Fenrir The Wolf And The Hell There Is
Fenrir saw another pathetically ugly woman- this one with a misshapen pug nose like a pug dog would have.
When she left the convenience store, Fenrir summoned the panther entity Konalu from his psyche.
The panther Konalu sprang on to the ugly looking redhead and tore her apart.
Fenrir continued on his way.
He decided to revert to his human form.
The wolf shapeshifted into a man.
As he walked down the sidewalk, another man came from another direction.
The two brushed against one another.
The man shapeshifted back into his natural form Fenrir the Wolf.
He sprang on to the man and tore him apart.
He then continued down the sidewalk- but remained in the shape of a wolf.
He passed a furniture and appliance store where in the window the TV was on and one of Satan’s biggest useful idiots the retired U.S. Episcopalian Bishop John Shelby Spong was telling the interviewer that there was no such place as Hell.
The wolf hound from the place that didn’t exist (according to Bishop Spong) continued on down the street.
To be continued.
Fenrir The Wolf and Konalu The Panther
Twirling and twirling the snow blew.
Like a huge vortex of moving blinding white, it moved like a tornado in a prairie dust bowl save this was the snow white ground of Merrie England.
The snow stopped outside the old ancient village of stone houses.
The vortex of twirling snow stopped and stepping out of it like a figure emerging from a phone booth was the wolf Fenrir.
Fenrir- the monstrously hellish wolf of Norse mythology, the son of the evil demonic trickster god Loki, the father of the wolves Skoll and Hati, the biter off of the right hand of the Norse god Tyr and the prophesied slayer of the Norse god Odin during the cosmic end times battle of Ragnarok.
Such are the once and future accomplishments of the wolf Fenrir.
Fenrir entered the village and outside the stone post office of the village was confronted by the sight of a fat pathetically ugly woman.
And most shockingly of all the fat pathetic ugly woman had a baby in a stroller with her.
If the shapeshifting hamster Renfield R. Renfield had been around, he’d have most likely quipped, “Who the Hell would want to fuck that?”.
Amadeus Emanon if he had been there might have said, “Maybe she has a great personality.”
To which Renfield would have shrewdly replied, “Yes but one can’t fuck a personality- at least not in a bodily sexual sense.”
Fenrir called upon the panther Konalu- an astrally produced panther created by a far advanced psychic beam projected externally from the wolf’s powerful psyche.
The panther Konalu ripped the fat pathetic ugly looking woman to pieces.
That way Fenrir didn’t have to touch the piece of garbage.
Fenrir then directed the panther to rip the baby apart which it did.
Fenrir then continued down the snow swept street.
He was confronted by the sight of five drunken university students stumbling out of the village pub where they had stopped to imbibe on their way back to their university town from an overnight excursion they had taken to London.
The five were stumbling their way back to a small Volkswagen.
The BBC’s public service broadcasts in which American actress Lindsay Lohan urged the British people not to drink and drive had obviously been lost on the five sobriety challenged idiots.
But like an ancient and yet so modern champion of People Against Impaired Driving, the wolf Fenrir jumped upon the five drunken youths and tore them apart limb from limb ripping them apart with his huge lupine jowls.
He then ate the remaining pieces of the five youths- flesh, bones, eyeballs and all.
Fenrir then emitted what sounded like a cross between a loud belch and a huge growl.
Fenrir’s blood alcohol level in his his huge lupine body had gone up considerably since gorging on the five drunken imbeciles.
He stumbled along the road outside the village.
A school bus that was driving a bunch of girls and their mothers from a nearby girls’ choral competition and concert came along the road.
The school bus driver was still feeling bad over having run over and killed a small dog on the road that morning.
As soon as he saw the wolf Fenrir and mistaking the wolf for a large dog, the bus driver hit the brakes causing the bus to swerve and go off the road into an ice bound creek breaking the ice.
The screams of the young girls and their mothers disturbed the wolf Fenrir’s highly sensitive hearing.
Fenrir despite his drunken stupor was still able to call upon and emit the panther Konalu from his psyche.
The panther Konalu dove into the icy water and ripped the screaming girls and their mothers to shreds.
The sound of flesh being ripped apart was music to Fenrir’s ears.
To be continued.
Werewolf On The Road To Damascus Part 2
Magog Rhys Petley was meeting with Syrian President Bashar Assad in the Presidential Palace in Damascus.
“Mr. President,” Rhys Petley pulled a letter from out of his pocket, “I’m here to give you a highly confidential message from the British government…”
“First, I must tell you there are no human rights violations or mass killings going on in Syria,” Bashar Assad wagged his finger at Magog Rhys Petley.
Outside could be heard the sounds of machine gun fire and the voices of men, women and children screaming in unison, “I’ve been shot… I’ve just been shot…”
Suddenly the Syro-Phoenician vampiress Astarte appeared from behind the curtains wearing only a see-through black silk lingerie nightie and did a quiet dance for Magog Rhys Petley’s viewing pleasure.
Magog Rhys Petley felt a huge erection coming on.
Not to mention the fact that whenever he was sexually aroused, he turned into a werewolf.
