Renfield Meets Captain Kerry Donegal In The Oscar Wilde Pub
British MP Renfield R. Renfield was sitting in a newly opened London pub called The Oscar Wilde.
He was planning his strategy to have his friend the Kraken Napoleon VI elected the new President of the European Union Commission.
Seeing as how German Chancellor Angela Merkel and French President Emmanuel Macron were in disagreement as to who should be the new EU Commission President, this allowed an opportunity for a rogue Brit like himself to put a Kraken into that position.
Seeing as how this was The Oscar Wilde Pub, Renfield decided to order himself a glass of absinthe as this was the favourite drink of such notorious writers and poets as Oscar Wilde and Charles Baudelaire and artist/painters such as Henri Toulouse-Lautrec and Amedeo Modigliano.
Seeing as how Renfield was neither an American Jesuit priest nor a leading U.S. Democratic Party politician nor a Hollywood bigwig, he ignored the fact that absinthe was also drunk by such satanic low-lifes as Aleister Crowley.
After 21 glasses of absinthe, Renfield was able to see spirits so as soon as the ghost of the 18th Century Irish pirate of the Caribbean Captain Kerry Donegal walked through the door, the MP invited him to sit down.
They introduced themselves to another and gave their respective backgrounds.
“So,” Renfield ordered another glass of absinthe, “you’re the pirate’s ghost that my psychic lobster friend Michelangelo saw ride that supposedly riderless horse Bodexpress at the Preakness Stakes?”.
“That was me all right,” the ghostly pirate blushed adding a little rouge to his overly white complexion, “I came in second from last.”
“We all have our embarassing moments,” Renfield recalled the lovely actress Gong Li turning him down for a date after he had asked her out in a crowded elevator.
“So how’s your political career going?” Captain Kerry Donegal asked.
“Well if Boris Johnson wins the leadership of the British Conservative Party in July and becomes Prime Minister of Britain,” Renfield ordered a tuna fish sandwich, “I’ll probably become Deputy Foreign Secretary In Charge of Geopolitical Intelligence Gathering and my parliamentary colleague and fellow Transhumanist MP the Welsh vampiress Morgana will probably become Deputy Home Secretary In Charge of Midnight Security.”
“Well, congratulations,” the pirate captain drank a toast in ghostly extra spirited absinthe.
“Still, I mustn’t count my chickens before they’re hatched,” Renfield helped himself to a plate of deviled eggs, “so what are your plans for the future?”.
“I haven’t quite decided,” Captain Kerry Donegal answered, “I moved out of 10 Downing Street last night after Prime Minister Theresa May invited me to watch the 1947 film The Ghost and Mrs. Muir starring Gene Tierney and Rex Harrison with her. After watching the film, I came to the conclusion that Mrs. May wanted to have a romantic affair with me so I left.”
“Yes, singing My Fair Lady to Gene Tierney isn’t so bad,” Renfield admitted, “singing it to Theresa May is another matter entirely.”
“By Liza, rather than sitting in the saddle to do little, I should have said to Bodexpress, move your bloomin’ ass,” the pirate captain reflected.
“And speaking of my fair lady, here comes my parliamentary colleague Morgana,” Renfield, after 23 glasses of absinthe, ran up to kiss her as she entered the pub.
“Why you predatory sexually harassing lecherous pervert,” Morgana said to him before kicking him out the door with one of her spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.
“Absinthe makes the heart grow fonder,” were Renfield’s last words before succumbing to unconsciousness on the outdoor sidewalk.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 28th
2019.
Welsh vampiress Morgana: Not one to mess with
The Kraken Rises Off Israel
The Kraken Napoleon VI had got an urgent text message on his smart phone.
It was from Miranda the mermaid.
It was imperative that she meet him on the beaches of Tel Aviv, Israel.
“It must be something very important,” the Kraken thought to himself as he watched a TV commercial with the Greek god Poseidon advertising McDonald’s Restaurants current special of fresh Atlantic Fish and Chips.
It was a sad day the Kraken thought to himself when even the Olympians were selling out to American corporate conglomerates.
The Kraken was going to let his wife Medusa know where he was going but she was currently engaged in a leg wrestling match with the Egyptian vampiress Isis on the floor of Quasimodo’s Cafe in Paris.
