Doctors Frasier and Niles Crane Meet The Brides of Dracula
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had been binge watching episodes of the old TV series Frasier.
He then binge watched a Dracula movie marathon.
When that was over, he set his water proof alarm clock moving the time an hour ahead as tomorrow would be the start of Daylight Savings Time.
He then lay back on his water proof pillow and fell asleep.
He had a dream whereby Doctors Frasier and Niles Crane met the Brides of Dracula.
Niles: This is all your fault, Frasier. I don’t really relish the idea of walking around a spooky Transylvanian castle. It doesn’t really cut the mustard in my opinion. Hot doggetty!
Frasier: Niles, I wish you’d stop using those weird euphemisms uttered by that pot smoking hot dog salesman doing those late night infomercials advertising American cuisine recipes you can do in hot tubs. And why is it my fault? You were the one who insisted on giving two rather large glasses of sherry to my BMW’s GPS before we set out on this road trip.
Niles: Yes, well if you had stopped to ask for directions from that transgendered transvestite in the baked potato costume in Boisie, Idaho, we might not be in this mess.
Frasier: No, we might be in a bigger mess.
Niles: What could possibly be a bigger mess than a spooky Transylvanian castle?
Frasier: How about social distancing from a perfect 10 fashion model during a pandemic?
Niles: Frasier, I refuse to believe you dated a perfect 10 fashion model.
Frasier: So does everybody else.
Niles (pointing to a door): Where do you suppose this leads?
Frasier: Oh, I don’t know, Niles. Why don’t you open it and see how many other headwaiters with Hungarian accents lying in coffins we can come across? I haven’t donated so much blood since that multiple radio station personality blood donor challenge in Seattle way back in the day.
Niles (opening door and looking in): It’s the Brides of Dracula.
Frasier (looking in): My God, you’re right, Niles.
Niles: Frasier, I haven’t had so many erotic images and fantasies going through my mind since I first read that scene with the brides of Dracula in Bram Stoker’s novel Dracula as a sophomore back in prep school.
Frasier: That wouldn’t have been the night before the headmaster ordered that major steamcleaning of your mattress?
Niles: Frasier, I wish you hadn’t brought that up.
Frasier: Your mattress probably wished the same thing at the time as well.
Brides of Dracula (calling out): Niles, Frasier!
Niles (rushing in): I regret that I have but one life to give for my fantasy.
Frasier: Niles, quit being such a ham!
(Frasier rushes in)
Frasier: Be a blood sausage like me.
Voice of Count Dracula (singing in the background): I don’t know what to do with that tossed salad and scrambled eggs. They’re calling again.
Voice of Announcer: Good night, Transylvania.
The End.
-A Frasier Meets Brides of Dracula Episode
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday March 13th
2021.
Frosty Snowman and Teddy Bear
Frosty Snowman and Teddy Bear
Amadeus Emanon had been invited to sing an original song for the Christmas concert at Saint Genevieve’s Church which he attended.
“Do you know what he’s going to sing?” Angelique Dumont asked Amadeus’ friend Renfield R. Renfield as they sat in the pews.
“No, I don’t,” Renfield replied.
Amadeus began his introduction to the song, “When I’ve been out walking in my neighbourhood in the evening for the past couple of weeks to look at the Christmas lights, one of the houses I’ve noticed has a sparkling Frosty the Snowman lit up with some sparkling snow flakes. Next to Frosty is a teddy bear that’s carrying a large nicely wrapped Christmas present. It too is lit up. So I’ve written a song about Frosty Snowman and Teddy Bear.”
Amadeus began his song,
“Frosty Snowman, Frosty Snowman,
he is cooler than a ceiling fan,
he’s made of snow
from head to toe
and his carrot nose
has that certain glow.
With buttons for eyes
that hypnotize
his charcoal mouth has never tasted fries
He wears a scarf and several school ties
He smokes a pipe under moonlit skies.
As for Teddy, he’s always ready
to help you bear the unbearable
And though you think his Christmas sweater is unwearable
He wears it just the same
His excuse may be lame
And his pic won’t adorn a frame
But being unique is his game.
He holds a gift nicely wrapped
He looks so fresh having recently napped
He waves hello
With places to go
He’ll wave good-bye
But please don’t cry
He will be back
carrying Santa’s sack.
Frosty Snowman, Teddy Bear
As you see, they’ve got real flair
Come Christmas Eve, you’ll see they care
And please hang your stockings by the chimney somewhere
And please don’t mock Santa’s extra large suit he’ll wear
For he ate too much Mrs. Claus’ cookies on a dare.
