Haiku About John Wayne
Haiku About John Wayne
Happy trails lie west
This Duke king of the cowboys
rides tall in saddle
Ghost and Rider Part Three
Ryan Rider’s files on Robur The Conquerer were stolen from Rider’s home- a red Pontiac Firebird (or was it a red Pontiac Sunbird since Rider couldn’t remember?).
When Ryan’s wife pulled up in their home ((the red Pontiac bird of some sort or other) next to Ryan’s office (a 4-door rusty gold coloured GMC truck) in the Not So Standard Parking Lot, the files were discovered to be missing.
London police were called and when a policeman arrived at the parking lot and started asking questions about postal codes, this sent Rider into a cardiac arrest he wasn’t able to recover from and an ambulance had to be called to the scene.
The only thing Mrs. Rider could recall about a possible thief was she noticed a hamster running away from the motor vehicle/home at some point in the evening.
She noticed the hamster run around a corner. Later when she drove around the same corner, she noticed no hamster running but some guy who was trying to pick up a well-known British actress and ended up getting his face slapped.
The man was then grabbed off the sidewalk by a group of leather skirted women and thrown into a darkened Rolls-Royce limousine that was marked Sherrielock Holmes’ Dominatrix Services.
Belvedere wrote down the name that he was given by Mrs. Rider. He had once worked with Sherrielock Holmes many many years ago when he was still human prior to being turned into a ghost white salamander and then the ghost of a ghost white salamander.
(For more information on Belvedere’s background please read…
)
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday September 14th
2016.
Ghost and Rider Part Two
Ghost and Rider Part Two
Ryan Rider was the name of the enigmatic London parking lot and apartment building millionaire who had a phobia when it came to postal codes.
Belvedere the Ghost White Salamander and cub reporter for The Times of London had arranged a meeting with the mysterious enigmatic Ryan Rider.
He was able to arrange the meeting by calling Rider on his cell phone.
“How did you get this number?” The paranoid sounding Rider asked.
“From a mutual friend,” Belvedere whispered.
“Who’s this mutual friend?” Ryan asked as he wondered why he was the equivalent of $6.25 US short in that day’s take forgetting that he had purchased two hot dogs and a coffee for one of his parking lot attendants in an effort to appear charitable.
“I can’t reveal my sources,” Belvedere said in words reminiscent of Bob Woodward (or was it Carl Bernstein?) from the movie All The President’s Men.
“What do you want?” Rider asked.
“Everything you know about Robur The Conquerer,” Belvedere replied.
Silence reigned on the other side of the line.
“Are you there, Mr. Rider?” Belvedere asked.
“I had a momentary heart attack and brain aneurysm simultaneously,” Rider answered, “but I’m better now. I’ll meet you tonight midnight at The Not So Standard Parking Lot. Come alone.”
Click.
Rider had hung up.
Belvedere put the phone down and reached for his ghostly white trenchcoat and ghostly white fedora hat.
. . .
Midnight. The Not So Standard Parking Lot. The place was empty of motor vehicles. An owl hooted atop a sign that said Steve’s Chair Is Missing. A black cat knocked over a ladder. A rabbit bit the head off an orange coloured toy medieval knight that a child had dropped in the parking lot.
Belvedere lit a ghostly ectoplasmic cigarette with a ghostly ectoplasmic match.
Suddenly a massive pair of headlights came on, an ignition was started, an engine roared and tires spun.
The headlights came right at him. Then a screech of brakes as the vehicle hit the wall.
“Damn, I can’t believe I crashed again,” Rider swore, “I hope my insurance adjuster doesn’t ask me for the postal code of the area where it happened.”
He looked shocked as he noticed Belvedere standing there inhaling and exhaling his ghostly ectoplasmic cigarette.
“I thought I killed you with my truck,” Rider grimaced, “why are you still standing?”.
“I’m already dead,” the ghost white salamander replied, “I’m a ghost.”
“Damn, I hate it when that happens,” Rider shook his head.
“So tell me about Robur, Mr, Rider,” Belvedere took out his ghostly ectoplasmic notebook and his ghostly ectoplasmic pen.
“Step into my office,” Rider opened the front passenger side door of his rusty gold-coloured GMC 4-door truck.
Belvedere laughed.
“Don’t laugh,” Rider snapped as his face turned red and looked like he was about to have another simultaneous heart attack and brain aneurysm, “this really is my office.”
Belvedere was about to enter the vehicle but then wondered where he could sit.
“Hold on,” Rider said, “let me clean this place up a bit.”