Their slit skirted and black silk nylon legs wrapped around one another’s throats would have sent the Irish Jewish science-fiction writer George Finneganburg and his Greek Norse fantasy writer friend Hyperion Sturm into sheer frenzy had they walked through the cafe at that moment.
The Kraken decided to text message Medusa the news later.
The Kraken hopped on his skateboard and skateboarded all the way from Paris down to the port city of Marseille.
From Marseille, he planned to swim all the way across the Mediterranean to Tel Aviv to meet with mermaid Miranda.
The Kraken had a slight delay in Marseille when he was attacked by a giant piece of seaweed who tried to eat him.
It was fortunate for the Kraken that he had ordered the Giant Spinach Salad for dinner at Quasimodo’s Cafe in Paris because the spinach had made him super strong like Popeye the Sailorman.
The Kraken ripped apart the killer seaweed and was able to swim away before the seaweed grew back together again.
After doing 4 simultaneous breast strokes with his 8 arms, the Kraken was soon in sight of the beaches of Tel Aviv.
The Kraken decided to dive underwater and then rise up again in order to make a grand and impressive entrance on to the beach.
He dove and then rose again.
As he rose, he brought up the Russian Navy submarine The Pride of Saint Petersburg (that had been doing surveillance work up and down the coast of Israel) on his head.
Wearing the submarine like a hat on his head, he stepped on to the beach and announced to Miranda the Mermaid that he had arrived.
. . .
A group of tourists were on the beach at Cefalu, Sicily.
Only a week earlier, a young 7-year-old female sperm whale had been found dead on that beach.
Its stomach was full of plastic bags and other plastic objects that had caused her death.
Now the bozo group of tourists on the beach were littering it with plastic bottles, plastic cups and plastic straws after their huge gluttonous picnic and beach party.
The Celtic stag god Cernunnos emerged from the hills above the beach carrying his crossbow and poisoned arrows.
The horned stag quickly fired poisoned arrows into the huge crowd of plastic littering bozos killing them all.
The Greek god Ares who had been walking along the beach likewise threw down a huge plastic cup and plastic straw.
Cernunnos fired a poisoned arrow marked MADE IN PARIS into Ares’ Achilles heel.
The Greek god of war fell on to the beach crying out, “I hate it when that happens.”
. . .
Allatallahbell the Vampiress Priestess of Baal would be meeting in the Vatican Gardens today with Medusa’s sisters Sthenno and Euryale.
In the meantime she was performing a sacrifice to Baal in one of the side chapels in the Vatican.
As Allatallahbell was busy sacrificing to Baal, Pope Francis was strolling through the Vatican grounds.
A couple of days earlier, Pope Francis had given a talk to a group of people on one of his favourite topics the God of Surprises.
The God of Surprises always reminded him of the boxes of Cracker Jack popcorn that he bought as a kid which always had a prize inside.
His friend Samhain Cardinal Salaman had just found a shop in Rome which sold Cracker Jack popcorn.
Pope Francis walked through the Vatican contentedly munching on the molasses-flavoured and caramel-coated popcorn which came from the box with the pictures of Sailor Jack and his dog Bingo on it.
He wondered what prize lay for him at the bottom of the box.
What did the god of surprises have in store for him?
With that thought in mind, he walked into the Vatican Gardens where there stood Sthenno and Euryale the sisters of Medusa:
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 25th
2019.
The Kraken Meets The Ghost of Orson Welles In Paris
Voting in the European Parliament elections had begun today and would continue until May 26th.
The Kraken Napoleon VI, leader of the French Aquarian Age Bonapartist Party, sat in the Quasimodo Cafe and calmly sipped Lemon Tea and dipped potato chips into Sour Cream and Onion Chip Dip as he awaited the first of the results to come in.
His wife Medusa the ex-Gorgon (who had been cured of her Gorgonism by Set Enterprises’ Chief Scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher) sat calmly painting her fingernails a lovely Moulin Rouge.
The ghost of Orson Welles (who sat across from Medusa and the Kraken) recalled how his late former wife Rita Hayworth had once performed the Can Can (to the tune of Jacques Offenbach’s Orpheus In The Underworld) with her fingers while wearing a pair of black leather gloves.
