The brain of Jack The Ripper had gone missing
among the venomous snakes hissing
in the lab
that's so fab
and belongs to the Vampire Set
who has a cobra for a pet.
Renfield had found the brain you see
while drinking Orange Pekoe tea
he put it in the head of his Were-Zomb-ire
the creature that made London streets so dire.
The Ripper's brain guides the creature
and as a bonus feature
it has werewolf, zombie and vampire DNA
now on Earth there is Hell to pay.
-A poem written by Dracul Van Helsing
this ghoulish Friday night, October 14th 2011.
17 more days until Halloween.
Friday, October 14, 2011
Thursday, October 13, 2011
The Legend of The Headless Motorcyclist
As Dr. Cadbury Rocher the chief scientist at Set Enterprises' lab instructed the leather clad motorcyclist to lift up his arm to receive the needle, a news bulletin broke in on the radio in the lab...
"This just in," the voice of BBC News said, "the infamous Were-Zomb-ire has attacked the Convent of the Order of Nuns of the Immaculate Heart of Our Lady of Fatima just outside London. The convent which had 21 living nuns just prior to the attack now has none..."
"This is what happens when mere amateurs try to practice science," Dr. Cadbury Rocher spat out a sneering reference to the shapeshifting hamster/human Renfield.
"So this shot you're going to give me is going to make me immortal, right doc?" the motorcyclist asked.
"It is or I'm not a member in good standing of the London Transhumanist Association," Dr. Rocher injected the serum, "this needle contains the DNA of a rare variety of fruit recently found growing in a lush valley in northeastern Iraq. I believe this fruit was the one that was growing on the Tree of Life in the Genesis account of the Garden of Eden."
"Wow," the motorcyclist smiled.
* * *
As Jefferson Harley sped on his motorcycle at 400 kilometres per hour down the streets of London, he relished the fact that he was going to live forever thanks to the injection that Dr. Cadbury Rocher had given him.
Harley raced towards the underpass in front of him.
He looked up at the bridge overpass above him.
"What an ugly looking gargoyle," Harley remarked, "I've never really noticed that before. This is what happens when someone tries to incorporate neo-medieval art into post-modern architecture."
The gargoyle who was actually the Were-Zomb-ire sitting atop the bridge was bothered by the noise of the motorcycle.
The Were-Zomb-ire jumped down on top of Jefferson Harley and ripped the motorcyclist's head off.
Since the motorcyclist had been injected with the serum of immortality, both body and head continued to live despite their Were-Zomb-ire enforced separation.
Harley's head was on the roadway pavement screaming, "Help!" Help!".
The headless body of Jefferson Harley continued to speed down the street driving the fast moving Harley-Davidson.
And thus was born the Legend of the Headless Motorcyclist.
To be continued.
"This just in," the voice of BBC News said, "the infamous Were-Zomb-ire has attacked the Convent of the Order of Nuns of the Immaculate Heart of Our Lady of Fatima just outside London. The convent which had 21 living nuns just prior to the attack now has none..."
"This is what happens when mere amateurs try to practice science," Dr. Cadbury Rocher spat out a sneering reference to the shapeshifting hamster/human Renfield.
"So this shot you're going to give me is going to make me immortal, right doc?" the motorcyclist asked.
"It is or I'm not a member in good standing of the London Transhumanist Association," Dr. Rocher injected the serum, "this needle contains the DNA of a rare variety of fruit recently found growing in a lush valley in northeastern Iraq. I believe this fruit was the one that was growing on the Tree of Life in the Genesis account of the Garden of Eden."
"Wow," the motorcyclist smiled.
* * *
As Jefferson Harley sped on his motorcycle at 400 kilometres per hour down the streets of London, he relished the fact that he was going to live forever thanks to the injection that Dr. Cadbury Rocher had given him.
Harley raced towards the underpass in front of him.
He looked up at the bridge overpass above him.
