Miranda Singh’s Shopping Lands Amadeus Emanon In Trouble

October 4, 2019 at 10:32 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Humour, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Miranda Singh’s Shopping Lands Amadeus Emanon In Trouble 

Miranda Singh shopping for Navaratri dresses

Miranda Singh was the Executive Secretary to the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.

After a day of hard work at Set Enterprises, she was looking forward to shopping for dresses to attend various Navaratri celebrations in London.

She was to meet a girlfriend who would record her shopping and live stream it to FaceBook to ask for a poll from her friends and family as to which dress she should buy.

Of course Miranda would probably buy the dress that was her own personal favourite but still she’d keep her friends and family happy by thinking they had some input on the matter.

However her friend who was a nurse had been asked to work an extra shift at the hospital due to a co-worker not being able to work that shift.

Who would be able to video record her and live stream it to FaceBook now?

There were other friends she could call but no doubt they had already made plans for this evening.

Amadeus Emanon the personal concert pianist to the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set happened to walk by the office at that moment.

He had been down at the Set Enterprises lab giving piano lessons to Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster.

Of course it was quite the challenge for Michelangelo to be able to play the piano with his lobster claws but Amadeus was a good teacher.

The lobster had given a stirring rendition of Beethoven’s Ninth Symphony much to the amazement of his creator the Set Enterprises scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher.

When Amadeus walked by, she asked him if he would mind recording her and live streaming to FaceBook.

Amadeus said sure.

Some 30 odd stores later:

“I think I like this one.”

“Wonderful,” said Amadeus who was getting smart phone holder’s wrist (a new medical phenomenon) by this time.

At that moment, Amadeus’ girlfriend Angelique Dumont happened to enter the store.

“What the Hell do you think you’re doing?” An angry Angelique approached Amadeus.

“I’m video recording the dresses Miranda is putting on and live streaming it to FaceBook,” Amadeus explained.

“Why is it you never come shopping for clothes with me?” Angelique demanded to know.

“Well,” Amadeus replied, “since I’m not Bruce/Caitlyn Jenner, I find shopping for women’s clothes boring.”

“Wait,” Angelique turned livid, “you think accompanying me when I shop for clothes is boring. But you’ll do it with Miranda. It isn’t boring with her I take it?”.

Amadeus was totally at a loss for words.

He was even more at a loss for words a moment later when Angelique hit him with her purse and he lay sprawled on the floor.

Renfield, who happened to be in the vicinity, laughed when he saw what happened.

“Amadeus certainly doesn’t know much about women,” he shook his head.

Renfield soon found himself confronted by his parliamentary colleague Morgana Fay Lee the MP for the Welsh Constituency of Newbridge.

“How dare you leave the restaurant last night sticking me with the cheque?” Morgana hit him over the head with her purse leaving the MP for Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds unconscious on the sidewalk.

British Prime Minister Boris Johnson walked by with an acquaintance.

He looked startled when he saw the unconscious Renfield on the sidewalk.

“Do you know that man?” Johnson’s acquaintance asked the Prime Minister.

“He was the one who came up with my government’s plan for Brexit and how to solve the Irish border question,” said Johnson.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday October 4th
2019.

Advertisements

Permalink 6 Comments

Margarita Carmen Cansino, Orson Welles and Jack Benny

September 21, 2019 at 11:04 pm (Culture, Entertainment, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Movies, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Margarita Carmen Cansino, Orson Welles and Jack Benny 

The Norse trickster god Loki sat at the controls of the CERN Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland.

He had just finished sampling a month’s supply of Chemical of The Day Club (as opposed to Book of The Month Club) samples sent to him by a friend in Australia who went by the cheery sounding name of Uncle Ernie.

With Uncle Ernie’s Chemicals of The Day fully in control of his mind, Loki was now creating many a time warp down at CERN.

With Liberace and Olivia Newton John performing a duet of the song Let’s Do The Time Warp Again (from The Rocky Horror Picture Show) in the background, Loki was doing much temporal mischief.

The ghost of Orson Welles (who currently lived as a spectral guest in the colossal London mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set where, along with the ghost of Sir Winston Churchill, he served as a spirit advisor to British MP Renfield R. Renfield) found himself sent back in time to the year 1935.

