Goo and Gum and Gnashing of Teeth

April 17, 2011 at 9:05 pm (Horror, Humour, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield and Amadeus Emanon are watching the BBC News on television.

“More on our main story on the death of financier Trevor Fontaine later,” the BBC News announcer intoned, “but in other news a body that was found in the street below the hotel where Mr. Fontaine was eaten by grey goo self-replicating nanobots has now been identified. The body that was apparently drained of all its blood has been identified as that of London’s notorious Russian Mafia hitman Dmitri Ibumpuov. Further reports suggest that the night after Mr. Ibumpuov was brought into the Scotland Yard morgue, the body mysteriously disappeared. There are rumours that Mr. Ibumpuov is now a vampire.”

“Wow, a vampire assassin,” Amadeus Emanon munched on his popcorn.

“Might come in handy some day,” Renfield sent a text message to the Assassins For Hire On-Line Employment Bulletin Board that said, “Anybody there called Dmitri Ibumpuov?”.

“Getting back to our main story, authorities still have no idea who created the grey goo self-replicating nanobots that ate Mr. Fontaine,” the BBC announcer said, “and whether it was part of a plot to stop the new global currency that Mr. Fontaine was working on. As for the grey goo self-replicating nanobots themselves, they apparently choked to death trying to eat a huge wad of bubble gum that had been left on the hotel hallway carpet.”

“So it looks like the nanobots you made weren’t so indestructible after all,” Amadeus remarked as he blew a huge bubble with his bubble gum.

“Harrumph,” Renfield snorted.

“And still in other news, eccentric London concert pianist Amadeus Emanon somehow inadvertently wandered into a press conference where the Prince of Wales was lamenting the tragic death of financier Trevor Fontaine… here are some clips from that…”

“You were at a press conference with the Prince of Wales?” Renfield’s ears turned fiery red, “you never told me that.”

On the screen,

Amadeus Emanon: Tell me your Highness, if you found out who it was that created the grey goo self-replicating nanobots that ate Mr. Fontaine, would you invite such a person to your son Prince William’s wedding?

Prince Charles: You must be joking. I didn’t quite catch your name Mr. …?

“Emanon,” Amadeus replied.

“Emanon,” the prince nodded, “and what news outlet are you with?”.

“The Shapeshifting Hamster’s Daily Toilet Paper,” Amadeus answered with a wry smile.

“Never heard of that,” said the Prince of Wales, “I’ll have to check it out sometime. But in answer to your question, no. Not only would the individual who created these grey goo self-replicating nanobots not be invited to my son’s wedding but I would personally see to it that this individual was personally hung, drawn and quartered.”

Renfield looked at the TV screen- in a total state of shock- his face completely drained of all colour.

“In other news,” the BBC News Announcer smiled, “Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II has bestowed a posthumous honourary knighthood on Frank Henry Fleer the world’s first inventor of bubble gum…”

To be continued.

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Trevor Fontaine and The New Global Currency

April 13, 2011 at 10:03 pm (Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Trevor Fontaine felt pleased with himself as he had a glass of champagne in his London hotel room.

He had had a meeting today with several important London financiers.

Tomorrow he would fly home to Paris the home of his company Giza Investments Ltd.

Actually it really wasn’t his company.

It belonged to the Egyptian Vampiress Isis.

But he was the front man for Isis in the world of finance.

This past weekend in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, Fontaine had met with George Soros and other global movers and shakers in the world of finance, industry and government to set the groundwork for a new global currency.

It was this project- an idea highly favoured by his boss the Vampiress Isis- that had led to the stay over in London to brief various important City of London financiers about the project.

* * *

In another hotel room a few blocks away, Prince Suleiman bin Turki of the House of Saud who was 1,666th in line to the Saudi Arabian throne was making plans.

Well Prince Suleiman bin Turki of the House of Saud was always making plans.

He had spent the past two years plotting and trying to figure out how to get rid of the 1,665 people in front of him to the throne.

But now something else had occupied his mind.

He became aware of this new project to establish a new global currency.

But Prince Suleiman bin Turki’s plans for seizing the Saudi throne entailed the U.S. dollar remaining the de facto global currency for the next 5 years.

