Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu arrived at the secret military base in the Negev Desert.
He was met by a Deputy Director of Mossad who had something very important to show him.
Netanyahu was shown into a military warehouse where he was shown the object that Mossad had found.
As he gazed on the object, he knew from his Torah classes as a youngster exactly what this object was...
"It's... " the Israeli Prime Minister was so overcome with emotion, he couldn't finish his sentence.
"The Ark of the Covenant, Mr. Prime Minister," the Mossad official finished the sentence for him.
"How and where did you find it?" Netanyahu asked.
"There will be a detailed report on the whole operation on your desk tomorrow, Mr. Prime Minister," the official replied, "a report top secret and confidential and for your eyes only."
"Yes, the find must be kept secret for now," Netanyahu agreed, "especially in these times when the whole Middle East is aflame."
* * *
Later in the Prime Minister's office in Jerusalem, Benjamin Netanyahu received a private email from Vladimir Putin the Prime Minister of Russia.
The email had been sent to the Prime Minister's private email account that only other world leaders knew the existence of.
The email was terse:
I know you have found the Ark of the Covenant.
You must give the Ark of the Covenant to Russia no later than ___________.
Failure to do so will result in an invasion of your country by Russia.
* * *
And the email was simply signed Vladimir.
* * *
Prime Minister Netanyahu was stunned.
What would Russia want with the Ark of the Covenant which was a Hebrew treasure and cultural relic?
And why was Russia threatening to invade Israel if it didn't get it?
The Prime Minister looked at the date when the ultimatum expired.
* * *
In a temple in India, worshippers and onlookers were stunned when a statue of Shiva the Destroyer actually came to life.
And started to dance.
* * *
To be continued.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Thursday, March 10, 2011
Lilith's Blair Witch Project
Peter Whitstable was to Interpol what Fox Mulder had been to the FBI in the fictional TV series The X-Files.
He was Interpol's resident authority on and investigator of all phenomena supernatural and occultic.
Like Mulder, Whitstable was considered a flake and a nut case by his colleagues.
Today Whitstable was examining several photos taken at the Civil Forum on Peace In A Globalized Economy held at Pastor Rick Warren's Saddleback Church in Lake Forest, California this past Sunday March 6th at which Rev. Warren interviewed former British Prime Minister Tony Blair.
What intrigued him about the photos was a beautiful woman sitting in the front row of the audience at the Forum.
Whitstable recognized her right away.
She was the ancient Mesopotamian vampiress Lilith the first vampiress ever in human history.
The woman who had started the long chain of vampires and vampiresses throughout history.
How Lilith herself became a vampiress no authority on the vampiric was quite sure.
But all agreed she was the world's first vampiric immortal.
And one still alive.
Unlike the world's most famous vampiric immortal Dracula who had been slain by a Van Helsing back in the 19th Century and thus was immortal no longer.
What was Lilith doing attending a Civil Forum on Peace In A Globalized Economy at which Rev. Rick Warren and Tony Blair were present?
To be continued.
He was Interpol's resident authority on and investigator of all phenomena supernatural and occultic.
Like Mulder, Whitstable was considered a flake and a nut case by his colleagues.
Today Whitstable was examining several photos taken at the Civil Forum on Peace In A Globalized Economy held at Pastor Rick Warren's Saddleback Church in Lake Forest, California this past Sunday March 6th at which Rev. Warren interviewed former British Prime Minister Tony Blair.
What intrigued him about the photos was a beautiful woman sitting in the front row of the audience at the Forum.
Whitstable recognized her right away.
She was the ancient Mesopotamian vampiress Lilith the first vampiress ever in human history.
The woman who had started the long chain of vampires and vampiresses throughout history.
How Lilith herself became a vampiress no authority on the vampiric was quite sure.
But all agreed she was the world's first vampiric immortal.
And one still alive.
Unlike the world's most famous vampiric immortal Dracula who had been slain by a Van Helsing back in the 19th Century and thus was immortal no longer.
What was Lilith doing attending a Civil Forum on Peace In A Globalized Economy at which Rev. Rick Warren and Tony Blair were present?
To be continued.
