Inspector Depp of Scotland Yard looked at the photo of the man in front of him.
The photo was of a black African male in his early 40s. His nationality was South African.
Depp had received the photo from Peter Whitstable of Interpol. Peter Whitstable was to Interpol what the fictional Fox Mulder was to the FBI.
He was in charge of investigating the Paranormal (vampires, werewolves, UFOs etc.) for the international police organization.
According to Whitstable, the man whose photo Depp now held in his hands was none other than Sterling Makabo a South African Zulu witch doctor.
According to Whitstable, Makabo had the power to summon forth spirits of the evil dead.
Also according to Whitstable, Makabo had summoned forth the spirit of Jack the Ripper and got him to possess the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper that was in the Price Atwill Wax Museum in West London.
The wax effigy had mysteriously disappeared over a week ago and as a result of the public outcry, Scotland Yard had wasted considerable resources trying to find this wax dummy.
Depp thought people should be more concerned about the live dummy currently occupying 10 Downing Street rather than some supposedly Undead dummy of a long dead serial killer.
Anyways even assuming that what Whitstable said was true (which Inspector Depp very much doubted) for what purpose would Makabo bring Jack the Ripper back from the dead?
In Pyongyang, North Korea, Doctor Makabo answered that question posed to him by North Korean dictator Kim Jong-il, "For shock and awe, your Eminence. Jack the Ripper has always haunted the collective consciousness of the Anglo-Saxon world. So if he's running around again, another sense of impending chaos and doom shall haunt the mind of the West. And as the souls of long dead murderers are brought back one by one, the decadent West shall be continually thrown off balance and then at your command, your Eminence, the Western world will face the final test- a one billion man army of zombies under your control."
KIm Jong-il smiled beneficently and ate a spring roll.
To be continued.
Thursday, June 18, 2009
Tuesday, June 16, 2009
Nightclub Dionysus
Dracul Van Helsing managed to convince the vampiress with amnesia that no matter how good the commercials might say this particular brand of sunscreen is, going out in the daylight would probably still cause problems for vampiresses.
They waited until nightfall.
The vampiress with amnesia changed from her short denim mini skirt to a jade green evening dress with matching spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.
Dracul suggested going down to the Nightclub Dionysus a new nightclub that had just opened which had an ancient Greek theme to it.
At the club entrance, they discovered the club's doorman was none other than Dracul's friend Harry Woo who was dressed up as the Greek god Dionysus.
"Very impressive laurel leaf on top of your bald head, Harry," Dracul remarked.
"Oh, very funny," Harry grimaced.
"Nice toga," the vampiress with amnesia said.
"Thanks," Harry said, "Say, any of you know what the word orgy means?".
"Well Hyung Grace Kwan and this lovely woman here and I had one a few weeks ago," Dracul answered.
"Some girl told me that I was the Greek god of orgies," Harry explained, "but I have no idea what an orgy is."
"What are you doing after work?" a goth girl in a leather mini skirt asked Harry, "I'll be glad to show you."
"My Chinese mom doesn't like me staying out late," Harry replied.
Dracul and the vampiress with amnesia entered the club.
"You know," Dracul said, "we really should think up a name for you. It seems so impersonal to call you 'Vampiress with amnesia'."
"Martini?" a young brunette girl dressed in a mini toga came around carrying a tray of martinis.
"Yes, thank you," the brunette vampiress with amnesia picked up a glass.
Dracul helped himself to one as well.
"Martini," the vampiress said, "that sounds like such a lovely name. And it's Italian as well. And don't you figure my background is Italian. So why not call me Martini until we find out my real name."
And so Dracul and the newly christened vampiress Martini danced the night away down at the Nightclub Dionysus.
When the vampiress carried Dracul through the apartment door just before sunrise, the phone rang.
The vampiress Martini picked it up.
It was South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan on the other end of the line, "Can I speak to Dracul please?"
"I'm sorry but he's dead drunk," Martini answered.
"Drunk?" Hyung sounded shocked, "but Dracul doesn't usually drink very much."
"Well we spent the night at a nightclub where I chose a new name for myself," the vampiress with amnesia explained,
"and I chose the name Martini. And every time Dracul called my name tonight, the cocktail waitress came over and brought him a new drink."
To be continued.
They waited until nightfall.
The vampiress with amnesia changed from her short denim mini skirt to a jade green evening dress with matching spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.
Dracul suggested going down to the Nightclub Dionysus a new nightclub that had just opened which had an ancient Greek theme to it.
At the club entrance, they discovered the club's doorman was none other than Dracul's friend Harry Woo who was dressed up as the Greek god Dionysus.
