Renfield Plots Revenge On British Commons Speaker John Bercow

October 21, 2019 at 10:42 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Politics, Spy Tales, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Renfield Plots Revenge On British Commons Speaker John Bercow

“It appears the Speaker of the House of Commons John Bercow did not learn his lesson the other night when he was kept awake by Pan Deux’s bagpipe playing and a recording of Nancy Pelosi moaning and groaning while using AOC’s confiscated vibrator,” said a livid British MP Renfield R. Renfield, “he disallowed a simple yes or no vote to be held in the Commons today on the Johnson-Renfield Brexit deal.”

“This John Bercow must be a sucker for punishment,” dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes purred elegantly as she chewed on her cat o’ nine tails and smoothed her black leather skirt.

“He must be,” Renfield agreed, “Miranda Singh has just returned from Turkey where she successfully kicked Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan in the balls with her spiked stilettos this past weekend. I’ve now hired her to go to the Speaker’s residence and kick John Bercow in the balls with her spiked stilettos this evening.”

“And when would you like me to tomato his buttocks?” Sherrielock asked.

“That will be the last resort,” Renfield smiled, “I understand you used your intelligence assets to dig up dirt on Bercow for me.”

“On one of his acquaintances actually,” Sherrielock answered, “not on Bercow himself.”

The dominatrix handed the Transhumanist MP several photos of Bercow with another man.

“Who’s this guy with Bercow?” Renfield inquired.

“He’s the Australian billionaire violin manufacturer Murdoch Pertru,” Sherrielock replied, “who has been seen in Bercow’s company on numerous occasions throughout the years.”

“Australian billionaire violin manufacturer?” Renfield was flabbergasted, “I didn’t even know they made violins over in Australia. Where do they get the wood? They don’t have any trees over there in Australia do they?”.

“They make violins from recycled tires,” said Sherrielock.

“Make violins from recycled tires?” Renfield was now doubly flabbergasted, “I’ve never heard of anything so ridiculous.”

“It’s an Australian thing apparently,” Sherrielock smiled.

“Who the Hell came up with the idea of making violins from recycled tires?” Renfield demanded to know.

“Well it definitely wasn’t Murdoch Pertru,” Sherrielock replied, “Making violins from recycled tires was apparently the brainchild of a notorious individual nicknamed Uncle Ernie who blew his mind on acid decades ago. Uncle Ernie held the patent for the Ernievarius as the violin is still called but he put up that patent as his stake in an LSD induced high stakes poker game which Ernie lost to Murdoch Pertru. Pertru went on to become a successful manufacturer of Ernievarius violins and a billionaire in the process. Uncle Ernie went on to become a successful entertainer at children’s birthday parties in Australia. That is when he wasn’t spending time in the hoosegow for what he did during those parties. Today he runs a small mail order business called Chemical of The Day Club.”

“And what sort of dirt have you dug up on Murdoch Pertru an acquaintance of John Bercow?” Renfield asked.

“Well apparently Pertru spends a great deal of time at a seedy opium den in Sydney’s Chinatown,” Sherrielock replied, “an establishment owned by a mysterious and inscrutable individual who goes by the name of Inn Lu. I’ve asked Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster to psychically look into the background of this Mr. Inn Lu which Michelangelo will do as soon as his lobster tank is repaired after a mysterious explosion that occurred after I entered the room.”

“And what does Murdoch Pertru do in Inn Lu’s seedy opium den?” Renfield inquired.

The dominatrix handed the MP more photographs.

“As you can see looking at those photos, Pertru was caught in several compromising positions with sex dolls made to look like kangaroos,” Sherrielock smiled, “The fact that Bercow is an acquaintance of such a debased defiler of kangaroo sex dolls should prove to be highly embarrassing for the Speaker.”

“Indeed,” Renfield admitted as the terrifying image of Bercow dressed as a sex doll kangaroo entered his mind.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Monday October 21st

Sherrielock Holmes: Mistress of Intrigue

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More of Renfield’s Hard Ball On Brexit

October 20, 2019 at 10:03 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

More of Renfield’s Hard Ball On Brexit

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was listening to BBC World News on the radio.

BBC Announcer: Meanwhile in Turkey, Turkish police are still looking for a beautiful Anglo-Indian woman who kicked Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan in the balls with her spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes this past Friday night…

Renfield smiled as he turned off the radio, “Glad to see Miranda delivered my message to Erdogan.”