Tears came to Welles’ spectral eyes when he saw the young Margarita Carmen Cansino (who was later forced by Hollywood studio producers to change her name to Rita Hayworth) standing there.

“I should have been a more loving husband to her,” Welles’ ghost sobbed as he ordered a bottle of Chardonnay from the studio gopher.

“I can’t believe the nerve of that white guy who wanted to audition for the role of Charlie Chan,” Margarita Carmen Cansino shook her head.

“Would that have been Warner Oland?” Welles asked.

“No,” Rita shook her head, “Some non-talented entity from up in Canada who had listed High School Drama Teacher in Vancouver on his resume.”

Welles’ ghost went over to the next studio where the great American comic actor Jack Benny was holding auditions for his next movie.

Some obviously white guy wearing blackface stood on stage at the microphone.

“Hi,” said the man, “My name is Justin Trudeau and I’d like to audition for the role of Rochester.”

“Someone get that bum out of here,” Benny remarked.

Cerberus the 3-headed dog from the Underworld of Hades chased the Rochester wannabe off stage.

Welles began returning to the year 2019 when Loki hit another control at CERN.

As Welles whizzed through the year 1968, he encountered a newspaper boy shouting, “Read all about it. Peter Sellers beats out a Canadian for the role of Hrundi V. Bakshi in the movie The Party.”

Welles went back momentarily to the year 1965 where Mel Brooks the Executive Producer of the TV series Get Smart was remarking, “I don’t even want that Drama teacher auditioning for this role never mind getting it,” as a KAOS villain shouts, “Not Claw, Craw!”.

Welles eventually landed back in 2019 where he arrived in the Set Mansion living room as Amadeus was watching the 2016 remake of The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday September 21st
2019.

Permalink 29 Comments

Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet

August 20, 2019 at 10:40 pm (Comedy, Culture, Entertainment, Humour, Literature, Poetry, Romance, theatre, Theatre Arts) (, , , , )

Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet

The noted New York feline thespian Wilkie The Cat was on stage appearing in his own production of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.

The vain cat actor was naturally playing the lead role.

“If it were done when ’tis done, 
then twere well it were done quickly…”

“You idiot, that’s from MacBeth,” shouted Mitzi the French cat who was playing Ophelia.

“Oh,” Wilkie took a look at what he had written on his cuff links.

“Sorry folks,” Wilkie grinned at the audience.

Wilkie struck a dramatic Sir John Barrymore style pose.

“I have come to bury Caesar not to praise him,” Wilkie began.

The body of a German shepherd is carried by four marching legionaries across the stage followed by a weeping female French poodle.

“That’s from Julius Caesar, bozo!” Mitzi exclaimed.

“Oops!” Wilkie took a look at what was written on the cuff links of his other front paw.

“Now is the winter of our discontent,” Wilkie began as imagery of hot dogs and ice cream cones and a summer beach and loads of bikini clad women and swimming suit men appear on the screen behind him.

“Richard III, idiot!” Mitzi shook her head.

An actor dressed like John Wayne appears on stage and in a John Wayne like voice says, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”.

Wilkie sits down and takes a look at what was written on one of the white socks on his back paws, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”.

“That’s Juliet’s line from Romeo and Juliet, you nincompoop!” Mitzi threw her paws in the air in exasperation.

Wilkie hearkens to what was written on the white sock on his other back paw.

“I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot!” Wilkie puts his right front paw to his feline brow in ultra melodramatic fashion.

“That’s from Pyramus and Thisbe the play within a play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you ninny!” Mitzi grabs her parasol umbrella from the stage hand off stage so she can hit Wilkie over the head with it.

Wilkie pulls off a piece of paper he has stapled to his tail.

“Those are the lines from King Lear you have there!” Mitzi approaches menacingly with her umbrella.

“King Leer!” Wilkie protests too much, “I’m no King Leer! You must think me a voyeur of some importance.”

The disgraced Pee-wee Herman walks across stage holding a pair of binoculars through which his eyes are peering.