"Very impressive laurel leaf on top of your bald head, Harry," Dracul remarked.
"Oh, very funny," Harry grimaced.
"Nice toga," the vampiress with amnesia said.
"Thanks," Harry said, "Say, any of you know what the word orgy means?".
"Well Hyung Grace Kwan and this lovely woman here and I had one a few weeks ago," Dracul answered.
"Some girl told me that I was the Greek god of orgies," Harry explained, "but I have no idea what an orgy is."
"What are you doing after work?" a goth girl in a leather mini skirt asked Harry, "I'll be glad to show you."
"My Chinese mom doesn't like me staying out late," Harry replied.
Dracul and the vampiress with amnesia entered the club.
"You know," Dracul said, "we really should think up a name for you. It seems so impersonal to call you 'Vampiress with amnesia'."
"Martini?" a young brunette girl dressed in a mini toga came around carrying a tray of martinis.
"Yes, thank you," the brunette vampiress with amnesia picked up a glass.
Dracul helped himself to one as well.
"Martini," the vampiress said, "that sounds like such a lovely name. And it's Italian as well. And don't you figure my background is Italian. So why not call me Martini until we find out my real name."
And so Dracul and the newly christened vampiress Martini danced the night away down at the Nightclub Dionysus.
When the vampiress carried Dracul through the apartment door just before sunrise, the phone rang.
The vampiress Martini picked it up.
It was South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan on the other end of the line, "Can I speak to Dracul please?"
"I'm sorry but he's dead drunk," Martini answered.
"Drunk?" Hyung sounded shocked, "but Dracul doesn't usually drink very much."
"Well we spent the night at a nightclub where I chose a new name for myself," the vampiress with amnesia explained,
"and I chose the name Martini. And every time Dracul called my name tonight, the cocktail waitress came over and brought him a new drink."
To be continued.
Monday, June 15, 2009
News Fit For A Vampiress?
The dark haired vampiress with amnesia and Dracul Van Helsing were watching the news on television.
News Anchor: And still no clues in the mysterious disappearance of the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper from the Price Atwill Wax Museum in West London which happened over a week ago. You may recall when we first broke that news story a week ago, our reporter on the scene claimed that the disappearance was witnessed by a vampiress with a Louisiana accent and a genetic clone who worked as a personal concert pianist to a millionaire and formerly billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire living in London. Well we're happy to report that our reporter seems to be doing well at the Alcohol Recovery and Drug Rehab Clinic our station's management immediately checked him into...
Meanwhile in other news, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad told a cheering crowd of brainwashed supporters that this past weekend's election result was genuine and the opposition should accept the fact he won an astounding 62% of the vote. Ahmadinejad said everyone should abide by the results of this decision which he called a "victory for democracy" and further added that anyone who disagreed with the result should be jailed or shot.
Meanwhile President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe has become the first world leader to congratulate Ahmadinejad on his election victory...
The vampiress with amnesia shut off the TV with the remote control.
"The news is depressing these days," the vampiress tossed back her hair.
"I know," Dracul agreed, "the world isn't the same without David Carradine in it."
"Let's go out," the vampiress suggested.
"But it's still daylight," Dracul pointed out.
"That's okay," the vampiress smiled, "I bought myself a heavy sunscreen."
To be continued.
News Anchor: And still no clues in the mysterious disappearance of the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper from the Price Atwill Wax Museum in West London which happened over a week ago. You may recall when we first broke that news story a week ago, our reporter on the scene claimed that the disappearance was witnessed by a vampiress with a Louisiana accent and a genetic clone who worked as a personal concert pianist to a millionaire and formerly billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire living in London. Well we're happy to report that our reporter seems to be doing well at the Alcohol Recovery and Drug Rehab Clinic our station's management immediately checked him into...
Meanwhile in other news, Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad told a cheering crowd of brainwashed supporters that this past weekend's election result was genuine and the opposition should accept the fact he won an astounding 62% of the vote. Ahmadinejad said everyone should abide by the results of this decision which he called a "victory for democracy" and further added that anyone who disagreed with the result should be jailed or shot.
Meanwhile President Robert Mugabe of Zimbabwe has become the first world leader to congratulate Ahmadinejad on his election victory...
The vampiress with amnesia shut off the TV with the remote control.
"The news is depressing these days," the vampiress tossed back her hair.
"I know," Dracul agreed, "the world isn't the same without David Carradine in it."
"Let's go out," the vampiress suggested.
"But it's still daylight," Dracul pointed out.