If a new global currency were introduced before then, this might upset his plans to become King of Saudi Arabia and ultimately the Caliph of the entire Islamic world.

Allah knew that Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad already had it in his own mind to become the Caliph of the entire Islamic world.

But it was Prince Suleiman’s destiny to become Caliph not Ahmadinejad’s or at least so the megalomaniacal Saudi prince figured in his own highly inflated egocentric opinion.

And as such, Suleiman determined that he was going to bump off those promoting the idea of a new global currency.

And he would start with Trevor Fontaine the CEO of Paris-based Giza Investments Ltd.

It had come to Prince Suleiman’s attention that Trevor Fontaine was in London this evening.

And so Suleiman had gone to a seedy area of London’s Soho District to track down an expert assassin and gunman for London’s local branch of the worldwide Russian Mafia.

Dmitri Ibumpuov had been easy to find provided you knew which palms to grease with the current de facto global currency.

After paying Ibumpuov half up-front for the job (the other half would be paid when the job was completed) and giving a photo and the location of the target Trevor Fontaine, Prince Suleiman went back to his own hotel room and started greasing his own palms while he looked at decadent western on-line porn sites of various beautiful women in interesting positions- something he was unable to do in his own native Saudi Arabia.

* * *

Trevor Fontaine sat on the sofa in his suite laughing his head off at an on-line commentary written by U.S. political commentator Glenn Beck.

Suddenly the door was kicked open and a man burst into the room shooting several bullets directly at him.

“You’re not… dead?” the man with a Russian accent stammered in English.

“No, I’m a vampire,” Fontaine smiled and then proceeded to bite the man on the neck draining him of all his blood.

He then opened the window and threw the body down into the street.

“It’s a rather difficult thing to kill me,” Fontaine laughed while looking down at the body, “tonight is not my night to die.”

Those were Fontaine’s last words before he was attacked by grey goo self-replicating nanobots who ate the vampire alive.

* * *

“Eureka! Vengeance is mine!” Renfield R. Renfield laughed with hearty abandon.

“What’s up?” Amadeus looked up from the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he was eating.

“Well remember that fellow Charles Simeon who stole my tuna fish sandwiches two Fridays ago?” Renfield asked, “And how someone killed him before I had the chance to kill him?”.

“Frankly, you’ve never stopped yacking about it,” Amadeus tried his best to do a Clark Gable Rhett Butler impersonation with his mouth full of peanut butter.

“Well I found out who Charles Simeon worked for,” Renfield helped himself to a freshly made tuna fish sandwich, “it was Trevor Fontaine the CEO of Giza Investments Ltd. And I found out Mr. Fontaine was staying in a hotel here in London and so all those grey goo self-replicating nanobots I created in the lab last night I sent to Fontaine’s hotel room earlier this evening and now I’ve just got a report over the Scotland Yard police radio that Fontaine was eaten alive by them. So I’ve killed two birds with one stone. I’ve got my vengeance on the thief who stole my tuna fish sandwiches by killing his employer. And I’ve proved Prince Charles’ theory about grey goo self-replicating nanobots being harmful to be correct. So now Prince Charles will probably invite me to his son’s wedding.”

* * *

Away from the glare of both the British and French news media, Prince Charles was spending a quiet evening in an exclusive Parisienne cafe in the company of a beautiful woman who was wearing a stylishly and classically elegant gold evening dress.

The woman’s name was Isis and unknown to the Prince of Wales, she was a vampiress.

The purpose of the meeting was strictly platonic.

Isis had invited the Prince to discuss an article Trevor Fontaine had written in favour of a new global currency for the Council On Foreign Relations’ Foreign Affairs Magazine.

“An excellent article,” the Prince of Wales said, “I would like to meet its author in person. I really would. This gives me some ideas I’d like to discuss with my country’s Prime Minister David Cameron.”

At that moment, the cafe owner turned up the volume of the cafe’s TV which was set to CNN.

The story was about how Giza Investments Ltd. CEO Trevor Fontaine was eaten alive by grey goo self-replicating nanobots in a London hotel room.

