Dulcinea Lucia and The Vampiric Knights-Templar
Dulcinea Lucia and The Vampiric Knights-Templar
Once Private Eyes 👀 Agathor Christie and Magog Rhys Petley decided to take the case for Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal and search for the 13 Vampiric Knights-Templar who survived French King 👑 Philip the Fair’s Friday October 13th 1307 raid on Jacques de Molay and his fellow Knights-Templars, they started where most Private Eyes would when confronted with such a case.
They went to see a gypsy fortune 🔮 teller.
And a young beautiful and sexy one at that.
Dulcinea Lucia the gypsy fortune teller of London’s Carnaby Street.
When they entered her shop, they discovered she was dressed like Elvira the popular American horror movie show hostess of the 1980s- a black evening dress slit at the sides from thigh to ankle, black silk pantyhose and black spiked stiletto high heeled shoes.
This would thus be an interview both men would enjoy.
Dulcinea Lucia told Agathor and Magog that the 13 Knights had managed to escape King Philip’s Friday the 13th raid by being in a Paris brothel at the time.
When informed of the raid, the 13 knights went south to the village of Rennes-le-Chateau in the Languedoc region of southern France 🇫🇷.
“Any idea, why there?” Agathor asked.
“One of Jesus’ cousins is buried in a grave there,” Dulcinea Lucia answered.
“The Jesus?” The Marxist atheist former Labour MP Magog raised an eyebrow.
“Yes,” Dulcinea Lucia answered.
“How did they become vampires?” Agathor asked.
“The ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith was in the village of Rennes-le-Chateau at the time,” Dulcinea Lucia answered, “she bit each man on the neck and turned them into vampires on the evening of October 23rd 1307 – 10 days after Philip the Fair’s Friday the 13th October raid on all the lodges and temples of the Knights-Templar in France.”
“And have those 13 Vampiric Knights-Templar survived since then?” Magog queried.
“7 of them were slain inside the Episcopalian Cathedral of St. John The Divine in New York City on Friday October the 13th 2006 while attending a Meatloaf concert being held at the central altar of the cathedral,” Dulcinea Lucia answered.
“The Meat Loaf?” Agathor asked.
“Yes,” Dulcinea Lucia nodded, “the one who sang Bat 🦇 Out of Hell, Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad, I’d Do Anything For Love and Rock And Roll 🎸 Dreams Come Through.”
“And they had a Meat Loaf concert right at the central altar?” Asked Magog who had visited the Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine in New York City with Agathor on their recent U.S. trip where they had encountered Shiva the Hindu god of destruction and transformation at that very same central altar.
“It was more of a Knights-Templar Illuminati satanic ceremony where they were going to sacrifice Meat Loaf to the Baphomet because Baphomet wanted both a singer and a meatloaf dish for his birthday so the Illuminati and the Knights-Templar were going to give him a 2 for 1 special,” Dulcinea Lucia opened her book of meatloaf recipes.
“And you said that 7 of the Vampiric Knights Templar were slain at that Friday the 13th October 2006 Meatloaf sacrifice ceremony in the Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine?” Agathor questioned.
“Yes, the 7 who attended the ceremony,” Dulcinea smoothed her dress, “the other 6 were still in their New York City 🌃 hotel rooms recovering from severe hangovers the night before- hangovers that saved their lives in the long run.”
“Who slew the 7 Vampire Knights that attended the ceremony?” Agathor asked.
“That was Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing and the mighty Lakota Sioux vampire huntress Jennifer Cochran,” Dulcinea Lucia smiled, “both of them were Meat Loaf fans.”
“Of the singer or the dish?” Magog inquired.
“Both,” Dulcinea Lucia smiled and winked.
A bell went off in the kitchen behind her gypsy 🔮 ball reading room.
“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Dulcinea Lucia stood up, “my own meatloaf is ready. Unless you care to join me.”
They did.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday September 17th
2017.