Wednesday, March 9, 2011
Isis and Dracul and Qonzilqointec
Isis and Dracul and Qonzilqointec
The Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing lay in his bed in his Paris hotel room.
Suddenly a mysterious and powerful breeze blew open the shuttered windows of his hotel room.
And then flying in through the windows in a lovely red dress was the Egyptian vampiress Isis.
"Dracul, darling," she embraced the vampire hunter on his bed and then took him over her knee and spanked him.
She then made wild passionate love to him.
And then she said, "The winds of change are blowing over the world more fiercely than at any point in its previous history."
And then she flew out the window.
The shutters mysteriously shut behind her.
"Well, that certainly felt great," Dracul thought to himself.
Just then another powerful breeze blew open the window.
And this time the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec flew in through the window.
She too was wearing a lovely red dress.
"Dracul, my dearest," she ran to embrace him.
Then she too took the naked Dracul over her knee and spanked him.
Then she also made wild passionate love to him.
Finally she kissed him passionately on the lips (as Isis had done before) and said, "The winds of change are blowing over the world more fiercely than at any point in its previous history."
Dracul was beginning to develop a sense of deja vu about the whole experience.
Qonzilqointec flew out the window.
The shutters mysteriously shut behind her.
And so Dracul Van Helsing vampire hunter, cum laude graduate in Philosophy and geopolitical analyst lay in bed and drifted into a deep and pleasant sleep.
Outside in the Paris night sky, the stars in the constellation Orion's belt seemed to shine more brightly than ever.
To be continued.
The Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing lay in his bed in his Paris hotel room.
Suddenly a mysterious and powerful breeze blew open the shuttered windows of his hotel room.
And then flying in through the windows in a lovely red dress was the Egyptian vampiress Isis.
"Dracul, darling," she embraced the vampire hunter on his bed and then took him over her knee and spanked him.
She then made wild passionate love to him.
And then she said, "The winds of change are blowing over the world more fiercely than at any point in its previous history."
And then she flew out the window.
The shutters mysteriously shut behind her.
"Well, that certainly felt great," Dracul thought to himself.
Just then another powerful breeze blew open the window.
And this time the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec flew in through the window.
She too was wearing a lovely red dress.
"Dracul, my dearest," she ran to embrace him.
Then she too took the naked Dracul over her knee and spanked him.
Then she also made wild passionate love to him.
Finally she kissed him passionately on the lips (as Isis had done before) and said, "The winds of change are blowing over the world more fiercely than at any point in its previous history."
Dracul was beginning to develop a sense of deja vu about the whole experience.
Qonzilqointec flew out the window.
The shutters mysteriously shut behind her.
And so Dracul Van Helsing vampire hunter, cum laude graduate in Philosophy and geopolitical analyst lay in bed and drifted into a deep and pleasant sleep.
Outside in the Paris night sky, the stars in the constellation Orion's belt seemed to shine more brightly than ever.
To be continued.
Sunday, March 6, 2011
Isis and Solomon
Tonight as the Egyptian vampiress Isis stood in her silk lingerie nightdress in her penthouse atop a tall Parisienne apartment building, she looked out at the Paris skyline and her mind drifted back millenia ago to the ancient City of Jerusalem.
"Solomon," the sultry but lilting feminine voice spoke to the young Israeli monarch who stood by one of Jerusalem's babbling brooks on this calm moonlit night.
The young king gazed in the direction of the stunning beautiful vampiress who was arrayed in a lovely red gown.
"Do I know you?" Solomon asked.
"I am Wisdom," Isis approached him with her seductive smile trying hard not to sneer as she spoke those words.
"Wisdom?" Solomon blinked.
"Did you not ask The Lord your God for wisdom?" Isis approached baring her fangs.
"Yes, but..." Solomon could not finish his sentence as he gazed upon this sensuous apparition of the night.
"Well, here I am," she laughed.
She approached and loosened the rope around his robe letting it fall to the ground.
She bit him on the lips with her fangs and then pushed him back to the ground.
She then mounted him.
* * *
Some time later outside the court of King Hiram I of Tyre, the Vampiress Isis stood with her husband the Vampire Osiris who was not in such great shape.