The performance was considered too hot to handle and was not included in Miss Hayworth’s 1946 film Gilda.
“Johnny, be good,” an impromptu line spoken by Miss Hayworth was also edited out of the film.
“Did you ever consider running for political office when you were alive?” The Kraken asked Welles’ ghost.
“Well, Democratic Party organizers in Wisconsin the state of my birth did ask me to consider running as their candidate for the U.S. Senate in Wisconsin in 1946 but I declined,” Welles sipped a nice spectral glass of spectral red wine, “something that I regretted later as my Republican opponent would have been none other than Joe McCarthy. U.S. political history might have been different had I chosen to run.”
“There’s the Egyptian vampiress Isis,” Medusa spoke critically as the Egyptian vampiress walked through the door wearing a French flag tricoloured evening dress.
“Did you know Isis was the model for Frederic Auguste Bartholdi’s Statue of Liberty?” Welles recounted aloud some knowledge he had uncovered during his time spent in Purgatory.
“I’d heard that,” the Kraken ordered a cognac from the waiter.
“Isis is backing Emmanuel Macron’s party in the European Parliament elections,” Medusa’s voice dripped with contempt like a lethal dose of snake venom.
“I think Freemasons generally support the idea of a fully integrated European Union,” Welles lit a spectral cigar, “and since both Isis and Osiris are the prevalent deities worshipped in a lot of Masonic lodges around the world, it’s no surprise that Isis and the Masons would share a similar political viewpoint.”
“I still suspect our party will do well though,” the Kraken reached for 8 glasses of cognac with his 8 arms.
“I hear our ally across the Channel Renfield is doing well in most polls there,” Welles ordered a California wine much to the displeasure of the French waiter.
“He is,” the Kraken smiled, “I wonder how long he’ll be in the European Parliament before Brexit happens.”
“I imagine EU bureaucrats will be more sympathetic to the idea of a rapid Brexit to prevent Renfield from entering the European Parliament,” Welles brushed cigar ash out of his ghostly beard.
“I hear,” Medusa changed the subject, “that Prince Harry and Meghan the Duchess of Sussex were considering asking Renfield to be their son Archie Harrison’s godfather but that the Prince of Wales is strongly opposed to the idea.”
“That I heard as well,” Welles reached for the glass of Paul Masson Wine which was sold before its time, “and the Prince of Wales might have a point. Renfield could easily become the Falstaff to young Archie’s Prince Hal.”
On the other side of the cafe, the vampiress Isis ordered a Singapore Sling as she too waited for the first of the European Parliament election results.
Meanwhile in a Paris cinema, the Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing was attending a large screen repertory showing of the 1942 film classic Casablanca.
Suddenly appearing on the screen in front of him was a scene he hadn’t recalled seeing before.
That’s because the black and white scene wasn’t part of the movie Casablanca.
It was the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis beckoning to him.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 23rd
2019.
Pirate’s Ghost Attends Volodymyr Zelensky’s Inauguration
The ghost of Captain Kerry Donegal the little known (save to a certain Oxford historian and his grad students) 18th Century Irish pirate of the Caribbean was walking the streets of Kiev in Ukraine.
He was here to attend the inauguration of Volodymyr Zelensky as Ukraine’s new President.
As a pirate’s ghost, he had only recently been released from Purgatory.
The decision to release him came in a teleconferencing call between the Greek gods Hades, Poseidon and Zeus.
Hades as the god of the Underworld had Purgatory under his jurisdiction.
However the section of Purgatory that Captain Kerry Donegal was in was Davy Jones’ Locker over which Poseidon also held jurisdiction.
As Poseidon walked along the beaches of Tel Aviv, Israel (where the sea god passed Miranda the mermaid while he was holding his seashell phone to his ear) the three Olympians agreed on Captain Donegal’s release.
Normally Pope Francis as the successor of Simon Peter (to whom Christ had given the keys of Heaven, Hell and Purgatory) was supposed to have some say on the matter but since Francis did not believe in the existence of 2 out of 3 of those places, he had abdicated all responsibility on the matter to Hades back in 2014.
