr. Hannibal Lecter's office.
"Well according to that movie we watched last night," Amadeus answered, "the rain in Spain stays mainly in the plane."
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday June 25th
2014.
Wednesday, June 25, 2014
Renfield Writes A Justin Bieber Commercial For American Express
Renfield Writes A Justin Bieber Commercial For American Express
Renfield R. Renfield had recently developed a penchant for writing TV commercials and submitting them to Madison Avenue advertising agencies.
He announced to Amadeus Emanon that he had just written a commercial for the American Express card- one that would have Justin Bieber in it.
"Let's hear it," Amadeus sighed.
. . .
Justin Bieber smiled at the camera.
"Hi," Justin grinned, "do you know me?".
"Unless I'm wearing an orange jump suit and have numbers in front of me like in my Florida police mug shots, most people don't recognize me."
"That's why I got one of these."
Justin Bieber holds up an American Express card with his name Justin Bieber on it.
"The American Express card," Justin Bieber flashed another wide smile, "don't leave court ordered anger management classes without it."
. . .
Amadeus sighed again.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday June 23rd
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Renfield R. Renfield had recently developed a penchant for writing TV commercials and submitting them to Madison Avenue advertising agencies.
He announced to Amadeus Emanon that he had just written a commercial for the American Express card- one that would have Justin Bieber in it.
"Let's hear it," Amadeus sighed.
. . .
Justin Bieber smiled at the camera.
"Hi," Justin grinned, "do you know me?".
"Unless I'm wearing an orange jump suit and have numbers in front of me like in my Florida police mug shots, most people don't recognize me."
"That's why I got one of these."
Justin Bieber holds up an American Express card with his name Justin Bieber on it.
"The American Express card," Justin Bieber flashed another wide smile, "don't leave court ordered anger management classes without it."
. . .
Amadeus sighed again.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday June 23rd
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
Friday, June 13, 2014
Slenderman Commercial For Weight Loss Clinics
Slenderman Commercial For Weight Loss Clinics
"What are you looking so pleased about?" Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield R. Renfield.
"Some big Madison Avenue advertising agency in New York City
is having a competition for who can come up with the best TV commercial advertising weight loss clinics for men," Renfield grinned, "so I just designed one using my computer graphic and animation skills."
Renfield then showed Amadeus the commercial on his iMac.
. . .
Standing there was a very tall extremely thin man wearing a black suit and a cartoon blank face.
"Hi there," the figure introduced himself, "I'm Slenderman. I don't usually say much... in fact I usually say nothing at all. But you sitting there like the fat slob on the couch that you are has inspired me to say this...
"Get off the couch, fatso. Yeah, I'm talking to you. The one eating his 13th bucket of KFC this hour. The one swallowing his 13th Big Mac this minute. The one inhaling his 13th box of Reese's Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups this second.
You're a disgusting obnoxious fat slob. You're more blob than man. When was the last time you had a date, fatso? In fact, when was the last time you had sex?
You couldn't have a woman snuggle up next to you on the couch because you take up the entire couch you disgusting fat pig.
While you're busy stuffing your fat face, thousands of teen-aged girls are dying from anorexia.
Or better yet, girls are killing for me.
How many females would kill for you, you fat-assed ton of lard?
I could count by the number of toes on Oscar Pistorius' feet how many females would kill for you.
Zilch.
Nada-nada.
A big fat zero.
Like yourself.
A big fat nothing.
So get off the couch.
Stop stuffing your face like a camel on Prozac.
Get out.
Exercise.
And join the Manly Loss Weight Loss Program.
There's a Manly Loss Weight Loss Clinic near you.
All you've got to lose are your pounds.
And I'm not talking about being mugged over in England.
So become a man.
Become slender.
Become... Slenderman.
The type of guy that females will not only die for... but will be willing to kill for."
. . .
Amadeus said nothing.
But considering the type of society that America had become today, he thought to himself, Renfield's commercial might just win the competition.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday June 13th
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
"What are you looking so pleased about?" Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield R. Renfield.
"Some big Madison Avenue advertising agency in New York City
is having a competition for who can come up with the best TV commercial advertising weight loss clinics for men," Renfield grinned, "so I just designed one using my computer graphic and animation skills."
Renfield then showed Amadeus the commercial on his iMac.
. . .
Standing there was a very tall extremely thin man wearing a black suit and a cartoon blank face.
"Hi there," the figure introduced himself, "I'm Slenderman. I don't usually say much... in fact I usually say nothing at all. But you sitting there like the fat slob on the couch that you are has inspired me to say this...
"Get off the couch, fatso. Yeah, I'm talking to you. The one eating his 13th bucket of KFC this hour. The one swallowing his 13th Big Mac this minute. The one inhaling his 13th box of Reese's Chocolate Peanut Butter Cups this second.
You're a disgusting obnoxious fat slob. You're more blob than man. When was the last time you had a date, fatso? In fact, when was the last time you had sex?
You couldn't have a woman snuggle up next to you on the couch because you take up the entire couch you disgusting fat pig.
While you're busy stuffing your fat face, thousands of teen-aged girls are dying from anorexia.
Or better yet, girls are killing for me.
How many females would kill for you, you fat-assed ton of lard?
I could count by the number of toes on Oscar Pistorius' feet how many females would kill for you.
Zilch.
Nada-nada.
A big fat zero.
Like yourself.
A big fat nothing.
So get off the couch.
Stop stuffing your face like a camel on Prozac.
Get out.
Exercise.
And join the Manly Loss Weight Loss Program.
There's a Manly Loss Weight Loss Clinic near you.
All you've got to lose are your pounds.
And I'm not talking about being mugged over in England.
So become a man.
Become slender.
Become... Slenderman.
The type of guy that females will not only die for... but will be willing to kill for."
. . .
Amadeus said nothing.
But considering the type of society that America had become today, he thought to himself, Renfield's commercial might just win the competition.
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday June 13th
2014.
Sent from my iPhone
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