"You all right?" she looked with concern at her husband, lover and brother.
"To have been chopped into 14 pieces once and to have one's phallus cut off is not something one ever recovers from," Osiris noted wryly.
Osiris had been dismembered by his brother Set.
His brother had never forgiven Osiris for their sister Isis choosing to marry him Osiris rather than he Set.
Set then scattered his brother Osiris' parts throughout the Land of Egypt.
Isis managed to retrieve and collect all 14 parts of Osiris except his phallus.
She put the parts back together again and using a piece of wood for his phallus- she used a spell from the Egyptian Book of the Dead to bring Osiris back to life.
Using another magical spell- this one an ancient Mesopotamian magical spell- she managed to enflesh Osiris' wooden phallus temporarily one night and impregnate herself.
She then gave birth to Horus 9 months later.
But Osiris had never really truly been himself since his bodily dismemberment.
So Isis managed to send a message to the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith the world's first vampiress and asked her to turn Osiris into a vampiric immortal.
This Lilith graciously did.
And at Isis' request, Lilith turned her Isis into a vampiric immortal as well.
Later when Isis' son Horus reached the age of 21, Lilith turned him into a vampiric immortal as well at Isis' request.
When Set heard the news that Isis, Osiris and Horus had become vampiric immortals, he too wanted a piece of the action.
And he got it by giving the nymphomaniac Vampiress Lilith a piece of tail.
"My piece I give you," Set said as he mounted her, "not as the world gives but I give."
He entered her sacred temple and she bit him on the neck.
And this act of tantric sex would change the cosmos over Egypt.
* * *
"What are we to do?" Osiris asked Isis.
"We must abide for awhile in another land," Isis said.
And to Tyre they went where Osiris posed as an architect named Hiram Abiff.
And in Tyre, Isis had come to hear of the young King Solomon and the mysterious god that Solomon worshipped- a god who had no idol of himself- the god known as Yahweh.
When Solomon asked his friend and ally KIng Hiram of Tyre for wood and craftsmen in building his temple to his god, Hiram sent him cedar and Hiram Abiff.
That is why Isis slept with Solomon before the Temple was to be built.
For she wanted this Temple for Yahweh to become a temple to her and Osiris- a temple through which they would eventually challenge Set for mastery of the cosmos.
And in Egypt, Set's spies reported back to him.
And Set sent three ruffians to murder Hiram Abiff.
And again the slain Osiris was once again resurrected.
And Osiris as Hiram Abiff built Solomon his temple.
And Isis once again slept with Solomon the night the Temple was dedicated in 953 B.C.
She then arranged for Solomon to sleep with her good friend the Phoenician vampiress Ashtoreth.
Through carnal relations with vampiresses and through his many foreign-born wives (including the daughter of Pharaoh) and foreign-born concubines, Solomon came to serve other gods besides Yahweh.
Isis smiled as she recalled all this in her Parisienne penthouse apartment.
Through sex, the man called the "wisest man who ever lived" had become her slave.
And now in this new century and this new millennium, she would find new slaves and new rulers to do her bidding.
To be continued.
"Solomon," the sultry but lilting feminine voice spoke to the young Israeli monarch who stood by one of Jerusalem's babbling brooks on this calm moonlit night.
The young king gazed in the direction of the stunning beautiful vampiress who was arrayed in a lovely red gown.
"Do I know you?" Solomon asked.
"I am Wisdom," Isis approached him with her seductive smile trying hard not to sneer as she spoke those words.
"Wisdom?" Solomon blinked.
"Did you not ask The Lord your God for wisdom?" Isis approached baring her fangs.
"Yes, but..." Solomon could not finish his sentence as he gazed upon this sensuous apparition of the night.
"Well, here I am," she laughed.
She approached and loosened the rope around his robe letting it fall to the ground.
She bit him on the lips with her fangs and then pushed him back to the ground.
She then mounted him.
* * *
Some time later outside the court of King Hiram I of Tyre, the Vampiress Isis stood with her husband the Vampire Osiris who was not in such great shape.
"You all right?" she looked with concern at her husband, lover and brother.
