Pike’s Peak

March 15, 2019 at 9:36 pm (Crime, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, News, Spy Tales, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Pan Goatee was getting out a lot more as the city’s long cold winter was coming to an end.

Sadly so were the city’s vast array of repulsively ugly looking women.

The genetic interbreeding between the city’s stupid white males (whom the brainless Neo-Nazis considered the master race) and the city’s walruses, stoats and sewer rats had produced a vast array of ugliness unsurpassed in human history.

What passed for female among much of the city’s population no doubt was the reason why Calgary-Centre was the federal constituency with the greatest proportion of male homosexuals in Canada even higher than the numerous fruit belts on Canada’s West Coast.

Goatee was just returning from a McDonald’s restaurant when sadly a fat ugly blimp came waddling up the street ruining what had been until then a great spring evening.

Goatee once again clutched his trusty laser astral machete and beheaded the loathsome creature.

He cut the body up into 666 trillion pieces and once again called on his trusted confrere Krampus The 2nd of the DARPA Hazardous Waste Disposal and Removal Unit to bag up the remains and take them to the flames of Tartarus to be burnt.

It was no doubt this which was the primary cause of climate change and not bovine flatulence as the airheads behind the Green New Deal would suggest.

. . .

Donald Trump was pissed off.

How dare Republican Senators in his own party vote to overturn his declaration of a national emergency?

“I’ve been stabbed in the back,” Trump angrily pounded his desk.

“Beware the Ides of March, Julius, beware the ides of March,” Trump’s pet Norwegian blue parrot squawked from inside his cage.

Trump looked at the date on his calendar.

March 15th.

What was this Ides of March that his parrot was referring to?

Trump’s Norwegian blue parrot, of course, had a classical education.

Trump himself did not.

. . .

The ET gray Gali-Gula (possessed by the ghost of the late earthling ancient Roman Emperor Caligula) sat in a Toronto nightclub where indoor pot smoking was allowed.

This would allow other people to see him as people only seemed to be able to see him when they were high on cannabis smoke.

When his good friend Justin Trudeau had his genetically created marijuana smoking desert cactus plant called Strawberry Fields Forever available to him in the Prime Ministerial Greenhouse, he was able to talk to Justin because then the Prime Minister could see him after inhaling the desert cactus plant’s exhaled pot smoke.

But as soon as Canada arrested Huawei CFO Meng Wanzhou, Chinese intelligence agents had abducted the cannabis inhaling prickly little creature and were holding him hostage in a re-education camp for transgendered Uighurs in western China in exchange for Meng’s release.

Gali-Gula watched the television where it was announced that Scarborough Ontario born and raised YouTube comedian Lilly Singh would be hosting her own late night TV talk show on NBC starting this fall:

I imagine Justin would be pleased to hear that a Canadian would be hosting a late night talk show on a major U.S. network, Gali-Gula thought.


Scarborough Ontario born and raised Lilly Singh hosting a late night talk show in the fall

. . .

Neo-Nazi billionaire Robur Pike was currently visiting Rome on business.

The man who had been genetically cloned from locks of hair belonging to the racist Freemasonic practicing occultist Confederate Brigadier-General Albert Pike in a Knoxville Tennessee laboratory by Nazi scientist Dr. Eckhart Fromm back in 1966 (Dr. Fromm had been smuggled into the U.S. along with other leading Nazi scientists through Operation Paperclip at the end of World War II).

Pike had ordered himself a glass of champagne to toast today’s racist terrorist attacks on two mosques in Christchurch New Zealand which killed 49 people and injured 48 others.

Promoting hatred and intolerance between difference races and religions was one surefire way to restore the Thousand Year Reich of the Nazis.

Pike smiled as he thought of all the carnage down in Christchurch.

. . .

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was spending Friday night alone.

The ghosts of Orson Welles and Winston Churchill were down in Purgatory attending a lecture given by the ghost of Rev. Ian Paisley on what Brexit will mean for Northern Ireland.

His friends Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont were out on a date.

And the entire country seemed to have lost its senses over the possibility of the United Kingdom facing a no deal Brexit.

Renfield wondered whether it was a trick of light and shadow on this night but it almost looked like the sinister shadow of a swastika was trying to envelop the marble bust head of Sir Winston Churchill in his office.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 15th
2019.

Advertisements

Permalink 13 Comments

Nice Work On The Trinity Case, Mr. Albion: A Poem

February 22, 2019 at 11:57 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Film, Movies, Mystery, Poetry) (, , , )


“Nice work on the Trinity case, Mr. Albion.”