Jack O’ Hare In Film Noir: A Poem
Jack O’ Hare In Film Noir: A Poem
It was on the other side of San Francisco Chinatown
lived the man called Emmanuel Gold Brown
He got electrocuted when the radio fell into his bath one night
with the result he died listening to Inner Sanctum but not from fright
The water was still bubbling when police and ambulance arrived
causing the lieutenant to quip this place is hotter than a jazz jive
Electrocution was the cause of death ruled the city’s coroner
no surprise- unlike the plum in pie of little Jack Horner
The question was who threw the plugged radio into the tub
leading to murder most foul- aye, there’s the rub
Now Jack O’ Hare was a private eye in town
one who knew a verb was different from a noun
The other eyes in town didn’t have much of an education
so bad- they could have been Congressmen planning legislation
It just so happened one hot and sultry night
as a lonely carrot succumbed to Jack’s bite
that Jessica Rabbit came strolling through the door
wearing an outfit that sent most men dead to the floor
Jessica’s tight fitting dress caused Jack to hyperventilate
but that would not be the extent of this bunny rabbit’s fate
for Jessica knew who had slain Emmanuel Gold Brown
the dashing night club owner and man about town
How do you know? Jack asked in between munching on carrots
he wondered why the building next door was loaded with ferrets.
I was there in the bathroom at the time
answered Roger Rabbit’s wife who was dressed to the nine.
Jack choked on his bottle of Avocado 🥑 and Grapefruit mix
he didn’t drink bourbon like those eyes in the Sticks.
What were you doing in the bathroom when the man was taking a bath 🛀?
This remark caused Jessica Rabbit to laugh and laugh.
Said Jessica, We owe the IRS a lot in back taxes
far more than Lizzie Borden gave her parents whackses
Now Roger’s acting career doesn’t pay much when it comes to loading the dice 🎲
In fact it doesn’t even pay for a take out order of rice 🍚
So I, sighed Jessica, have to make a little money on the side
which often involves taking men for a ride
That means you’re an —–? Jack paused on his paws
“Escort is the word I prefer,” Jessica said, “The service called Ma’s.”
“I just thought Mrs. Barker made apple pie,”
Jack rubbed the carrot juice out of his eye.
“Oh, Mrs. Barker has plenty of pies galore
as well as all sorts of cats coming in and out the door.”
“It’s a real cat house then?”
Jack caught an egg from a hen.
The hen ran up the fire escape
It was how she kept in shape.
“You could very well say that,”
Jessica spoke setting the trap,
“Now come along with me
to the wharf by the sea
and you’ll meet Brown’s killer
for real- not like in a Thriller.”
“And why would I want to meet Brown’s killer?” Jack asked,
“I’d sooner meet the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
“Because I’m paying you to,”
Jessica adjusted her dress tight and blue.
“Paying me to meet a killer?”
It did sound like an opening line in a thriller.
Jessica showed Jack her diamond ring 💍
as the nightingale in the alley started to sing 🎶
“These carats could buy a lot of carrots,” Jessica suggested
as she lowered her dress top showing she was amply breasted.
“Indeed they could,” Jack rose to the occasion
He didn’t need any more persuasion
so Jack and Jessica headed to a wharf on the Bay in San Fran
A foggy night where people get lost just trying to find the can
Jack and Jess got out of the car in time before it headed off the dock
With the splash, Jack sighed, “There goes my favourite sock.”
He really should learn to drive with his shoes on
either that or stop walking bare feet where the salmon spawn.
“Good evening, Mr. O’ Hare,”
said a voice most sinister,
“I’ve been expecting you.”
“Have you seen a floating red sock pass through?”
Jack O’ Hare was anxious to know
before he felt the urge to go.
“I killed Emmanuel Gold Brown,” the man grinned
to deed he’d admit but wouldn’t confess he sinned
“And why did you do that?” Jack sounded like the BBC’s Detective Foyle
while he sat and waited for his tea to boil
“Why are you boiling tea on the dock?”