"To have been chopped into 14 pieces once and to have one's phallus cut off is not something one ever recovers from," Osiris noted wryly.
Osiris had been dismembered by his brother Set.
His brother had never forgiven Osiris for their sister Isis choosing to marry him Osiris rather than he Set.
Set then scattered his brother Osiris' parts throughout the Land of Egypt.
Isis managed to retrieve and collect all 14 parts of Osiris except his phallus.
She put the parts back together again and using a piece of wood for his phallus- she used a spell from the Egyptian Book of the Dead to bring Osiris back to life.
Using another magical spell- this one an ancient Mesopotamian magical spell- she managed to enflesh Osiris' wooden phallus temporarily one night and impregnate herself.
She then gave birth to Horus 9 months later.
But Osiris had never really truly been himself since his bodily dismemberment.
So Isis managed to send a message to the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith the world's first vampiress and asked her to turn Osiris into a vampiric immortal.
This Lilith graciously did.
And at Isis' request, Lilith turned her Isis into a vampiric immortal as well.
Later when Isis' son Horus reached the age of 21, Lilith turned him into a vampiric immortal as well at Isis' request.
When Set heard the news that Isis, Osiris and Horus had become vampiric immortals, he too wanted a piece of the action.
And he got it by giving the nymphomaniac Vampiress Lilith a piece of tail.
"My piece I give you," Set said as he mounted her, "not as the world gives but I give."
He entered her sacred temple and she bit him on the neck.
And this act of tantric sex would change the cosmos over Egypt.
* * *
"What are we to do?" Osiris asked Isis.
"We must abide for awhile in another land," Isis said.
And to Tyre they went where Osiris posed as an architect named Hiram Abiff.
And in Tyre, Isis had come to hear of the young King Solomon and the mysterious god that Solomon worshipped- a god who had no idol of himself- the god known as Yahweh.
When Solomon asked his friend and ally KIng Hiram of Tyre for wood and craftsmen in building his temple to his god, Hiram sent him cedar and Hiram Abiff.
That is why Isis slept with Solomon before the Temple was to be built.
For she wanted this Temple for Yahweh to become a temple to her and Osiris- a temple through which they would eventually challenge Set for mastery of the cosmos.
And in Egypt, Set's spies reported back to him.
And Set sent three ruffians to murder Hiram Abiff.
And again the slain Osiris was once again resurrected.
And Osiris as Hiram Abiff built Solomon his temple.
And Isis once again slept with Solomon the night the Temple was dedicated in 953 B.C.
She then arranged for Solomon to sleep with her good friend the Phoenician vampiress Ashtoreth.
Through carnal relations with vampiresses and through his many foreign-born wives (including the daughter of Pharaoh) and foreign-born concubines, Solomon came to serve other gods besides Yahweh.
Isis smiled as she recalled all this in her Parisienne penthouse apartment.
Through sex, the man called the "wisest man who ever lived" had become her slave.
And now in this new century and this new millennium, she would find new slaves and new rulers to do her bidding.
To be continued.
Monday, February 28, 2011
Radio Broadcast From The Future
"Hello Colin," Renfield spoke on the phone, "this is Renfield R. Renfield. I don't know if you remember me or not but I was the one who swiped your tuna fish sandwich on the set of The King's Speech that same day I also made fun of your stutter because I thought it was real... anyhow congratulations on winning the Best Actor Award for your portrayal of King George VI... but... anyhow the real reason I'm calling is I was wondering if you got an invitation to attend Prince William and Kate Middleton's wedding. Because if you did I'm willing to exchange an autographed photo of Helena Bonham Carter that says "Dear Rennie..." in exchange for the Royal Wedding invitation... hello? hello?".
"Someone else hang up on you again?" Amadeus looked up from his copy of a Superman comic book.
"Hm, yes," Renfield nodded, "anyhow back to the experiment."
Both Renfield and Amadeus were in the Set Laboratories' Lab where Renfield was conducting an experiment with Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster- a lobster who had been genetically engineered by Set Laboratories' chief scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher to have enhanced psychic abilities. Indeed Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had, along with Germany's Paul the Psychic Octopus, correctly predicted Spain's win in the World Cup Final in South Africa last year.