-A song, poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday December 15th
2019.
Wilkie The Cat Plays Abraham Lincoln On Broadway: A Poem
Wilkie the feline thespian decided to celebrate Presidents’ Day 2019
By not drinking his own urine as proposed in AOC’s deal New Green
Rather he would play the role of Abraham Lincoln
and he did so after much heavy drinkin’.
Now Wilkie the Cat fancied himself the Orson Welles of Broadway
even though he was a bigger flop than a halibut caught in a codway
His proposal for a Presidents’ Day play
which drove theatregoers away
Was to play the role of Abraham Lincoln
with his catty whiskers, he’d be winkin’ and blinkin’
And his girlfriend would play Mary Todd
while the audience would play the part of Nod
which in their seats would be what they’d be doin’
As great theatre lovers underwent a serious screwin’
With encouragement from the ghost of that junior Ed Wood
Wilkie would put on the best show he could
which meant that turkey from outer space Plan 9
would when compared with Wilkie’s Lincoln look like Casablanca sublime
Wilkie fancied a play within a play like weeping over Hecuba within Hamlet
or Pyramus and Thisbe looking for rooms to let
all for the benefit of Midsummer’s wet dream
As Puck causes mortal aspirations to come apart at the seam
Wilkie’s idea was to have John Wilkes Booth as an actor on stage
appearing in Our American Cousin an 1865 theatrical rage
and have Booth shoot Lincoln from the stage rather than the Presidential Box
And allow John Wilkes Booth time to wipe the blood off his socks
Needless to say the idea sounded so much better over 10 bottles of gin
as Wilkie regaled the cast with his own peculiar historical spin
taking dramatic license to the seeming level of a mortal sin
Which it was pre-Vatican II
As Fishy Fridays
gave way to beef stew.
Sean Connery would play Our American Cousin
His line, “Miss Moneypenny, my head is abuzzin’
I have swiped the Army’s budget for the building of a wall
Because doing so I must admit makes me feel rather tall
As wearing this wee tartan kilt has me in its thrall
And the blasted neighbours won’t pay for this fine looking wall
Can you imagine their sheer arrogance and gall
And Congress won’t let me shut down government until way next fall
so I’m forced to declare an emergency even though there’s none at all.”
And Johnny Depp playing the fairy godmother of walls would appear in pink tights
giving LGBTQ members of the audience severe nocturnal frights
As Depp waves his magic wand, lo and behold
From one of his mix matched socks, a gun he does unfold
For the fairy godmother of walls is John Wilkes Booth
his night day job of exchanging nickels for a tooth
the Shakespearian actor did kindly forsooth
But Wilkie as Lincoln was eating a tuna fish sandwich
And Baphomet in the next booth was eating roast ostrich
And as William Shatner appeared as Captain James Kirk
It turned out both patrons’ food allergies were at work
With the force of a mid-Atlantic gale breeze
Wilkie and Baphomet let out a ferocious sneeze
And the wall came a tumblin’ down
right on the Statue of Liberty’s crown.
The play is over
The day is done
And Wilkie from his creditors
is now on the run.
-A Wilkie The Cat poem
written by Christopher
Monday February 18th
2019.
Theatre goers smiling because they haven’t yet seen Wilkie The Cat’s Broadway play about Abraham Lincoln.
Tom Brady and The Baphomet
Renfield R. Renfield was having lunch with his friends Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont.
Renfield was having his favourite item on the menu- the Deluxe Dagwood Bumstead sized tuna fish sandwich.
“So anyways,” Renfield went on between huge mouthfuls of tuna fish, “it turns out that the aide to Rep. Nancy Pelosi spoke to stakeholders in both Blue Cross and Blue Shield insurance companies and assured them that there was no way Rep. Pelosi would allow for a national publicly funded single payer health care system. Hence I was right to advise my favourite American politian Rep. Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez to give Rep. Nancy Pelosi the raspberry she so richly deserved when the former arrived in Washington DC. Establishment Democrats are just as bad as Trump neo-Establishment Republicans in defending the interests of ordinary working class and middle class Americans but the pseudointellectuals who make up the editorial content and opinion of The New York Times and Washington Post haven’t figured that out yet. They’re still busy blaming the poor Russians for Trump’s victory in 2016. Have you noticed the Robert Mueller probe which has been going on and on have charged Trump’s cronies with all manner of felonies except collusion with the Russians? Trump and Pelosi may be divided when it comes to walls but when it comes to denying poor and sick Americans access to first rate quality health care, the Donald and Nancy are united as one. Egads that sickening imagery I just used in my last sentence I won’t be able to get out of my mind now.”