Rider threw a few filing cabinets, a fax machine and a coffee pot out the passenger door and on to the pavement of the parking lot.
“Okay, sit there,” Rider commanded.
Belvedere sat in the passenger seat.
Rider entered the truck/office through the driver’s door.
“Damn, I banged my knee on my desk again,” Rider threw his desk out on to the parking lot pavement.
Then Rider tried sitting again.
“Oh damn, now I’ve got the arm of my Executive CEO’s Chair up my ass again,” Rider cried.
He threw a very fancy office chair out the driver’s door of the 4-door GMC truck.
“Now, what was it you wanted to know again?” Rider asked as he sat next to Belvedere.
“Who is Robur The Conquerer?” Belvedere asked.
“Robur The Conquerer,” Rider dove into the back seat knocking over several water coolers and chocolate bar and potato chip vending machines, “let me check my files. I wonder if I’ve got it under R for Robur or C for Conquerer.”
“By the way,” Belvedere peered at him over the seat, “what’s the postal code of this parking lot?”.
“What?’ Rider looked like he was about to have his third simultaneous heart attack and brain aneurysm of the past 24 hours.
“It’s my editor,” Belvedere held up his Samsung Galaxy Ghost Ectoplasmic 7 smart phone, “he wants to know the postal code of this parking lot.”
“Oh God,” Rider leapt over the seat back into the driver’s seat again, “damn, I think I just crushed the keys to the executive washroom between my balls.”
Belvedere stared at Rider in a nonchalant fashion.
Rider whipped out his own smart phone and started dialing a number.
“Hello,” Rider barked into the phone, “what’s the postal code of the Not So Standard Parking Lot?”.
Rider paused to listen to a response.
“Well, you’re my accountant,” Rider turned apoplectic as he started working on his 4th simultaneous heart attack and brain aneurysm of the past 24 hours, “I pay you to know these things.”
Belvedere continued to look nonchalant.
“Hold on,” Rider said quite exasperated, “let me find a pen and paper.”
He threw several old typewriters, a Mac 87 and a Windows 95 computer out of the glove compartment while he searched for a pen and paper.
“Got it,” Rider gritted his teeth, “now, what’s the fucking postal code again?”.
Rider wrote down the postal code.
He thanked the accountant and ended the call.
“What’s the postal code of the other parking lot you own?” Belvedere asked just as Rider was about to have a sigh of relief on his face.
“What?” Rider started working on his 5th simultaneous heart attack and brain aneurysm of the past 24 hours.
“My editor wants the postal code of the other parking lot you own,” Belvedere explained.
“For fuck’s sakes,” Rider began dialing his accountant’s number on his smart phone again, “Yes, what’s the postal code of my other parking lot? The one across the street from the car wash?”.
Rider started writing again.
“Oh shit, my pen just ran out of ink,” the parking lot and apartment building millionaire dived into the back seat again, “oh for fuck’s sake, I think I just ruined my chances for having any more children. Now, where did I put my other pen? Oh, here’s the hammer I was looking for last week…”
Belvedere took notes of Rider’s performance having never encountered such an individual before.
After finally finding his other pen and writing down the second postal code, Rider asked Belvedere what else he wanted to know.
“All you’ve got on Robur The Conquerer,” Belvedere smiled.
“Oh, that,” Rider leapt over the back seat again, “now did I leave it in the R filing cabinet or the C filing cabinet? I really should computerize all my files. A Toshiba laptop is a lot easier to carry around for an office than this beat-up old GMC 4-door truck. A lot easier on the testicles too I suspect.”
Suddenly Rider started hitting his head and saying, “Oh, what a dummy. Oh, what a dummy.”
“What is it?” Belvedere asked.
“I suddenly remembered I left both my R and C files at home,” Rider got on his mobile phone again, “Hello honey? Can you swing the red Pontiac Sunbird… or is it a red Pontiac Firebird?… I can never remember… around to the Not So Standard Parking Lot. I left a few files there.”
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday September 11th
2016.
Ghost and Rider
Ghost and Rider
Belvedere the ghost of the Ghost White Salamander who wasn’t being paid enough as a magician’s assistant to Salaman the Magician now worked as a reporter for The Times of London.
He had recently returned from Moscow where he had had a successful interview with Russian President Vladimir Putin.
The shocking revelations of that interview had caused British Prime Minister Theresa May to accidently put cayenne pepper instead of brown sugar on her porridge for breakfast that morning at 10 Downing Street.
