Jack O’ Hare In Film Noir: A Poem

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

Jack O’ Hare In Film Noir: A Poem

It was on the other side of San Francisco Chinatown
lived the man called Emmanuel Gold Brown
He got electrocuted when the radio fell into his bath one night
with the result he died listening to Inner Sanctum but not from fright
The water was still bubbling when police and ambulance arrived
causing the lieutenant to quip this place is hotter than a jazz jive

Electrocution was the cause of death ruled the city’s coroner
no surprise- unlike the plum in pie of little Jack Horner
The question was who threw the plugged radio into the tub
leading to murder most foul- aye, there’s the rub

Now Jack O’ Hare was a private eye in town
one who knew a verb was different from a noun
The other eyes in town didn’t have much of an education
so bad- they could have been Congressmen planning legislation

It just so happened one hot and sultry night
as a lonely carrot succumbed to Jack’s bite
that Jessica Rabbit came strolling through the door
wearing an outfit that sent most men dead to the floor

Jessica’s tight fitting dress caused Jack to hyperventilate
but that would not be the extent of this bunny rabbit’s fate
for Jessica knew who had slain Emmanuel Gold Brown
the dashing night club owner and man about town

How do you know? Jack asked in between munching on carrots
he wondered why the building next door was loaded with ferrets.
I was there in the bathroom at the time
answered Roger Rabbit’s wife who was dressed to the nine.

Jack choked on his bottle of Avocado 🥑 and Grapefruit mix
he didn’t drink bourbon like those eyes in the Sticks.
What were you doing in the bathroom when the man was taking a bath 🛀?
This remark caused Jessica Rabbit to laugh and laugh.

Said Jessica, We owe the IRS a lot in back taxes
far more than Lizzie Borden gave her parents whackses
Now Roger’s acting career doesn’t pay much when it comes to loading the dice 🎲
In fact it doesn’t even pay for a take out order of rice 🍚
So I, sighed Jessica, have to make a little money on the side
which often involves taking men for a ride

That means you’re an —–? Jack paused on his paws
“Escort is the word I prefer,” Jessica said, “The service called Ma’s.”
“I just thought Mrs. Barker made apple pie,”
Jack rubbed the carrot juice out of his eye.
“Oh, Mrs. Barker has plenty of pies galore
as well as all sorts of cats coming in and out the door.”
“It’s a real cat house then?”
Jack caught an egg from a hen.
The hen ran up the fire escape
It was how she kept in shape.

“You could very well say that,”
Jessica spoke setting the trap,
“Now come along with me
to the wharf by the sea
and you’ll meet Brown’s killer
for real- not like in a Thriller.”

“And why would I want to meet Brown’s killer?” Jack asked,
“I’d sooner meet the Ghost of Christmas Past.”
“Because I’m paying you to,”
Jessica adjusted her dress tight and blue.

“Paying me to meet a killer?”
It did sound like an opening line in a thriller.
Jessica showed Jack her diamond ring 💍
as the nightingale in the alley started to sing 🎶
“These carats could buy a lot of carrots,” Jessica suggested
as she lowered her dress top showing she was amply breasted.

“Indeed they could,” Jack rose to the occasion
He didn’t need any more persuasion
so Jack and Jessica headed to a wharf on the Bay in San Fran
A foggy night where people get lost just trying to find the can

Jack and Jess got out of the car in time before it headed off the dock
With the splash, Jack sighed, “There goes my favourite sock.”
He really should learn to drive with his shoes on
either that or stop walking bare feet where the salmon spawn.

“Good evening, Mr. O’ Hare,”
said a voice most sinister,
“I’ve been expecting you.”
“Have you seen a floating red sock pass through?”
Jack O’ Hare was anxious to know
before he felt the urge to go.

“I killed Emmanuel Gold Brown,” the man grinned
to deed he’d admit but wouldn’t confess he sinned
“And why did you do that?” Jack sounded like the BBC’s Detective Foyle
while he sat and waited for his tea to boil

“Why are you boiling tea on the dock?”
This man wondered if Jack’s private eye reputation was all a crock
“Because I’m thirsty,” replied Jack
pulling out biscuits for a snack,
“Your voice sounds very familiar.”
The bunny waved aside Jessica’s offer of a Pilsner.

“It should sound familiar,” the man frothed, “for I am the voice of The Shadow.”
A ship 🚢 sailed by carrying llamas for cargo.
“You don’t sound much like Orson Welles,”
Jack found on the pier a book of spells.