Renfield pushed aside his remaining half plate of the Deluxe Dagwood Bumstead Tuna Sandwich.
Amadeus (whose large appetite overcame any aversion he might have had towards Renfieldian imagery of Donald Trump and Nancy Pelosi engaged in conjugal relations even though both were excellent at screwing the country) promptly started to eat the sandwich.
“And then of course the New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady who may or may not have inflatable and deflatable balls,” Renfield added, “is now promoting Baphomet worship through the beer named in his honour.”
“Baphomet the trans-species and transgendered hybrid goat-human demon worshiped by the Knights-Templar, Eliphas Levi, Aleister Crowley and all those groups who object to public displays of the 10 Commandments?” Amadeus stopped eating (albeit momentarily).
“The very same,” Renfield nodded.
“I’d heard about that,” said Angelique Dumont who was an American vampiress from New Orleans (and therefore most definitely not a Tom Brady fan), “The Samuel Adams Brewing Company based in Boston is brewing a limited edition beer that celebrates Tom Brady as the GOAT (Greatest of All Time except in those moments when his balls start deflating). But the goat they use in the image is the Baphomet goat head.”
“Wow,” Amadeus managed to say between mouthfuls of the tuna.
“And of course the quarterback holding the ball on the beer can who happens to have the head of the Baphomet bears the #12 on his jersey which of course is Tom Brady’s number but 2012 is also the year that the famous French Lovecraftian inspired artist and painter P.H. Felinedamour mysteriously disappeared on the night of December 21st just as the Baphomet was seen standing outside his art studios,” Renfield remarked as he sipped his Chai tea.
“Wow,” Amadeus repeated his mantra for the evening the same way that Fox news commentators mindlessly and stupidly repeat the mantra word of Venezuela whenever they were confronted with Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez’s proposals for a publicly funded national healthcare system.
. . .
“Who are you?” New England Patriots quarterback Tom Brady asked the ghostly white figure wearing the black mask who approached him.
“I am the ghost of Dr. Faustus,” the spectre replied, “the one who foolishly sold his soul to the demon Mephistopheles. I was recently granted temporary dispensational leave from Purgatory by Hades and Persephone the rulers of the Underworld to come warn you as Hades just happens to be a New England Patriots fan.”
“Warn me of what?” Brady spilled GOAT Beer all over himself.
“The Baphomet (whom you stupidly sold your soul to) will soon be coming for your soul,” Faustus sneezed an ectoplasmic sneeze all over the inside of his mask.
“But I was promised 7 Super Bowl titles in exchange for my soul,” Brady protested, “Just like Oliver Cromwell was promised 7 years of power as absolute ruler of Britain when he sold his soul to Lucifer the Devil himself. I only have 6 Super Bowl titles.”
“Yes, but the Antichrist might be coming soon,” Faustus took off his mask showing a heavily burnt and disfigured face, “and the Baphomet is afraid that in the confusion of the Apocalypse, your soul might somehow get away from him.”
“How the Hell is the Antichrist coming soon?” Brady asked.
“Well, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, Pope Francis, Talpiot (which is the Israeli equivalent of DARPA) and Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman are currently working on a strict timetable,” Faustus answered.
“Shit,” said Brady.
Faustus continued to walk down the street where he passed filmmaker Michael Moore in a pizzeria drinking GOAT Beer alongside the demon Baal and eating the pizzeria’s John Podesta pizza special.
-A vampire novel
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 6th
2019.
The Baphomet and Tom Brady merged in one on a GOAT Beer can.
Reblog of Hey Little Groundhog: A Poem
Here’s a poem I wrote 3 years ago:
Hey Little Groundhog: A Poem
Hey little groundhog, rise up from your sleep
lift your head from the hole and give us all a peep
Hey little groundhog, yes I’m calling you
we all want to know, is this winter through?
On that Candlemas morning, we’ll be watching you
you’re the prognosticator we’ll be listening to
Will it be 6 weeks?
Or early bathing streaks?
We’ll keep our eyes on you
and hope your shadow
isn’t coming out too.
-A poem written by Christopher
Monday February 1st 2016
In a personal message
To the groundhog
when he emerges
to see signs of his shadow
tomorrow February 2nd
Groundhog Day
Pan Goatee- Nobel Peace Prize Nominee
The world’s most lovable genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee (whose much loved serial killing specialty was ridding the world of repulsively ugly looking ugly women) had just found out that he had been nominated for this year’s Nobel Peace Prize by the American Association For The Restoration of Beauty and Aesthetics (who had a most Herculean task ahead of them).