They came to Hollywood by the dozens
In search of fame and fortune
Positive they’d be the next goddess of the silver screen
Girls from the mid-west, girls from the northeast, girls from the south,
Girls from Canada
and girls from Mexico.

Such a girl was Trinity Esperanza
From Mexico City
19, she’d come to Hollywood with stars in her eyes
A week later
She had disappeared
A woman from another country
disappeared?
Who cares was the attitude here

Her disappearance wasn’t even reported in the press here
Just another foreigner who disappeared
Carson Cody Albion Private Eye would not have known about it
Unless the girl’s grandmother hadn’t shown up in his office

“Please find Trinity,” She begged
As she emptied her purse on the table
And with all the money sitting there
Albion looked down at the table
And counted the money in his head
$37.42

“Mrs. Esperanza,” he poured himself another glass of bourbon,
“How much money do you have in your bank account?”
” $37.42″, she answered.
Albion looked at her,
Drank the glass of bourbon
Lit himself a cigarette
And blew smoke at the ceiling
Where the fan quickly dispersed it to the 4 corners of his world-
his office.

“Put your money away,” he told Mrs. Esperanza, “this one’s on the house.”

Like all cases involving disappeared girls and Hollywood
The answer involved sex slaves and lecherous Hollywood producers
For what lay behind the red moviehouse theatre curtains
and the silver screen
was not silver
And definitely not gold

Images of dead Presidents on paper was the currency
And a lot of it
That was the language of Hollywood
Behind the scenes

Carson Cody Albion found Trinity
A prostitution ring that catered to those who lived behind the pearly gates of Beverly Hills
Paradise to those who owned the place
But Hell for some of those who worked there

Albion found Trinity
And after negotiating with the producer
Trinity was freed.
The price?
The real Maltese Falcon from that film a few years back.
Turned out the producer was a big fan of movies made by rival studios.

Albion’s burglary skills came in handy
and not even Sherlock Holmes could have solved the case
Basil Rathbone had other roles to play

Of course no one in LA seemed to care that a young Mexican girl was found
Save when Albion delivered Trinity to Mrs. Esperanza
One customer in a barber shop reflected the thinking
in general
They ought to build a wall to keep those people out
Albion looked at the man from the barber chair where he sat
“Thank God,” Albion thought, “FDR sits in the Oval Office and not this man”.

One day Albion was wandering on the set of the movie Cover Girl
When Rita Hayworth of all people addressed him,

“Nice work on the Trinity case, Mr. Albion.”
So spoke the woman whose real name was Margarita Carmen Cansino.

And on this night
Carson Cody Albion sat in a bar
He decided to order a glass of wine for a change
Maybe it was time he showed a little class as an ex-girlfriend once said to him
“Class? What is it?” Albion asked himself as he lit a cigarette

He reached into his coat pocket to pay the bill
“Put your money away,” Julio the bartender said, “this one’s on the house.”

-A Private Eye Poem
written by Christopher
Friday February 22nd
2019.

Permalink 13 Comments

Donald Trump’s Phone Call With Saudi Crown Prince

November 19, 2018 at 11:56 pm (Crime, Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, News, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

The verdict was in.

The CIA, CSIS, MI-6 and the German Federal Intelligence Service were all convinced that Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman had personally ordered the brutal and savage murder of Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi,

But as Donald Trump brushed all the squirrel droppings and walnuts out of his toupee, he knew in his heart of hearts and brain of brains that he had more intelligence put together than any intelligence agency on the planet (or anyone else for that matter).

He sung to himself, “MBS killed no one, this I know, for the Saudi Crown Prince tells me so.”

He said to Lexington his valet as he dressed for bed, “I had a long phone conversation with the Saudi Crown Prince tonight, Lexington.”

“Delighted to hear it, sir,” his British butler answered.

“Lexington, do you know if we have a U.S. Consulate in Istanbul?” Trump asked.

“I believe we do, sir,” Lexington answered.

“I wonder if it would be possible for us to find a Turkish fiancee for CNN’s Jim Acosta,” Trump mused aloud.

“Good God, sir,” Lexington’s face turned ghostly white, “and just what was the gist of your conversation with the Saudi Crown Prince?”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday November 19th
2018.

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster’s vision (just before his lobster tank exploded again) of DARPA contract assassiness Panty Goatee disguised as actress Emma Watson telling the car driver, “Take me to the U.S. Consulate here in Istanbul.”