"What an ugly looking gargoyle," Harley remarked, "I've never really noticed that before. This is what happens when someone tries to incorporate neo-medieval art into post-modern architecture."
The gargoyle who was actually the Were-Zomb-ire sitting atop the bridge was bothered by the noise of the motorcycle.
The Were-Zomb-ire jumped down on top of Jefferson Harley and ripped the motorcyclist's head off.
Since the motorcyclist had been injected with the serum of immortality, both body and head continued to live despite their Were-Zomb-ire enforced separation.
Harley's head was on the roadway pavement screaming, "Help!" Help!".
The headless body of Jefferson Harley continued to speed down the street driving the fast moving Harley-Davidson.
And thus was born the Legend of the Headless Motorcyclist.
To be continued.
Tuesday, October 11, 2011
London Swings Like A Pendulum Do
The ArchDruid of Canterbury Dr. Rowan Williams was performing a small wedding ceremony in a chapel inside Saint Paul's Cathedral.
It was the 11th marriage for the 10 times married and divorced Lord Justice Tiebe Sluttingham.
It was the 1st marriage for the 23 year-old escort girl.
"If any one here knows any just cause," the ArchDruid solemnly intoned, "why these two should not be lawfully wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace...."
The Were-Zomb-ire entered the chapel growling and snarling.
"Is someone here raising an objection?" the ArchDruid looked up.
The Were-Zomb-ire fell on top of the would-be groom Lord Justice Sluttingham and started tearing him to pieces.
"I'll take that as a yes," said the ArchDruid.
* * *
"So what's up?" Amadeus asked Renfield between mouthloads of mustard and mayonnaise laiden cold roast beef sandwiches.
"Well," Renfield was hooking up the antenna of the genetically engineered psychic lobster Michelangelo to the computer, "the Boss got an irate phone call from British Prime Minister David Cameron. It seems 10 Downing Street is pissed about my resurrected Were-Zomb-ire causing chaos and havoc throughout the streets of London."
"Really?" Amadeus reached for his bowl of soup and started slurping away.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "so the Boss asked me to use Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster to track down the whereabouts of said Were-Zomb-ire."
Michelangelo kept on looking over at Amadeus and his bowl of soup.
"Hm, Michelangelo seems to be distracted by your eating a bowl of soup for some reason," Renfield remarked, "what type of soup is it by the way?".
"Lobster bisque," Amadeus replied.
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster started freaking out.
To be continued.
It was the 11th marriage for the 10 times married and divorced Lord Justice Tiebe Sluttingham.
It was the 1st marriage for the 23 year-old escort girl.
"If any one here knows any just cause," the ArchDruid solemnly intoned, "why these two should not be lawfully wed, let them speak now or forever hold their peace...."
The Were-Zomb-ire entered the chapel growling and snarling.
"Is someone here raising an objection?" the ArchDruid looked up.
The Were-Zomb-ire fell on top of the would-be groom Lord Justice Sluttingham and started tearing him to pieces.
"I'll take that as a yes," said the ArchDruid.
* * *
"So what's up?" Amadeus asked Renfield between mouthloads of mustard and mayonnaise laiden cold roast beef sandwiches.
"Well," Renfield was hooking up the antenna of the genetically engineered psychic lobster Michelangelo to the computer, "the Boss got an irate phone call from British Prime Minister David Cameron. It seems 10 Downing Street is pissed about my resurrected Were-Zomb-ire causing chaos and havoc throughout the streets of London."
"Really?" Amadeus reached for his bowl of soup and started slurping away.
"Yes," Renfield nodded, "so the Boss asked me to use Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster to track down the whereabouts of said Were-Zomb-ire."
Michelangelo kept on looking over at Amadeus and his bowl of soup.
"Hm, Michelangelo seems to be distracted by your eating a bowl of soup for some reason," Renfield remarked, "what type of soup is it by the way?".
"Lobster bisque," Amadeus replied.
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster started freaking out.
To be continued.
