Amorous Laetitia’s Motorcycle Ride

June 23, 2017 at 4:34 pm (Humour, International Intrigue, Mythology, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

The Paris-based Egyptian vampiress Isis had been taking newly elected British MP Renfield R. Renfield on a motorcycle tour of the French countryside.

Renfield was bound to be successful in politics.

He had only been in office a week and already he was ignoring his constituents’ concerns and going off on an extravagant foreign trip.

This seemed to be the only issue on which politicians of the political left, politicians of the political right and politicians of the political center appeared to share mutual agreement.

Since Isis was a vampiress, they rode by night and slept by day.

Renfield and Isis were currently sleeping in a rustic rural French inn with their motorcycle parked outside.

The inn taverne door slammed and a rather large black cat stumbled outside.

The black cat was Amorous Laetitia who was the personal black cat and familiar to Hecate the Greek goddess of witchcraft.

Her mistress had recently been beheaded by genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee and then her head was eaten by the Norse wolf Fenrir.

As such, Laetitia to drown her sorrows had turned to her favourite liquid substance in a saucer- which was Bailey’s Irish Cream and not milk.

Laetitia had spent the evening drinking Bailey’s Irish Cream inside the taverna and when she exited very late in the morning, she spotted Isis’ motorcycle.

She hiccoughed and thought to herself that one thing about being a familiar to the goddess Hecate is you quickly learn how to hotwire a motorcycle.

She did so and sped down the open road.

Black Cat On A Chopper: A Poem

It’s really something to see- a black cat on a chopper
as tall tales go, you think I’m telling a whopper
but Amorous Laetitia rode down the road- not very straight
because the taverne waiter in refilling her Bailey’s was never late

Now it’s really not a very nice thing to drink and drive
as the bees thought when she crashed through their hive
now motorcycle gendarme Nicole Bardot was riding her police cycle
when she saw Laetitia speed past the statue of Saint Michael

She got on her cycle and rode
as Laetitia hit a toad
who was Asmodeus in disguise
the cat blinked her bleary red eyes

And soon the cat was in the village drunk tank
and Nicole Bardot found herself promoted in rank.

-A vampire novel chapter and poem
written by Christopher
Friday June 23rd 2017.
Nicole Bardot
French motorcycle gendarme Nicole Bardot: Busted the black cat Amorous Laetitia for drinking Bailey’s Irish Cream and then stealing and driving a chopper motorcyle.

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Jack O’ Hare Meets An Asian Irish Leprechaun: A Poem

June 7, 2017 at 4:04 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Folklore, Humour, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Everyone’s favourite bunny Jack O’ Hare was out hopping in the early morning dawn
when he spotted that rare beautiful sight- an Asian Irish leprechaun
Asian Irish Leprechaun

Is there a pot of gold at the end of your rainbow? Jack asked
recalling his many experiences with leprechauns in the past

Not a pot of gold but a pot of jade said she
which I’ll give you if you come sit upon my knee

Jack did so and felt content
as she rubbed his bunny ears so bent

Would you like a carrot? she asked
as she put down a carrot and a brandy flask

Yes, said Jack, as he took a nibble and a nip
having carrot and brandy together was quite the trip

Well, now, she sat back and smoked her leprechaun pipe, how about a kiss?
Asian Irish Leprechaun 01
Certainly, said Jack, this was a request he didn’t want to miss
for Jack had finally found the land of everlasting bliss.

-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Wednesday June 7th
2017.

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Renfield’s Karaoke Night Out

May 11, 2017 at 4:47 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Humour, Music, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield decided to perform at a karaoke night at the Berkeley Arms Pub in Tewkesbury where he was running as a candidate for the British Transhumanist Techno-Progressive Anti Bio-Conservative Party in the constituency of Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds.

“They used to have great karaoke nights at the Duke of York Pub here in Tewkesbury but unfortunately that pub closed last year so this particular pub’s management has decided to revive the karaoke tradition on one night here,” Renfield explained to his friend Amadeus Emanon.

The first part of the karaoke night was devoted to people singing just straight karaoke songs.

One poor snook started the evening by misquoting the opening lyrics of an old Beatles song, “What would you do if I sang out of tune?… (while doing just that).

A group of MI-6 Special Branch agents sitting at the table just in front of the karaoke microphone pulled out their guns and shot him.

“Well, that answers the question he was singing,” Renfield remarked to Amadeus.

The second part of the evening was given to people listening to an old song and then on the spot making up their own versions of that old song.

It was this part of the evening in which Renfield decided to compete.