Her subsequent screams were even more shrill than when Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau took his shirt off upon meeting her a few days before and asked her if she wanted to pose for a selfie with him.
Now Belvedere had just read an article in The New York Times about a mysterious multi-billionaire who called himself Robur The Conquerer (after the Jules Verne character) who was plotting to fulfill a prophecy that American Scottish Rite Freemason Albert Pike was alleged to have made in a letter dated August 15th 1871 to Italian revolutionary leader Giuseppe Mazzini.
The letter allegedly prophesied 3 world wars and during the third and final war, Pike was alleged to have told Mazzini that the Zionist State of Israel and the Islamic states of the Middle East would destroy one another.
Of course many doubts had been expressed about the authenticity of the letter that Pike had supposedly written to Mazzini.
But whether the Pike-Mazzini letter was genuine or not, this mysterious Robur The Conquerer was hoping to make the prophecy of the Third World War described in the letter (whether genuine or forgery) come true.
“Such a madman must be stopped.”
Those were the final words that New York Times reporter Colin Halloway had written in his article before keeling over after eating a hot fudge sundae that had been heavily laced with polonium-210 an extremely lethal radioactive poison.
The milkshake bar and diner where Halloway had eaten the hot fudge sundae was now under investigation by the City of New York Food and Health Safety Department for possible unauthorized use of radioactive products in the kitchen.
Belvedere was wondering where he could get possible information about the mysterious Robur The Conquerer.
Suddenly the phone rang.
Belvedere had learned how to pick up earthly material based phones with his ghostly ghost white salamander arms after quite a lengthy number of attempts and failures before eventual success (For more information on the origins of Belvedere The Ghost White Salamander please read
)
So the Ghost White Salamander with great agility picked up the phone.
“Hello?” Belvedere spoke into the receiver.
“This is a friend,” said a voice on the other end.
“That’s nice to know,” Belvedere threw a package outside his office window that had written on it From An Enemy.
The package exploded when it hit the street below.
“I work as a parking lot attendant,” said the voice.
“Really? How much do you make?” asked Belvedere.
“Not much,” answered the voice, “my boss takes a large take even though he’s a millionaire. He owns several parking lots and apartment buildings all across the City of London.”
“How much does he charge for rent?” Belvedere asked.
The place the Ghost White Salamander was currently haunting was a bit too run down for his liking.
“I have no idea,” the voice answered, “but a friend of mine was going to rent a place of his until he discovered the sole window in the apartment was only six inches by six inches and looked out over a darkened alley.”
“That’s terrible,” Belvedere stated as he tried to eat a ghostly ectoplasm hot fudge sundae.
“It is,” agreed the voice, “what I’m calling about is either my boss is the mysterious Robur The Conquerer or he knows the mysterious Robur The Conquerer.”
Suddenly a loud crash could be heard from the other end of the phone.
“What was that?” A concerned Belvedere asked.
“My boss’ truck just crashed into one of the cars parked in the parking lot,” answered the voice.
“I can’t believe it,” another and a lot angrier voice could be heard in the background, “some idiot just phoned me on my cell phone and asked me what my postal code was.”
To be continued.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday September 10th
2016.
Robur The Conquerer
On the cinematic theatre-sized screen in his private quarters aboard the plane, the individual known as Robur The Conquerer had a large electronic map of the globe of the world projected on the screen in front of him.
From here, Robur examined the world’s trouble spots.
The plane flew into space. For Robur’s planes already ventured forth where Sir Richard Branson’s Virgin planes only dreamed of venturing.
The Conquerer looked out the window and looked out at the world in real space and time.
. . .
“Who is Robur the Conquerer?” New York Times reporter Colin Hallaway asked CIA Agent Kirk Sandringham.
Sandringham had requested the meeting with his fellow Political Science undergraduate classmate Halloway.
Both had gone their separate ways after graduating from Princeton.
Sandringham had been recruited by the CIA.
Halloway had gone into journalism and eventually became a reporter with The New York Times.
“I have no idea,” Sandringham answered.
“You were the one who contacted me,” Halloway pointed out, “requesting an interview with your remarks being off the record.”
“I know,” Sandringham nodded, “for the past 7 years, I’ve kept hearing at the agency about this individual who’s known only as Robur The Conquerer. I’m not really sure what his agenda was. But after the demonstrations in Tunisia in early 2011 that toppled the government there, it seemed to be his influence that was pushing this administration into embracing the Arab Spring leading to the toppling of Mubarak in Egypt, Qaddafi in Libya and backing the overthrow of Assad in Syria.”
“For what purpose?” Halloway inquired.