Monday, October 10, 2011
The Coppertop Were-Zomb-ire
As Renfield sat looking depressed over the dead body of his most recent creation the Were-Zomb-ire, the redheaded cyborg Sophia entered the Set Enterprises lab wearing a tight fitting red mini dress, red silk nylons and red super spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.
She was followed by Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell the Executive Vice-President of Aulos Music and Recording Ltd. as well as a TV camera crew.
"What are you doing here?" Renfield asked the sexy and sultry cyborg.
"I'm here to shoot a TV commercial about your dead creation the Were-Zomb-ire," Sophia answered, "my recording manager Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell figures it will help my music career."
"Oh great," Renfield threw up his hands, "first someone posted a blog entry about my creation the Were-Zomb-ire's death at Xanga a site no one cares about (except for C.S. Lewis wannabes with a fetish for boobs and non-butterfly little read unpopular Malaysian bloggers who don't have a fetish for boobs) and now you're going to broadcast my failure to the entire world."
"That's right," Sophia adjusted her nylons and then smiled for the camera.
"Hit it," Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell gave her the thumbs up.
"I'm sitting here with colossal failure Renfield R, Renfield," Sophia smiled engagingly, "whose recent creation the Were-Zomb-ire a creature part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire was killed shortly after it was created. Mr. Renfield, what are your plans for the future?".
"Well, I've been offered the position of Secretary of State in a second Obama Administration for after the next U.S. election...." Renfield tried to smile.
"Let's try fitting your Were-Zomb-ire with a Duracell battery shall we?" Sophia cuts open the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach with a butcher knife and then inserts a Duracell battery and then stitches together the incision with thread and then delivers an electrical charge to the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach.
The Were-Zomb-ire then rises to life again.
"Duracell the Coppertop Battery," Sophia smiles at the camera, "the battery recommended and used by most professional mad scientists."
The Were-Zomb-ire then tears the door off the Set Enterprises lab and sets off to terrorize the City of London.
Amadeus Emanon enters through the now non-existent door of the Set Enterprises lab licking a maple walnut chocolate ice cream cone and remarking, "Hey Renfield, I noticed your Were-Zomb-ire came back to life and just stepped on the Energizer Bunny. It's no longer going and going..."
To be continued.
She was followed by Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell the Executive Vice-President of Aulos Music and Recording Ltd. as well as a TV camera crew.
"What are you doing here?" Renfield asked the sexy and sultry cyborg.
"I'm here to shoot a TV commercial about your dead creation the Were-Zomb-ire," Sophia answered, "my recording manager Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell figures it will help my music career."
"Oh great," Renfield threw up his hands, "first someone posted a blog entry about my creation the Were-Zomb-ire's death at Xanga a site no one cares about (except for C.S. Lewis wannabes with a fetish for boobs and non-butterfly little read unpopular Malaysian bloggers who don't have a fetish for boobs) and now you're going to broadcast my failure to the entire world."
"That's right," Sophia adjusted her nylons and then smiled for the camera.
"Hit it," Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell gave her the thumbs up.
"I'm sitting here with colossal failure Renfield R, Renfield," Sophia smiled engagingly, "whose recent creation the Were-Zomb-ire a creature part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire was killed shortly after it was created. Mr. Renfield, what are your plans for the future?".
"Well, I've been offered the position of Secretary of State in a second Obama Administration for after the next U.S. election...." Renfield tried to smile.
"Let's try fitting your Were-Zomb-ire with a Duracell battery shall we?" Sophia cuts open the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach with a butcher knife and then inserts a Duracell battery and then stitches together the incision with thread and then delivers an electrical charge to the Were-Zomb-ire's stomach.
The Were-Zomb-ire then rises to life again.
"Duracell the Coppertop Battery," Sophia smiles at the camera, "the battery recommended and used by most professional mad scientists."
The Were-Zomb-ire then tears the door off the Set Enterprises lab and sets off to terrorize the City of London.
