Cleopatra, Maitreya and Yaldabaoth On Saint Patrick’s Day
It was Saint Patrick’s Day 2021.
And Yaldabaoth was on a bridge overlooking the River Liffey in Dublin, Ireland.
The night before he had been in a psychiatrist’s office at Saint Raphael’s Hospital in London.
The session was to help him overcome his drinking problem.
But judging from the amount of Guinness he had drunk on this Saint Patrick’s Day Evening in Dublin, it was obviously going to take more than one session.
“Yaldabaoth,” the man named Peter Whitstable (whose unofficial title was the Fox Mulder of Interpol) greeted him.
“What are you doing here in Dublin?” Yaldabaoth asked, “Do you have some more cloak and dagger work for me to do?”.
The leprechaun put on a green cloak and then pulled a green jade dagger out of one of his green socks and put it in his green belt.
“As you know the past dozen years, the Irish government has become increasingly made up of Apostles of the Antichrist,” Whitstable noted.
“I imagine Saint Paddy is not too pleased with that,” Yaldabaoth drank his Guinness, “Is Harvey Tallbanger the invisible (to mortals) bunny rabbit here to throw green algae cream pies in their faces?”.
“Most likely yes to your first statement and I don’t know to your second,” Whitstable answered, “I do know most leading members of the Irish government have taken an oath of allegiance to a hidden and secret High King of Ireland.”
“And who is this hidden and secret High King of Ireland?” Yaldabaoth asked.
“Maitreya a golden cobra serpent supernatural entity from the Himalayan region of Tibet and Nepal,” Whitstable replied.
“Oh yes, he did have himself crowned High King of Ireland at the Hill of Tara back on Saint Patrick’s Day in 2018,” Yaldabaoth wiped his runny nose with a green handkerchief, “I believe he had crowned Queen Cleopatra VII Philopator of Egypt (whom he had resurrected from the dead) his High Queen as well.
“Exactly,” Whitstable nodded, “Cleopatra is currently staying at a hotel here in Dublin.”
“What hotel?” Yaldabaoth asked.
“This one,” Whitstable handed the leprechaun a card with the hotel address on it, “I want you to get her photograph for my Interpol files. We do not have a photo of the living Cleopatra.”
“Seeing as how she’s been dead since the 1st Century BC and was only resurrected 4 years ago, I can see why,” Yaldabaoth nodded, “I imagine Saint Paddy is probably ticked that not only has a serpent returned to Ireland (he having driven the serpents out of Ireland) but is further ticked that a serpent has crowned himself High King of Ireland.”
“I would imagine,” Whitstable agreed.
Meanwhile in Washington DC, U.S. President Joe Beijing O’ Biden asked one of his aides why one of the White House fountains was green.
“You ordered it dyed green for Saint Patrick’s Day,” his aide answered.
“I did?” Biden scratched his head, “Is it Saint Patrick’s Day?”.
The aide nodded.
“Then why is my desk cactus dressed as Santa Claus, why is my dog dressed like the Easter Bunny and why is Hunter dressed like a crack pipe smoking Great Pumpkin?” Biden inquired.
Meanwhile back in Dublin, Ireland, Yaldabaoth entered the hotel room where Cleopatra was staying.
He carried in his hands a black and white film camera that had once belonged to film director Orson Welles when he was alive.
Yaldabaoth entered Cleopatra’s bedroom and snapped a photo.
Cleopatra the former Queen of Egypt and current High Queen of Ireland
After snapping the photo, Yaldabaoth gasped, “My God, that’s a killer outfit you’re wearing.”
He then fell over dead.
“Jesus,” an Irish Jesuit priest, who was recently defrocked by his superior for being straight and heterosexual, remarked as he walked by the open door in the hallway.
“Oh, the void, the void,” a spider, who had recently come in contact with radioactive material in a science lab, remarked as he crawled by.
“This looks like a job for Dr. Marmalade Montague and his Hendrick’s Gin Dunking Machine,” Harvey Tallbanger commented as he walked by and noticed Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun lying dead at Cleopatra’s spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes feet.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 17th
2021.
Sophia Wants Yaldabaoth To See Dr. Adaeze Salisu
Dr. Adaeze Salisu
“Who is this woman?” Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun asked his mother Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom, “And why are you showing me this photograph of her?”.