"That's okay," the vampiress smiled, "I bought myself a heavy sunscreen."
To be continued.
Monday, June 8, 2009
Mysteries of The Wax Museum
Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont paid the admission and entered the Wax Museum.
A security guard who looked like Vincent Price spoke at the entrance,
Darkness falls across the land
the midnight hour is close at hand
and whosoever shall be found
without the soul for getting down
must stand and face the Hounds of Hell
and rot inside a corpse's shell...
"I thought you were supposed to be dead," Amadeus spoke to the security guard, "didn't speaking on a Michael Jackson album put an end to your career?".
"That isn't the real Vincent Price," Angelique nudged Amadeus, "it's a wax effigy."
"Darn," Amadeus looked disappointed, "and just when I was going to ask him for his autograph."
In the next room, they encountered an oil painting.
"I thought this was supposed to be a wax museum not an art gallery," Angelique looked surprised.
"It's Vincent Van Gogh's self portrait," Amadeus Emanon proudly proclaimed as if he had a Ph.D in Art History, "and look, there's his ear on the palette beside it..."
Angelique screamed.
A boy scout came over and looked at the severed ear on the palette and walked away disappointed saying, "I don't think that's a real ear..."
"Darn," spoke up a wax effigy of Sir Anthony Hopkins as Doctor Hannibal Lector, "and just when I was getting a craving for a midnight snack."
In the next room, a wax effigy of Vincent Van Gogh said, "Boy, did the boss ever talk my ear off today."
"Squawk, what are you gawking at?" a wax effigy of Rosebob, Orson Welles' pet parrot interjected.
"Indeed," spoke up a wax effigy of Orson Welles who was eating a rainbarrel full of frozen peas and a rainbarrel full of Norwegian cod and drinking a rainbarrel full of Paul Masson wines, "the proper pronounciation of Vincent's last name is Van Gawk not Van Go!".
"I can't believe you said Van Gawk," spoke up a wax effigy of Woody Allen.
"The director of Citizen Kane is quite correct," spoke up a wax effigy of no one that Angelique nor Amadeus could possibly recognize, "to quote Marshall McLuhan, the medium is the message..."
"Where do you get off quoting Marshall McLuhan?" Woody Allen asked.
"I'm a professor of Communications at Harvard University and I've studied Marshall McLuhan," the wax effigy replied.
"Well, there's Marshall McLuhan standing over there," said Allen, "let's go ask him..."
Marshall McLuhan's wax effigy spoke up, "You say you're a teacher at Harvard. You shouldn't be teaching anywhere. You're an idiot..."
"Idiot professors at Harvard can get themselves acclaimed leaders of the Canadian Federal Liberal Party," Rosebob squawked.
"Don't you wish this happened in real life?" Woody Allen smiled.
"It already has," Rosebob squawked.
"Don't you wish this happened in real life?" Freddy Krueger's wax effigy came over and decapitated Woody Allen.
"I was promised sex with the Lady From Shanghai," Orson Welles started weeping into the rain barrel of Paul Masson wines.
"Put the blame on Mame, boys, put the blame on Mame," a wax effigy of Rita Hayworth dressed as Gilda in her nightclub evening dress started to sing.
"This is a wonderful exhibit," Amadeus smiled.
"Let's go down to the Chamber of Horrors," Angelique suggested.
They walked down the steps that looked like they were descending into the medieval dungeons of the Tower of London.
They came upon a street scene that looked like East London in 1888.
And as the voice of singer Don McLean came out of nowhere,
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,
Jack flash sat on a candle stick
a figure dressed in a black top hat and long black trench coat and carrying an elegantly carved walking cane with a silver wolf's head leapt over a street gas lamp in front of them...
and then vanished.
To be continued.
A security guard who looked like Vincent Price spoke at the entrance,
Darkness falls across the land
the midnight hour is close at hand
and whosoever shall be found
without the soul for getting down
must stand and face the Hounds of Hell
and rot inside a corpse's shell...
"I thought you were supposed to be dead," Amadeus spoke to the security guard, "didn't speaking on a Michael Jackson album put an end to your career?".
"That isn't the real Vincent Price," Angelique nudged Amadeus, "it's a wax effigy."
"Darn," Amadeus looked disappointed, "and just when I was going to ask him for his autograph."
In the next room, they encountered an oil painting.
"I thought this was supposed to be a wax museum not an art gallery," Angelique looked surprised.
"It's Vincent Van Gogh's self portrait," Amadeus Emanon proudly proclaimed as if he had a Ph.D in Art History, "and look, there's his ear on the palette beside it..."
Angelique screamed.