"What sort of experiment are you doing with Michelangelo?" Amadeus asked as he bit into an apple.
"Well I was reading in this American newspaper," Renfield held up a copy of The National Enquirer, "that some quantum physicist I had never heard of before at some university I had never heard of before was making the claim that some psychics have the ability to pick up radio broadcasts and TV show signals from the future..."
"So you're looking to pick up a radio broadcast or a TV show signal from the future?" Amadeus asked as he reached into a box marked Chocolate Covered Nuts whereupon he visualized Renfield covered in chocolate.
"Yes," Renfield grinned, "many people are afraid that the world may end on December 21st, 2012 just because the Mayans ended their calendar on December 21st, 2012. So I've asked Michelangelo here to concentrate his mind on today's date February 28th two years hence- February 28th 2013- which would be a couple of months after December 21st, 2012. And if his mind is able to receive a radio broadcast or a TV show signal from that date- we will know the world won't have ended."
Amadeus reached into his pocket, pulled out a harmonica and started playing the theme music from the old TV show The Twilight Zone.
"Quiet, Amadeus," said Renfield who had wires hooked up to Michelangelo's head and the wires were attached to a computer, "there's something coming through now. Michelangelo has picked up something."
Renfield turned up the sound.
A voice spoke through the computer... "Here's the news for February 28th, 2013..."
Renfield asked, "Did you get the date there, Amadeus?".
Amadeus helped himself to a box of figs and replied, "Not really."
"and in other news... " the radio announcer from the future spoke, "Hollywood insiders and the outside world are still trying to recover from this morning's shocking announcement about the impending wedding in the Bahamas between Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan..."
"Good God," Renfield's face turned ashen white, "it is the end of the world..."
To be continued.
"Someone else hang up on you again?" Amadeus looked up from his copy of a Superman comic book.
"Hm, yes," Renfield nodded, "anyhow back to the experiment."
Both Renfield and Amadeus were in the Set Laboratories' Lab where Renfield was conducting an experiment with Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster- a lobster who had been genetically engineered by Set Laboratories' chief scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher to have enhanced psychic abilities. Indeed Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had, along with Germany's Paul the Psychic Octopus, correctly predicted Spain's win in the World Cup Final in South Africa last year.
"What sort of experiment are you doing with Michelangelo?" Amadeus asked as he bit into an apple.
"Well I was reading in this American newspaper," Renfield held up a copy of The National Enquirer, "that some quantum physicist I had never heard of before at some university I had never heard of before was making the claim that some psychics have the ability to pick up radio broadcasts and TV show signals from the future..."
"So you're looking to pick up a radio broadcast or a TV show signal from the future?" Amadeus asked as he reached into a box marked Chocolate Covered Nuts whereupon he visualized Renfield covered in chocolate.
"Yes," Renfield grinned, "many people are afraid that the world may end on December 21st, 2012 just because the Mayans ended their calendar on December 21st, 2012. So I've asked Michelangelo here to concentrate his mind on today's date February 28th two years hence- February 28th 2013- which would be a couple of months after December 21st, 2012. And if his mind is able to receive a radio broadcast or a TV show signal from that date- we will know the world won't have ended."
Amadeus reached into his pocket, pulled out a harmonica and started playing the theme music from the old TV show The Twilight Zone.
"Quiet, Amadeus," said Renfield who had wires hooked up to Michelangelo's head and the wires were attached to a computer, "there's something coming through now. Michelangelo has picked up something."
Renfield turned up the sound.
A voice spoke through the computer... "Here's the news for February 28th, 2013..."
Renfield asked, "Did you get the date there, Amadeus?".
Amadeus helped himself to a box of figs and replied, "Not really."
"and in other news... " the radio announcer from the future spoke, "Hollywood insiders and the outside world are still trying to recover from this morning's shocking announcement about the impending wedding in the Bahamas between Charlie Sheen and Lindsay Lohan..."
"Good God," Renfield's face turned ashen white, "it is the end of the world..."
To be continued.
Thursday, February 24, 2011
Stake In The Heart On Saint Matthias' Day
Rex Saturn had lived a long time.