“I thought since you’ve been doing cloak and dagger work on behalf of Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol,” Sophia explained, “You might take more notice if a photograph was shown of her. Like the leader of the Mission Impossible team looked at photographs of people before a recording self destructed in 10 seconds.”
“Nothing is going to self-destruct around here in 10 seconds is it?” Yaldabaoth looked around the room with concern.
“Of course not,” Sophia laughed, “Anyhow, now that I’ve got your attention with that photograph, the woman is Dr. Adaeze Salisu the head of psychiatry at Saint Raphael’s Hospital in London. I want you to see her.”
“You want me to see a psychiatrist?” Yaldabaoth’s jaw dropped and a gold doubloon coin fell out of his mouth.
“About your drinking problem,” Sophia sighed, “You must admit you’ve had a severe drinking problem for centuries.”
“And why can’t I have it for several more centuries?” Yaldabaoth protested.
“You should really be doing more with your life than drinking,” Sophia looked glum.
“But like you yourself said I’ve been doing cloak and dagger work on behalf of Peter Whitstable the Fox Mulder of Interpol,” Yaldabaoth pointed out.
“And how has that been working out for you?” Sophia asked, “You’ve died twice when you met one of your fellow cloak and dagger secret operative associates the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka. And then on another occasion you were mooned by British Prime Minister Boris Johnson.”
“Cloak and dagger work wasn’t meant to be a bed of roses,” Yaldabaoth got the feeling he was sitting on thorns and stood up.
“Anyhow I’ve booked an appointment for you this afternoon,” Sophia smiled.
“You have?” Yaldabaoth was shocked.
Later as Yaldabaoth walked the streets of London in the direction of Saint Raphael’s Hospital, “Why would I need to see a psychiatrist?”.
He looked down an alleyway and noticed a stegosaurus sniffing a line of laundry.
“On the other hand…” Yaldabaoth took off his little green hat and scratched his head.
Later in the office of Dr. Adaeze Salisu.
Looking at Dr. Adaeze Salisu, he said, “I thought I as the patient was supposed to be the one lying on the couch while you as the psychiatrist sat on the chair.”
“I like doing things a little differently in my practice,” Dr. Adaeze Salisu smiled.
“I liked your sign on the door that said THE DOCTOR IS IN,” Yaldabaoth smiled, “I don’t suppose Psychiatric Help is still 5c like it was in the days of Charlie Brown, Lucy, Snoopy, Linus and the Peanuts gang.”
“No, I’m afraid it’s a lot more than 5c,” Dr. Salisu shook her head.
“Pity,” Yaldabaoth smiled, “I don’t suppose you have anything stronger to drink than that package of Canadian Red Rose Tea I see on your desk.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 16th
2021.
Harvey Tallbanger, Antichrist Apostle Mario Draghi, Inanna and Ishtar
Italian Prime Minister Mario Draghi announced that Italy would be under a total lockdown over the Easter weekend for the 2nd year in a row.
Before going to address a virtual press conference, Draghi unbeknownst to himself, was injected with Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s Truth Serum by Harvey Tallbanger (the invisible to mortals) 6 foot 8 tall purple coloured bunny rabbit with big pink floppety ears.
Harvey was a Welsh pooka a mischievous supernatural creature from Welsh and Celtic folklore.
During the press conference, Italian Prime Minister Mario Draghi was asked why he decided that Easter should be cancelled for the 2nd year in a row in Italy.
“Because I’m an Apostle of the Antichrist,” Draghi (well under the influence of the Dr. Cadbury Rocher Truth Serum) replied.
As he answered, the words I AM AN APOSTLE OF THE ANTICHRIST appeared in red and black felt ink letters on his forehead.
Draghi continued, “If we can stop the Sacrifice of the Mass from being said in Churches all over the world, this will definitely lay the foundation for the Antichrist’s imminent appearance on the world stage. Because unbeknownst to many of you, many world leaders and I worship the Antichrist in private and secret. We’ve been able to use the Wuhan CCP Virus pandemic to close Churches and stop the Sacrifice of the Mass all over the world. And it’s especially effective when you’re able to stop the Sacrifice of the Mass from being said at Christmas and Easter.””
Joe Biden was watching the Mario Draghi press conference on his TV set in the Oval Office.