Wilkie rips out a piece of paper that’s stapled to his tongue, reads it and cries out, “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia!”.

Mitzi casts her parasol to the stage and sighs, “Finally now, you’ve got the right play.”

At that point, Donald Trump with his toupee falling off, walks on stage and proclaims,

“In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Trump by name, present a wall…”

At that moment, the mostly Democratic Party aligned New York City audience rushes towards the stage to tear it apart (along with many in the audience who just want their money back).

As the New York City Mayor’s wife (a former lesbian) rushes on to the stage, Wilkie the Cat shouts, “Get thee to a nunnery!”.

Wilkie is then immediately attacked by New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo who tries to inject the feline with saline solution and then suck him up with a Planned Parenthood approved Electrolux vacuum cleaner.

Needless to say like every other play Wilkie had produced and directed for Broadway, the cat’s adaptation of Hamlet did not have a second night’s performance.

-A Wilkie the Cat Short Story
written by Christopher 
Tuesday August 20th
2019.

Dolores Costello with her husband John Barrymore.
Barrymore, unlike Wilkie The Cat, could perform Shakespeare.

Permalink 8 Comments

Albion’s Reflections On A Rainy Night

June 19, 2019 at 10:22 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Poetry) (, , , )

Albion’s Reflections On A Rainy Night

There was always something comforting about the sound of rain on the roof
Carson Cody Albion Private Eye couldn’t quite explain it
Maybe because it rarely rained in Southern California 
The heat of the day 
Would compete with the heat of the night 
to see who would produce 
the sweating heavyweight champion of the world

Rain allowed a cool down 
The sky’s method of baptism
On the sinning and criminality that occurred below

Albion was getting tired of all the greed and the lust and the shenanigans 
That he saw daily but more often nightly at his job

The rain kept everyone indoors 
No exchange of larceny or bodies or souls was going on in the streets outside
Just the pitter patter of gentle droplets on the roof 
Albion looked over at his dresser 
And noticed his bottle of bourbon remained untouched and unopened 

Something that was never the case on a hot and humid Los Angeles night
His head felt clear and free of headache
So this was what his room sounded like when the fan wasn’t running full blast 
One could actually hear oneself thinking 
And the rain drops on the roof were like a soothing melody

Albion reached for a stick of licorice 
rather than his usual cigarette 
Strange about the rain, Albion reflected,
It was like a return to innocence 
Maybe that’s what God was hoping with the flood in Noah’s time 

But once the sizzling heat returned
It was like eating the forbidden fruit in Eden
One had knowledge of both good and evil 
And more often than not, evil.

The private eye decided to go out 
And taste the gentle rain on his tongue
And feel the gentle rain on his skin

Albion for some reason 
(He supposed it was the influence of Philip Marlowe movies on the silver screen)
always wore a raincoat when he went out
Like advertising a trademark for Private Eye

But on a night when he should be wearing that coat for the purpose for which it was created
He did not put it on 
He went outside in a sleeveless shirt 
And let the rain wash off any dirt 
that was usually accumulated 
and came with living in Los Angeles

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday June 19th
2019.

Permalink 3 Comments

Fish and Chips With Holmes and Watson

May 17, 2019 at 10:28 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

It was a May evening in London at 221B Baker Street the residence of the world-famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes.

The year was 1899.

“Well, Holmes,” Dr. Watson put down his newspaper, “what do you deduce that Mrs. Hudson has made us for dinner tonight?”.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you this morning, Watson,” Holmes lit his pipe, “Mrs. Hudson is going to a Church Auxiliary Tea and Bake Sale this evening so sadly for us, no fine dinner from Mrs. Hudson tonight.”

“Blast it, Holmes,” Watson grimaced, “I wish you had told me. I’d have gone for dinner at the club tonight.”

“What and leave me home alone, Watson?” Holmes smiled, “Leaving me to fend for myself?”.

“Damn right, I would, Holmes,” Watson nodded, “If I can’t enjoy Mrs. Hudson’s fine cooking, I can get a very fine beef steak at the club.”

“What say we go out for some good old English fish and chips, Watson?” Holmes started putting his rain coat on.