“I’m not sure,” Sandringham shrugged, “to support democracy and peace in the Middle East is what he has convinced the current administration of. But lately through information I’ve received, I suspect he’s planning something else.”
“What exactly?” Halloway wanted to know.
“The destruction of Islam,” Sandringham replied.
Halloway had to laugh, “How’s he going to accomplish that?”.
“Through the use of nuclear weapons,” Sandringham looked directly at Halloway.
The answer silenced Halloway for a minute.
“I see,” Halloway finally spoke, “any idea how and when this use of nuclear weapons will occur?”.
“I’m not quite certain at this stage,” Sandringham looked in the direction of the Statue of Liberty in New York Harbour.
This time Sandringham fell silent.
“Is there something else?” Halloway inquired.
“The election,” Sandringham stated blandly.
“What about the election?” Halloway drew his chair close to hear Sandringham’s response.
“Who’s the most anti-Muslim of the two candidates running?” Sandringham looked at Halloway.
His tone of voice didn’t sound so bland.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday September 7th
2016.
Turks In Jarablus Syria
Turks In Jarablus Syria
Turkish forces had crossed the Turkish-Syrian border into Syria to attack the town of Jarablus.
Ostensibly Turkey claimed it had done so to wipe out ISIS forces in charge of the town.
The western news media backed Turkey’s claim.
As Russian President Vladimir Putin watched the Turkish incursion into Syria on television, he did not believe the claim.
ISIS had been cleared from the town earlier this year by Russian planes and Syrian government troops.
Putin realized that now was the time to set in motion Operation Justinian.
He was glad he had visited the Mount Athos Monastery a few months back.
For Operation Justinian would require supernatural help.
Greek Prime Minister Alexis Tsipras received a phone call from Moscow.
Although Prime Minister Tsipras being an atheistic Marxist did not believe in the existence of the Supernatural, he thought Operation Justinian was a good idea.
In his colossal London mansion, the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was on the phone discussing events in Syria with the mysterious individual who called himself Robur the Conquerer (after Jules Verne’s character).
“You’re right,” Set agreed and motioned to his butler and valet Athelstan to bring him a pen, “we should set those events in motion now.”
Meanwhile on the ground outside Jarablus, Turkish soldiers noticed the ground moving up and down in mysterious fashion.
“Do you see those sand dunes moving up and down?” One soldier asked another.
“Yes,” the other soldier nodded.
Then emerged from the sandy ground were men who were half-man and half-fish (mermen -the top part was human, the bottom part was fish).
The mermen carried machine guns with them and proceeded to wipe out the Turkish troops.
Flying high above the sight was the individual Robur The Conquerer who watched the scene unfolding below.
He quietly drank a glass of bourbon mixed with human blood.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday September 7th
2016.
Enduroman: A Poem
Enduroman: A Poem
(written for my friend Stephen R. creator of the great comic book hero Enduroman)
Spider-Man and Superman all come to a crawl
and feel like they’ve hit the proverbial brick wall
when they come against the mighty Enduroman
who’s sometimes shirtless to pick up a cosmic tan
His real name is Matt Larson
he’s no axe-wielding Johnny Carson
his feats of strength and endurance will leave you amazed
but you’ll live unlike a Swiss villa at the End of Days
In C.I.O. * Headquarters beneath the Calgary Tower
he was zapped with Neuma Energy’s power
He was a shirtless early riser to the task
he was zapped while the Prof enjoyed a flask
and while Turnbull enjoyed his whisky and gin
Matt’s DNA was altered beyond that of the Man of Sin.
To Prof Turnbull’s surprise
emerged from the chamber before his very eyes
and while Mustard Seed clients ended up a fried flash in the pan
Matt Larson survived to become Enduroman.
And when the UFO Alien Hordes attacked the Earth
while Amelia Edwards pondered the circumstances that led to birth
the alien hordes destroyed everything in Earth’s Midnight Hour
The only thing that survived was the Calgary Tower.
Enduroman endured, Matt Larson survived
minus Dale Carnegie’s chapter on honey from the bee hive
But since the Public Library was now gone
his fine would not amount to an arm and a song
Enduroman was as mad as Hell
and while looking for a new planet to dwell
he encountered an archon from the Council of Nine
The Supreme Council of the Universe- so puffed up and fine
and what was the name of this pompous seemingly friendly archon?
Tremble ye mortals and shake at the name- for it is Zargon.