He asked his marijuana pot smoking cactus plant Sweet Dementia sitting atop his Oval Office desk, “Am I one of those world leaders who secretly worship the Antichrist?”.
Because he had apparently forgotten.
“Yes,” Sweet Dementia spelled out the word in the air through her pot exhalation smoke.
“Wow, that really blows my mind,” Beijing Joe remarked, “No wonder I get along so well with Nancy Pelosi and Chuck Schumer. To say nothing of U.S. Supreme Court Chief Justice John Roberts.”
Meanwhile in the Vatican, the Sumerian goddess Inanna and her identical twin sister the Akkadian/Assyrian/Babylonian goddess Ishtar were watching the Mario Draghi press conference on the TV set in Pope Francis’ study.
They had flown to Rome with Pope Francis on his plane ride back from Iraq.
“We must stop Mario Draghi from talking,” Inanna remarked to Ishtar, “He’s blabbing too much.”
They flew (like bats out of Hell) to the site of Mario Draghi’s press conference where they knocked him out.
As Draghi lay there unconscious on the floor, he received a spaghetti and meatball laced cream pie in the face – courtesy of Harvey Tallbanger.
Inanna or Ishtar? : Only her hairdresser knows for sure.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 12th
2021.
Gina Esmeralda
The gypsy Gina Esmeralda opened the door
“Count Dracula,” she smiled, “I bid you welcome.”
It was February of the year 1871.
The location was a small inn in Britanny, France.
“You’ve heard of me?” The Transylvanian nobleman and former Wallachian prince was surprised.
“My people live all over Europe,” Gina Esmeralda smiled, “so yes, I’ve heard of you.”
“Then you’re aware that I am a…”
“Vampire?” Gina Esmeralda finished the Count’s sentence for him, “Yes, I’m aware. I hope you won’t be a pain in the neck to me or any of my guests.”
“I’ve fed on a few sheep in the region,” the vampire explained, “so yes, my thirst has been quenched.”
“Poor sheep,” Gina Esmeralda reflected aloud, “so if you are the the perfect gentleman with my guests and me, I won’t have to summon the priest to sprinkle you with Holy Water.”
“No, you won’t,” Dracula remarked, “Who are your other guests?”.
“I am Loki the Norse trickster god,” said Loki who was eating a huge piece of roast beef.
“And I am Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun,” said Yaldabaoth who likewise was eating a large piece of roast beef.
“Both your guests seem to be immortals,” Dracula turned towards Gina Esmeralda, “so they have nothing to worry about from me.”
“Although,” Yaldabaoth spoke up, “According to the Irish High King Brian Boru’s Medieval Treatise On Leprechaun Ailments, there are a small variety of foods that could kill me but fortunately roast beef is not one of them.”
“And what are you doing here in Britanny?” Dracula turned towards Loki.
“I’ve been giving advice to Prussian Chancellor Otto von Bismarck on how to defeat France in this Franco-Prussian War so that France will lose its continental power and the German states can band together and form one nation,” Loki explained, “under the rule of the King of Prussia as Emperor of Germany of course.”
“Well you’ve already finished off Napoleon III and the Second Empire this past September,” Dracula noted, “And its successor the recently proclaimed Third Republic has pretty well thrown in the towel as far as war with Prussia is concerned.”
“Indeed it has,” Loki grinned as he drank his beer, “So Germany unveiled a constitution and united last month with Prussia’s king as Emperor.”
“Why do you seek a united Germany?” Dracula inquired.
“The German peoples used to worship me and my fellow gods of the Norse pantheon and I hope if they become politically and militarily powerful, they might do so again.”
Gina Esmeralda let out a small cry as the vision of a rotating and spinning black sun in a white circle against a blood red background entered her mind.
“You all right, Gina?” A concerned Yaldabaoth asked.
Loki laughed.
“Yes, I am,” Gina Esmeralda answered.
The beautiful gypsy walked over to the bar.
“Would you care for some wine, Count?” The gypsy asked.
“I wouldn’t mind,” Dracula smiled.
“Strange,” Gina Esmeralda steadied herself on the bar, “I just had a vision of a man with an accent similar to yours, Count. He was dressed like a Paris head waiter but wearing a cape as well and saying to someone, “I don’t drink… wine.” While standing in an old castle.”