A boy scout came over and looked at the severed ear on the palette and walked away disappointed saying, "I don't think that's a real ear..."
"Darn," spoke up a wax effigy of Sir Anthony Hopkins as Doctor Hannibal Lector, "and just when I was getting a craving for a midnight snack."
In the next room, a wax effigy of Vincent Van Gogh said, "Boy, did the boss ever talk my ear off today."
"Squawk, what are you gawking at?" a wax effigy of Rosebob, Orson Welles' pet parrot interjected.
"Indeed," spoke up a wax effigy of Orson Welles who was eating a rainbarrel full of frozen peas and a rainbarrel full of Norwegian cod and drinking a rainbarrel full of Paul Masson wines, "the proper pronounciation of Vincent's last name is Van Gawk not Van Go!".
"I can't believe you said Van Gawk," spoke up a wax effigy of Woody Allen.
"The director of Citizen Kane is quite correct," spoke up a wax effigy of no one that Angelique nor Amadeus could possibly recognize, "to quote Marshall McLuhan, the medium is the message..."
"Where do you get off quoting Marshall McLuhan?" Woody Allen asked.
"I'm a professor of Communications at Harvard University and I've studied Marshall McLuhan," the wax effigy replied.
"Well, there's Marshall McLuhan standing over there," said Allen, "let's go ask him..."
Marshall McLuhan's wax effigy spoke up, "You say you're a teacher at Harvard. You shouldn't be teaching anywhere. You're an idiot..."
"Idiot professors at Harvard can get themselves acclaimed leaders of the Canadian Federal Liberal Party," Rosebob squawked.
"Don't you wish this happened in real life?" Woody Allen smiled.
"It already has," Rosebob squawked.
"Don't you wish this happened in real life?" Freddy Krueger's wax effigy came over and decapitated Woody Allen.
"I was promised sex with the Lady From Shanghai," Orson Welles started weeping into the rain barrel of Paul Masson wines.
"Put the blame on Mame, boys, put the blame on Mame," a wax effigy of Rita Hayworth dressed as Gilda in her nightclub evening dress started to sing.
"This is a wonderful exhibit," Amadeus smiled.
"Let's go down to the Chamber of Horrors," Angelique suggested.
They walked down the steps that looked like they were descending into the medieval dungeons of the Tower of London.
They came upon a street scene that looked like East London in 1888.
And as the voice of singer Don McLean came out of nowhere,
Jack be nimble, Jack be quick,
Jack flash sat on a candle stick
a figure dressed in a black top hat and long black trench coat and carrying an elegantly carved walking cane with a silver wolf's head leapt over a street gas lamp in front of them...
and then vanished.
To be continued.
Sunday, June 7, 2009
Sunday Evening At The Wax Museum
Angelique Dumont stood outside the Price Atwill Wax Museum in West London.
She was wearing a white evening dress and white leather gloves.
The Price Atwill Wax Museum was open on Sunday evenings in the summer and although it wasn't officially summer yet (that was another two weeks away), the museum's owners generally opened the museum 7 evenings a week starting on June 1st and then went back to 6 evenings a week after the Feast of Michaelmass in September.
She was waiting for her escort Amadeus Emanon, a rather shy young man who faithfully attended every Friday and Saturday evening performance of The Phantom of the Opera when she was singing the role of Christine a couple of years ago.
She hadn't seen him for a while.
She found him blubbering away in an all-night cafe a few evenings ago visibly upset and distraught over the destruction of his Mickey Mouse watch by an acquaintance of his.
She had invited him to visit the Wax Museum with her tonight.
She was intrigued by rumours about the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors exhibit in the basement.
There were rumours circulating throughout the vampiric netherworld (for Angelique Dumont was a vampiress- she had been turned into a vampiress in a New Orleans cemetery back in the summer of 2005 when Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters had hit the cemetery where she was visiting her family's crypt to tell her ancestors that she was a young woman officially dying of cancer. She had been turned into a vampiress on request by the obliging Spanish vampire pianist Manuel de Rivera y Vargas who happened to be flying through the cemetery at the time) that the spirit of Jack the Ripper had been released from Hell and had taken possession of the wax effigy of the Ripper figure in the Museum's Chamber of Horrors.
Even though numerous Church of England clergymen and bishops had been preaching sermons the past few weeks that there was no such place as Hell and therefore no stock should be put in these rumours, crowds continued to visit the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors anyways.
Far more than the small, aging and grey-haired half dozen people who snored through Church of England sermons in local parishes every Sunday.
Angelique longed to see the wax effigy of Jack The Ripper for herself.