Captain Kerry Donegal wasn’t too sure why his release from Purgatory and Davy Jones’ Locker was so important to Zeus but it had something to do with Zeus wanting to release his own personal kraken on the world.
And Captain Donegal had died as a result of being strangled by a kraken.
Albeit as far as he knew, the kraken who strangled him wasn’t Zeus’ personal kraken.
Since arriving on the world above Purgatory and Davy Jones’ Locker, Captain Donegal had ridden a horse called Bodexpress at the Preakness Stakes in Baltimore, Maryland when the horse’s jockey had fallen off and the pirate’s ghost decided to jump on the horse and ride the rest of the way.
The pirate and Bodexpress had come in 2nd from last in the race although technically speaking, Bodexpress was officially listed as Did Not Finish.
The pirate captain blamed his poor finish on not having ridden a horse since the days of his wild youth in Ireland.
Captain Donegal had been in Baltimore, Maryland trying to locate a man named Edgar Allan Poe since a Haitian fortune teller had once told him that a man named Poe who lived in the city would someday be able to help him.
Captain Donegal discovered to his horror that Poe had apparently died almost 170 years earlier and in his shock had suddenly found himself on the Pimlico Race Course with a bunch of horses charging right through him.
He leapt on Bodexpress when Bodexpress’ rider had fallen off at the start of the race.
And now Captain Kerry Donegal found himself in Kiev, Ukraine.
He wasn’t quite sure how he got here but he was here.
The last he remembered was being in a Baltimore pub after the race but no one had taken his order (namely because they couldn’t see him).
He had heard in the pub that Ukraine would be holding a Presidential inauguration today and Captain Donegal recalled that a Cossack pirate who had served on his ship The Not So Green Shamrock had come from Ukraine.
He decided to visit the place and lo and behold he was here.
He watched as Ukraine’s new leader Volodymyr Zelensky took the oath of office.
But what he particularly enjoyed was watching two vampiresses (although he didn’t know they were vampiresses) wrestling with one another after the inauguration.
Ukrainian vampiress Inna Huculak was battling it out with Russian vampiress Svetlana Kireeva on behalf of their respective countries.
All he needed now, Captain Kerry Donegal thought to himself, was a good bottle of rum as he watched.
There was nothing he enjoyed more than a good catfight.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday May 20th
2019.
Ukrainian vampiress Inna Huculak wishes reader George F. a pleasant evening.
Captain Kerry Donegal and The Kraken
“And so who is Captain Kerry Donegal?” Monica Dhaliwal asked her Oxford history tutor Professor Smets.
“He was an 18th Century Irish pirate,” Professor Smets answered as his glasses steamed up over the cup of English Breakfast tea that he was having for lunch, “who actually did most of his pirating in the Caribbean Sea. I do wonder whether the writers of the Pirates of The Caribbean films did not model their character of Captain Jack Sparrow on the said Captain Kerry Donegal. He was kind of a lovable rogue. A gentleman pirate as it were who was apparently a hit with the ladies.
And not a hit with those companies whose ships he robbed. Or with the members of Britain’s Royal Navy who he managed to escape from on several occasions just before he was supposed to be hung.”
“That would make for unpopularity among Royal Naval officers,” Monica had to admit, “how did he eventually die?”.
“No one knows for sure,” Professor Smets picked up a cream cheese and cucumber sandwich, “legend has it that he was accidentally strangled by a kraken in the 1750s.”
“Accidentally strangled?” Monica had to smile.
“Yes, according to legend, this kraken was a friend of his,” Professor Smets adjusted his glasses again, “a kraken who had eaten from the Tree of Life in the Garden of Eden which is to be found in the depths of the Persian Gulf. Eating from the Tree of Life had caused the Kraken to become immortal. Anyhow according to the stories, the Kraken and Kerry had become great friends. And the Kraken it turns out was a Jacobite sympathizer having once carried Bonnie Prince Charlie over the seas to Skye. According to legend, after an evening in which this Kraken had drunken 120 barrels of rum, he mistook his friend Captain Kerry Donegal for the Duke of Cumberland aka the Butcher of Culloden who had defeated Bonnie Prince Charlie at the Battle of Culloden on April 16th 1746. So he strangled Captain Kerry Donegal thinking that it was Cumberland he was strangling. When the Kraken woke from his drunken stupor and discovered to his horror what he had done, he tried to join a Franciscan monastery in what is now California but was turned down since at that time, the Franciscan order did not accept krakens as postulants.”