“Not a very good countryman of mine if he doesn’t drink wine,” Dracula gratefully took the glass.
“Someday, you’ll be famous, Count,” Gina Esmeralda seemed to gaze into the future, “Books will be written about you and moving pictures made.”
“Moving pictures?” Yaldabaoth looked baffled.
“Photographs that move,” Gina Esmeralda explained.
“That sounds eerie,” Yaldabaoth gazed at a photograph of a Breton werewolf on the dining room wall, “a photograph that moves.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday February 27th
2021.
Set Gets A Call From His Accounting Department
The London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was sitting in his study and listening to the radio.
He was once again surprised to hear his former employee and current British MP Renfield R. Renfield reading the BBC World News Report on BBC Radio.
Renfield said, “Next month on his trip to Iraq, the extremely ecumenically minded Pope Francis will be holding an interfaith religious service on top of the ancient Babylonian temple to the Mesopotamian moon god Nanna. No word yet on whether Nanna himself plans to attend the service.”
Set guffawed.
Spewing the Earl Grey tea in his mouth all the way to the far side of the study.
Renfield went on, “And in further news regarding Pope Francis, the pontiff said all journalists wishing to fly with him on his plane to and from Iraq must be vaccinated against the Holy, Blessed and Eternal Virus known to the world as Covid before being allowed to fly with him.
Those journalists who wish to ask him questions leading to one of his usual idiotic rambling answers must be vaccinated twice…”
The phone rang on the desk next to Set’s chair and he turned the radio off.
The vampire picked up the receiver.
It was one of those old phones that you often see in gangster movies of the 1920s and ’30s.
“Sol Invictus Set,” the vampire said giving the full name he wrote down on his British Citizenship certificate when he received British citizenship back in the 1920s.
“Hello, Mr. Set,” the voice on the other end spoke, “This is I.M. Boring from the Set Enterprises Accounting Department.”
“Oh yes, Mr. Boring,” Set yawned, “What can I do for you?”.
“We’ve noticed an expenditure claimed by one of your employees that we think you should really be concerned about,” Boring explained.
“Oh yes,” Set put down his cup of tea and proceeded to drink the entire pot of coffee on the tray next to him to keep himself awake.
“One of your employees put down as an expenditure the cost of 2002 bottles of Hendrick’s Gin over the past month,” Boring noted.
“By 2002,” Set finished the entire pot of coffee, “Do you mean the year the gin was made or the numerical amount of bottles of gin that was consumed?”.
“The numerical amount of bottles of gin that was consumed,” Boring answered.
“Jesus,” Set was fully awake now and spoke a name that probably wouldn’t be mentioned in the interfaith service atop Nanna’s temple next month, “This employee must be sent to Alcoholics Anonymous right away or face permanent termination of his employment.”
“It gets worse, Mr. Set,” Boring explained.
“It does?” Set rang the bell on his tray to summon his butler and valet Athelstan.
The billionaire vampire was going to ask his gentleman’s gentleman to bring him Set a much needed bottle of Hendrick’s Gin.
“Apparently the entire 2002 bottles of gin were consumed on two separate days,” Boring went on, “1001 bottles of Hendrick’s Gin consumed back on Thursday February 4th and 1001 bottles of Hendrick’s Gin consumed 2 days ago on Monday February 22nd.”
“My God,” Set reached for a hot buttered scone, “Talk about the mother of all drinking problems. Doesn’t the said person realize that binge drinking is dangerous. He should really space out his alcohol consumption. And not do it all at one time every 3 weeks.”
“And not charge the cost of his alcohol consumption to his employer,” Boring noted.
“Indeed,” Set wholeheartedly agreed and started putting some marmalade on his hot buttered scone, “And what was the name of this employee?”.
“Dr. Marmalade Montague,” Boring answered.
Set quickly checked the brand name of his marmalade.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 24th
2021.
Maid Marian and The Key To Nottingham Castle
“You seem to be eating a lot of fish there, Friar,” Robin Hood remarked to the good Friar Tuck.
“It’s Friday in Lent,” Friar Tuck remarked after having consumed a plate of 3 dozen fish.
“Are you going to join me in rescuing Will Scarlet from the evil Sheriff of Nottingham?’ Robin asked.