Permalink 30 Comments

Haiku About Irene Adler

September 22, 2018 at 5:28 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, Poetry) (, , , , , , , )

A great stage actress
stole Bohemian king’s heart
and then Sherlock Holmes’

Permalink 3 Comments

Haiku About Sherlock Holmes of 221B Baker Street

September 22, 2018 at 5:12 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, Poetry) (, , , , , )

Comfortable rooms
filled with smoke from a curved pipe
hides truly great mind

Permalink Leave a Comment

Sherlock Holmes and Jack The Ripper: A Haiku

August 28, 2018 at 10:37 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, History, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Poetry) (, , , )

Sherlock Holmes and Jack The Ripper: A Haiku

Holmes had Jack in lab
electrocuted him because
The courts would acquit

When you’re as important in society as Jack was, the Old Bailey would never convict.

So Sherlock Holmes took matters in his own hand.

Years later, Nikola Tesla would re-enact Holmes’ test for his friend Mark Twain.
But without using a living subject like the great British detective did.

Permalink 12 Comments

Jack The Ripper: A Love Story Excerpt 78 By Malcolm Marsh

July 23, 2018 at 10:17 pm (Crime, Detective story, History, Horror, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror) (, , )

An excellent suspense novel about Jack the Ripper told from the Ripper’s point of view by a great writer and storyteller- my friend Malcolm Marsh.

Malcolm Marsh - Author

Jack the Ripper – A Love Story ( Excerpt 78 )

  He went to the International Working Men’s Educational Club, which was the nearest building and returned with two men, Isaac Kozebrodsky and Morris Eagle, the trio discovered that she was dead, her throat cut!

They re-entered the club and raised the hue and cry, but they were too late, the moment that the returned to the club, I was away, I had no intention of hanging around to be caught by the mob.

Louis Diemschutz , When questioned later by the Police, said that he was certain that the Ripper was still in the premises when he arrived, he said he could sense his presence. How right he was. I had made good my escape, and would return to kill again, hopefully before this night was over.

When conversing with Inspector Abberline after the killings, He mentioned the…

View original post 106 more words

Permalink 7 Comments

When Terrorism Hits Close To Home

April 23, 2018 at 3:48 pm (Crime, Geopolitics and International Relations, News) ()

I don’t often write about myself because like a lot of writers of fiction, I’m actually quite shy and introverted and do not like revealing details about my personal life.

The only exception I’ve found is when something deeply traumatic happens to me.

About 45 minutes ago, I was on Facebook and I got a notification that Joanna one of my friends in Toronto had marked herself as safe in the Traffic-Pedestrian Collision at Yonge Street and Finch Avenue in North York, Toronto.

I thought “what’s this about?” and read it.

Apparently Joanna narrowly missed getting hit by a van that killed 9 people and injured 16 others.

It sounded to me like a terrorist attack.

And of course I got really angry like I do when I hear about most terrorist attacks.

Only this time it was more personal.

Joanna didn’t go into much details on it but I imagine she would have had her little baby girl Ellis in her arms at the time (as Joanna is a stay at home mom and Ellis is
less than a year old).

This image in my mind really got me angry.

Because Ellis is such a beautiful little girl and has such deeply expressive expressions on her face when Joanna posts pics on FB.

So in a world of increasing terrorist attacks, it was inevitable that someone I knew would either be directly affected by one or close to one.

I just thank God that neither Joanna nor Ellis was hurt or killed.

Please remember the victims of this tragedy and their family members and friends when you pray if you’re a praying person.

Permalink 75 Comments

Michelangelo’s Vision of Rick Santorum’s Wife Being Shot

March 26, 2018 at 10:21 pm (Commentary, Crime, Geopolitics and International Relations, News, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Michelangelo’s Vision of Rick Santorum’s Wife Being Shot

Amadeus Emanon was in the Set Enterprises laboratory eating a dozen grilled cheese sandwiches and watching Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster who was in his aquarium playing with a waterproof Sherrielock Holmes leather skirted dominatrix Barbie doll.

Suddenly Michelangelo let out a penetrating screech which caused Amadeus to momentarily pause in the middle of eating one of his grilled cheese sandwiches 🥪.

Thirty seconds later Amadeus resumed eating as Michelangelo picked up a psychic vision from the future on his lobster antennae.

The vision was of British MP Renfield R. Renfield on his first political trip to America as a member of the British House of Commons.

Mr. Renfield was at a fancy cocktail 🍹 🍸 political reception in Washington DC.

Absent from the reception was Donald Trump because his hairpiece toupee had been stolen by a Kraken who had mistaken it for a fresh water nest of baby salmon eggs.

“Caviar is being served,” Lexington the White House valet announced.