“Undoubtedly a lot more effective than a singing telegram,” Amadeus Emanon had to admit, “so what have you got planned further in terms of domestic politics now that the international front has been covered?”.

“Well, of course, Conservative MP Sir Oliver Letwin has to be punished for bringing in that amendment in the Commons yesterday to withhold approval of the Johnson-Renfield Brexit deal until all the necessary legislation to implement it has been passed and to force the Prime Minister to write a letter to the EU requesting an extension to Brexit beyond the current October 31st deadline under the terms of the so-called Benn Act,” Renfield brought his Halloween vampire costume fangs out and put them in his mouth.

“Did Johnson send the letter?” Amadeus asked.

“He did,” Renfield nodded, “albeit without his signature. At my suggestion of course. He then sent a second letter- this one signed- explaining to the EU why he believed a Brexit delay beyond October 31st would be a mistake. Of course some bozo in the Opposition parties will probably take the whole thing up with the cannabis filled haggis eating Justices on the Scottish High Court claiming that Johnson violated the Benn Act.”

“I can see that happening,” Amadeus agreed.

“Am I the only one,” Renfield struck a freedom fighter pose, “who is able to see the fact that if the British Parliament can pass a law forcing the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom to write a letter against his will, they could pass a law forcing any British subject to write a letter against their will?”.

“You’re the only one who can see that,” Amadeus noted.

“Well, thank God I’m in Parliament then,” Renfield made the Sign of the Cross causing his vampire fangs to pop out.

“What have you got planned for Sir Oliver Letwin?” Amadeus asked.

“A double whammy,” Renfield smiled, “or should I say a triple whammy? Mulligan the Irish zombie will be singing outside Sir Oliver’s residence tonight songs from a never performed musical inspired by the incomprehensible prose to be found in Karl Marx’s lengthy and long winded tome Das Kapital. He will be accompanied by Pan Goatee’s younger brother the infamous kilt wearing Scottish satyr bagpiper Pan Deux playing the bagpipes as well as a loud speaker played recording of the moans and groans made by U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi while using a vibrator she confiscated from Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez.”

Sir Oliver Letwin would undoubtedly think twice about trying to cross Renfield R. Renfield.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday October 20th

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Renfield Plays Hard Ball Against Opponents of Johnson Brexit Deal

October 19, 2019 at 9:53 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) ()

Renfield Plays Hard Ball Against Opponents of Johnson Brexit Deal

“No more Mr. Nice Guy,” Renfield remarked over his slices of roast beef that he carved up in the same manner that Dr. Hannibal Lecter might have carved up his tax auditor.

“Ticked off that the House of Commons didn’t pass the Johnson-Renfield Brexit deal today?” His friend Amadeus asked.

“Exactly,” Renfield poured more gravy over his roast beef, “I’m going to start playing hard ball.”

“What have you come up with?” Amadeus asked as he ate his baked salmon.

“Well firstly I’ve hired Dashwood Forrest’s living dead manservant Mulligan the Irish Zombie to stand outside Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn’s house tonight and serenade him with songs from a never performed stage musical based on the writings of uber-capitalist American economist Milton Friedman,” Renfield smiled.

“Ouch,” was Amadeus’ response.

“I’ve also put in a call to my friend the Polish vampiress Countess Elena Dubrovna,” Renfield went on, “She’s going to meet the leaders of Poland, Hungary and the Czech Republic tomorrow in a flurry of diplomacy to convince those leaders to announce publicly that they will veto any extension to Brexit beyond the October 31st deadline.”

“Wow,” said Amadeus.

“But I won’t end there,” Renfield helped himself to more roast beef off the dining room tray, “Back during the 2016 U.S. Presidential election, I stole one of Hillary Clinton’s broomsticks. A British intelligence operative is using that broomstick to fly to the Irish border tonight and pick up Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun who hangs out on that border and fly him to London. Later tonight, I’ll shower Yaldabaoth with a whole bunch of drinks and get him to do a favour for me.”

“And what’s the favour?” Amadeus asked.

“To meet with Irish Taoiseach Leo Varadkar and convince him to announce publicly that he will veto any extension to Brexit beyond the October 31st deadline,” Renfield swallowed the roast beef the same way a Kraken would swallow an extra tasty pirate.

“Wow,” commented Amadeus who was starting to run out of superlatives.

“But it doesn’t end there,” Renfield grinned like Dr. Frankenstein about to throw the electrical switch.