Zargon sent Enduroman off to complete many a task
and then teleported elsewhere to sit on his ass
he sent the Enduroman to search for the Five Pieces of the Pyramid of Power
although Matt occasionally took a coffee break in the Calgary Tower.
Supremacy, Dagon, Vulcanus and Gorkon the Enduroman fought
while Zargon sat and smoked the best of cosmic pot.
The Five Pieces of the Pyramid of Power were then gathered
and the prism that was Prison Planet for earthlings was eventually scattered
Amelia Edwards did survive
like honey from cosmic bee hive
Matt Larson took a lick and much more
he got to the bottom of this Eve’s apple core.
Amelia Edwards had been waiting for a millennium to up and come
and Matt was more than happy to beat the drum
He relubricated her plumbing inside and out
and being Enduroman he did not succumb to gout.
But word reached Zargon of Matt’s great new piece of tail
and the old archon felt like a tired beached whale
He’d send Matt to avenge the alien hordes’ destruction of the Blue Planet Earth
and give Amelia his own lessons in what sets in motion the circumstances of birth
Now Hogarthe was the mastermind behind the alien horde
Destroying planets was what he did when he got bored
Hogarthe- yes that’s Hogarth with an “e”
No cartoonist comic strip artist was he
rather an Apollyon Abaddon style destroyer he wanted to be
So Hogarthe went in search of Unix
Formula
while Matt served as Amelia’s horned cornucopia
how does this tale end you may well ask
as Matt and Amelia enjoy their great piece of ass
well write Marvel or DC to publish Stephen R.’s great comic book
and these questions that plague you will be let off the hook.
–A poem written by Christopher
Saturday September 3rd 2016
inspired by Stephen R.’s
great but unpublished
comic book
Enduroman.
Nibiru Is Coming
Dr. Wilfrid Avonmore was Chief Astronomer at the Royal Astronomical Observatory just outside London.
He had as a guest the U.S. Air Force’s chief expert on stealth technology Major Mark Mason.
“What is so important that President Barack Obama actually interrupted my golf game to send me over here?” asked Major Mason angrily as he had blown his only chance to finally score par in life.
“You’ve got a complaint,” Dr. Avonmore fumed but was too embarrassed to announce that he had lost his chance to finally lose his virginity in life when the Royal Astronomical Laboratory had called him the night before.
“What’s so important?” Major Mason growled like Smoky Bear with his pants on fire.
“How big can an object be and still be invisible to radar as well as everything else for that matter?” Dr. Avonmore asked the stealth technology expert.
“I have no idea,” Major Mason answered, “and besides the biggest object we do have under stealth technology is classified top secret at the moment. That is until Edward Snowden leaks it to the Russians.”
“Look through this telescope,” Dr. Avonmore invited him.
“I see nothing,” Major Mason harrumphed like Major Hoople when he looked through the telescope, “nothing but darkness.”
“Now notice what happens when I play this old 78 record album,” Dr. Avonmore said, “a song recorded by a Dr. Kasper Geist in Berlin Germany back on May 14th 1948- a song sung in ancient Tibetan called A Hymn To Chaos with musical accompaniment by a theremin.”
When Dr. Avonmore played the album, Major Mason could see a huge huge huge x infinity huge planet through the telescope.
“Jesus Christ,” Major Mason peed his pants, “that’s the biggest planet I’ve seen in my life.”
“And would you believe this planet is currently in the location of our solar system’s asteroid belt and is heading straight for flyby our earth?” Dr. Avonmore spoke with the solemnity of a scientist in one of those old 1950s end of the world science-fiction films.
“And you mean to say no telescope or any piece of equipment has been able to spot a planet this size so close to Earth unless this song A Hymn To Chaos is played with musical accompaniment by a theremin?” Major Mason asked in incredulous fashion.
“That is correct,” Dr. Avonmore nodded.
“Holy cow,” Major Mason sipped from his bottle of chocolate milk.
“And if you think the planet is big,” Dr. Avonmore spoke with the passion of a used car salesman, “you should see the size of the sun the planet is orbiting around. Something you’ll see when I play this 78 record album backwards. But put on your special protection goggles first.”
“Jesus Christ,” Major Mason said as he looked through the telescope and promptly did a number 2 in his pants.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday September 2nd
2016.
Dracul Van Helsing 
Haiku About Charlie Chaplin
September 25, 2016 at 4:00 pm (Commentary, Culture, Entertainment, Film, Poetry) (Charlie Chaplin, films, haiku, old time movies, poem)
Haiku About Charlie Chaplin
Little tramp that could
city lights to modern times
exposes foibles
Permalink 33 Comments