“I suppose I could stand a little exercise,” Friar Tuck patted his extremely round belly.
“Right, let’s get a move on then,” Robin said, “We’re going to meet Maid Marian at the edge of Sherwood Forest where she’s going to present us with the key to Nottingham Castle.”
“I take it that is where poor Will is being held,” Friar Tuck sipped from his cup of ale.
“It is indeed, my good Friar,” Robin loaded up his back pack with arrows while he held his trusty bow in hand, “In the dungeon.”
Friar Tuck was about to reach for a leg of chicken but then reasoned chicken might be considered meat and so withdrew his hand.
“How will we get into the dungeon?” Tuck inquired.
“That’s what we have the key for,” Robin explained, “which Marian will give us.”
“That explains why you’re the leader of our band of renegades,” Tuck tried to tie his cassock around his enormously large waist with not much success, “and why I’m not.”
“It does indeed, Tuck,” Robin smiled.
Alan-a-Dale followed behind Robin Hood and Friar Tuck carrying his harp and playing it.
“Are you going to Nottingham Fair?” Alan-a-Dale sang, “Rosemary, sage, parsley and thyme…”
“The mention of all those spices is making me hungry,” Tuck remarked.
“The mention of London Bridge falling down would probably make you hungry,” Robin commented.
“It would at that,” Tuck agreed.
They soon came to the edge of Sherwood Forest where they met Maid Marian carrying the key to Nottingham Castle:
Robin picked up the key and carried it on his way to the castle where after Friar Tuck hit castle guards over the head using large fish bones that he carried in a basket, they made their way to the dungeon where they rescued Will Scarlet.
Safe on the edge of the forest again, Robin fired an arrow back in the direction of Nottingham Castle to the tower floor on which the Sheriff of Nottingham had his bedroom.
The arrow had a message attached to it that read,
“My dear Sheriff of Nottingham,
Your prisoner has escaped.
Yours affectionately,
Robin Hood.”
Back in the forest again at Robin Hood’s camp, Friar Tuck complained, “I feel hungry again.”
It was a good thing for the good friar that Made Marian had baked 3 dozen apple pies.
-A Robin Hood tale
written by Christopher
Friday February 19th
2021.
Orson Welles Tells A Story About An Ox On Chinese New Year’s Eve
British MP Renfield R. Renfield and the ghost of Orson Welles were celebrating Chinese New Year’s Eve via Skype with Mei-ling Manchu (who was Renfield’s ally in seeking to topple the Communist despot Xi Jinping from power in China).
Mei-ling Manchu was sampling a most delectable variety of rice wine.
Renfield was sipping from a rather large glass of sherry.
Orson Welles’ ghost was sipping from a rather large spectral glass of spectral sherry.
“Well, Happy Year of the Ox,” Welles raised his glass in a toast.
“Happy Year of the Ox,” Renfield and Mei-ling joined in.
They drank to the New Year.
Hoping it would be better than the Year of the Rat which saw various plagues descend upon the world.
“Do you know there’s a little known Arthurian tale about Merlin being turned into an ox by the enchantress Morgan le Fay?” Welles’ ghost asked.
“It must be little known,” Renfield admitted, “because I don’t know it.”
Mei-ling laughed.
“Yes,” Welles’ ghostly cheeks were turning from ghostly white to cherry red after imbibing much sherry, “I’ll tell it to you now.”
And this is the story Welles’ ghost told:
It had come to the attention of Morgan le Fay that Merlin was urging Arthur to exile her from Camelot for making illegal moonshine.
The moon was apparently shining on nights when there wasn’t a full moon.
Angry, Morgan took a walk into the woods.
There she stumbled upon an inn The Wild Boar Inn.
Morgan entered the inn, ordered a glass of mead and sat down by the fireplace.
While there she noticed the rather corpulent Baron Grimwald of Grease sitting at a table demanding a large pot sized bowl of boiled ox soup.
“But there’s no ox in the vicinity,” the innkeeper protested.
“Bullocks,” Baron Grimwald cursed.
Morgan left a coin on the table after finishing her glass of mead and left the inn.
While traversing a path through the woods, she stumbled upon Merlin.
Morgan recalled a spell for turning a person into an ox and so she did that to Merlin.
She hastened back to the inn.