“All right,” Watson put his jacket and coat on, “seeing as how they’ve probably stopped serving dinner at the club an hour ago.”

Holmes and Watson exited their room, walked down the stairs and through Mrs. Hudson’s parlour out the front door.

“Where shall we go for Fish and Chips, Holmes?” Watson asked.

“I noticed just the other day that a new Fish and Chips place opened up a few blocks away, Watson,” Holmes pointed in the direction, “What say we try there?”.

“All right,” Watson agreed, “Lead on, MacDuff.”

The duo walked enjoying the evening air.

“Here’s the place,” Holmes pointed at the entrance with his walking stick.

“The Captain’s,” Watson looked at the sign above the door, “Quite an original name for a Fish and Chips place.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Watson,” Holmes remarked.

“Neither does being hungry,” Watson opened the door, “let’s go in.”

Inside both Holmes and Watson ordered the 3 pieces of Fish with Chips plate.

The detective ordered a brandy and his physician friend ordered a gin for liquid refreshment.

“Interesting portrait painting on the main wall, there,” Holmes said to the waiter when he brought the drinks, “who is that supposed to be?”.

“That is a picture of the Captain,” the waiter replied.

“He looks like a bloody pirate if you ask me,” Watson gazed at the painting.

“He was, sir,” the waiter nodded, “he was a pirate captain.”

“Oh, really,” Watson harrumphed, “What was his name?”.

“That we do not know, sir,” the waiter answered, “The restaurant’s owner bought that painting in an antique shop in Plymouth. The painting dates back to the 18th Century the antique dealer said. But who the man in the portrait is, he had no idea. But the painting inspired the owner to open up a Fish and Chip shop and call it The Captain’s named after the figure in the painting.”

“Bloody mysterious if you ask me,” Watson took a sip of his gin.

“And yet my trade is solving mysteries, Watson,” Holmes lit his pipe again.

“So, who is the figure in the painting?” Watson asked Holmes.

“I’m afraid I’ve never really studied the history of 18th Century piracy in depth to hazard a guess,” Holmes blew smoke rings.

“What you mean there’s actually something that the great Sherlock Holmes does not know?” Watson laughed.

The waiter arrived with their Fish and Chips orders and both men raised knife and fork to tackle the huge succulent looking pieces of cod on their respective plates forgetting the question of the pirate in the painting.

“So, what made you decide on a Fish and Chips dinner tonight, Holmes?” Watson asked.

“A dream I had last night, actually,” Holmes took a sip of his brandy.

“But I didn’t think you put much stock in dreams, Holmes?” Watson had to smile.

“Normally I don’t,” Holmes admitted as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, “Still the Bard did write We are such stuff as dreams are made on. And it was a memorable dream I had to admit.”

“What was it?” Watson was curious.

“I dreamed I was aboard a boat and a large octopus… a Kraken actually of mythological folklore fame was drinking 120 barrels of rum,” Holmes sucked thoughtfully on his pipe.

“How did you know there were exactly 120 barrels?” Watson laughed, “You counted?”.

“Brilliant deduction, Watson,” Holmes shook his head in dismay, “Obviously I counted.”

“Holmes,” Watson put down his fork in exasperation, “You’re the only person I know who would spend time in his dream counting exactly how many barrels of rum a Kraken was drinking.”

The duo started getting quizzical looks from customers sitting at other tables.

“So, what significance is there to the number of rum barrels the Kraken was drinking?” Watson cut into another piece of cod, “What does the number 120 signify?”.

“God only knows, Watson,” Holmes poured vinegar on his chips, “The number of years perhaps.”

The detective shrugged.

“Let’s see,” Watson did arithmetic in his head, “120 years from now, that would be May 17th 2019.”

. . .

It was a Friday evening in London in May 2019 and Dashwood Forrest the owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery was removing an old oil painting he had just purchased from the crate it was in.

“Good heavens,” Forrest’s Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie spilled gin and brandy all over himself when he saw it, “That figure in the painting looks exactly like Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of The Caribbean.”

. . .

In the May evening in 1899, Holmes lit his pipe again and looked contemplatively at the ceiling.