This man wondered if Jack’s private eye reputation was all a crock
“Because I’m thirsty,” replied Jack
pulling out biscuits for a snack,
“Your voice sounds very familiar.”
The bunny waved aside Jessica’s offer of a Pilsner.
“It should sound familiar,” the man frothed, “for I am the voice of The Shadow.”
A ship 🚢 sailed by carrying llamas for cargo.
“You don’t sound much like Orson Welles,”
Jack found on the pier a book of spells.
“Ever since Welles played that role, the public won’t accept another voice for the Shadow,”
into his handkerchief the man his nose did blow.
“Them’s the brakes,” Jack remarked as a car spun out of control off the dock
Jessica wondered if she should go home and change her frock.
“So,” Jack scratched his whiskers, “why did you kill Emmanuel Gold Brown?”
“Because,” the man said, “he wasn’t listening to me- Lamont Cranston wealthy young man about town.
He was listening to Inner Sanctum Mysteries told by Raymond your host.
For that mistake in radio programming, he’s now a ghost 👻.”
The man took out a gun and aimed it at Jack,
“I wanted to get my reputation back,
to kill the world’s greatest private eye like meat 🍖 on a rack
but whoever told me about you was smoking too much crack.”
“Smoking is bad for your health,”
said Jack whose advice was medical wealth.
The man clicked the gun, “I’ll shoot you like a dog in my pyjama,”
It was then he was run over by a fleeing llama.
The Shadow was buried the very next day
while Jack was hopping through farm fields and hay
Jack thought of the night before and of Jessica Rabbit, he really should have kissed her
He sighed, went home, put the radio on and listened to The Whistler.
-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Monday September 4th
2017.
The Strange Case of The Emerald Green Cat of Bulgaria 🇧🇬: A Poem
The Strange Case of The Emerald Green Cat of Bulgaria 🇧🇬: A Poem
Jack O’ Hare
jack rabbit fair
he really was quite the bunny
that some thought was very funny
One day while he was out hopping
he decided to do some shopping
he spent some time looking at phones
as well as browsing through books about Sherlock Holmes
He bought the latter
avoided walking under a ladder
and went back to his quaint little home 🏡
right next to an abandoned honeycomb
Which was indeed a very wise thing
for Jack loved the way the birds sing
but not the way the bees sting
The latter could be a real pain in the ass
made it unpleasant to sit on the grass
so the honeycomb was long abandoned
possibly since the time of Aladdin
I wonder what became of his genie
Jack thought while eating a vegan weenie
He really should have bought some hot dog buns
although the raisin bran flavoured ones
often gave him the runs
Jack then read the Sherlock Holmes story A Study In Scarlet
and discovered it wasn’t about Mystery Babylon’s harlot
He read the huge volume straight through
while munching on his multi-carrot stew
he finally finished at The Adventure of Schoscombe Old Place
published in 1927
and closed the volume thinking Sherlock’s exploits were heaven
He decided upon putting the book 📚 on the shelf
and dusting off the statue of the garden elf
that like Holmes he’d become a consulting detective
because to be Inspector Lestrade was to be defective
So he put an ad to that effect in the Rabbit Weekly
even though his girlfriend told him it was so geeky 🤓
But come the Wednesday after the ad
came a Saint Bernard dog looking sad 😭 🐶
“I can’t get to sleep at night,” said he
the Saint Bernard dog Wally McGee
Asked Jack, Have you tried drinking herbal tea ☕️
It’s the apparition that appears outside my window each night that is the problem
I’m not sure if it’s ghost or goblin
sighed Wally with fear in his eyes
as he ate the last of Jack’s French fries 🍟
This will mean another run to the grocery store thought Jack
as I have no potatoes left in the sack
Neither will I have Lola
thought Jack as he sipped his Cola
ever since she caught him looking at Mae West’s melons
in an old movie about call girls and felons
She left Jack with these parting words, Aloha.