“And whatever became of this Kraken?” Miss Dhaliwal asked with a huge smile on her face.
“Well, again, according to legend,” Professor Smets gazed out the window of his Oxford University office, “the Kraken and Captain Kerry Donegal had gone to see a fortune teller on the island of Haiti to get their fortunes read. No one is sure what the beautiful woman seer told Captain Donegal but she apparently told the Kraken that at a future date far into the future, a scientist would have the ability to transfer his mind into the Kraken’s body and would do so since the scientist was dying from a fatal illness. Thus the Kraken would have both a kraken mind and a human mind at some future date.”
“What about Captain Kerry Donegal?” Monica inquired, “What did he look like?”.
“Well, here’s a drawing of him,” Professor Smets showed her the drawing, “as you can see from the drawing, he looks quite a bit like Captain Jack Sparrow as portrayed by Johnny Depp.”
“He does indeed,” Monica looked at the picture.
“They say an oil painting was done of Captain Kerry Donegal as well but no one is sure what became of the painting,” Professor Smets took off his glasses and wiped them with a handkerchief.
“So all these legends you’ve been telling me?” Miss Dhaliwal laughed, “Are you sure they’re an appropriate History lesson?”.
“It was investigating legends and myths that made the reputations of C.S. Lewis and J. R. R. Tolkien here at Oxford,” Professor Smets smiled.
Monica looked at the clock.
Her tutorial time was over.
She stood up, smoothed her dress and thanked Professor Smets for an interesting lecture.
She walked out into the Oxford grounds and imagined a seascape of pirates and krakens with the dome of the Bodleian Library becoming the mast of a huge sailing ship.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday May 19th
2019.
Fish and Chips With Holmes and Watson
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.
Renfield, The Kraken and 120 Barrels of Rum
British MP Renfield R. Renfield and the Kraken Napoleon VI were on a yacht sailing from Normandy, France across the English Channel to England.
The pair would be attending a British Transhumanist/Aquarian Age Bonapartist Party Alliance rally for European Parliamentary elections on the beach where they’d land.
“I’m glad we’re sailing from Normandy and not Marseille,” the Kraken remarked as he read a newspaper, “apparently a giant piece of seaweed ate a whole bunch of people in the Old Port area of the city yesterday.”
“The world is getting crazier with each passing day,” Renfield pushed aside his sushi roll that he had been eating.
“How many barrels of rum have we got on board this yacht?” The Kraken asked.
“120,” Renfield answered.
“I better get started then,” the Kraken opened the first barrel, “we’ll probably be across the Channel before we know it.”
“I’ll join you in a few minutes,” Renfield commented, “I’ve currently got an interview via Skype with BBC News.”
The BBC interviewer asked Renfield, “Why was the attempted coup against Maduro in Venezuela a couple of weeks ago a failure?”.
“Because the U.S. government planned it and not myself,” Renfield humbly replied.
“Wise men say only fools rush in,” the Kraken, now on his 3rd barrel of rum, started singing an old Elvis Presley song while doing an impersonation of Elvis wearing an old medieval codpiece and gyrating his hips.
“How should a coup attempt against Maduro in Venezuela be planned?” The interviewer inquired of Renfield.
“Ma-tilda, Ma-tilda, she takes me money and run Venezuela,” The Kraken serenaded with an old Harry Belafonte song in the background as he started working on his 4th barrel of rum.
“It should be planned with brains and not Twitter tweets,” Renfield answered, “because as we know, there’s Hell toupee in the White House Oval Office.”
“And you’ll come a Waltzing Matilda with me,” the Kraken sang an old Australian outback song as he began his 5th barrel of rum.
“And what’s your opinion of the rising tensions between the U.S. and Iran in the Middle East?” The interviewer wanted to know.
“There is a house in New Orleans they call the Rising Sun,” the Kraken began air playing his imaginary guitar as he sang and worked on his 6th barrel of rum.