“Oh, innkeeper,” she laughed, “There’s an ox walking along that path through the woods. You can now give Baron Grimwald his large pot sized bowl of boiled ox soup.”
“Great,” the innkeeper grabbed all his butcher knives and headed out with his servants to slay and cut up the ox.
Merlin’s owl realized his master was in trouble so headed back to Camelot Castle for help.
Arthur and his Knights of the Round Table were at the time at a jousting tournament in another part of the realm.
Queen Guenevere was there however and she could even speak owl even though no one else in King Arthur’s court gave a hoot.
So Queen Guenevere got on her grayish white horse and rode to the rescue.
She arrived at the Wild Boar Inn just as the innkeeper and his servants were about to butcher the poor ox.
“Wait,” Guenevere got off her high horse.
“Your Majesty,” the innkeeper and his servants bowed to her.
Guenevere happened to know the spell for turning an ox back into a man and therefore used it.
The ox turned back into Merlin.
“Bullocks,” said Morgan when she saw what happened.
“”Bullocks,” said Baron Grimwald when he saw that his dinner was no more.
“And so that’s how Guenevere rescued Merlin from becoming a broiled ox soup,” Welles’ ghost smiled.
“No, I’ve definitely never heard that story before,” Renfield admitted.
“Nor I,” said Mei-ling.
“Here’s to the Year of the Ox,” Welles raised his glass again.
“Happy New Year,” Renfield and Mei-ling joined in the toast.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday February 11th
2021.
Princess Arabella/Goddess Asherah Reclaims The Matchbook
Princess Arabella/Goddess Asherah reclaims the Qadshu Bazaar Nightclub matchbook whose written inscriptions saved Yaldabaoth’s life
Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun was tired of gin having spent Thursday night imbibing 1001 bottles of Hendrick’s gin to bring him back from the dead.
He had spent all of yesterday drinking kegs upon kegs of Irish Guinness Stout to wash down the gin.
At the suggestion of British MP Renfield R. Renfield, Yaldabaoth then relieved the contents of his kidneys at the front door of 10 Downing Street London the residence of Britain’s bozo Prime Minister Boris Johnson and recently initiated zombie nosferatu.
Today at the suggestion of the ghost of Orson Welles, he spent the day drinking bottles upon bottles of red wine that Welles had recommended.
He had also spent the day looking at old photo albums of black and white photos taken by Welles in the 1940s and 1950s when he was still alive.
Yaldabaoth fell asleep.
When he awoke, his mind was still in a black and white photographic haze.
That was when he noticed a beautiful woman holding the vintage matchbook from the Qadshu Bazaar Nightclub in Cairo whose inside written contents revealed how to resurrect leprechauns from the dead.
“Who are you?” Yaldabaoth asked as he bit into his shepherd’s pie.
“I am the goddess Asherah,” the woman answered, “although I’ve operated under the stage name Princess Arabella world famous belly dancer for the past 75 years.”
“I recall seeing you in Cairo in 1949,” Yaldabaoth hiccoughed.
“Yes, you had caused a scene in the lounge by dying after eating an order of the Club’s world famous Alexandrian mollusks,” Asherah/Arabellah recalled.
“I remember that,” Yaldbaoth scratched his chin, “I had thought those mollusks were a bit undercooked. I had thought of sending them back to the kitchen but I didn’t really feel like causing a scene being the shy introverted fellow that I am.”
On the nearby television, video footage was being shown of Yaldabaoth relieving himself at the front door of 10 Downing Street as headlines below said that Scotland Yard was asking the British public to be on the lookout for this leprechaun and to approach with caution as his kidneys were thought to be armed and dangerous.
“I see you’re holding the vintage Qadshu Bazaar Nightclub matchbook in one hand,” Yaldabaoth observed.
“And an unlit cigarette in the other,” Asherah/Arabella replied as she opened the matchbook, took out a match and lit a cigarette, “These matches still work after 72 years.”
The princess/belly dancer/goddess smiled and blew smoke rings.
“The written inscriptions inside brought me back from the dead,” Yaldabaoth noted, “A mixture of juniper, cucumber, and damask rose. Which also just happen to be the ingredients that make up Hendrick’s Gin.”