Despite being a vampiress, she was a little uneasy about visiting the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors on her own.
That is why she had invited Amadeus Emanon to be her escort this evening.
"Angelique?" she heard a voice behind her.
She turned and there stood Amadeus Emanon. It was funny how much Amadeus looked like a young Alan Rickman she thought to herself.
Inside the basement of the Wax Museum, an angry snort was heard.
It was the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper.
It could smell the scent of another mass murderer somewhere in the vicinity.
Somewhere in the vicinity lurked the smell of California mass murderer Charles Manson.
The Ripper growled. He was the greatest murderer of all time not Charles Manson.
To be continued.
She was wearing a white evening dress and white leather gloves.
The Price Atwill Wax Museum was open on Sunday evenings in the summer and although it wasn't officially summer yet (that was another two weeks away), the museum's owners generally opened the museum 7 evenings a week starting on June 1st and then went back to 6 evenings a week after the Feast of Michaelmass in September.
She was waiting for her escort Amadeus Emanon, a rather shy young man who faithfully attended every Friday and Saturday evening performance of The Phantom of the Opera when she was singing the role of Christine a couple of years ago.
She hadn't seen him for a while.
She found him blubbering away in an all-night cafe a few evenings ago visibly upset and distraught over the destruction of his Mickey Mouse watch by an acquaintance of his.
She had invited him to visit the Wax Museum with her tonight.
She was intrigued by rumours about the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors exhibit in the basement.
There were rumours circulating throughout the vampiric netherworld (for Angelique Dumont was a vampiress- she had been turned into a vampiress in a New Orleans cemetery back in the summer of 2005 when Hurricane Katrina's floodwaters had hit the cemetery where she was visiting her family's crypt to tell her ancestors that she was a young woman officially dying of cancer. She had been turned into a vampiress on request by the obliging Spanish vampire pianist Manuel de Rivera y Vargas who happened to be flying through the cemetery at the time) that the spirit of Jack the Ripper had been released from Hell and had taken possession of the wax effigy of the Ripper figure in the Museum's Chamber of Horrors.
Even though numerous Church of England clergymen and bishops had been preaching sermons the past few weeks that there was no such place as Hell and therefore no stock should be put in these rumours, crowds continued to visit the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors anyways.
Far more than the small, aging and grey-haired half dozen people who snored through Church of England sermons in local parishes every Sunday.
Angelique longed to see the wax effigy of Jack The Ripper for herself.
Despite being a vampiress, she was a little uneasy about visiting the Wax Museum's Chamber of Horrors on her own.
That is why she had invited Amadeus Emanon to be her escort this evening.
"Angelique?" she heard a voice behind her.
She turned and there stood Amadeus Emanon. It was funny how much Amadeus looked like a young Alan Rickman she thought to herself.
Inside the basement of the Wax Museum, an angry snort was heard.
It was the wax effigy of Jack the Ripper.
It could smell the scent of another mass murderer somewhere in the vicinity.
Somewhere in the vicinity lurked the smell of California mass murderer Charles Manson.
The Ripper growled. He was the greatest murderer of all time not Charles Manson.
To be continued.
Tuesday, June 2, 2009
Murders At The Wax Museum
There's a street in West London where a wax museum stands
wax effegies of celebrities and members of rock bands
but the most popular is below the ground floor
the exhibit they call Chamber of Horror
there Jack the Ripper walks
he prowls, prances and stalks
seeking victims galore.
"The horror! The horror!"
so says Marlon Brando
speaking on the top floor.
-A horror poem written by
Dracul Van Helsing
Tuesday. June 2nd, 2009
wax effegies of celebrities and members of rock bands
but the most popular is below the ground floor
the exhibit they call Chamber of Horror
there Jack the Ripper walks
he prowls, prances and stalks
seeking victims galore.
"The horror! The horror!"
so says Marlon Brando
speaking on the top floor.
-A horror poem written by
Dracul Van Helsing
Tuesday. June 2nd, 2009
Monday, June 1, 2009
Ode To The Demon Barber of Fleet Street
It's so neat
on Fleet
the street
when the Demon Barber shaves
no need for raves
ecstasy is in his blade
see the blood cascade
Sweeney Todd is such a cool cat
And you?
You're a dead rat.
-A horror poem
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Monday, June 1st, 2009
on Fleet
the street
when the Demon Barber shaves
no need for raves
ecstasy is in his blade
see the blood cascade
Sweeney Todd is such a cool cat
And you?
You're a dead rat.
-A horror poem
written by Dracul Van Helsing
Monday, June 1st, 2009
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