Among the guests at the reception were former Pennsylvania Senator Rick Santorum and his wife Karen Garver Santorum.

Mrs. Santorum went up to the table where caviar was being served when she was confronted by a man waving a gun.

The man had been diagnosed with a dozen different mental illnesses by psychiatrists at one of the country’s leading medical centres last year.

Last week he had been re-elected the Membership Secretary of his local chapter of the NRA.

And this morning he had purchased a dozen different assault rifles from a local store including the one he now pointed directly at Mrs. Santorum.

The man pressed the trigger eight times in rapid succession.

As FBI agents ran to tackle the man, Renfield spoke sharply to the mentally inept American politician Sen. Rick Santorum, “Don’t stand there like an idiot. Go perform CPR on your wife.”

“But… but… but..” Sen. Santorum stammered, “I’ve never taken a CPR course in my entire life.”

“You’re as useless as tits on a bull aren’t you?” Renfield handed Sen. Santorum his glass of champagne, “Here hold this.”

Renfield ran over to Mrs. Santorum saying, “I have taken a course in CPR.”

Then he glared angrily back at Sen. Santorum, “Shows the truth of that old saying… Those who can, do. Those who can’t, pontificate endlessly on one of many subjects they know nothing whatsoever about.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 26th
2018.

Permalink 4 Comments

Who Is The Father? – Reflections On DNA and Free Will

November 20, 2017 at 8:34 pm (Crime, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Who Is The Father? -Reflections On DNA and Free Will

The New Orleans Vampiress Angelique Dumont had gone to see her friend Amadeus Emanon.

She realized that Amadeus would probably be feeling stressed out today.

For Amadeus was not like other men.

He had been genetically created in a test tube from DNA from locks of hair belonging to composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, British actor Alan Rickman and California mass murderer Charles Manson.

Amadeus had emerged from the test tube as a fully grown adult back in late 2005.

He might have had the body of an adult but he still had the mind of a child.

And as he grew emotionally and psychologically, one of the greatest things he had struggled with was the fact that one of the DNA donors involved in his genetic creation had been the notorious killer Charles Manson.

And now that particular donor of DNA – Charles Manson – was now dead.

So Angelique figured that Amadeus would once again be struggling with the issue- would he be genetically destined to be another Charles Manson?

Angelique pointed out that physically in terms of his appearance, Amadeus looked like a young Alan Rickman.

As a concert pianist, he played the piano like the young child prodigy Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart.

“Amadeus, you’ve always been more interested in music than you have in murder,” Angelique told him, “it’s not only heredity that influences us but our environment as well. Manson was musically inclined having written a song for the Beach Boys but his thoughts gradually turned to murder rather than music, he turned to hate rather than love. He wanted to promote war between races rather than harmony among all humanity. You are the total opposite of that, Amadeus. You prefer music to murder and love to hate, one human race to any manifestation of racism. You are the opposite of Charles Manson, Amadeus. We decide to become who we are in life. Manson chose to become what he is- an angry murderer and failed musician who ends up dying in prison. You have become a loving joyful person and your musical talent grows with each passing day.”

“You mentioned environment?” Amadeus looked sad, “Look at my environment. I’m personal concert pianist to an ancient Egyptian vampire who killed and dismembered his own brother. My only friend other than you is Renfield R. Renfield a man who is the flesh and blood embodiment of television’s Raymond Red Reddington and as such the people Renfield bumps off may be assholes but Renfield is still a killer nevertheless.”

“Well the fact that you live in such an environment and yet choose to be the kind loving person that you are is testament to your strength of character, Amadeus,” Angelique said gently.

Amadeus sat silently considering what Angelique had just said.

Angelique added, “Consider the song Manson wrote and gave to Beach Boy Dennis Wilson. The title of the song that Manson wrote was Cease To Exist. Wilson turned that song into the Beach Boys’ Never Learn Not To Love. Manson’s original song and its title was like the life he lived- Cease To Exist. His life was nihilistic- he wanted to annihilate people. He ordered the deaths of people that ended in the killing of Sharon Tate and others. He wanted to bring about a race war- further death and destruction. It was all about death and annihilation for him- ceasing to exist. And now he has ceased to live- his last breath being that of prison air. Your life has been following a different course, Amadeus. Learning to love. Your life has been the embodiment of what Wilson did with Manson’s song when he changed the title and the lyrics- Never Learn Not To Love. The life Manson lived was the denial of existence. The life you’ve been living is the affirmation of love. Continue to live that life, Amadeus. For you are no Charles Manson. You are Amadeus Emanon.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday November 20th
2017.

Permalink 6 Comments

Next page »