It was Renfield’s turn and he strolled up to the mike.

The MC/DJ then played a song.

It was an old Perry Como song that went:

The bluest skies you’ve ever seen are in Seattle, in Seattle
And the hills the greenest green in Seattle, in Seattle
like a beautiful child growing up free and wild in Seattle, in Seattle

Renfield was then called upon to make up and sing his own version.

Which of course he promptly did.

It went like this:

The gayest guys you’ve ever seen are in San Francisco, San Francisco
And the baths the steamiest scene in San Francisco, San Francisco
like a real fruity guy growing up bending over in San Francisco, San Francisco…

Renfield found himself being chased off the stage by leather jacket and tattoo wearing members of a visiting gay motorcycle club from Kansas City who took issue with Renfield’s sung statement that the gayest guys one would ever see are in San Francisco.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 11th
2017.

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The Duck Called Samuel Puddlington: A Poem

May 3, 2017 at 4:21 pm (Humour, Nature, Poetry) (, , , , , )

Samuel Puddlington The Duck looking very dapper

The duck called Samuel Puddlington was going to the grand ball
wearing a spiffy bow tie made him look 6 feet tall
It was going to be a grand event
attended by the Duchess of Kent

And so the duck waddled his way into the limousine
and sat next to a froggy green
“Ribbit! Ribbit!” said the frog
as he sat on a bump on a log.
“Rabbit! Rabbit!” said the big-eared hare
as he munched on a carrot orange and fair.

The limo pulled into the grounds of Mossdale Hall
packed with limos, the cars were at a crawl
Samuel Puddlington got out of the car
and inquired, “Good man, do they have a bar?”.
“Of course, you ninny,” said the chauffeur
while the rabbit stopped to wash his fur.

To the house the three went,
rabbit, frog and ducky gent
They knocked on the big front door
on which hung the head of Thomas More
“Too bad King Henry didn’t get around to burying him,” Sam remarked
while the estate’s Saint Bernard dog laughed and barked.

The butler arrived and opened the door
behind him was a luxurious floor
The three animals entered and wiped their feet
if a rug had been there, the floor would still look neat.

Samuel Puddlington headed straight for the bar
waddling faster than a Daytona race car
Said he, “I like my martinis shaken not stirred.”
The bartender replied, “Don’t be a James Bond nerd”.

Puddlington delivered him a karate kick with one of his orange webbed feet
The bartender hit the ground like the dust bowl on Texas’ Pecos Pete
Said the duck, “I’m Double-O Seven, you half-brained twit
to tangle with me, you must show true grit.”

“Now that you’ve tangled, how about the tango?”
said a voice as melodious and sweet as a mango.
It was a lovely Latina senorita
who got goose bumps looking
at this fowl male Nikita.

So the duck and the senorita held hands
(or should I say feet?)
And they did dance to an Argentinian beat
The duck and the Latina lass
they really did show such class
a dip here
and a raised skirt there
they soon became the talk of this county fair.

And so now you’ve met Samuel Puddlington the Duck
whose bill gives a greater bang for one’s buck.

Samuel Puddlington The Duck with bill

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday May 3rd 2017.

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The Cool Cat From Capri: A Poem

May 2, 2017 at 4:36 pm (Humour, International Intrigue, Literature, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

He was the cool cat from Capri
an island on the Tyrrhenian Sea
or so he told fellow feline company

In reality, he was just plain Wilkie the Cat
off-Broadway actor minus tux and top hat
but when he came to this place Monte Carlo
to see women dressed like Greta Garbo
he thought being a little known actor wouldn’t pack much weight
and Wilkie the Cat did not want to undergo this fate

So he decided to embellish his resume
like the hetero actor pretending to be gay
he told folks he came from the isle of Capri
and he once dangled on Sophia Loren’s knee

The folks in the Monte Carlo casino were certainly impressed
and the ladies at the gambling tables were very well dressed
Wlikie the Cat was certainly making quite the hit
until the ceiling fan arrived that took the shit

Wilkie’s girlfriend Mitzi showed up
imbibing a great deal of wine from cup

“Wilkie,” she said, “what are you doing here?
Can you afford this on out of work actor’s salary, dear?”
The casino manager said, “Sir, may I see your credit card?”
Wilkie gulped and said, “I loaned it to the Bard.”

“And what Bard would that be?”
The manager asked introspectively.

“The Bard whose sculptured head is on yonder wall,”
Wilkie said as his stomach started to crawl.
“Ah,” the manager nodded, “Bill Shakespeare
who’s been dead these past 400 years I hear.”