“No?” Amadeus turned white unlike Justin Trudeau’s career as a Drama teacher.

“No,” Renfield licked his lips, “Set Enterprises’ Dr. Cadbury Rocher has created for me an exact robotic lookalike of one of the world’s most beautiful 103-year-old women Olivia de Havilland. As we all know, French President Emmanuel Macron has a penchant for cougars and we’re not talking mountain lions here. So I’m sending this Olivia de Havilland robotic lookalike over to France to tell Macron that she’ll be willing to make out with him provided the French leader publicly announces that he’ll veto any extension to Brexit beyond the October 31st deadline.”

“Triple wow,” Amadeus finished the last of his delicious baked salmon.

“Of course once Macron announces the veto at a news conference,” Renfield smiled, “The de Havilland robot will turn around and go home. Making out with Macron is too evil a fate for anyone to bear even a robot.”

“True,” Amadeus admitted.

“I can just imagine the loads Jeremy Corbyn and the leaders of the SNP and Liberal Democrats will drop in their drawers when the leaders of Poland, Hungary, the Czech Republic, Ireland and France all publicly announce they will veto any extension to Brexit beyond this coming October 31st. They’ll be forced to choose between the Johnson-Renfield Brexit deal or a no deal Brexit,” Renfield laughed like Vincent Price playing a mad scientist.

“Positively diabolical,” Amadeus bit into his slice of luscious chocolate cake.

“But it doesn’t end there,” Renfield laughed like Mephistopheles when Faust went to Hell.

“No?” Amadeus held his fork in mid-air.

“As we all know, House of Commons speaker John Bercow has been a huge pain in the ass to both Boris Johnson and myself,” Renfield spoke like a tight end suddenly turned wide receiver after a huddle on a gay NFL football team, “so I’ve arranged for Pan Goatee’s younger brother the infamous kilt wearing Scottish satyr bagpiper Pan Deux to play his bagpipes outside Bercow’s house tonight. Pan’s bagpipes will be accompanied by a loud speaker played recording of the moans and groans U.S. House Speaker Nancy Pelosi made in her office while using the vibrator that she confiscated from New York Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez for publicly using it while the House of Representatives was still sitting in session.”

“The horror! The horror!” Amadeus gave his best apocalyptic Marlon Brando impersonation.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday October 19th

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Miranda Singh Secret Agent Extraordinaire

October 18, 2019 at 10:51 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Romance, Spy Tales, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Miranda Singh Secret Agent Extraordinaire

Miranda Singh secret agent extraordinaire 

Miranda Singh was the personal secretary and executive assistant to the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.

She also did secret agent work on behalf of British MP Renfield R. Renfield the UK’s Deputy Foreign Secretary In Charge of Geopolitical Intelligence Gathering.

Her next mission was to fly to Turkey to deliver a personal message to Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan from Renfield.

She reflected that the message she was going to deliver to Erdogan would be a lot more painful than Donald Trump’s butt kissing message to Erdogan in which the Donald gave permission to the Turkish President to help himself to vast swathes of northern Syria 20 miles deep inside the country across the Turkish-Syrian border.

She proceeded to polish and shine and sharpen her spiked stilettos on her high-heeled shoes with which she was going to deliver the message to Erdogan.

. . .

Donald Trump was walking down one of the White House hall corridors when he noticed a glass of orange juice that one of the Secret Service detail had left lying around.

Since Trump had, in a deal, recently given sovereign national territory that didn’t belong to him and wasn’t his to give (i.e. Huge swathes of Syrian territory) over to Turkey, the Donald had no moral qualms (since he didn’t have any morals either) about helping himself to a glass of orange juice that didn’t belong to him and drinking the contents.

“Wow,” Trump said to himself as he sat down at his Oval Office desk after drinking the entire large glass of orange juice, “that’s the best tasting glass of orange juice I’ve ever tasted in my life. I wonder where that secret service agent bought it?”.

At that moment a 6 foot 8 tall bunny rabbit with big pink floppety ears entered the Oval Office.

“Where the Hell did you come from?” Trump asked.

“You can see me?” The exceptionally tall bunny rabbit was astounded.

“I can,” Trump nodded.

“You must have drank a Harvey Wallbanger recently,” said Harvey Tallbanger.

“A Harvey what?” Trump was confused like he was whenever an item from the U.S. Constitution was read to him.

“I’m here to present you with the Neville Chamberlain Munich Peace Prize Award,” Tallbanger held up a box.

