The Hound of The Baskervilles and The Temple Mount

November 13, 2017 at 7:23 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

The Hound of The Baskervilles and The Temple Mount

60 years ago, the stuffed body of the original Hound of the Baskervilles had been stolen from the Sherlock Holmes Museum at 221B Baker Street, London.

Today Agathor Christie and Magog Rhys Petley Private Eyes were walking the streets of the city of Jerusalem.

The two men were not on a case but rather holidaying.

They had not been hired on a case since they had located the Vampiric Knights-Templar for Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal.

The two men decided to go walk around the area of the Temple Mount (known to Muslims as the Haram al-Sharif) even though it was not legal for non-Muslims to do so.

However both men, being former British Members of Parliament, were naturally ignorant of the law.

Fortunately on this Monday approaching mid-November, the Temple Mount was not very busy and no one noticed the two men brazenly walking about.

“Look there,” Magog pointed to Agathor.

“What is it?” Agathor stuffed some snuff up his nose and sneezed.

“It’s the stuffed (as in taxidermically embalmed) body of an extremely large black dog,” Magog was astounded.

“So it is,” Agathor put on his monocle and took a look at the stuffed dead beast, “I have to whole heartedly agree.”

“I’ve seen that body before,” said Magog.

“You have?” Asked an astounded Agathor who was starting to wonder if his private eye partner had some rather unusual sexual proclivities.

“Yes, last week I was browsing through a 60-year-old LIFE magazine in my doctor’s office,” Magog explained, “and I came across an article about how the stuffed body of the original Hound of The Baskervilles was stolen from the Sherlock Holmes Museum at 221B Baker Street in London 60 years ago this week. They had a photo of the stolen item. With my photographic memory and my brilliant powers of Sherlockian reasoning, I deduce the hound in that 60-year-old photo and the one lying dead and stuffed here are one and the same.”

“Your doctor 👨‍⚕️ keeps 60 year old magazines in the waiting room of his office?” Agathor’s monocle popped off his eye in astonishment.

“Of course he’s Scottish,” Magog nodded, “and extremely tight at saving his pennies. He doesn’t really have anything new in his office. One deputy Chancellor of the Exchequer fell down the toilet 🚽 using that office’s antiquated piece of plumbing and hasn’t been seen since.”

“Amazing,” Agathor’s monocle fogged up.

“I say we better get this Hound of the Baskervilles off the Temple Mount and back to Britain 🇬🇧 as soon as possible,” Magog picked up the head end of the dog.

Agathor was left to pick up the rear end of the dog.

They carried the hound’s body off the Temple Mount while Magog Rhys Petley sang that old Patti Page song, “How much is that doggie in the window…?”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday November 13th
2017.

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Murder On Air Force One

October 8, 2017 at 7:57 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Movies, Mystery, Politics, Radio, Radio Ads, Satire, Short play/ comedy, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Murder On Air Force One

The new movie Murder On The Orient Express would be opening in movie theatres across the world soon.

So BBC Radio 📻 asked various British MPs to come up with their own theatre movie trailer radio ad for a fictional movie about a murder that takes place aboard some mode of transport.

Here was British Transhumanist MP Renfield R. Renfield’s radio ad for a movie called Murder On Air Force One:

Coming soon to a theatre near you… Murder On Air Force One…

… The President of the United States is a pompous blowhard with a phoney toupee. And now he’s been found dead aboard Air Force One. Strangled by the tail of a red spider monkey. Who has done this deed?

Was it his much younger wife who only recently found out that her husband has grabbed and clutched the pussy of many a woman galore (to use a twist of phrase from the name of a James Bond movie character)?

Was it his youngest son who was tired of his father telling him to only take small bites of his food 🥘 and not big bites like that of Ohio Gov. John Kasich?

Was it his daughter who being forced into the public spotlight as a result of her father being President, it was now discovered that some of her company’s clothing and products were made by slave labour in Communist China 🇨🇳?

Was it his Secretary of State who was recently publicly castrated by his boss in a Twitter tweet?

Was it his Secretary of Defence who after a lifelong career in the U.S. military knows an asshole when he sees one?

Was it one of numerous White House employees, aides or cabinet secretaries who have been fired since he took office? Including a White House press secretary who not only suffered for his boss but was made fun of on Saturday Night Live?

Was it one of numerous opponents who challenged him for his party’s nomination last year? A Texas senator who was called a liar 🤥? A Florida senator who was told he had small hands?

Was it a Senator from Arizona – an American war hero who the President said wasn’t a hero because he was caught?

Was it the mayor of a city hit by a hurricane that the President said wasn’t a real calamity as he practised football throws with plastic packages of paper towels?

Was it the Prime Minister of a former Yugoslavian republic who got discourteously pushed out of the way at a NATO summit earlier this year?

Was it an Asian despot who had his rocket 🚀 called little even though the said despot had his half-brother killed in a Kuala Lumpur airport for much less?

Was it a member of Antifa outraged that the only person who saw clearly that two sides were to blame for the violence at Charlottesville Virginia this past summer was the idiot who was the late American President (thus implying that America was a land of the dumb and the stupid instead of the brave and the free since neither the media journalists and commentators nor entertainment celebrities had even had the intelligence of the said idiot President to see this)?

Was it an angry 😡 woman who was the opposing Party’s Presidential candidate? A woman who talked to Eleanor Roosevelt’s ghost and who wanted to play with voodoo dolls having lost the last Presidential election to him?