He had been born in Los Angeles back in 1900.
He became a part of LA's beginning film industry back in 1921.
He had worked as an actor in both silent and talkies (never any big parts) throughout the '20s and '30s.
Then starting in 1942, he went behind the scenes as an anonymous financial backer for various movies.
No one knew where his money had come from.
The truth was he had become a vampire back on February 24th 1942- 69 years ago tonight- in Los Angeles.
He had been turned into a vampire by the Aztec Vampire Princess Qonzilqointec.
She had made him an offer- immortality for becoming her tool in the Hollywood film industry.
And now 69 years later- he had come to the conclusion that immortality wasn't all that it was cracked up to be- at least living a vampiric existence of immortality anyways.
And so Rex Saturn stood there this evening looking at the white picket fence of a quaint little house in Los Angeles.
He had never lived in a quaint little house with a white picket fence.
When he was poor, he had always lived in apartments.
When he became rich, he always lived in mansions.
Anyways one of the posts of the white picket fence made for a nice wooden stake.
He jumped out of a tree and impaled himself on the post.
His body then immediately disintegrated as its vampiric blood left it.
* * *
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec was dining in an exclusive restaurant in downtown Los Angeles.
She wore a pale green evening dress, a diamond tiara and a diamond necklace.
She sat there waiting for Rex Saturn to show up.
She was to meet him this evening and they were to discuss plans on what Hollywood productions she would be financing over the next year.
She noticed her chauffeur approach.
Why was Rex not with him?
"Your Highness," the chauffeur bowed, "I have some bad news. As I was driving to go pick up Mr. Saturn, I noticed he deliberately jumped out of a tree and impaled himself on a white picket fence. He's now nothing but dust."
"That traitor," the vampiress banged her pale green gloved fist on the table, "after all I did for him too."
* * *
In a tent just outside the Libyan capital of Tripoli, British MP Magog Rhys Petley was waiting to meet Libyan leader Col. Muammar Gaddafi.
He was ushered into the tent just as Col. Gaddafi was trying to strike with his fists at a giant beating human heart suspended in mid-air just in front of him.
"Art thou not fatal vision sensible to feeling as to sight?" Col. Gaddafi addressed the heart just before it disappeared.
Magog Rhys Petley thought to himself that this was the worst performance of Macbeth that he had ever seen.
* * *
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec thought to herself that this was the best performance of Macbeth that she had ever seen.
She had dropped into an amateur theatre company's playhouse near the boundaries of North Hollywood to see if she could find a young actor to replace the now deceased Rex Saturn.
And she had found him.
She smiled.
And delicately licked her vampiric fangs.
She was going to make this young man an offer he couldn't refuse.
To be continued.
He had been born in Los Angeles back in 1900.
He became a part of LA's beginning film industry back in 1921.
He had worked as an actor in both silent and talkies (never any big parts) throughout the '20s and '30s.
Then starting in 1942, he went behind the scenes as an anonymous financial backer for various movies.
No one knew where his money had come from.
The truth was he had become a vampire back on February 24th 1942- 69 years ago tonight- in Los Angeles.
He had been turned into a vampire by the Aztec Vampire Princess Qonzilqointec.
She had made him an offer- immortality for becoming her tool in the Hollywood film industry.
And now 69 years later- he had come to the conclusion that immortality wasn't all that it was cracked up to be- at least living a vampiric existence of immortality anyways.
And so Rex Saturn stood there this evening looking at the white picket fence of a quaint little house in Los Angeles.
He had never lived in a quaint little house with a white picket fence.
When he was poor, he had always lived in apartments.
When he became rich, he always lived in mansions.
Anyways one of the posts of the white picket fence made for a nice wooden stake.
He jumped out of a tree and impaled himself on the post.
His body then immediately disintegrated as its vampiric blood left it.
* * *
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec was dining in an exclusive restaurant in downtown Los Angeles.
She wore a pale green evening dress, a diamond tiara and a diamond necklace.
She sat there waiting for Rex Saturn to show up.
She was to meet him this evening and they were to discuss plans on what Hollywood productions she would be financing over the next year.
She noticed her chauffeur approach.