“Well, Jesus said, Blessed are the peacemakers for they shall be called the Sons of God,” Renfield replied, “I guess this means that warmongers such as John Bolton and Mike Pompeo are the sons of Satan.”
“That old black magic has me in its spell,” the Kraken sang an old Ella Fitzgerald song as he quickly worked his way from his 6th up to his 9th barrel of rum.
“Um… who’s that crazy octopus in the background?” The interviewer finally had to ask.
“He’s my French electoral coalition partner for the European Parliament elections,” Renfield smiled.
“For your eyes only, only for you,” the Kraken sang an old Sheena Easton song as he started taking his clothes off while doing a slow strip tease.
The English beach where the British Transhumanist/Aquarian Age Bonapartist Alliance rally was being held quickly started filling up with onlookers after the BBC interview with Renfield and sung commentary provided by the Kraken was televised.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday May 15th
2019.
The Mysterious Bavarian Crossbow Murders
Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol was investigating some mysterious murders committed with a crossbow in Bavaria.
The strange deaths happened in a rural hotel near the Bavarian town of Passau.
Two women and a man were found in bed impaled with several arrows.
Whitstable had been brought in to investigate on the off chance that the crossbow killer was the Celtic horned stag god Cernunnos in which case such a paranormal killer would fall under Whitstable’s jurisdiction.
Whitstable had just read a text message on his smart phone that satyr serial killer Pan Goatee had just beheaded the ugly female manager of the store where the homicidally uglocidally incined half-man half-goat did his grocery shopping.
“I can’t believe,” Whitstable shook his head, “that the owners of the store would be so stupid as to hire an ugly looking woman as a manager at the place where Goatee does his grocery shopping.”
Oh well, Whitstable reflected, Calgary cowboys were famous for the fancy spurs on their cowboy boots and their bull legged way of walking not for their brains.
Getting back to the case at hand, Whitstable was not positive that Cernunnos was responsible for the crossbow murders at the hotel in Bavaria.
Cernunnos first appeared on the Interpol radar as a crossbow killer a couple of years ago when he shot and killed a group of wealthy hunters in the United Kingdom who were on an illegal deer hunt.
Then on a freelance mission for British MP Renfield R. Renfield last year, Cernunnos had used his crossbow to fire a poisoned arrow into the testicles of Russian President Vladimir Putin.
If the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith hadn’t been on the scene to immediately suck the poison out, the Russian leader would have died.
Afterwards Lilith took her blue evening dress to a steam dry laundry cleaner in Moscow which boasted of its superiority to steam dry laundry cleaners in Washington DC.
So far, other than the fact that the murders were done by crossbow, there was little to connect Cernunnos to this particular crime.
. . .
In the corridors of the Vatican, Samhain Cardinal Salaman was discussing an Israeli government document with another Cardinal.
“Does Netanyahu really intend to go ahead with this?” Salaman asked the other Cardinal.
“Netanyahu thinks he can count on the unqualified support of Donald Trump,” the other Cardinal answered.
Just then, a being who was part man and part deer having a large set of stag horns and antlers on his head and wearing a mask over his eyes came walking down the halls of the Vatican carrying a crossbow and arrow.
The crossbow carrying being with stag horns fired an arrow at the Cardinal standing next to Samhain Cardinal Salaman.
“Oh, I am slain,” the Cardinal said as he keeled over.
“You certainly are,” Cardinal Salaman remarked as the man died in his arms.
The crossbow carrying deer/man ran off as distant pan pipes played the melody Tomorrow Belongs To Me from the musical Cabaret.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday May 13th
2019.
The Kraken Plays 4 Accordions While Renfield Sings O Sole Mio
Renfield had just arrived in Paris from Thailand where he had spent the past two weeks on an official state visit.
Tonight in Paris, he would be participating in a joint British Transhumanist-Aquarian Age Bonapartist Party rally for the upcoming European Parliament elections.
He and the Aquarian Age Bonapartist Party leader the Kraken Napoleon VI would be performing a musical duet together in the rally that was held at Quasimodo’s Cafe in downtown Paris.
The Kraken was in possession of 4 accordions which he would be playing with his 8 arms while Renfield would be singing the popular Neapolitan song O Sole Mio.