“You know it’s strange, Watson,” Holmes’ pipe smoke headed in the direction of the portrait of the Captain.

“What’s that, Holmes?” Watson sipped his after dinner coffee.

“That we never seem to call one another by our first names like normal acquaintances seem to do,” Holmes chewed on his pipe.

Now there was a mystery.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 17th
2019.

Permalink 2 Comments

Renfield, Huawei, Game of Thrones and Mei-ling Manchu

May 16, 2019 at 8:53 pm (Culture, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Television, The Supernatural, TV Shows, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was sipping on a whiskey and soda and recalling how last night’s British Transhumanist/Aquarian Age Bonapartist Alliance rally held on an English beach was hugely successful.

Renfield had given a highly acclaimed speech on how the European Union seemed to be resembling the old USSR with each passing day.

His French political ally the Kraken Napoleon VI (having drunk 120 barrels of rum on his voyage across the English Channel) had given an impassioned speech on how, in his opinion, Captain Jack Sparrow of the Pirates of The Caribbean films was a real and actual historical figure.

The speech was met with vigourous applause prior to the Kraken passing out and having to be carried off by stretcher and air ambulance to the detox unit of a London hospital.

Tabasco sauce sellers, tomato juice sellers and merchants of raw eggs were reporting a huge increase in sales all across London today.

Renfield was soon joined in the bar by his friends Amadeus Emanon and Angelique Dumont.

Amadeus helped himself to some of the complimentary peanuts in the dish in front of Renfield.

“So I hear that yesterday Donald Trump signed an Executive Order declaring a national emergency with regards to America’s computer networks,” Amadeus noted.

“Yes, it is a move designed to keep China’s tech giant Huawei out of providing software for America’s computer and AI and 5G systems,” Renfield commented.

“I don’t imagine Beijing will be happy about that,” Angelique Dumont remarked.

“They’re not,” Renfield answered, “The Chinese Communist vampiress Mei-ling Manchu has already flown that mysterious entity known as the Black Dragon into Washington DC and has already swooped down on the U.S. capital.”

“Did it do any damage?” Amadeus asked as he motioned to the bartender to bring another dish of complimentary peanuts.

“It landed on top of a group of Republican supporters and fans of the Game of Thrones TV show who were holding placards outside the White House calling on Donald Trump to declare a national emergency and sign an Executive Order ordering HBO to hire new writers and re-do the whole 8th and last season of Game of Thrones all over again since they didn’t like how the series ended.”

“I wonder what those Game of Thrones fans who are registered Democrats were doing at the time?” Angelique Dumont mused aloud.

“They were demonstrating outside Congress calling on Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer to call a Congressional inquiry into whether or not there was Russian collusion into HBO laying a very early pre-Thanksgiving turkey otherwise known as the final season of Game of Thrones,” Renfield pointed out.

“Did anything happen to the Democrat fans of Game of Thrones seeing as how a Black Dragon landed on top of Republican Game of Thrones fans?” Amadeus inquired.

“They were crushed by a flying marijuana plant that landed on top of them,” Renfield answered, “The plant was developed by Canada’s National Research Council in Ottawa on orders of Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau. The plant was supposed to be flying to Paris where Trudeau is currently attending a world leaders’ summit on technology but being quite high, the marijuana plant lost all sense of direction and ended up in Washington DC instead.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 16th
2019.

Permalink 12 Comments

Reblog of Orson Welles and The Unusual Production of MacBeth

March 31, 2019 at 9:11 pm (Entertainment, Horror, Literature, Movies, Plays, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

A vampire novel chapter and blog post I wrote 4 years ago today.

Dracul Van Helsing

Orson Welles and The Unusual Production of MacBeth

It was March 1945.

And talented director and actor of stage, radio and film the great Orson Welles was directing a short scene from William Shakespeare’s MacBeth for an upcoming charity event.

Welles (in front of the stage): All right. Enter the three witches.

(Thunder and lightning. Enter three witches)

First Witch (lowering “her” cowl to reveal the face of Adolf Hitler- a fact which startles Orson Welles):

When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning or in rain?