Why was Rex not with him?
"Your Highness," the chauffeur bowed, "I have some bad news. As I was driving to go pick up Mr. Saturn, I noticed he deliberately jumped out of a tree and impaled himself on a white picket fence. He's now nothing but dust."
"That traitor," the vampiress banged her pale green gloved fist on the table, "after all I did for him too."
* * *
In a tent just outside the Libyan capital of Tripoli, British MP Magog Rhys Petley was waiting to meet Libyan leader Col. Muammar Gaddafi.
He was ushered into the tent just as Col. Gaddafi was trying to strike with his fists at a giant beating human heart suspended in mid-air just in front of him.
"Art thou not fatal vision sensible to feeling as to sight?" Col. Gaddafi addressed the heart just before it disappeared.
Magog Rhys Petley thought to himself that this was the worst performance of Macbeth that he had ever seen.
* * *
The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec thought to herself that this was the best performance of Macbeth that she had ever seen.
She had dropped into an amateur theatre company's playhouse near the boundaries of North Hollywood to see if she could find a young actor to replace the now deceased Rex Saturn.
And she had found him.
She smiled.
And delicately licked her vampiric fangs.
She was going to make this young man an offer he couldn't refuse.
To be continued.
Wednesday, February 23, 2011
Of Werewolves and Che Guevara Bra Cups
"Well," Amadeus remarked as he read the front page newspaper account of Renfield's disastrous performance in front of Prince Charles at the Royal Albert Hall the night before, "it doesn't look like you'll be receiving an invitation to Prince William's and Kate Middleton's wedding now."
"Oh, shut up," Renfield glared at Amadeus.
Amadeus helped himself to his tenth chocolate eclair from a box.
"After the lyrics you wrote for me," Renfield seethed, "I should really take back that box of chocolate eclairs I bought you."
"You didn't ask me to write good lyrics to the theme music from Hawaii Five-O," Amadeus pointed out, "you just asked me to write lyrics."
"I guess you've got a point," Renfield harrumphed.
* * *
Magog Rhys Petley the British Labour Member of Parliament drank another large glass of buttermilk.
Ever since he had been bitten by the demon Rahu shortly after the start of this year and could turn into a werewolf at any time without it being a full moon or even nightime, he had discovered that drinking buttermilk was the only thing that seemed to counteract the werewolf metabolism from overtaking him.
"Why couldn't it be whisky rather than buttermilk that was the antidote?" Magog Rhys Petley mused aloud.
"Good evening, Mr. Rhys Petley," a man entered his office.
"Who are you?" the Welsh MP asked.
"Just call me J.," the man smiled, "I'm the deputy director of MI-6."
"Have you come to see me about the posters of Lenin and Marx I keep on my office wall?" Rhys Petley harrumphed with contempt.
"Hardly," J. shook his head, "seeing as how my crazy teen-aged daughter wears a bra with images of Che Guevara on both cups, I'm hardly going to take you to task over that."
"You know what the trouble with today's country is," Petley Jones finished his buttermilk, "most of today's youth think that Che Guevara was a 1960s rock n' roll star rather than the Communist revolutionary that he was. He fought for the working man and now t-shirts with his picture in London's fashion district even I couldn't afford to buy on my salary."
"Really?" J. frowned, "I'm going to have to look at my daughter's credit card bill when it comes in and see how much she paid for that Che Guevara bra."
"So what are you here about?" Petley Jones asked.
"Well, we're looking for someone to go to Libya and ask Col. Muammar Gaddafi to step down peacefully," J. answered.
"But you must have heard about my recent disastrous meeting with Hosni Mubarak in Cairo," Petley Jones protested, "after all it wasn't me that got Mubarak to step down finally. It was some Paris-based businesswoman called Isis who succeeded in that."
"Exactly your mission failed," J. smiled, "but Her Majesty's government wants to make an attempt at a peaceful conclusion to the unfolding Libyan tragedy. And if you're shot and killed by Gaddafi or one of his bodyguards, it will be no great loss to the country."
"Thanks for the words of encouragement," Petley Jones reached for a bottle of whisky.
"Will you do it?" J. asked.