Within seconds, Rhys Petley had grown fur and was crawling around on all fours and snarling and growling.
“A werewolf,” President Assad screamed, “the British government has sent a werewolf to kill me.”
Quickly Assad’s Presidential bodyguard formed a circle around him to protect him from said werewolf.
* * *
BBC News Announcer: This just in. The Arab news service al-Jazeera is reporting that the Syrian government is making the bizarre claim that British Intelligence sent a werewolf to kill Syrian President Bashar Assad.
To be continued.
Lunar Vampire In Iran and Werewolf On The Road To Damascus
Interpol’s paranormal investigator Peter Whitstable was having a glass of wine with vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing in a Paris cafe.
“So Dracul, did you hear about Renfield R. Renfield stealing a classified document from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia?” Whitstable asked.
“I did,” Van Helsing nodded.
“And are you aware of the contents of that document?” Whitstable inquired.
“It relates how the Apollo 11 astronauts found a vampire in suspended animation in a coffin on the moon and were ordered by NASA to bring the coffin and vampire back to Earth,” Van Helsing answered.
“Do you know what ever became of that vampire?” Whitstable wanted to know, “no one seems to know.”
“Well it was aroused from its state of suspended animation and escaped and fled to Iran,” Van Helsing replied.
“Iran?” Whitstable’s ears perked up, “what happened to it there?”.
“It or he if you prefer now serves as an advisor to Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad,” Van Helsing stated.
“To Ahmadinejad?” Whistable’s jaw dropped.
“Yes, Ahmadinejad believes this vampire is the Imam Mahdi,” Van Helsing sipped his wine and gazed through the cafe window at the Eiffel Tower.
“The Twelfth Imam of Shia prophecy?” Whitstable blinked.
“That’s right,” Van Helsing noticed the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec standing in a red dress on the Eiffel Tower.
“And what does this vampire posing as the Imam Mahdi want?” Whitstable downed the rest of his wine in a single gulp.
“Nuclear war against Israel and the U.S.,” Van Helsing answered.
“Good Lord,” Whitstable whispered.
* * *
Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was attending an art show at an exclusive art gallery in London.
Rhys Petley often attended these functions- as an MP he was of course immediately let in- but he did not attend because he was an art connoisseur.
Rather he attended because of the free wine and cheese served at these functions.
Magog Rhys Petley loved wine and cheese.
But he didn’t like paying for them.
As Rhys Petley entered the gallery’s exclusive entrance he passed a lone Occupy London protestor holding up a sign outside the gallery saying “We are the 1%.”
Inside the gallery, Rhys Petley felt an arm on his shoulder.
He turned and was surprised to see that it was Charles Prince of Wales holding a glass of wine and a slice of cheese.
What was Prince Charles doing greeting him?
He Magog Rhys Petley was a staunch republican and rabid anti-monarchist.
“Magog,” the Prince smiled.
“Er… your Highness,” Rhys Petley blurted, “congratulations on your 63rd birthday.”
Prince Charles had just turned 63 this past Monday November 14th.
“Don’t remind me of my age,” the Prince shook his head, “if I was a common man, I could look forward to retirement in another couple of years.”
“Heavy is the head that wears the crown-in-waiting,” Rhys Petley nodded sympathetically.
“I’ve kept abreast of your activities this year, you know,” Charles helped himself to a smoked oyster on a cracker, “your meeting with Silvio Berlusconi on a British trade mission to Italy, your going to Cairo to ask then Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak to immediately step down before any protestors were killed and your going to Libya to ask Col. Muammar Gaddafi to step down and leave Libya to prevent civil war.”
“All those missions were failures,” noted Magog Rhys Petley who failed to grab an oyster on a cracker before the French maid looking waitress carrying the tray walked away.
“But to succeed at failure,” Prince Charles smiled, “surely that’s a success of sorts?”.
“I suppose if you put it that way it is,” Rhys Petley agreed.
“Anyways I was wondering if you’d undertake a mission for me on behalf of the British government,” Charles reached for a strawberry underneath the small statue of Diana of the Ephesians, “a mission where I hope you’ll succeed. I want you to go to Damascus and ask Syrian President Bashar Assad to step down before any more of his countrymen are killed. Tell him to go into exile in Iran.”
“Um….” Magog Rhys Petley didn’t know what to say so he finally said, “Okay.”
He looked at the prince and then noticed the curious juxtaposition of the statue of Diana of the Ephesians against the background of an oil painting of a Paris tunnel.
He noticed Diana’s statue seemed to be urinating champagne on the prince just as Camilla came over to greet the duo.
To be continued.
Magog Rhys Petley, Silvio Berlusconi and Fenrir
Welsh Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was asleep in his room in London.
The phone rang.
He picked up the receiver.
It was former Italian Prime Minister Silvio Berlusconi who had just resigned as Prime Minister of Italy hours earlier.
“Hello old friend,” Berlusconi said, “just wanted you to know that I’ve resigned.”
“Old friend?” Magog Rhys Petley was confused, “but we only met once. And you’re a monopolistic capitalist businessman while I’m a former union leader not to mention an openly Marxist far-Left member of the British Labour Party.”