So as far as Jack’s love life went, he was now in the Lone Star ⭐️ State
but such were the quirks, twists and turns of Fate
Getting back to the problem at hand
Jack looked at the Saint Bernard dog well tanned
for this was a dog who had his day in the sun
as unleashed through a park, he went on a run
So describe the apparition you saw
Jack motioned with his foot to Wally’s paw
All right said Wally
pausing to look at a collie,
“Wow! There’s a real bitch in heat!”.
Sighed Jack, Be less like Trump and be more discreet.
So Wally went on, Getting back to the apparition at hand
it was the most terrifying sight in all the land
it frightened away our neighbourhood Calypso band
and turned my rock garden into mounds of sand
Sounds like quite the spectacle,
Jack was forming thoughts diametrical,
What was it exactly that you did see?
Well, said Wally, I had gotten up to pee,
I went out the back door to my favourite tree
And it was there I saw it
I don’t know what to call it
Describe it as best as you can,
Jack used a carrot 🥕 for a fan
for it was one heck of a hot summer night
the kind where goose bumps make your pants too tight
Said Wally,
By golly!
It was a ghostly ghastly feline
It was blocking the way to my tree line
It glowed emerald green
really quite the scene
and everywhere it went, it glowed in the dark
it could totally light up Central Park
and what I’m telling you is certainly no lark
Jack put on his deerstalker cap
his thinking hat with a flap
He lit up his Sherlockian style pipe
he had Basil Rathbone down to type
Well, Jack coughed
sending the chickens aloft,
this cat you describe I think I’ve heard of
from the lips of Vladimir Birdov
He died in my arms
On Green Acres Farms
He had recently come back from Varna, Bulgaria 🇧🇬
having encountered a cat with menthyl malaria
which it contracted from a little green frog 🐸
that had sat there like a bump on a log
And this unusual type of malaria
previously unknown in Bulgaria 🇧🇬
turned the cat’s colour to a ghostly emerald green
making this tabby the talk of the bar scene
But what’s it doing here in Canada 🇨🇦, Wally wanted to know
He was bursting a gut and quite possibly his toe
Jack looked at Wally and gave his hat a twirl
sending up pipe smoke in quite a widening curl
And then quietly said, Don’t be such a nerd
For you mean to say you haven’t heard,
Prime Minister Justin, unlike Trump, is welcoming all refugees
even those with a emerald green cat furry sneeze.
-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Thursday August 10th
2017.
Sherrielock Holmes vs. Jack The Ripper: A Poem
It was London in the year 1888
a place and a year of great ill-fate
in which ladies of the night in the streets of London
were approached by an evil man and done in.
He wore black hat and cloak, black gloves and cane
he was Jekyll’s Hyde come to life in an evil reign
and Sherlock Holmes was naturally called in to solve the case
as Scotland Yard’s Inspector Lestrade was tired of losing face
But even the great Sherlock Holmes could not catch the Ripper
instead Sherlock ended up ripping his pants and breaking his zipper
and he hurried back to 221B Baker Street in shame
said he to Watson, “In no article, mention my name.”
And Sherlock’s little known twin sister Sherrielock heard of her brother’s failure
as well as the Great Detective’s little known nocturnal flight to London tailor
Now Sherrielock was a brothel owning dominatrix by trade
one who always managed to avoid a Scotland Yard raid
Said she, I’ll capture the Ripper and put an end to his Reign of Terror
I”ll do what no one else in London has dreamed to dare
and I’ll do it keeping in place my shampooed hair
So she put on her undercover dominatrix outfit and walked the East End’s Whitechapel streets
and she heard in the approaching distance the sound of fancy carriage horses’ hoof beats
A tall dark stranger dressed entirely in black
exited the cab saying, “Just call me Jack”.
“I’ll certainly do that, Jack dear,
if you let me whip your rear”
said Sherrielock pulling out a cat o’ nine tails
and before Jack knew it, he got a fist full of nails.