The Vampiress Isis immediately excused herself and ran hurriedly from the cafe in her clicking spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

Once outside in the Paris night air, she emitted a nocturnal scream that seemed to shake the Eiffel Tower itself.

For the man, who in addition to being her front man in the world of finance, was able to successfully channel the spirit of her dead son Horus was now himself dead.

To be continued.

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Grey Goo Self-Replicating Nanobots

April 12, 2011 at 7:57 pm (Horror, Humour, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Amadeus Emanon carefully observed what Renfield R. Renfield was doing in the Set Enterprises Lab.

He decided he had no idea what it was exactly the evil shapeshifting human/hamster was doing.

So he decided to ask him.

“What are you doing, Renfield?” Amadeus asked.

“I’m creating some grey goo self-replicating nano-robots or as some people call them grey goo self-replicating nanobots for short,” Renfield replied.

“I see,” Amadeus took another bite of his hot fudge sundae, “but why?”.

“Well as you know, I’ve been trying to get an invitation to attend Prince William and Kate Middleton’s wedding but as you no doubt have sadly observed I’ve failed in all my attempts to get one,” said Renfield.

“Well actually I’ve observed that but not in a sad fashion,” Amadeus stated in a remark that seemed to piss off Renfield judging from the expression on his face, “so how is creating grey goo self-replicating nanobots going to help you get an invitation to the Royal Wedding?”.

“Well shortly after the start of this century, Prince Charles gave a speech to a group of scientists in which he said that it was his fear that the world might be destroyed by grey goo self-replicating nanobots,” Renfield explained, “he was immediately laughed at by the scientists and was heavily ridiculed in the press. Some even went so far as to say that the prince was off his rocker.”

Renfield showed Amadeus a video of Prince Charles falling off his rocking horse while playing polo in the midst of a group of toy soldiers.

“Now if I can create some grey goo self-replicating nanobots and let them loose somewhere,” Renfield grinned, “this will show the world that the Prince of Wales was right in his warning and His Royal Highness will ask Will and Kate to send me an invitation to their wedding.”

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Amadeus looked at Renfield in a stunned fashion.

The heavens must have already had their opinion because seconds later Renfield fell off his rocking chair.

To be continued.

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The Renfield Rap Song

April 11, 2011 at 9:22 pm (Humour, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , )

My name is Renfield
so ya better yield
I’m a shapeshifter
with hamster whisker
work for a vampire called Set
so you better get
you think today’s Hell on Earth
you ain’t seen nothing yet.

I’m the coolest guy I know
feel free to bask
in my afterglow.
I want an invite to Prince William’s wedding
as well as soft sheets for my bedding.
For sandwiches I like tuna
I’ll knife but not spoon ya.

Better dead than red
though that be the colour
that you bled.

Some folks think I’m a psychopath
killed my teacher when I flunked math
now I may not know the square root of pi
but I sure as Hell know how to make you die.

Now Amadeus thinks I don’t know how to rap
but I say to him, “You’re full of crap”
This here be my song
Simon Cowell put down that gong
you better not gong me
or you’ll be up a tree
with your head hanging down
beneath your knee.

-A rap song written by Renfield R. Renfield
psychopathic shapeshifter hamster
and Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering
for the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.
Monday evening April 11th 2011,

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Not Necessarily The Real News (But Could Be) Episode 001

April 9, 2011 at 6:44 pm (Commentary, Humour, Satire) (, , , , )

In the news today, Donald Trump’s personal wig and hair piece maker Figaro Figaretti who also serves as a spokesman for the controversial billionaire/reality TV show host announced that Charlie Sheen has agreed to test a psychic ability enhancing drug that will psychically transport Mr. Sheen back in time to August 4th 1961 and then psychically bilocate Mr. Sheen to two different places- Kenya and Hawaii- to see where exactly President Barack Obama was born.
The Tea Party anxiously awaits the results of Mr. Sheen’s thought experiment.

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Vengeance Is Best Served… Over Tuna Fish Sandwiches

April 6, 2011 at 8:38 pm (Horror, Humour, Mystery) (, , )

“Why have you been buried with your head over the computer the past few days?” Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield R. Renfield.