“I am going to return this matchbook to its original owner,” Asherah/Arabella stated, “An old acquaintance of mine the Los Angeles Private Eye Carson Cody Albion. He had accidentally dropped this matchbook in his hotel lobby’s fountain where it was swallowed by a goldfish.”
“Is he still alive after all these years?” Yaldabaoth hiccoughed again.
“Yes,” Asherah smiled, “He’s immortal.”
“Well Set Enterprises’ Dr. Marmalade Montague is going to be pissed if you take that matchbook,” Yaldabaoth finished the last of his shepherd’s pie, “He paid good money for it.”
“I’m leaving here some original gold minted coins bearing Alexander the Great’s image and inscription,” Asherah noted, “That should be more than enough to cover the cost of this vintage matchbook.”
“Where did you get those?” Yaldabaoth was curious.
“From Alexander himself,” Asherah smiled and then vanished into the night.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday February 6th
2021.
How Many Bottles of Gin Does It Take To Bring A Leprechaun Back To Life?
“1001 bottles of Hendrick’s Gin,” Set Enterprises’ eccentric scientist Dr. Marmalade Montague noted as he put the put the finishing touches on his contraption that would pour the contents of 1001 bottles of Hendrick’s Gin down the throat of the dead Irish leprechaun Yaldabaoth (who had died from food poisoning from food he had eaten at the Vatican- which was certainly very Italian Renaissance of the wee fellow).
“Why 1001?” Asked Set Enterprises’ Chief Scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher as he looked in amazement at the contraption that Dr. Marmalade Montague had built.
“Because there were 1001 nights in the tales of the Arabian Nights,” Montague answered.
“Well let’s hope Scheherazade got it right,” British MP Renfield R. Renfield quipped as he sipped a martini and hummed an old Rimsky-Korsakov melody.
“Amen,” was the word written on the sign that Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster held up in his aquarium as he sipped on a rather large glass of lemonade shandy.
“How did you settle on Hendrick’s Gin to bring Yaldabaoth back from the dead?” Dr. Cadbury Rocher inquired as he sipped an iced mocha.
“Well this mini recipe written on this vintage matchbook here that I bought from the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery notes that a combination of juniper, cucumber and damask rose can be used to resurrect a leprechaun from the dead,” Marmalade held up the vintage matchbook that had the logo and name for Qadshu Bazaar Nightclub Cairo written on it.
“That must be a very old matchbook,” Set Enterprises’ chief librarian Trajan Ulpian commented as he sipped on an Albus Dumbledore Magic Potion (a drink he had personally invented for himself), “Seeing as how the Qadshu Bazaar Nightclub in Cairo closed when Gamal Abdel Nasser overthrew Egypt’s King Farouk on July 23rd 1952. Therefore that matchbook must be from before July 23rd 1952.”
“Brilliant deduction,” Renfield remarked as he lit his Sherlock Holmes style tobacco pipe.
“Thank you,” Trajan Ulpian smiled not noticing Renfield’s sarcasm.
“Anyways Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a dream last night where he was in a saloon in Dawson City Yukon during the heady days of the late 1890s Klondike Gold Rush,” Dr. Marmalade Montague explained, “and while he was making out with the famous Klondike saloon dancer Klondike Kate…”
“You were making out with Klondike Kate?” Renfield looked enviously in the lobster’s direction
“… she happened to mention a gin made with juniper, cucumber and damask rose,” Montague went on, “and the thought occurred to me that maybe Michelangelo’s psychic intuition was picking up a message from the past. So I phoned the President of the London Teetotalers’ Society to see if he knew the name of a gin that was made with juniper, cucumber and damask rose.”
“You phoned the President of the London Teetotalers’ Society for that information?” Dr. Cadbury Rocher asked increduously.
“Yes,” Dr. Marmalade Montague nodded, “And he told me the name of Hendrick’s Gin. It’s a brand of gin that was produced by William Grant and Sons at their Girvan distillery in Scotland and launched in 1999. It was invented by a Yorkshire lass Leslie Gracie.”
“Where does Klondike Kate fit into all this?” Renfield asked.
“I have no idea,” Montague shrugged, “But now I’m going to press this button and the contraption will release the contents of 1001 bottles of Hendrick’s Gin down Yaldabaoth’s throat.”
“He’s going to have one Hell of a hangover tomorrow morning if he does come back from the dead,” Renfield deduced in Sherlockian fashion.