He was down on the ground, his pants all around
his buttocks were turning a fiery red
his ass no longer filled with Plutonian lead
But by the time the night was over, Jack The Ripper was no more
his ass had positively melted on London’s paved cobblestone floor
Scotland Yard never revealed how the Ripper had died
what was the successful antidote to this Jekyll’s poisoned Hyde.
But the cause was really rather simple in the end
a bright spot on a black and blue covered rear end
Food poisoning had done in the Ripper under dominatrix’s nylon runs
Food poisoning brought on by red tomatoed buns.
-A Sherrielock Holmes poem
written by Christopher
Sunday June 11th
2017.
To Kill A Vampiress
The year was 1933.
And Canadian vampire hunter Joseph Van Helsing was in Mexico City.
He was a son of the Dutch physician Dr. Abraham Van Helsing who had slain Count Dracula.
Joseph had been born in England.
His father had settled there after investigating the Dracula-inspired deaths in England and later slaying Dracula in Transylvania.
Joseph had come over to Canada on a cattle ship back in 1912 (that same cattle ship would later be used to transport Canada’s famous World War I flying ace Billy Bishop over to war in Europe).
His wife Hilda (7 years his younger) had come to Canada in 1905 as a little girl.
She too had crossed the Atlantic on a famous ship- The Carpathia.
In 1912, The Carpathia became world famous for having been the sole ship in the North Atlantic to answer the distress call of a ship that had just hit an iceberg and was sinking- the RMS Titanic.
Joseph found it ironic that his wife had sailed to Canada on The Carpathia given that his father Abraham had slain the Carpathian Mountains’ most famous resident Count Dracula.
Joseph reflected on all this as he walked the streets of Mexico City.
He was here to slay a vampiress- an Aztec princess who had been born back in the 1400s.
The Mexican government had recently become concerned about the number of bloodless victims showing up on the streets of Mexico City.
It was bad for tourism.
So they had hired Joseph Van Helsing to slay the vampiress.
Having killed all the Mexican vampire hunters in the last government persecution of the Catholic Church in Mexico during the Cristero War of the late 1920s.
Joseph Van Helsing entered the apartment building where the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec resided.
He entered the living room and then he saw her.
He did not know that vampiresses could cast a reflection.
And what a beautiful reflection it was.
Almost as beautiful as the original.
He turned to leave.
“Wait,” she whispered, “Stay with me and be my love.”
“I can’t,” said Joseph, “I’m married.”
“Oh,” Qonzilqointec sighed, “maybe someday one of your descendants will.”
Joseph left and walked out into the night.
84 years later, Dracul Van Helsing walked out of the night and into his apartment.
He checked his phone messages.
“Call me,” a woman’s voice said seductively on one of the messages.
It was the voice of the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 27th
2017.
Renfield’s Dream of Hercule Poirot
Renfield R. Renfield was lying in his bed in the John Milton Blue Room (where John Milton and his daughter Anne once stayed) in a Bed and Breakfast in the town of Tewkesbury in Gloucestershire, England.
Renfield was running as a British Transhumanist Techno-Progressive Anti Bio-Conservative Party candidate in the constituency of Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds.
He was running against sitting incumbent British Conservative MP Agathor Christie (who was a great nephew by marriage of the famous British mystery writer Agatha Christie).
Renfield would soon be involved in a campaign debate against Mr. Agathor Christie.
As such, Renfield fell asleep dreaming about Agatha Christie’s famous Belgian detective sleuth character Hercule Poirot.
Hercule Poirot was staying in a huge mansion on a large English country estate.
Hercule and 24 other guests were enjoying a huge dinner party (Monsieur Poirot would have given Renfield’s friend Amadeus Emanon a run for his money about who was able to eat the most).
After the dinner, most of the other guests had retired to their rooms for this evening.
Hercule himself was in the drawing room enjoying a cigar and a glass of port.
Suddenly a gunshot was heard coming from upstairs.
Followed by a woman’s scream.
The butler entered the drawing room, “Sorry to disturb, sir, but it appears that His Lordship has been murdered.”