“Because I hacked into the London Zoo’s security camera feed to see if I can spot the guy who stole my tuna fish sandwiches last Friday and I spotted him,” Renfield said, “he fed my sandwiches to Siegfried the Seal.”

“Siegfried the Seal?” Amadeus looked quizzical, “isn’t he the one whose body they reported was hacked into pieces and mailed in a box to the President of Greenpeace with Canadian Prime Minister Stephen Harper’s return address on the parcel?”.

“Yes, I was the one who cut up Siegfried as punishment for his eating my tuna fish sandwiches,” Renfield grinned, “I just thought I’d mail the body to the President of Greenpeace because of my keen sense of fun and to show you that I do have a sense of humour which you say I lack. I used the Canadian Prime Minister’s address since Canada and Greenpeace have been at loggerheads for decades over the Canadian baby seal hunt.”

“So since the seal is dead,” Amadeus said, “why are you still on the computer?”.

“I killed the accomplice after the fact Siegfried the Seal but I still haven’t got the original culprit,” Renfield explained, “I’m trying to correlate the visual image I have of the tuna fish sandwich thief with visual images of other people in the worldwide computer data base. Given that there are over 6 billion people on Earth, it’s kind of taking a while.”

“It would,” Amadeus remarked as he ate some Nestle chocolate covered Smarties.

“Eureka, I’ve got him, Charles Simeon,” Renfield beamed with almost a post-orgasmic glow to him.

“So this Simeon’s days will now be numbered,” Amadeus started counting the number of Smarties he had left in his package.

“Oh, fuck me senseless, no!” Renfield screamed.

“Sorry, I’m not sexually oriented that way to grant your request,” Amadeus replied.

“It’s not that,” Renfield cried, “somebody’s beat me to it. Charles Simeon has been identified by his DNA as the person who was found cut up in tiny pieces on a warehouse floor last Saturday morning Scotland Yard’s forensic lab has just announced.”

“He must have stolen somebody else’s tuna fish sandwiches too,” Amadeus wrestled with the Vampire Set’s pet parakeet for sole possession of the last remaining Smartie.

“I’ll kill the bastard who killed him,” Renfield vowed, “how dare someone rob me of my vengeance?”.

Amadeus managed to eat the sole remaining Smartie, “Do the police have any leads on who might have killed the tuna fish snatching Mr. Simeon?”.

“And now the monks of Mirfield’s Community of The Resurrection choir will sing in Latin the Nunc Dimittis…” the BBC Radio 3 announcer intoned.

“They’ve got here two police artist sketches of two possible suspects,” Renfield replied, “one looks like Mr. Bean and the other looks like Freddy Krueger.”

“That’s bizarre,” Amadeus dipped a black licorice stick into some potato chip dip and started eating it.

Renfield went over to a drawer and pulled out his kit of medieval torture instruments.

“What are you doing with those?” Amadeus asked.

“I’m going to be paying a little visit to two different actors,” Renfield chuckled, “one to actor Rowan Atkinson who plays Mr. Bean and the other to actor Robert Englund who played Freddy Krueger in the original Nightmare On Elm Street movies.”

Renfield took his kit and walked out into the dark and foggy London night.

“May God have mercy on their souls,” Amadeus made the Sign of the Cross.

To be continued.

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The Prize

April 1, 2011 at 9:21 pm (Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel)

Charles Simeon was an accountant.

He liked to joke that line from that old Monty Python sketch, “I’m a certified public accountant and consequently too boring to be of interest.”

Simeon worked as an accountant for Giza Investments Ltd.

Giza Investments Ltd. had for its President a mysterious man by the name of Trevor Fontaine.

Rumour had it that Mr. Fontaine was a vampire.

And that Mr. Fontaine worked for an even more mysterious major shareholder in Giza Investments- a sensuous and sensual vampiress called Isis.

Mr. Fontaine’s latest project was working with another multibillionaire investor called George Soros.

The project was to create a new global currency to replace the U.S. dollar.

All this talk of money was starting to make Simeon feel a little leery this Friday.

He was starting to feel sick of number crunching and his dull boring life.

He was paid a good salary sure but he wished he had enough money that he could give up his job and go live in the Bahamas and romp on the beach all day.