Amadeus Emanon enters through the now non-existent door of the Set Enterprises lab licking a maple walnut chocolate ice cream cone and remarking, "Hey Renfield, I noticed your Were-Zomb-ire came back to life and just stepped on the Energizer Bunny. It's no longer going and going..."
To be continued.
Saturday, October 8, 2011
October Mists
October mists
increasing darkness
a month of ghosts and ghouls
and pumpkins cruelly carved
their insides cut out
and their shells
left with burning lights
on porches
and in windows.
Headless horsemen
in search of their heads
and horseless headsmen
in search of their horses.
The full moon rises
and werewolves howl
while monsters prowl
as Elvis checks in
at the Heartbreak Hotel.
-A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Saturday evening, October 8th 2011.
increasing darkness
a month of ghosts and ghouls
and pumpkins cruelly carved
their insides cut out
and their shells
left with burning lights
on porches
and in windows.
Headless horsemen
in search of their heads
and horseless headsmen
in search of their horses.
The full moon rises
and werewolves howl
while monsters prowl
as Elvis checks in
at the Heartbreak Hotel.
-A poem written by Christopher Dracul Van Helsing
Saturday evening, October 8th 2011.
Thursday, October 6, 2011
The Were-Zomb-ire
"So, what was it you invited me down to the lab to show me?" Amadeus asked as he ate a large piece of garlic sausage.
"I have created the world's first were-zomb-ire," Renfield laughed an evil laugh.
"What's a were-zomb-ire?" Amadeus checked his Eagle Scout's Iban-English Dictionary to see if he could find the word there.
"It's part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire," Renfield explained, "hence were-zomb-ire."
"How did you create it?" Amadeus took a salt shaker out of his pocket and poured more salt on his garlic sausage.
"I extracted DNA from our Boss who as we know is a vampire, extracted some DNA from Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley and extracted some DNA from that late 19th Century Irish-Canadian boxer Gordon "The Black Irish" Donnelly who as we know was raised from the dead as a zombie a couple of years ago and has subsequently never lost a fight in this century," Renfield boasted, "put all that DNA together in a test tube and shook it while I danced to that old Harry Belafonte song Day-O The Banana Boat Song and now you can see the finished results on the lab table- the world's first were-zomb-ire."
"Can I take a closer look?" Amadeus asked as he raised the blanket covering the creature on the lab table.
"Be my guest," Renfield smiled triumphantly.
* * *
As the pair entered the front door of the London mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set, Renfield had an angry pissed-off look on his face and Amadeus was smiling as he whistled Day-O The Banana Boat Song.
"I take it your were-zomb-ire experiment didn't work out so well, sir," the valet and butler Athelstan remarked as he helped Renfield remove his jacket.
"Harrumph," Renfield walked to his room.
"Well," Amadeus remarked as he ate some hot buttered popcorn he had purchased on his way back from the lab, "I accidently spilled some garlic sausage and salt on the creature. Garlic disagrees with vampires as we know and it turns out salt kills zombies- something I didn't know- I would have thought it would have been hot chili peppers as it is for the rest of us. Then after I spilled the garlic sausage and salt- I took out a bottle of water to quench my thirst- water I had picked up from the fount at Saint Francis Xavier Catholic Church- and I dropped the water on the creature- turned out to be Holy Water. Then when I dropped my contact lens on the floor and couldn't find where it went, I opened the curtain and the window to let in some sunlight which fried the creature and then it turns out the lab's neighbour the Duke of Marlborough was firing silver bullets into the air to protect his gold supply from thieves and one of the silver bullets came in through the window and struck the hairy werewolf face of the creature..."
"Say no more, sir," Athelstan raised his hand, " say no more..."
To be continued.
"I have created the world's first were-zomb-ire," Renfield laughed an evil laugh.
"What's a were-zomb-ire?" Amadeus checked his Eagle Scout's Iban-English Dictionary to see if he could find the word there.