Was it the woman candidate’s husband anxious to return to the White House- this time as First Laddie so he could continue his crusade of helping out detergent manufacturers by leaving nasty stains on women’s dresses?

So many suspects.

Who done it?

And it’s the job of Belgian sleuth Bellerophonie Peugeot (aboard the plane ✈️ to make Belgian waffles for the First Family) to find out.

As he goes around the plane telling people to “Touch nothing” in his Belgian accent that sounds suspiciously French, someone grabs a knapsack (mistaking it for a parachute) and jumps out of the plane.

Who done it?

One of the numerous suspects mentioned above?

Or the personage who jumped out of the plane who’s now scrambled eggs 🍳 on the earth below?

Only Belgian sleuth Bellerophonie Peugeot knows for sure.

As the Belgian waffles get very well done as the Belgian sleuth finds out Who Dun It?

Murder On Air Force One… coming soon to a theatre near you.

-A Renfieldian Radio Ad
For A Murder Mystery Movie
and a vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday October 8th
2017

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Allatallahbel’s Private Eyes At Rosslyn Chapel In Scotland

October 1, 2017 at 6:27 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Allatallahbel’s Private Eyes At Rosslyn Chapel In Scotland

Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal had hired two London private eyes Agathor Christie and Magog Rhys Petley to find the remaining members of The Vampiric Knights-Templar for her.

The two private eyes had found 3 of the 6 remaining Vampiric Knights-Templar holding a Necronomicon prayer service at Rosslyn Chapel in Scotland.

Crosses and Crucifixes in the chapel had been turned upside down in accord with the Vampiric Knights-Templars’ liking.

A huge icon of Baphomet stood atop the altar.

The beautiful plainsong of the Book of Common Prayer had been replaced by the cacophonous demonic sounding jargon of the Necronomicon.

John Shelby Spong the former Episcopalian bishop of Newark New Jersey 🇯🇪 would have felt right at home during the service.

He would have proclaimed it the way the worldwide Anglican Communion should go.

The late Episcopal Bishop James Albert Pike would have probably agreed with him if he wasn’t being poked by the pitchfork of the real Baphomet at the moment.

Agathor and Magog found out from the 3 Vampiric Knights-Templar they met in Rosslyn Chapel that the other 3 Vampiric Knights-Templar were currently worshipping at a Freemasonic lodge in Charleston South Carolina.

Agathor and Magog relayed this information to the Vampiress Allatallahbel by smart phone.

Allatallahbel thanked the two private eyes for their efforts and told them to tell the Vampiric Knights-Templar to meet her at the following location in Europe in the next two weeks:

(TOP SECRET)

Allatallahbel then smoothed her scarlet red evening dress and then slit the throat of the young Swiss Guards lieutenant she had with her.

She then drained his body of blood.

She then went to the nearest zoo and drained the tigers there of their blood as well.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday October 1st
2017.

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Allatallahbel Swims To Nephthys’ Undersea Tomb

September 26, 2017 at 3:37 pm (Detective story, Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal had hired two London private eyes Agathor Christie and Magog Rhys Petley to track down the sole surviving Vampiric Knights-Templar for her.

She had also hired another London private eye Randall Hopkins to spy on the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set for her (Randall Hopkins accepted the case immediately since he had prior experience spying on Set having been hired by the Paris-based Egyptian vampiress Isis to do just that 3 years ago).

Randall Hopkins had broke into Set’s house where he located a couriered document sent to Set by the German government.

Apparently a World War One German UB-II U-Boat submarine had just been found off the coast of Belgium.

According to the sub’s last manifest written down before its last voyage (the manifest was found in the German National Archives) the Egyptian vampiress Nephthys (Set’s long lost wife) was on board the vessel.

When Set read the courier document, he practically shit himself.

After using up the mansion’s entire rolls of toilet paper, Set then flew to Atlanta Georgia to meet former U.S. President Jimmy Carter.

Set figured that if Carter could negotiate a successful peace treaty between Egypt and Israel (like he did back in 1978), then he could successfully negotiate an amicable divorce agreement between Nephthys and himself if Nephthys was still alive.

Allatallahbel decided to swim to the spot where the sub was located (she had seduced a German Federal cabinet minister to tell her the location) to see for herself whether Nephthys was alive or dead.

When she emerged and walked back to her Belgian B and B, a group of ex-DARPA operatives on a European tour snapped her pic with their smart phones.

Allatallahbel

One ex-DARPA op named Daniel (who had an otter following behind him) started to curse, “Dang! I forgot to recharge my smart phone battery!”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday September 26th
2017.

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Dulcinea Lucia and The Vampiric Knights-Templar

September 17, 2017 at 11:34 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

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.

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Jack O’ Hare In Film Noir: A Poem

September 4, 2017 at 7:15 pm (Comedy, Crime, Detective story, Entertainment, Humour, Mystery, Poetry, Radio) (, , , , )

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.

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The Strange Case of The Emerald Green Cat of Bulgaria 🇧🇬: A Poem

August 10, 2017 at 7:45 pm (Comedy, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Humour, Literature, Mystery, News, Poetry) (, , , , , )

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.

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Sherrielock Holmes vs. Jack The Ripper: A Poem

June 11, 2017 at 3:42 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, History, Horror, Literature, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

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
Sherrielock Holmes
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.

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To Kill A Vampiress

May 27, 2017 at 3:39 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

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.
Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec

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.

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Renfield’s Dream of Hercule Poirot

May 4, 2017 at 4:12 pm (Arts, books, Detective story, Literature, Movies, Mystery, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

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.”

Hercule Poirot
“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.

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