“Yes but seeing as how we had such a fun time at that bunga-bunga party of mine which you attended earlier this year,” Berlusconi laughed, “I now consider you an old friend despite our radical political differences.”
Magog Rhys Petley’s cheeks turned red when he thought of what he had done at that “bunga-bunga” party of Berlusconi’s.
They talked for a while and then Berlusconi wished Rhys Petley a good night.
As Rhys Petley put the phone down, he thought he noticed a wolf’s shadow appearing on the moonlit corner of his darkened bedroom.
Rhys Petley ran over to the mirror fearing that he was once again turning into a werewolf.
But he wasn’t.
Rhys Petley breathed a sigh of relief.
* * *
Outside on the streets of London, that ancient Norse wolf Fenrir walked the streets and avenues casting a huge gigantic shadow as he walked.
For the drumbeats of Ragnarok were sounding.
To be continued.
The 11-11-11 Massacre At The Nocturnal Club
It was 11:11 PM at the Nocturnal Club- a nightclub for vampires and vampiresses.
The cloak check girl at the desk looked at the gentleman with moustache and glasses.
She didn’t really recognize him.
He must be new to the vampiric lifestyle she figured.
He didn’t really have a reference for entering the club.
But she admired the man’s gold cufflinks.
And today’s date was 11-11-11: a day that only happened once a century.
So why not let him in to the Club’s 11-11-11 party?
The man entered the club and looked around at all the vampires and vampiresses dancing.
Suddenly the man ripped off his moustache and threw the glasses to the floor.
From underneath his jacket he pulled out a semi-automatic Crossbow loaded with Holy Water blessed silver arrows.
“Dracul Van Helsing!” the vampires and vampiresses shouted to their horror.
Van Helsing began firing in all directions.
Vampire hit the floor.
Vampiress hit the floor.
All vanished into dust.
When it was all over, the club was empty save for the figure of the Vampire Hunter.
Van Helsing looked around at the dust and commented, “Looks like this place could use a good sweeping and vacuuming.”
He grabbed his crossbow and walked out into the night.
And the date 11-11-11 would become for vampires and vampiresses what 9/11 was for the American people and what February 14th 1929 was for prohibition era gangsters.
To be continued.
Sauerkraut 1, Greek Olives 0
Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was back in London after spending a week in an Italian jail for running naked through Pope Benedict XVI’s Inter-Faith Prayer For Peace Conference back on the 27th of last Month.
The Italian judge refused to buy Rhys Petley’s claim that he had been temporarily possessed by the demon Moloch at the time.
The judge asked Rhys Petley, “How can you an atheistic Marxist believe in demons?”.
Magog Rhys Petley had no answer for him.
While taking a taxi through London, he noticed Renfield R. Renfield being released from jail.
Renfield had spent a night in the drunk tank for having sung a Katy Perry song outside Buckingham Palace.
“This world is getting curiouser and curiouser,” he remarked to himself in the back of the taxi.
* * *
Inspector Depp of Scotland Yard said to himself, “This world is getting curiouser and curiouser.”
He had just received an email from the eccentric Interpol agent Peter Whitstable called by some “the Fox Mulder of Interpol” saying that the reason that Greek Prime Minister George Papandreou had scrapped his plans for a referendum on the proposed EU bail-out of Greece and the resulting austerity measures for the country was because the ancient Germanic vampire Wotan had just beaten the Greek vampire Zeus in a game of chess.
Zeus had protested that he lost the match because he was distracted by the short skirted Russian girl who was going around holding placards that announced each round of the chess match.
Such protests fell on Wotan’s deaf ears along with the contents of Zeus’ glass of Greek Ouzo which fell on Wotan’s blind eye.
To be continued.
Renfield Gets Into The Tuak
“What are you drinking there, Amadeus?” Renfield asked when he noticed Amadeus sipping from a bottle.
There were several other bottles of similar shape and size all unopened.
“It’s called Tuak and it’s considered a drink of hospitality among the Iban in the Malaysian province of Sarawak,” Amadeus replied.
“I thought the boss told you to quit sampling things Malaysian,” Renfield frowned.
“Don’t worry,” Amadeus smiled, “Tuak isn’t as expensive as Empurau fish.”
“Hm, maybe I should try a swig,” Renfield opened a bottle of Tuak and started downing the liquid in a single gulp.
“Careful,” Amadeus cautioned, “that Tuak has a high concentration of alcohol. You might start doing silly things.”
“Nonsense,” Renfield waved him off, “I can handle it.”
* * *
Several hours later on the BBC Evening News on TV, the announcer announces,
“And in other news, Mr. Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence for Set Enterprises Ltd. was arrested outside Buckingham Palace earlier tonight where he was caught loudly singing a Katy Perry song much to the displeasure of Her Majesty’s ear drums… here’s the video…”
Renfield (being led away in police handcuffs and loudly singing):
I kissed a girl and I liked it
The taste of her cherry chapstick
I kissed a girl just to try it
I hope my boyfriend don’t mind it
It felt so wrong
It felt so right…
Athelstan the valet to the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set remarked to Amadeus, “I’m afraid Master Renfield will never be able to live this down…”
To be continued.