“Ever since Welles played that role, the public won’t accept another voice for the Shadow,”
into his handkerchief the man his nose did blow.
“Them’s the brakes,” Jack remarked as a car spun out of control off the dock
Jessica wondered if she should go home and change her frock.

“So,” Jack scratched his whiskers, “why did you kill Emmanuel Gold Brown?”
“Because,” the man said, “he wasn’t listening to me- Lamont Cranston wealthy young man about town.
He was listening to Inner Sanctum Mysteries told by Raymond your host.
For that mistake in radio programming, he’s now a ghost 👻.”

The man took out a gun and aimed it at Jack,
“I wanted to get my reputation back,
to kill the world’s greatest private eye like meat 🍖 on a rack
but whoever told me about you was smoking too much crack.”

“Smoking is bad for your health,”
said Jack whose advice was medical wealth.
The man clicked the gun, “I’ll shoot you like a dog in my pyjama,”
It was then he was run over by a fleeing llama.

The Shadow was buried the very next day
while Jack was hopping through farm fields and hay
Jack thought of the night before and of Jessica Rabbit, he really should have kissed her
He sighed, went home, put the radio on and listened to The Whistler.

-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Monday September 4th
2017.

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Emmanuel Macron’s Make-up

August 25, 2017 at 5:34 pm (Comedy, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, News, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Emmanuel Macron’s Make-up

Amadeus Emanon was sitting in the living room of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s colossal west London mansion.

Sitting across from him was the world famous London dominatrix Sherrielock Holmes who was now the new Chief of Security 🚨 and Intelligence Gathering for Set Enterprises having replaced Renfield R. Renfield (who had recently been elected MP to the British Parliament).

Sherrielock was dressed in a white blouse, black leather mini skirt, black fishnet pantyhose and red spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes 👠 expecting a client for her dominatrix services.

She had told Amadeus that the anonymous client was a recently fired member of the Trump White House so Amadeus figured that the person could be any number of a 1000 people.

Renfield himself was still down at Westminster having told Amadeus that he was busy doing work on behalf of his constituents.

Amadeus figured that it was more likely that Renfield was cavorting with high price London call girls down in his Parliamentary office and charging it to his Parliamentary expense account.

Renfield being the unique politician he was had found a way of screwing the British taxpayer in more ways than one at the same time.

Amadeus, reading the newspaper, remarked to Sherrielock Holmes, “I see Emmanuel Macron since he became President of France 🇫🇷 has spent more than 26,000 Euros (£24,000) on make-up since he took office in May of this year.”

At that moment the ghost of the late American writer Truman Capote entered the room (Capote’s ghost being one of many now wandering the earth since the ancient Egyptian god Thoth’s entry into this current spatial/temporal dimension).

Commented Capote on the news story Amadeus had just been reading, “I gueth President Macron wanted to look pretty for when Donald Trump held his hand at the Bastille Day Parade.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday August 25th
2017.

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

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

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

Jack O’ Hare
jack rabbit fair
he really was quite the bunny
that some thought was very funny

One day while he was out hopping
he decided to do some shopping
he spent some time looking at phones
as well as browsing through books about Sherlock Holmes

He bought the latter
avoided walking under a ladder
and went back to his quaint little home 🏡
right next to an abandoned honeycomb
Which was indeed a very wise thing
for Jack loved the way the birds sing
but not the way the bees sting

The latter could be a real pain in the ass
made it unpleasant to sit on the grass
so the honeycomb was long abandoned
possibly since the time of Aladdin

I wonder what became of his genie
Jack thought while eating a vegan weenie
He really should have bought some hot dog buns
although the raisin bran flavoured ones
often gave him the runs

Jack then read the Sherlock Holmes story A Study In Scarlet
and discovered it wasn’t about Mystery Babylon’s harlot
He read the huge volume straight through
while munching on his multi-carrot stew
he finally finished at The Adventure of Schoscombe Old Place
published in 1927
and closed the volume thinking Sherlock’s exploits were heaven

He decided upon putting the book 📚 on the shelf
and dusting off the statue of the garden elf
that like Holmes he’d become a consulting detective
because to be Inspector Lestrade was to be defective

So he put an ad to that effect in the Rabbit Weekly
even though his girlfriend told him it was so geeky 🤓
But come the Wednesday after the ad
came a Saint Bernard dog looking sad 😭 🐶

“I can’t get to sleep at night,” said he
the Saint Bernard dog Wally McGee
Asked Jack, Have you tried drinking herbal tea ☕️

It’s the apparition that appears outside my window each night that is the problem
I’m not sure if it’s ghost or goblin
sighed Wally with fear in his eyes
as he ate the last of Jack’s French fries 🍟

This will mean another run to the grocery store thought Jack
as I have no potatoes left in the sack
Neither will I have Lola
thought Jack as he sipped his Cola
ever since she caught him looking at Mae West’s melons
in an old movie about call girls and felons
She left Jack with these parting words, Aloha.