The manager motioned to the casino bouncers to come over
Wilkie’s luck had run out like crushed four leaf clover
So out the casino door Wilkie was thrown
have you ever heard a pussy cat moan?
If not, record Wilkie’s with your smart phone.

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday May 2nd 2017.

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May Day: A Poem

May 1, 2017 at 4:32 pm (Humour, News, Poetry) (, , , )

It’s May Day!
Let’s make hay!
What you say?

Let’s dance around the May Pole
and eat donuts without the hole.

It’s the height of spring!
Let us dance and sing!

May is here!
Drink our beer!
It’s the end of winter drear
time to buy gifts for mother dear!

-A poem written by Christopher
May 1st 2017.

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Justin Trudeau and Gali-Gula Discuss Bimbo Eruptions

April 6, 2017 at 6:22 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, News, Politics, Satire, Science-Fiction, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau gave a long exhale.

“I wonder what the fun is in smoking this if you don’t inhale,” Justin Trudeau was recalling a peculiar statement that then Presidential candidate Bill Clinton had made back in the 1992 U.S. Presidential election.

“Hello, Prime Minister,” an unclothed and completely nude ET gray greeted him.

“Good God, Gali-Gula,” Justin choked on his joint, “why is it that I only see you when I’m smoking marijuana?”.

“I have no idea, Prime Minister,” Gali-Gula shrugged, “how have you been doing?”.

“Well, these days some people claim that I’m prone to making bimbo eruptions,” Justin remarked angrily.

“What’s a bimbo eruption?” asked Gali-Gula.

“It’s making an outrageously stupid statement and one that comes out of nowhere,” Justin said.

“I don’t think I’m familiar with bimbo eruptions,” Gali-Gula went to the refrigerator and helped himself to a can of Molson Canadian beer which he had first tried on his dominatrix whipped rear end a year ago.

Justin noticed for the first time that the nude ET gray had no genitalia.

“Say,” Justin asked, “is it easier to pee without genitalia?”.

“That’s an awfully stupid question,” the ET gray answered as he opened up the can of Molson Canadian and was immediately sprayed with foam.

“Sorry, I apologize,” the volcanically active bimbo eruptive Prime Minister apologized.

“I didn’t know you were prone to bimbo eruptions,” Gali-Gula drank the beer.

“Neither was I. I thought it was only something that blonde females were prone to,” said the self-proclaimed feminist Mr. Trudeau.

There was a knock at the door which immediately opened.

Gali-Gula dropped the beer and vanished.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to interrupt you while you were having a one-man party, Prime Minister,” the aide noticed the spilled can of beer on the floor and the joint of pot in Trudeau’s hand, “but President Trump is on Line 1.”

Justin walked over to the phone and picked it up, “Hello, Mr. President?”.

Trump replied, “Hello Justin. Great talking to you. In lieu of what just happened in Syria, I wanted to ask you, what do you know about the after effects of using chemicals?”.

Justin Trudeau looked out the window with pot in hand and noticed a UFO spaceship flying away.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday April 5th
2017.

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Dr. Cadbury Rocher and His Incredible Self-Driving Car

April 4, 2017 at 4:31 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Humour, Science, Technology, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Dr. Cadbury Rocher who was Set Enterprises’ chief resident scientist had just invented a self-driving motor vehicle- one he told his boss the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was far more advanced and better than anything currently being tested or in production.

In fact as the ever enthusiastic Dr. Rocher pointed out to his boss Set (who was busy reading his copy of Anne Rice’s Ramses The Damned: The Passion of Cleopatra at the time and didn’t enjoy being interrupted), the new Rocher Le Pied de Hermes should probably go down in history as the greatest self-driving car ever invented.

Set wasn’t sure whether he wanted to personally finance the mass production, distribution and marketing of this new product the Rocher Le Pied de Hermes.

After all while some of Dr. Rocher’s ideas were brilliant, others were total disasters (such as his most recent attempt to genetically re-create the winged horse Pegasus of Greek mythology).

Dr. Rocher was insistent that his new product could easily hit the market this fall- the design and quality and ease with which it could be “mass manufactured” (Cadbury’s words as he ate a Cadbury Caramilk bar) were so “positively brilliant” (Rocher’s words as he ate a Ferrero Rocher).

Set agreed to a test of the new self-driving vehicle.

He’d bring along an important City of London investor Donald Mahatma Ahmad Campbell Singh Khan (whose personal results from a DNA test he took through Ancestry.com’s DNA testing kit had astounded the entire world).

He would see if he could get the Campbell Singh Khan Investors’ Group to put up all the money for the mass production, distribution and marketing of the new self-driving Rocher Le Pied De Hermes.