“Glug! Glug! Hic! Hic!” Was Yaldabaoth’s response as he returned to this plane of existence.
Sophia the Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom was extremely happy at hearing the news that her son Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun was brought back from the dead.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday February 4th
2021.
Michelangelo’s Dream of The Klondike
Klondike Kate
It had been an exciting 24 hours around Set Enterprises.
The Soros-Gates-Xi-Schwab-Osiris-Horus Plans for World Domination codenamed Dante’s Inferno were now stored in the Set Enterprises safe.
The plans had been stolen yesterday from the vault of the Bank of Monte Carlo by Dracul Van Helsing and Peter Whitstable.
And if it had not been for the immortal archeress Morganella Pendragon practicing her crossbow archery in the vicinity when startled by a groundhog, she sent arrows flying in the direction of the Monte Carlo Police Department causing them to duck for cover, Van Helsing and Whitstable might well be in Monte Carlo Police custody and the Dante’s Inferno plans restored to the vault of the Bank of Monte Carlo.
The reason?
Van Helsing had stopped to partake in kinky fun and games with the Greek goddess Artemis.
Dashwood Forrest the proprietor of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery had dropped by Set Enterprises with a vintage matchbook that had been recently sold to him by Kwan Yin the immortal princess who was venerated as the Buddhist goddess of mercy in some branches of Buddhism.
Set Enterprises’ eccentric scientist Dr. Marmalade Montague apparently was now collecting vintage matchbooks among his many other eccentric hobbies.
Forrest had left the vintage matchbook on the desk next to the aquarium of Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster for Dr. Marmalade Montague to peruse the next morning.
Curious as to what the item was, Michelangelo crawled out of his aquarium and crawled up to the top of the desk for a closer look.
Michelangelo noticed the name Asherah (which was the name of an ancient Middle Eastern goddess) written on the inside of the matchbook as well as the words juniper, cucumber and damask rose which were said by the matchbook scribbler to be the ingredients used in resurrecting a leprechaun from the dead.
Michelangelo put the vintage matchbook down and crawled back into his aquarium where he fell asleep.
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster dreamed he was back in the days of the Klondike Gold Rush of 1897-1899 the famous gold rush that brought an estimated 100,000 prospectors to the Klondike region of the Yukon territory in Canada’s far north.
Michelangelo found himself in Dawson City which was the centre of the Klondike Gold Rush.
He entered a saloon walking under the swing doors because of his height.
Being a dream, Michelangelo found he had the ability to leap up on to the tavern room’s central chandelier where he was able to survey the tavern landscape.
And there he saw Klondike Kate the most famous Klondike dancer and saloon girl of them all lying comfortably on top of the bar.
She and her dress were in living colour whereas her black silk fishnet stockings and boots and the surrounding bar area were all in black and white.
The words “Sepia with selective color” appeared in red holographic lettering in front of Klondike Kate lying on top of the bar.
“What are those words doing here?” Michelangelo wondered aloud.
He had the ability to speak in dreams.
The ghost of Orson Welles appeared alongside him eating a huge spectral KFC chicken drumstick.
“Well,” Welles’ ghost wiped his chin and beard with a napkin, “Thanks to Big Tech and all its inroads, companies and businesses now have the ability to advertise in your dreams.”
Facebook CEO Mark Zuckerberg then appeared cackling wildly like a madman as huge dollar signs appeared in the pupils of his demonically red eyes.
“Not so fast, Neo-Bolshevik Commie totalitarian Orwellian Big Brother censorship boy,” British MP Renfield R. Renfield appeared and drove a stake into Zuckerberg’s heart.
Zuckerberg disintegrated into dust.
“Why don’t you try my homemade gin?” Klondike Kate beckoned to him.
Michelangelo leapt on top of the bar and sampled from her bottle of gin which was poking out from the top of her dress.
“Delicious,” Michelangelo hiccoughed, “What’s it made with?”.
“Juniper, cucumber and damask rose,” Klondike Kate whispered sensuously.
“A gin made with juniper, cucumber and damask rose,” Michelangelo wrote that down in his notebook.
“Yes,” Klondike Kate kissed him passionately with her gin soaked lips.
To Michelangelo’s disappointment, he woke up at that moment.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 3rd
2021.