Trump had never heard of the Neville Chamberlain Munich Peace Prize but he was grateful to be receiving some sort of peace prize since he was overlooked by this year’s Nobel Peace Prize Committee.

Something he shared in common with Greta Thunberg.

“And what did I do to deserve this?” Trump asked beaming like the noonday sun.

“By handing over another country’s territory that didn’t belong to you to a land grabbing despot from a third country to take for himself,” Tallbanger answered.

“I’m always happy to oblige,” Trump beamed like the full moon in a Moonlight Madness Furniture Sale TV commercial.

“And here’s your award,” Tallbanger started taking it out of the box.

“Bring it on,” Trump said like he did when he awarded the G-7 summit to one of his own Florida golf resorts.

Within seconds, a cream pie landed full force in his face.

“I don’t think this cream goes well with my toupee,” Trump remarked as he looked at himself in the mirror.

“Nothing in heaven or on earth or under the earth goes well with your toupee,” Harvey answered.

. . .

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was in his parliamentary office with his fellow Transhumanist Party caucus member and parliamentary colleague the Welsh vampiress Morgana.

Since both were deputy ministers in Boris Johnson’s cabinet, they were laying out last minute strategy to get the Johnson-Renfield Brexit deal passed in tomorrow’s rare sitting of the Westminster House of Commons on a Saturday.

Renfield had driven his own car over to Parliament today.

His vehicle was momentarily blocked by a group of Extinction Rebellion protestors on the street.

Renfield ended the Extinction Rebellion protestors’ protest by running them over.

“They’re definitely extinct now,” was Renfield’s comment to Morgana as he entered the office.

. . .

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday October 18th

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Rita Hayworth’s 101st Birthday

October 17, 2019 at 9:32 pm (Arts, Culture, Film, Movies, Poetry) (, , , , , , , )

Rita Hayworth’s 101st Birthday

Happy Birthday, Rita Hayworth (born Margarita Carmen Cansino)

Haiku For Rita Hayworth

Actress and dancer
Was queen of the silver screen
Enchanting goddess

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Pan Goatee Euthanizes Suicidally Inclined Uglos

October 16, 2019 at 10:45 pm (Aesthetics, Politics, Vampire novel) ()

Pan Goatee Euthanizes Suicidally Inclined Uglos

Genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee decided to head downtown.

He beheaded a stupid ugly looking woman walking up the stairs at the transit station where he was to catch the train downtown.

“If you had taken the escalator instead of the stairs, you wouldn’t have run into me, you pathetic loser,” Goatee commented to the aforesaid pathetic loser as her head went rolling down the stairs.

He lopped off a few more heads of uglos as he made his way to the platform to catch the downtown train.

When the train came up to the platform, he selected the car which had the greatest number of beautiful women on it in order to give his homicidal tendencies a rest.

Both his doctor and his psychiatrist had expressed concern about his over exerting himself.

When the train pulled up to the next station, he saw a really pathetically ugly looking woman running along the platform to catch the train.

“Good thing, I didn’t sit in the last car,” Goatee said, “that’s probably where that pathetically ugly thing will sit as that’s as far as she’ll probably be able to make it.”

However the pathetic ugly looking creature decided to run as far as the train car in which Pan Goatee was sitting and board it.

Goatee took up the seat next to him as well as his own so the ugly looking creature wouldn’t sit there.

But the ugly looking creature came and stood directly in front of him for a few seconds and then sat down 2 seats to the left of him.

“You must really be fucking suicidal today, bitch,” Goatee got up and removed his astral laser machete from his holster, “well guess what? It’s your fucking lucky day. You finally found somebody to euthanize you and put you out of your and everybody else’s misery.”

Goatee then beheaded the pathetically ugly woman and kicked her head down the aisle of the train where it struck and knocked unconscious someone with 72 marijuana cigarettes in his mouth.

The heavy marijuana smoker was a Federal Liberal Party candidate in one of the city’s federal constituencies for the upcoming Canadian national election.

When Goatee went downtown, he went about his business and then caught the train to head back to his neighbourhood.

Some ugly looking woman decided to stand next to him on the platform.

Soon her head was rolling on to the train tracks.

“What is up with all the suicidally inclined uglos today?” Goatee wondered, “Or have these airheads never watched any of the documentary specials that the National Geographic Channel have done about me?”.