Set would hold a 51% share of the new car company since it was his scientist who designed the car.

Campbell Singh Khan agreed to view the new vehicle in a road test before deciding to put up the risk money for the entire venture.

The day of the test came.

Dr. Cadbury Rocher wore racing goggles for the test (even though he wouldn’t be driving as the car would drive itself), Set was still busy reading his copy of the Rices’ new book Ramses The Damned: The Passion of Cleopatra, Campbell Singh Khan was busy eating a plate of Scottish haggis, chicken curry and fafa beans falafel, Renfield R. Renfield was busy eating tuna fish sandwiches, Amadeus Emanon appeared to be eating everything but the kitchen sink and Athelstan the personal butler and valet to Set was standing there holding a tea pot.

When the test was over, Dr. Cadbury Rocher, Set, Renfield, Amadeus and Athelstan had retired to a nearby pub in total shock.

Silence reigned at the pub table.

Finally Renfield broke the silence.

“Well,” Renfield spoke feeling somewhat sorry for himself, “I suppose the responsibility will fall on my shoulders to inform his widow Mrs. Campbell Singh Khan of the tragic circumstances of his death.”

“You can tell her he died for the advancement of science,” Dr. Rocher suggested.

“True,” Renfield nodded, “he will have had the honour of being the first person in recorded history to have been killed in a hit and run accident involving a self-driving motor vehicle.”

“Make sure you get her to sign a waiver saying she won’t sue Set Enterprises for gross negligence,” Set directed as he stared at his vampiric reflection in his glass of beer.

“I wonder how much food they’ll serve at the luncheon following his funeral,” Amadeus mused aloud.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday April 4th
2017.

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Jefferey The Otter On Saint Patrick’s Day: A Poem

March 17, 2017 at 4:24 pm (Comedy, Culture, Humour, News, Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

From Planet Nibiru, Jefferey came
not seeking any worldly earthly fame
he was a party otter seeking a new party spot
one where he could avoid being struck in parking lot
for he was a furry mammal on all fours
one who often got stuck in revolving doors

He had heard about Saint Paddy’s Day
its fame had spread across the Milky Way
and when he wasn’t eating Nibiruan scientist’s stitchin’
or laughing at the theories of Zecharia Sitchin
he often dreamed of having a Guinness or two
and seducing a female earthling otter in the Dublin Zoo

So he stole ET gray Gali-Gula’s spaceship
and headed off on quite the far out trip
to Dublin he went where he took many a nip
now on Earth otters cannot talk
they just sit and bark on a rock
so Nibiruan otter was quite the hit of the bar
one would think he was a furry Bono- a rock star

Jefferey regaled them with “When Irish Eyes Are Smilin”
when asked if he was legal age, Jefferey was lyin’
but his Nibiruan otter mother wasn’t around to spank
so Jefferey thoroughly enjoyed this drunken otter prank

He ordered some Jameson’s Irish Whiskey
drinking so much- he had to go pee
He decided to enter the ladies’ room
little realizing this would be his doom
Pretty little Irish colleens in their short skirts did shriek
when they saw a perverted male otter taking a peek
they hit him with their high-heeled shoes
like a cocaine high drummer gettin’ in the groove

Jefferey barely escaped with his life
Dublin police were called to end the strife
but the Garda Siochana stopped for a few brews
ignoring Police Commissioner’s warning about hitting the booze
soon O’ Reilly’s Bar was overrun by drunks galore
while Jefferey safely crawled his way across the floor
and soon headed straight out the door.

“Gosh,” Jefferey smiled, “that was fun”
unaware someone would tomato his bun
for Sherrielock Holmes had received ET call
from Jefferey’s mother who was going up the wall
Jefferey felt the lash of Sherrielock’s whip
as he admired the dominatrix’s shapely hip
he thought her leather skirt was quite the sight
even though his buttocks were no longer tight

And that was how Jefferey spent Saint Paddy’s Day
a Nibiruan otter in Dublin sowin’ wild oats for hay.

-A Saint Patrick’s Day poem
written by Christopher
Friday March 17th
2017.

Sherrielock Holmes
Sherrielock Holmes movin’ in for the kill on Nibiruan otter’s naughty buttocks

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A Humourous Rhyming Haiku For Albert Einstein’s Birthday

March 14, 2017 at 5:14 pm (Biographical, Celebrities, History, Humour, Life, News, Poetry, Science) (, , , )

E = mc2
Einstein equals wild wild hair
Relative comb spared

Albert Einstein

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