Second Witch (lowering her “cowl” to reveal the face of Josef Stalin- a fact which also startles Orson Welles):

When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.

Third Witch (lowers its cowl to reveal a face wearing a mask. It speaks in a very metallic sounding voice):

That will be ere the set of sun.

(On the wall at the…

View original post 172 more words

Permalink Leave a Comment

The Debutante’s Ball 1941: A Poem

March 18, 2019 at 10:30 pm (Comedy, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


Marissa Van Horne, Debutante

“You’re here to escort me to the ball, Mr. Albion?”
The laughing smiling face of the beautiful young woman
looked at me with merriment and amusement in her sparkling eyes
which glimmered like stars above her sunshine golden gown,
“A famed Los Angeles private eye reduced to a chaperone?”

I, Carson Cody Albion, stopped in my tracks
when I heard this statement
I was a private eye
But I had never thought of myself as famed.

“Don’t be so modest,” Marissa remarked with a wry smile as if she could read my mind, “of course you are!”
“The ball starts at 8 PM?” I queried looking at my watch.
“Yes, but drinks are served starting at 7,” she laughed.
“I don’t think your parents hired me to watch you get inebriated before the ball,” I said as I held open the arms of her fur coat
so she could finish her fashion ensemble for the evening.

Only the LA glitterati rich would wear fur coats
on a hot Los Angeles evening
But as the hired help, what did I know?

“No,” she slid her arms through the coat, “my parents hired you to keep me away from Lev Tomi.”

That was true.
They had.
Titus Van Horne was an influential newspaper editor in the city.
He seemed to know everything about everyone in the state of California
A West Coast J. Edgar Hoover as it were
Minus that DC bureaucrat’s penchant for wearing women’s clothing in private
Which was a good thing for the Van Horne family fortune
For the Paris dresses and gowns that Mrs. Van Horne and daughter Marissa wore
were already keeping the Bank of Monte Carlo afloat
to say nothing of Hitler’s Reich
while the Vichy government were reduced to making money off mineral water
A third Van Horne (and a male one at that) adorning the best of Parisienne feminine apparel
would definitely have put the Van Horne family fortune in the red
like Alger Hiss in the U.S. State Department

Van Horne knew all about Orson Welles’ private life
He had to
For the Boy Wonder of New York radio and theatre
was making a movie based on the life of Van Horne’s boss

But Van Horne knew nothing whatsoever about Lev Tomi
This older man that young Marissa had started seeing at the start of this year
Marissa just claimed that she was taking Russian language lessons from him
Nothing like a LA society girl with a hankering to visit the Soviet Union and see Josef Stalin’s paradise for herself
The movie The Grapes of Wrath had recently been shown in Moscow
Uncle Joe had hoped that this would cause outrage among Moscow’s workers
when they saw how the poor in America were treated
It caused outrage all right
but not in the way that Uncle Joe had hoped
Moscow workers had become outraged that the poor in America actually owned their own trucks
Viewings of the movie soon became obsolete in the USSR
Joining the obsolescence of most personally owned motor vehicles among the common people there

When Marissa came home and told her parents
that she had asked Lev Tomi to be her date
to the LA society’s debutante ball
Titus Van Horne finally put his foot down
causing him to be rushed to LA General Hospital
to get his now even deeper ingrown toe nail surgically removed

After a week of recuperation, Titus Van Horne and his wife Olivia came to see me
And asked me to be Marissa’s escort to the debutante’s ball
Since I had nothing pressing on me at the moment
Save some old white shirts that needed to be steampressed at the neighbourhood’s Chinese laundry
I took the case.