So as far as Jack’s love life went, he was now in the Lone Star ⭐️ State
but such were the quirks, twists and turns of Fate
Getting back to the problem at hand
Jack looked at the Saint Bernard dog well tanned
for this was a dog who had his day in the sun
as unleashed through a park, he went on a run

So describe the apparition you saw
Jack motioned with his foot to Wally’s paw
All right said Wally
pausing to look at a collie,
“Wow! There’s a real bitch in heat!”.
Sighed Jack, Be less like Trump and be more discreet.

So Wally went on, Getting back to the apparition at hand
it was the most terrifying sight in all the land
it frightened away our neighbourhood Calypso band
and turned my rock garden into mounds of sand

Sounds like quite the spectacle,
Jack was forming thoughts diametrical,
What was it exactly that you did see?
Well, said Wally, I had gotten up to pee,
I went out the back door to my favourite tree
And it was there I saw it
I don’t know what to call it

Describe it as best as you can,
Jack used a carrot 🥕 for a fan
for it was one heck of a hot summer night
the kind where goose bumps make your pants too tight

Said Wally,
By golly!
It was a ghostly ghastly feline
It was blocking the way to my tree line
It glowed emerald green
really quite the scene
and everywhere it went, it glowed in the dark
it could totally light up Central Park
and what I’m telling you is certainly no lark

Jack put on his deerstalker cap
his thinking hat with a flap
He lit up his Sherlockian style pipe
he had Basil Rathbone down to type

Well, Jack coughed
sending the chickens aloft,
this cat you describe I think I’ve heard of
from the lips of Vladimir Birdov
He died in my arms
On Green Acres Farms

He had recently come back from Varna, Bulgaria 🇧🇬
having encountered a cat with menthyl malaria
which it contracted from a little green frog 🐸
that had sat there like a bump on a log

And this unusual type of malaria
previously unknown in Bulgaria 🇧🇬
turned the cat’s colour to a ghostly emerald green
making this tabby the talk of the bar scene

But what’s it doing here in Canada 🇨🇦, Wally wanted to know
He was bursting a gut and quite possibly his toe
Jack looked at Wally and gave his hat a twirl
sending up pipe smoke in quite a widening curl
And then quietly said, Don’t be such a nerd
For you mean to say you haven’t heard,
Prime Minister Justin, unlike Trump, is welcoming all refugees
even those with a emerald green cat furry sneeze.

-A Jack O’ Hare poem
written by Christopher
Thursday August 10th
2017.

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The Real Reason Coleridge Never Completed His Poem Kublai Khan

August 10, 2017 at 3:24 pm (Humour, Literature, Poetry, The Supernatural) (, )

“What the Hell? But it’s only a crescent moon tonight…”

Samuel Taylor Coleridge Werewolf

The real reason Samuel Taylor Coleridge never completed his poem Kublai Khan.

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Michelangelo and The Next Big News Story of 2017

July 30, 2017 at 5:58 pm (Commentary, Culture, Entertainment, Humour, News, Satire, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Michelangelo and The Next Big News Story of 2017

Renfield R. Renfield asked Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster to once again use his psychic lobster antennae to see if he could pick up a news story from the future.

Renfield wondered what would be the next big news story of 2017?

Michelangelo raised his lobster antennae and tried to see what frequency he could pick up.

The frequency came through on the screen of the computer 💻 hooked up to Michelangelo’s antennae.

A news announcer’s voice came through on the screen, “Caitlyn Jenner made history today by publicly breastfeeding Kanye West in a Beverly Hills restaurant…”

Michelangelo then picked up a Twitter tweet from Donald Trump on the issue.

@RealDonaldTrump @Caitlyn_Jenner -Caitlyn, so disappointed in you. You’re putting dairy 🥛 farmers in Wisconsin out of business. Have you no shame? Have you no shame?

Renfield looked at the computer screen and sighed, “I’m sorry I asked that question.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 30th
2017.

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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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