“Why bless their beauty loving little hearts,” Pan Goatee remarked with all the charm of a gentleman caller on Scarlett O’Hara in the film Gone With The Wind.
Of course Pan didn’t win but like most Academy Award losing actors and actresses say (as their noses grow bigger like Pinocchio’s), “It’s an honour just to have been nominated.”
No sooner had Pan Goatee thought this charming little Tara drawing room thought when a super ugly repulsive and hyperpathetic looking ugly white girl sat down right across from him on the train.
“You stupid ugly looking thing,” Pan Goatee punched her full force in her pathetic ugly face with his fists, “What makes an ugly looking piece of shit such as yourself think it’s perfectly okay to sit across from a satyr with impeccable good taste like me.”
Pan Goatee continued to beat the ugly looking thing with his fists and then tore her apart with his goat legs’ hooves feet.
Krampus the 2nd arrived on the scene to finish the job.
He cut the ugly thing up into 666 trillion pieces with his laser machete.
The goat demon then threw the pieces into a gasoline soaked plastic garbage bag and used it to burn down the house of one of the Brooklyn witches.
A U.S. Supreme Court justice had recently hired Pan Goatee and Krampus The 2nd to burn down the dwelling places of Brooklyn witches and in the process also reduce the number of U.S. Democratic Party registered voters.
Goatee then killed a bunch more ugly women who were riding the bus home with him as well as the bus driver who tried to run Pan over as soon as the satyr got off the bus.
Krampus the 2nd then astral projected from Calgary (the uglo white female capital of the world) to Brooklyn New York where he burnt down a few more Brooklyn witches’ dwellings.
British MP Renfield R. Renfield in the British House of Commons enthusiastically described the blazing All Saints’ Day arsons of Baal and Baphomet followers as the “Salem witch trials without the horrendous expense of having taxpayer funded judicial court trials.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday November 1st
2018.
The Donald T-Rump Song
Oh, let us drink a drink, a drink
to Donald T-Rump, T-Rump
the saviour of the human race
or so he thought in his head
for which a poor red spider monkey bled
Now Donald T-Rump thought he was Julius Caesar
because he was just that type of senile geezer
but he forgot his Roman history
it’s certainly no mystery
Julius was assassinated
dying very constipated
and Augustus took over
like a four leaf clover
while Jared Kushner returns home from Dover
to take the reigns of power
for it is the False Messianic hour.
-A song written
by Christopher
Friday October 19th
2018
to the tune of
The Irish Rovers song
Lily The Pink
Cthulhu Threatens Vengeance On America For Sacred Riana Being Voted Off AGT: A Horror Poem
Cthulhu Threatens Vengeance On America For Sacred Riana Being Voted Off AGT: A Horror Poem
It was the city proud to be oh so happy and gay
not so the creature now dwelling in the Bay
San Francisco felt a shaking
and it wasn’t earthquaking
It was Cthulhu as mad as Hell
but not at Mel B. or Simon Cowell
Howie Mandel was likewise all right
but Heidi Klum got a fright in the night
A tentacle 🐙 grabbed her leg
and it wasn’t Trump taken down a peg
For Cthulhu was in love with the Sacred Riana
like King King showing Fay Wray his big banana
He was expecting his favourite magician to go all the way
not burnt to ashes like a voodoo doll on a hot summer day
For America had voted Riana out
as Heidi complained of leg pain worse than gout
And now America would pay a very high price
and it wouldn’t be tariffs on chicken fried rice 🍚
A creature from the Lovecraftian Mythos
was with the land of the free extremely cross
No need to worry about Putin, Iran or Kim
For America, Cthulhu now has it in
It will drown in blood
like a raging flood
Fake news or not
but tentacles 🦑 of death shall hit the spot
and of making the land great again, it shall all come to not.
-A comic horror poem
written by Christopher
Wednesday August 22nd
2018.
The Sacred Riana is Cthulhu’s queen
She ascended a fiery wall before commercial break scene
She was crawling up to be crowned the Queen of Hell
from the Beast like creature who at the bottom of the sea 🌊 does dwell
After The Golden Globes
After The Golden Globes
“So the Golden Globe Awards was last night,” Renfield remarked as he drank his tea and read The Times of London.
“Yes it was and I noticed that Harvey Weinstein wasn’t on the red carpet last night,” said the somewhat naive Amadeus.