“Damn,” Poirot remarked.
He was really starting to enjoy his port and his cigar and the comfort of his easy chair.
Reluctantly the Belgian detective made his way upstairs to the crime scene.
“Wait,” Monsieur Poirot in his thick francophonic sounding Belgian accent instructed the guests as he entered the room, “please, touch nothing.”
“Wait, please touch nothing.”
It was a little late for such instructions.
One guest was already examining the murder victim’s head. Another was holding and examining the victim’s right arm. Guest #3 was holding and examining the victim’s left arm. Guest #4 was holding and examining the victim’s right leg. Guest #5 was examining and holding the victim’s left leg. Guest #6 (whom ladies at the dinner party referred to as “the trollop in the little red dress”) was undoing the victim’s zipper on his pants with her mouth.
Guest #7 had picked up and examined the revolver lying on the floor. Guest #8 had picked up and examined the bloodied knife lying on the coffee table. The French maid was examining the open bottle of pills on the bedroom dresser. Guest #9 was examining the open bottle of poison in the medicine cabinet.
Guest #10 had poured himself a glass of water from the pitcher of water on the reading lamp table and promptly keeled over dead after drinking it.
Guest #11 was examining the hangman’s noose hanging from the ceiling. Guest #12 was examining the bloodied chainsaw lying on the bloodied carpet by the desk. Guest #13 was under a ladder trying to retrieve a black cat that was behind the ladder.
Guest #14 was examining a bloodied samurai sword on the desk. Guest #15 was examining a pair of bloodied candlesticks by the fireplace.
And Guests #16 to 23 were examining, handling and imbibing the bottles that were the contents of His Lordship’s private liquor cabinet.
Then Renfield woke up.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 4th
2017.
Saint George’s Day 2017
South African cultural attache Lepardia Marango and British Conservative MP Agathor Christie had gone to morning services at Saint George’s Anglican Church in Hanover Square in the city of Westminster, central London to celebrate Saint George’s Day since Saint George is the patron Saint of England.
Afterwards they went to have brunch together in a nearby pub.
Sitting across from them was Renfield R. Renfield in disguise.
Renfield was wearing dark sunglasses, a Scottish kilt with sporran, a t-shirt that said I AM WILLIAM WALLACE and was carrying bagpipes at his side.
“So, Agathor,” Lepardia adjusted her dark navy blue skirt, “you’re the great nephew of British mystery novelist Agatha Christie?”.
“Yes, but only by marriage,” Agathor Christie confessed, “not by blood unfortunately. I’m the great nephew of her cad first husband Archibald Christie whom she divorced in 1928 after he had an extramarital affair with one Nancy Neele (whom he married after his divorcing Agatha).”
“What about your name Agathor?” Lepardia asked, “Were you named after your great aunt by marriage Agatha Christie and given the masculine name Agathor?”.
“Um… actually no I wasn’t,” Agathor sipped his orange juice.
“Were you named after the character in Tolkien then?” Lepardia poured herself some tea.
“No, not him either,” Agathor blushed.
“Then who were you named after?” Lepardia looked at him quizzically.
“Well,” Agathor felt himself turning as red as the fried tomatoes on his plate, “My full Christian name… if you can call it a Christian name… is Agamemnon Thor… I’m Agamemnon Thor Christie. I was named Agamemnon because my father was a Greek mythology buff. And I was given the middle name Thor because my mother is a Norse mythology buff. In school because the kids made fun of the name Agamemnon, I shortened my name to Agathor for short (a shortened form of Agamemnon Thor) because Tolkien is always cool for every generation of kids.”
“I see,” Lepardia smiled and laughed, “And do you have any conditions for marriage?”.
“Well,” Agathor’s face was now turning as red as a Communist who had fallen into a giant bottle of ketchup, “I don’t intend to marry any woman called Clytemnestra.”
“Well, my name isn”t Clytemnestra,” Lepardia Marango who had a good classical education laughed heartedly.