Olivia and Titus Van Horne asked Carson Cody Albion Private Eye to be their daughter Marissa’s escort to the LA society elite debutante’s ball

As I got into the back of the limousine with Marissa
I instructed the chauffeur to drive us to Ming Lo’s Blue Lantern Restaurant
I figured imbibing Marissa with a light Chinese dinner at 7
would far be safer than imbibing her with drinks prior to the ball

I turned out to be wrong on that
It must have been the spicy chop suey
that was the Blue Lantern special
It turned Marissa into a tigress in heat
And I was explorer Frank Buck
Bringing her back alive

It was now 11 PM
I had failed to present Miss Van Horne to the debutante’s ball by some 3 hours
Her beautiful gold dress lying on the seat of the booth along with her nylons and spiked stilettos
And all my clothes lying on the floor underneath the table
Implied a very unusual Russian language lesson was going on
when coincidentally Mr. and Mrs. Van Horne entered the restaurant right at 11 PM

I felt no inclination to open my fortune cookie which the waiter just brought
If it was accurate, I knew well what it would say
You can send me my cheque in the mail for my services
I hastily said to Mr. Van Horne before heading out into the night
like a stallion galloping out into the Santa Ana winds

I had no idea who this Lev Tomi fellow was
But I think I may have just saved his life
Too bad, I can’t say the same for my own.

-Carson Cody Albion Private Eye

-A Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 18th
2018

Permalink 13 Comments

The Raven Rapper Sings A Rap Song

March 10, 2019 at 10:55 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, Music, News, Poetry, Politics, Television, Vampire novel, Video) (, , , , , , , )

Simon Cowell (a judge on the TV shows America’s Got Talent and Britain’s Got Talent) was having a dream whereby he was appearing as a guest judge on the Canadian TV talent show Canada’s Got Cannabis.

The premise of the program was the judges judged the talent after they had smoked a whole bunch of pot.

Simon’s fellow judges for the show were Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau and the ET gray Gali-Gula (an ET gray from the planet Nibiru who was possessed by the spirit of the ancient earthling Roman Emperor Caligula).

The cactus plant juggling penguin who was covered in bandaids made Justin think sadly of his own marijuana smoking desert cactus plant Strawberry Fields Forever who was being held prisoner at a Chinese Communist re-education camp for transgendered Uighurs in the Xinjiang region of eastern China.

As the penguin was being carried off stage on a stretcher to a waiting ambulance, Justin Trudeau received a text message on his Huawei smart phone that hundreds of thousands of jobs were being lost in the Canadian province of Alberta.

“Who cares?” Justin yawned and shrugged and helped himself to some more cannabis cookies.

Justin had fond memories from his childhood of his father Pierre Elliott giving Albertans the raised middle finger from the window of a train as they rode through Banff National Park.

The next act was a giant gorilla who would be climbing up Toronto’s CN Tower to rescue a screaming Kim Kardashian who was at the top.

He would be doing this as he was buzzed by drones resembling World War I biplanes and triplanes.

As the body of the late Kong was loaded into a hearse big enough to fit him, Justin received a text message on his Huawei that thousands of jobs might be lost in the Canadian province of Quebec.

“Oh shit, I gotta go,” Justin cried and ran out the auditorium, “Maybe I can pressure Jody Wilson-Raybould to do something. Oh shit, she’s resigned from the cabinet.”

The next act appeared on stage as the remaining Simon Cowell and Gali-Gula smoked their tokes.

“And so, what’s your story?” Simon asked the next act as he hummed the tune to the song I Dreamed A Dream from the musical Les Miserables.

“Well,” a giant raven appeared on stage, “I’m a raven and I’m immortal and I’m the same raven who once sat on a bust of Pallas Athena in Edgar Allan Poe’s lodgings over a century and a half ago.”

“How positively dreary,” Cowell remarked as the show approached the midnight hour.

The raven broke into his rap song,

“Oh yes, it’s true that I’m a raven
you might think I’m rather craven
sitting atop Athena’s head
as if it were my own bed
even if I shout “Nevermore”
as I come rapping at your door
while you sing praises of lost Lenore
stop nodding your head weak and weary
stop crying with your eyes so bleary
don’t you know Lenore’s gone for good
That’s the saying in the hood
take your punishment like a man
and stop throwing kleenex in the can
Think of it as bleak December
stop trying to remember
let your mind be like a dying ember
cast out your thoughts of lost Lenore
while I find my way to the door
my parting words, Nevermore.

-A vampire novel chapter
and rap song
written by Christopher
Sunday March 10th
2019.


The Raven’s advice: Time to give up thoughts of Lenore

Permalink 18 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 16 Comments

Next page »