Six train stations up the track and a hideously fat ugly blimp boarded the train car that Pan Goatee was in.

Not only that but the fat ugly blimp of an airhead sat right across from Pan Goatee.

Goatee figured that some sort of suicide pact among uglos must be be the particular social networking trend that was all the rage on this day.

“You’re such a heavy consumer of eating cows that you neglected to notice the fact that you turned into one yourself,” Goatee remarked as he beheaded the blimp.

After kicking the head down the aisle, Goatee noted, “I, for one, am proud to do my part in putting an end to bovine flatulence and its detrimental effects on climate change and the environment.”

He got off at the neighbourhood train station and then caught the bus that went directly in front of his house.

He sat as far away from an ugly looking woman on the bus as possible.

“Don’t want to upset my doctor and my psychiatrist about over exerting myself,” Goatee thought.

Several bus stops through the neighbourhood the ugly looking woman rather than getting off the front of the bus close to where she was sitting decided to walk to the exit at the back of the bus close to where Pan Goatee was sitting.

Big mistake on her part.

As Goatee kicked her head down the aisle of the bus after his usual body/head separation procedure that he performed on uglos, he commented, “Shit, what is it with all these suicidally inclined uglos today? One would think Justin Trudeau was Prime Minister of Canada or something? Oh wait a minute, he is. Well hopefully that will change next week.”

He followed a beautiful woman off the bus on his stop home.

“Well at least this will put me in a good mood before I start watching my soap operas,” Goatee thought.

Later after watching his favourite soap opera and the local news, Goatee walked to the neighbourhood mall to buy a submarine sandwich.

Fortunately for him, there seemed to be nothing but beautiful looking women around putting him in a very good mood.

After eating his sub, he headed out the door and went to walk across the street.

An air headed uglo who was leaving the public library thought she could walk past him.

She’d never have to worry about returning an overdue book again as Goatee kicked her head into the nearby leisure centre.

“What is up with all these suicidal uglos?” Goatee again wondered, “Well I hope my euthanasia efforts today earn me a nomination for the Humanitarian of The Year Award from the Canadian Medical Association.”

He was forced to take a pill for his exceptionally high blood pressure when he got home.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Wednesday October 16th

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The Helpful Guest

October 15, 2019 at 10:55 pm (Short Story) (, , , , )

The Helpful Guest

A man and a woman from Denver, Colorado were staying at a large hotel in Waikiki, Hawaii.

They were attending a convention at the hotel and the convention festivities would begin with a dinner and dance to be held in the hotel’s main ballroom.

They put on their best formal evening attire and took the elevator from the 11th floor (where their suite was located) down to the main floor and lobby.

As the hotel was extremely large, they had no idea how to get to the main ballroom.

They went to the front desk and asked the desk clerk for directions.

He gave them directions which they faithfully followed.

They wound up at the hotel’s entrance on Kalakaua Avenue which is the main thoroughfare through Waikiki.

There was no sign of a ballroom in sight.

They walked back to the front desk and again asked for directions.

The clerk gave them the directions.

They followed the directions and again wound up at the hotel’s entrance on Kalakaua Avenue.

This procedure then took place half a dozen more times.

Embarrassed they decided to go back to their room rather than again ask the clerk for directions.

The husband would call a friend also going to the convention and ask if he’d drop by their room and walk them to the main ballroom.

They took the elevator up to the 11th floor and walked down to their room.

They saw approaching them a very beautiful young Hawaiian woman who appeared to be in her early 20s.

She wore a very elegant evening dress which almost looked Victorian in its elegance.

Struck by a thought, the man asked the girl, “Are you going to the convention dinner and dance in the main ballroom tonight?”.

“No, I’m not,” the girl answered.

“Oh, that’s too bad,” said the man, “we keep trying to find the main ballroom and we get hopelessly lost. We’ve already asked the front desk about half a dozen times for directions how to get there and we always wind up at the same place- the hotel’s entrance on Kalakaua Avenue.”

“This is an extremely large hotel,” the young woman admitted, “and easy to get lost in. And always winding up on Kalakaua Avenue? For two people from Denver, Colorado, walking around Waikiki at night can be dangerous sometimes. I’ll show you personally.”

The husband and wife then deduced that the woman was not a hotel guest but a hotel employee since she knew they came from Denver, Colorado.

They rode down the elevator with the young woman and went through the lobby following the beautiful young Hawaiian girl through the vast expanse of the hotel.

They came to an escalator.