Renfield began as the Kraken lovingly caressed and played his accordions,
Che bella cosa na jurnata e’ sole
Naria serena doppo na tempesta!
Pe’ ll’aria fresca pare gia na festa
Che bella cosa na jurnata e’ sole.
When Renfield had finished to vigourous applause, he then spoke,
“Europe! This is your final chance
to break Brussels’ chains and dance
to the tune of liberty
resist Macron’s fiberty.”
He then sang the English language version of O Sole Mio whose lyrics were made popular by Elvis Presley in his 1960 recording of the song:
It’s now or never
(the cafe’s dancer Esmeralda comes on stage dressed as the goddess Europa being chased by a figure who looks like the Greek god Zeus riding a bull who has the facial features of Josef Stalin)
Come hold me tight
(Esmeralda as Europa goes rushing into Renfield’s arms)
Kiss me my darling
(Esmeralda as Europa kisses Renfield and blows a kiss to the accordion playing Kraken Napoleon VI as the phrase VOTE BRITISH TRANSHUMANIST-AQUARIAN AGE BONAPARTIST ALLIANCE appears in the background behind the stage)
Be mine tonight
(Esmeralda as Europa helps Renfield into a matador costume as the Zeus ridden Stalinesque bull pepares to charge)
Tomorrow will be too late
(The Zeus ridden Stalinesque bull charges at Renfield)
It’s now or never
(The matador Renfield pulls out his sword)
My love won’t wait
(Renfield slays the Zeus ridden Stalinesque bull with his sword and then proceeds to make out with Esmeralda as Europa as the curtain falls).
The rally was a huge success.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 11th
2019.
Theodora and Varying Manners of Byzantine Intrigue
After lighting a candle to the Baphomet and the statue of Baal, Pennsylvania Democratic representative Brian Sims of Philadelphia went to bed.
After falling asleep, the Byzantine vampiress Theodora appeared in his bedroom and sprinkled him with Byzantine angel dust.
Sims then dreamed that he was a homosexual bishop back in the days of the Byzantine Emperor Justinian.
Justinian’s method of dealing with homosexual bishops was vastly different from that of Pope Francis.
His method was to castrate the bishops and then to have them paraded nude through the streets of Constantinople.
Instead of a “coming out” parade, it was a “coming off” parade.
Sims screamed as he slept.
He was not enjoying his dream.
Theodora smiled and laughed.
She was.
. . .
French President Emmanuel Macron was unhappy that Britain was going to be participating in European Parliament elections later this month since the Brits had failed yet another deadline to achieve Brexit.
He ate smoked oysters and downed champagne.
He then got on his iPhone and went to FaceTime.
British Prime Minister Theresa May was unhappy that Britain was going to be participating in European Parliament elections later this month since the Brits had failed yet another deadline to achieve Brexit.
She ate hot buttered biscuits and downed gin.
She then got on her iPhone and went to FaceTime.
May shrieked when she looked at her screen.
Emmanuel Macron was only wearing brief undershorts that were decorated with pink coloured daisies and that was it.
Macron shrieked when he looked at his screen.
Theresa May was only wearing hair curlers and that was it.
May gasped, “Emmanuel, we’ve got to stop FaceTiming like this.”
. . .
Miranda the mermaid had shapeshifted into full human form and was lying on the beach at Tel Aviv.
The Greek god Poseidon stepped up out of the ocean.
He had a large seashell to his ear since he was in a teleconferencing call with his brothers Zeus and Hades.
Poseidon ended the call and put the seashell in the back seat of his pants which were made out of seaweed.
“Miranda,” the Greek sea deity called out to the mermaid, “Did you know the ghost of Orson Welles is looking for you?”.
. . .
After filling the Baphomet and Baal worshipping Rep. Brian Sims of Philadelphia with the worst possible nightmares, the Byzantine vampiress Theodora returned to New York City for a nighttime modelling photo shoot.
Where an MI-6 spy operative code named Diablos Nocturna was waiting for her.
They spent a tantalizing evening of tantric sex afterwards.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday May 7th
2019.
The Byzantine vampiress Theodora: The stuff of nightmares to Baal and Baphomet worshippers.
But pleasant dreams to certain MI-6 operatives.