Renfield R. Renfield (who did not have much of a classical education) did not.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 23rd
2017.
NASA, The Zohar and The Seven-Planet Star System
The Mossad agent they called The Controller of the Golem was back in Jerusalem.
He had spent months recovering in a private London hospital (connected to Set Enterprises) after he had been poisoned with Polonium-210 given him by the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith.
Now he was reading a report that a group of fanatically inclined Kabbalistic Jews were intending to blow up the Dome on the Rock and the Mosque of Omar and replace it with a Third Jewish Temple.
What was bringing about the action was NASA’s discovery of a 7-planet star system with its Spitzer space telescope.
The dwarf star called Trappist-1 (39 light years away from Earth) had 7 planets orbiting it.
The trouble was that the Zohar (the foundational work of Jewish mysticism) predicted the appearance of a star with seven “stars” orbiting it prior to the arrival of the Messiah…
… a star will rise up in the East, blazing in all colours, and seven other stars will surround that star. And they will wage war on it.
Now one sect was convinced that NASA’s announcement was proof of this star system predicted in the Zohar.
The Messiah wouldn’t be far behind.
Well, the Controller sighed, he didn’t know about the Messiah but he had the feeling Hell on Earth was just around the corner.
Lilith: One glass of Polonium-210 this day
will send the coroner heading your way
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 6th
2017.
Sherlock Holmes and The Zohar
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was having a dream about Basil Rathbone as Sherlock Holmes and Nigel Bruce as Dr. Watson. In the dream, Holmes said to Watson:
According to the Zohar the foundational text of Jewish mysticism, Watson, a seven-star system similar to our own will be discovered and then all Hell shall break loose.
Hecate In The Vatican
Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing and Peter Whitstable the Fox Mulder of Interpol were busy walking the halls of the Vatican.
Unofficially of course.
Since Dracul Van Helsing had been banned from the Vatican for calling German Cardinal Walter Kasper a heretic (even though he is one!).
Dracul Van Helsing had written a Monty Python Lumberjack Song style script in which Cardinal Kasper had gone around singing, “Oh, I’m a heretic and I’m okay.”
Cardinal Kasper was not amused.
And neither was his boss Pope Francis.
Van Helsing and Whitstable were in the Vatican because they had been informed by sources in the know that Hecate the Greek goddess of witchcraft, necromancy and sorcery had been seen wandering the halls of the Vatican.
“Well,” Dracul commented, “no doubt Alexander Hislop the author of The Two Babylons is dancing with joy in his grave at the fact that Hecate has been spotted wandering the halls of the Vatican..’
Hecate had been spotted in the Vatican in each one of her three forms- maiden, matron and crone.
“This,” Whitstable opened the door to the room of the enigmatic Cardinal JM, “is the room from which Hecate first emerged according to our source.”
Van Helsing and Whitstable entered the room which was empty of any Crosses, Crucifixes or statues of Mary and the Saints.
There on the Cardinal’s altar was an unusual assembly of paraphernalia.
“That doesn’t look like Greek sorcery there,” said Whitstable, “it looks more like Haitian voodoo.”
“It does,” Van Helsing agreed,
“And there appears to be a photo of some Cardinal whose image has been made into a voodoo doll stuck with pins,” Whitstable pointed, “Do you recognize the Cardinal, Dracul?”.
“It’s Raymond Leo Cardinal Burke,” Dracul replied, “the former Patron of the Sovereign Military Order of Malta.”
“What did he do to inspire Cardinal JM’s hatred?” Whitstable asked.
“I don’t know,” Dracul Van Helsing shrugged, “but it appears there’s something rotten in the state of the Vatican.”
Meanwhile in his suite in the Kremlin, Russian President Vladimir Putin was dreaming of a vision he had encountered in the forest outside Moscow last autumn.
The vision was of Hecate in her maiden form handing him a crystal ball in the shape of a purple globe of the world.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 2nd
2017.