"Seeing as how I seem to be the only hardcore Marxist left in the entire British Labour Party, what have I got to lose?" Petley Jones shrugged, "who will miss me when I'm gone? No one."
* * *
Petley Jones left the Hall of Westminster and walked through the streets of London feeling sorry for himself.
He happened to pass by a young woman wearing a short skirt and a low-cut top so low that he could see the images of Che Guevara's face on her bra cups.
Petley Jones could feel the werewolf urge now coming on.
He looked across the street and saw the beckoning Big M neon lights of a McDonald's.
Thank God, he thought to himself, that McDonald's now sells buttermilk biscuits.
He hurriedly ran across the street to the McDonald's continuing to thank God as he did so.
Forgetting in his heartfelt gratitude that he was a self-professed atheist.
To be continued.
"Oh, shut up," Renfield glared at Amadeus.
Amadeus helped himself to his tenth chocolate eclair from a box.
"After the lyrics you wrote for me," Renfield seethed, "I should really take back that box of chocolate eclairs I bought you."
"You didn't ask me to write good lyrics to the theme music from Hawaii Five-O," Amadeus pointed out, "you just asked me to write lyrics."
"I guess you've got a point," Renfield harrumphed.
* * *
Magog Rhys Petley the British Labour Member of Parliament drank another large glass of buttermilk.
Ever since he had been bitten by the demon Rahu shortly after the start of this year and could turn into a werewolf at any time without it being a full moon or even nightime, he had discovered that drinking buttermilk was the only thing that seemed to counteract the werewolf metabolism from overtaking him.
"Why couldn't it be whisky rather than buttermilk that was the antidote?" Magog Rhys Petley mused aloud.
"Good evening, Mr. Rhys Petley," a man entered his office.
"Who are you?" the Welsh MP asked.
"Just call me J.," the man smiled, "I'm the deputy director of MI-6."
"Have you come to see me about the posters of Lenin and Marx I keep on my office wall?" Rhys Petley harrumphed with contempt.
"Hardly," J. shook his head, "seeing as how my crazy teen-aged daughter wears a bra with images of Che Guevara on both cups, I'm hardly going to take you to task over that."
"You know what the trouble with today's country is," Petley Jones finished his buttermilk, "most of today's youth think that Che Guevara was a 1960s rock n' roll star rather than the Communist revolutionary that he was. He fought for the working man and now t-shirts with his picture in London's fashion district even I couldn't afford to buy on my salary."
"Really?" J. frowned, "I'm going to have to look at my daughter's credit card bill when it comes in and see how much she paid for that Che Guevara bra."
"So what are you here about?" Petley Jones asked.
"Well, we're looking for someone to go to Libya and ask Col. Muammar Gaddafi to step down peacefully," J. answered.
"But you must have heard about my recent disastrous meeting with Hosni Mubarak in Cairo," Petley Jones protested, "after all it wasn't me that got Mubarak to step down finally. It was some Paris-based businesswoman called Isis who succeeded in that."
"Exactly your mission failed," J. smiled, "but Her Majesty's government wants to make an attempt at a peaceful conclusion to the unfolding Libyan tragedy. And if you're shot and killed by Gaddafi or one of his bodyguards, it will be no great loss to the country."
"Thanks for the words of encouragement," Petley Jones reached for a bottle of whisky.
"Will you do it?" J. asked.
"Seeing as how I seem to be the only hardcore Marxist left in the entire British Labour Party, what have I got to lose?" Petley Jones shrugged, "who will miss me when I'm gone? No one."
* * *
Petley Jones left the Hall of Westminster and walked through the streets of London feeling sorry for himself.
He happened to pass by a young woman wearing a short skirt and a low-cut top so low that he could see the images of Che Guevara's face on her bra cups.
Petley Jones could feel the werewolf urge now coming on.
He looked across the street and saw the beckoning Big M neon lights of a McDonald's.
Thank God, he thought to himself, that McDonald's now sells buttermilk biscuits.
He hurriedly ran across the street to the McDonald's continuing to thank God as he did so.
Forgetting in his heartfelt gratitude that he was a self-professed atheist.
To be continued.
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