“Go directly up there,” the girl pointed, “and up there is the main ballroom.”

The husband and wife looked up the escalator and hanging from the ceiling was a huge banner welcoming people to the convention.

“Thank you very much,” said the man, “What is your name by the way?”.

“My name is Victoria,” the young woman smiled.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet to give the girl a tip.

But when he looked up, she had gone.

“Did you see where she went?” The husband asked his wife.

“No,” the wife shook her head.

The next night after a day of convention activities, the man and his wife would be going on an evening tour.

They had gone to the lobby and were about to make the walk to the parkade where their rent-a-car was parked when suddenly the man said, “Let’s stop by the front desk. And ask who that Victoria was that helped us out last night. I really do want to give her a tip.”

They talked to the same clerk who had been working the night before.

The same one they had constantly pestered about directions.

“I don’t recall a Victoria who works here,” said the man, “but I’ll check the employee registry.”

There was no Victoria listed.

The husband asked if the clerk would mind checking the hotel guest list for anyone named Victoria.

No Victoria registered.

Puzzled, they left the front desk and began the long walk down the hotel hallway to the parkade.

They suddenly passed a painting and the wife nudged the husband and said, “The woman in that painting. Isn’t that the girl who helped us?”.

The man looked.

“Yes,” the man said, “It is. She must have won an Employee of the Year Award and they painted her picture and hung it here.”

They walked back to the front desk and told the clerk that the woman’s picture was hanging in the hallway and she must be an employee here.

The clerk asked the couple to show him the picture.

They took the clerk to see the painting.

“And you said this woman told you her name was Victoria?” The clerk asked.

“That’s right,” the husband nodded.

The clerk asked the couple, “Did you look at the name below the painting?”.

“No, we didn’t,” the husband replied.

“Look at the name,” said the clerk.

The name below the portrait read, 
Princess Victoria Ka’iulani.

“That woman,” said the clerk, “was the last Crown Princess of the Kingdom of Hawaii.”

. . .

Later that evening, the man and wife were telling their story and their experience to the tour guide of the tour they were going on.

The tour guide (who had a vast knowledge of Hawaiian history) seemed to be astounded by their story.

“Two things,” the tour guide held up two of his fingers, “One. How did the woman know you’re from Denver, Colorado? And the second thing… yesterday’s date… March 6th 1999. Now that date doesn’t of course mean anything to you and it obviously doesn’t mean anything to the clerk working the front desk. But yesterday March 6th 1999 would be 100 years to the day that Crown Princess Victoria Ka’iulani died on March 6th 1899.”

-A short story 
written by Christopher 
Tuesday October 15th

-based on a true story 

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Artemis: Goddess of The Hunt

October 14, 2019 at 9:25 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , )

Artemis: Goddess of The Hunt

A whisper in the wind 
A rustle in the trees 
A mid-October autumn
A point between 
the September Indian Summer
and the cold winds of Samhain
In early November

The land waits in anticipation
A hunter’s moon last evening
And soon the hunter will appear

It is Artemis the goddess of the hunt 
Who stands at the door
For the hunt this side of autumn
Will be a hunt like no other

-A poem and vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Monday October 14th

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Nimrod On The Night of The Hunter’s Moon

October 13, 2019 at 10:53 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Nimrod On The Night of The Hunter’s Moon

Sunday October 13th 2019.


The night of the hunter’s moon.

A full moon.

The first full moon that follows the harvest moon.

The hunter’s moon.

And on this night of the hunter’s moon, Nimrod (described in the biblical Book of Genesis as a mighty hunter against The Lord) stood on the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica.

He, of course, was no longer a man.

After having been hit over the head by his wife Semiramis back in the days of Babel which should have killed him, the dying Nimrod was abducted by a group of ET grays.

They took him to his planet where they healed him.

Nimrod was grateful for otherwise he’d have probably wound up in the flames of Tartarus in the Underworld if he had died.

He hung around with the ET grays until their spacecraft crashed near Tuktoyaktuk Northwest Territories in Canada back in December 2014.

The crash killed both the grays and him.

Fortunately for Nimrod just before his spirit was to be thrown into Tartarus, he was brought back from the dead after the vampiress Lilith gave him a magic kiss after kissing him on the lips as his body lay in a DARPA secret research lab not far from Washington DC.

The magic kiss did have one serious side effect however.

It turned him into a little green frog.

And now the little frog that was Nimrod was quietly ribbiting on the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica.