Simeon decided to leave work early today.

He left work right at noon and had lunch in an upscale London restaurant where he ate the baked salmon special.

Then he went for a carriage ride around the streets of London pulled by a splendid looking white mare named Norse Dawn.

He decided to spend his afternoon at the world-famous London Zoo.

There he walked by the cage of a seal named Siegfried.

He noticed Siegfried looked hungry and Simeon decided that the zookeepers were being slack and had forgotten to feed the seal.

Simeon looked around.

He happened to notice a brown paper bag that looked like a lunch bag left on one of the public benches,

He went over to the bag, opened it and noticed the bag was full of tuna fish sandwiches.

“I bet Siegfried would love these,” Simeon said to himself.

He walked over to the seal’s cage and threw him the tuna fish sandwiches.

Meanwhile the owner of the paper bag returned to the bench.

“I’m pretty sure I left my tuna fish sandwiches on this bench,” Renfield R. Renfield remarked to Amadeus Emanon, “oh no! They’re gone.”

“Maybe there’s a serial tuna fish sandwich thief on the loose in London,” Amadeus remarked between mouthfuls of pink cotton candy.

Simeon meanwhile had left the zoo and was walking home.

He bumped into an elderly woman.

“Oh, I’m terribly sorry,” Simeon apologized.

“It’s all right, dear,” the old woman smiled, “I predict you’ll receive wonderful news when you get home today.”

She handed him a card that said Mme. Erda Fortune Teller and continued on her way.

Simeon arrived back at his apartment building and took the elevator up to his apartment.

When he entered the apartment, he noticed a fly buzzing around.

“Spring must be here,” Simeon thought to himself, “the first fly I’ve spotted this year.”

Simeon killed the fly with a copy of The Times of London.

The fly’s blood was nicely smeared over a photo of Libyan leader Col. Gaddafi.

He threw the paper on his chair and was about to sit down when he heard a knock at the door.

Must be one of the neighbours he thought since he didn’t get a buzz on the intercom from a visitor downstairs.

He opened the door and standing there was Rowan Atkinson.

“Mr. Bean,” Simeon grinned.

“You can call me that, I suppose,” Atkinson smiled, “I’m here representing Abbey Lane Publishers Clearance House to inform you that you’ve won 2 million pounds in our draw today.”

“Oh my gosh,” Simeon almost fainted.

“Now if you’d like to come down with me to the Publishers Clearance House office, there’s a party and dancing girls and a cake and a big cheque waiting for you,” Atkinson brought out his teddy bear from underneath his jacket and waved excitedly at Charles Simeon.

“I’ll be right there,” Simeon ran to get his jacket.

He followed Rowan Atkinson down to the waiting limousine.

The limousine drove Atkinson and Simeon to what appeared to be an old warehouse.

“In there,” Atkinson pointed to the door.

Simeon excitedly ran through the door.

He looked around.

Just an empty warehouse.

“Where’s the party and the dancing girls and the cake and my big cheque?” Simeon asked Atkinson.

Atkinson smiled his most Mr. Bean-like smile.

“April Fool,” Atkinson laughed.

His smile then turned into the leering smile of the face of Freddy Krueger the serial killer from the Nightmare On Elm Street movies.

“What the…” Simeon couldn’t finish the sentence because he was slashed to death by Freddy Krueger’s razor-sharp unmanicured extra long fingernails.

“The name’s Loki,” the Freddy Krueger apparition laughed, “you may have heard of me, Loki the Trickster god in Norse mythology. I always was a joker and a jester. Pity everyone got upset when I killed the Norse god Baldr the Beautiful. Anyhow as a trickster and joker and jester, every April Fools Day is my day to shine. I’m also a shapeshifter. Sometimes I can be a salmon, a mare, a seal, an elderly woman or even a fly. And you walked right into my trap… my Venus fly trap.”

The warehouse echoed with the sounds of Loki’s laughter.

And Charles Simeon number cruncher was found in numerous pieces on the warehouse floor.

And a vacancy for a certified public accountant was now available in vampire investor Trevor Fontaine’s Giza Investments firm.

To be continued.

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