"It's part werewolf, part zombie and part vampire," Renfield explained, "hence were-zomb-ire."
"How did you create it?" Amadeus took a salt shaker out of his pocket and poured more salt on his garlic sausage.
"I extracted DNA from our Boss who as we know is a vampire, extracted some DNA from Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley and extracted some DNA from that late 19th Century Irish-Canadian boxer Gordon "The Black Irish" Donnelly who as we know was raised from the dead as a zombie a couple of years ago and has subsequently never lost a fight in this century," Renfield boasted, "put all that DNA together in a test tube and shook it while I danced to that old Harry Belafonte song Day-O The Banana Boat Song and now you can see the finished results on the lab table- the world's first were-zomb-ire."
"Can I take a closer look?" Amadeus asked as he raised the blanket covering the creature on the lab table.
"Be my guest," Renfield smiled triumphantly.
* * *
As the pair entered the front door of the London mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set, Renfield had an angry pissed-off look on his face and Amadeus was smiling as he whistled Day-O The Banana Boat Song.
"I take it your were-zomb-ire experiment didn't work out so well, sir," the valet and butler Athelstan remarked as he helped Renfield remove his jacket.
"Harrumph," Renfield walked to his room.
"Well," Amadeus remarked as he ate some hot buttered popcorn he had purchased on his way back from the lab, "I accidently spilled some garlic sausage and salt on the creature. Garlic disagrees with vampires as we know and it turns out salt kills zombies- something I didn't know- I would have thought it would have been hot chili peppers as it is for the rest of us. Then after I spilled the garlic sausage and salt- I took out a bottle of water to quench my thirst- water I had picked up from the fount at Saint Francis Xavier Catholic Church- and I dropped the water on the creature- turned out to be Holy Water. Then when I dropped my contact lens on the floor and couldn't find where it went, I opened the curtain and the window to let in some sunlight which fried the creature and then it turns out the lab's neighbour the Duke of Marlborough was firing silver bullets into the air to protect his gold supply from thieves and one of the silver bullets came in through the window and struck the hairy werewolf face of the creature..."
"Say no more, sir," Athelstan raised his hand, " say no more..."
To be continued.
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Renfield The Composer?
"What are you doing?" Amadeus asked Renfield as he ate the 11th of his two dozen chocolate eclairs.
"I'm analyzing the Greek debt situation for the boss," Renfield replied, "plus I just discovered that the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec is apparently behind the Occupy Wall Street protests so I'm doing an analysis of her motives for the boss."
"What are you writing in that music notation book?" Amadeus asked.
"Well in my own humble opinion, I've come to the conclusion that I can be just as great a composer as your namesake and part genetic sire Amadeus Mozart," Renfield answered, "so I'm composing some music."
"I'd hate to see what you'd try to accomplish if you were acting on behalf of your not so humble opinion," Amadeus downed the 12th eclair.
"Exactly," Renfield grinned, "I'm writing a duet for bagpipes and harmonica."
"I think that may be a duet for which the world is not yet prepared," Amadeus paraphrased an allusion Sherlock Holmes once made to the Giant Rat of Sumatra.
To be continued.
"I'm analyzing the Greek debt situation for the boss," Renfield replied, "plus I just discovered that the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec is apparently behind the Occupy Wall Street protests so I'm doing an analysis of her motives for the boss."
"What are you writing in that music notation book?" Amadeus asked.
"Well in my own humble opinion, I've come to the conclusion that I can be just as great a composer as your namesake and part genetic sire Amadeus Mozart," Renfield answered, "so I'm composing some music."
"I'd hate to see what you'd try to accomplish if you were acting on behalf of your not so humble opinion," Amadeus downed the 12th eclair.
"Exactly," Renfield grinned, "I'm writing a duet for bagpipes and harmonica."
"I think that may be a duet for which the world is not yet prepared," Amadeus paraphrased an allusion Sherlock Holmes once made to the Giant Rat of Sumatra.
To be continued.
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