He was here because of a tarot card reading given him by the gypsy fortune teller Dulcinea Lucia when he was in London recently.

Dulcinea had told him that if he sat on the dome of Saint Peter’s Basilica during the next hunter’s moon, a magic bow and arrow would come down from the moon and he would once again be a mighty hunter.

So here was Nimrod waiting for the bow and arrow.

Several pieces of green cheese fell from the moon and fell nearby him which he ate.

Finally a bow and arrow fell right on top of his head.

“Owww!” Nimrod ribbited.

The centaur Sagittarius appeared to Nimrod and told the frog that the Vatican was about to be attacked by a pack of Transylvanian werewolves.

Nimrod could re-invigorate his hunting skills by hunting the werewolves.

Nimrod asked, “Why should I do that?”.

Sagittarius replied, “Because the Vatican has been under the control of Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal and the Vampiric Knights-Templar since October 13th 2017. And remember Allatallahbel is an ally of Lilith who brought you back from the dead. So to help Allatallahbel keep the Vatican is a good thing. Those werewolves were hired by Russian President Vladimir Putin to take the Vatican for Russia.”

Nimrod didn’t understand modern geopolitics but took the centaur’s advice.

He checked his supply of arrows and was relieved to see they all had silver tips.

Otherwise he wouldn’t be able to kill a single werewolf never mind a whole pack of them.

When the werewolves attacked at the height of the hunter’s moon, Nimrod fired his arrows.

There were 99 werewolves in all.

As Nimrod fired, he sang,

“99 werewolves of fear on the wall,
99 werewolves of fear,
shoot one down, 
watch it hit the ground,
98 werewolves of fear on the wall…”

And so on and so forth until there were none left.

Allatallahbel: Pleased by Nimrod’s defence of her captive Vatican from an attack by an invading pack of Transylvanian werewolves

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday October 13th

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Kurdish Dancers, Arabian Nights and No Turkish Delights

October 12, 2019 at 9:56 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Kurdish Dancers, Arabian Nights and No Turkish Delights

British Prime Minister Boris Johnson was about to have a phone call with Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan regarding the Turkish invasion of northern Syria.

He decided to have Renfield R. Renfield his Deputy Foreign Secretary In Charge of Geopolitical Intelligence Gathering in the background during the call.

Renfield being Renfield would undoubtedly do or say something that would help pressure Erdogan during the phone call and encourage him to pull out of Turkey.

As Johnson began talking to Erdogan, Renfield began singing his own paraphrased version of the song Henry VIII an old time honoured British music hall song.

Renfield singing,

“I am Erdogan the last I am, I am,
I just gave syphilis to the neighbour next door,
I’ve given out syphilis several times before,
every dirty sperm is an Erdogan, 
I’m Erdogan the last, I am, I am…”

“I hate the British!” Was Erdogan’s remark when he had finished the call with Johnson.

. . .

Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman was in the kitchen of one of his palaces where the cooks were preparing bones and meat left over from the Prince’s various opponents who had encountered MbS’s janitorial maintenance cleaning crews throughout the world.

“All these dishes are being prepared for the right guest,” MbS proudly told the ghost of Lady MacBeth who served as his spirit advisor.

“I see more American troops are arriving in Saudi Arabia,” Lady MacBeth commented.

“Yes, rather splendid of Trump to pull his troops out of Syria and start sending his troops over here to the Kingdom,” MbS smiled.

“Nothing like stabbing the Kurds in the back,” remarked the ghost of Brutus (who had stabbed Julius Caesar) as he ran by while being chased by Cerberus after he had temporarily escaped from the Underworld.

. . .

Donald Trump was in a garden when he saw a beautiful brunette woman in an exquisite and lovely green evening dress dancing sensuously in the moonlight.

Trump looked around.

No sign of Melania or anyone else.

Trump smiled.

He walked towards the woman and decided to be his usual charming self in order to entice the woman to him.

“Birds do it, bees do it,” Trump began singing, “even dogs and trees do it…”

Trump approached the woman.

He decided to use that classic pick up line from the Peter Sellers movie There’s A Girl In My Soup, “My God, but you’re lovely…”

“I’m also Kurdish,” the woman with flashing dark eyes pulled a knife out from under her dress and stabbed him… in the front… a little due south.

Trump woke up in a sweat.

He suddenly thought he heard Middle Eastern music being played from the White House garden.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday October 12th

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