“No,” Renfield glared exasperatingly at Amadeus, “I suppose Mr. Weinstein didn’t want television audiences to see what an overcircumcision performed on the red carpet looks like.”
“Overcircumcision?” Amadeus glanced quizzically at Renfield, “How does one become overcircumcised?”.
“I hope never to find out,” Renfield replied with great honesty.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday January 8th
2018.
Dracul Van Helsing 
Pope Rihanna and Diablos Nocturna At The 2018 Met Gala
May 12, 2018 at 11:59 pm (Avatar Speaks, Celebrities, Commentary, Culture, Fashion, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, News, Religion, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (Bishopess of Rome Rihanna, Diablos Nocturna, High Priestess Rihanna, Met Gala 2018, Pope Rihanna, Rihanna, Rome, Sabrine Davignon, The Vampiress Lilith, The Vatican, Vatican)
Pope Rihanna and Diablos Nocturna At The 2018 Met Gala
Diablos Nocturna stood in the secret Time Tunnel at the CERN Large Hadron Collider in Geneva, Switzerland.
The date was Saturday May 12th 2018.
Standing alongside him in the tunnel was the powerful French witch Sabrine Davignon.
https://pin.it/66zjfkycjmk57p
The CERN scientist Dr. Hades Spawnus threw the switch.
Both Diablos Nocturna and the French witch Sabrine Davignon went back in time to the Met Gala 2018 in New York City held on Monday May 7th 2018.
And standing there was Pope Rihanna on the steps of the Metropolitan Museum of Art:
https://pin.it/oluijvyvk2jt63
Sabrine Davignon commanded the elements, “Freeze time except for…” and then she spoke names in Latin which confused the post Vatican II Jesuit priest Father James Martin.
All people at the gala were frozen in time and place except for Pope Rihanna, Diablos Nocturna and Sabrine Davignon herself.
Diablos Nocturna went and knelt in front of Pope Rihanna.
He kissed her papal ring.
She then turned around and bent over and lifted her glittering sparkling papal robe and short tight skirted mini dress and he kissed her ass.
Sabrine Davignon thought to herself, “How like new members of the White House staff and the Trump Administration when they go in to meet the Donald in the Oval Office for the first time.”
Pope Rihanna kissed Diablos Nocturna on the forehead and both cheeks (facial cheeks for clarification).
She then ran her fingers through his hair and asked, “Have you been a good boy, Diablos Nocturna?”.
“No, I’ve been a very bad boy, your Holiness,” Diablos Nocturna confessed.
“Then I must punish you,” Pope Rihanna removed from underneath her robe a large wooden paddle that had written on it in large print MY PAPAL BLESSINGS AND INDULGENCES (written in Latin of course which would have further confused Father James Martin had he not been frozen in time and place).
She then sat on the steps, commanded Diablos Nocturna to take off all his clothes and lie across her skirted lap.
When Diablos Nocturna had done so, Pope Rihanna then administered 666 very strong and powerful whacks on his bare buttocks with her Papal Blessings and Indulgences (in Latin) paddle.
When she had finished, Diablos Nocturna then arose off her lap bearing a huge erection.
“Now perform the act of ritual tantric sex,” Sabrine Davignon said.
As Diablos Nocturna and Pope Rihanna performed the act of ritual tantric sex on the steps of The Metropolitan, the vampiress Golgotha (the daughter of Lilith) flew on top of a Cross in the Heavenly Bodies: Fashion and The Catholic Imagination Exhibit at the Met and hung there with her arms outstretched.
Meanwhile in Rome Italy, the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith was dancing around the Vatican wearing a blood red evening dress and creating a huge whirlwind as she did so.
Sabrine Davignon (the immortal daughter of Hecate the Greek goddess of witchcraft in her beautiful young maiden form and King Saint Louis IX of France from a night in which the blessed saint fell into temptation) smiled as she watched the Lady of the Dance on her smart phone (the image was being recorded by the cigarette smoking demon Asmodeus on his smart phone in Rome).
Meanwhile at the Vatican itself, Pope Francis awakened in his bedroom confronted by the sight of Beelzebub the Lord of the Flies doing up his fly on his Prada men’s suit after emerging from the papal bathroom 🚽.
And finally Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster awoke in a sweat in his lobster tank at the Set Enterprises laboratory in London.
He quickly wiped the sweat off his lobster brow with one of his claws.
He wondered, had what he saw all been a dream or was it real?
It would be some time before Michelangelo pronounced his final judgement on the matter.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 12th
2018.
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