Michelangelo: The Fastest Claw In The West
Michelangelo: The Fastest Claw In The West
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a visitor in his aquarium room at Set Enterprises today.
The visitor was Belvedere the ghost of a ghost white salamander reporter for the Times of London.
Belvedere, in his days as a mortal, before he had been turned into a ghost white salamander by a gypsy enchantress, had lived in the days of the American Wild West and was therefore regaling the lobster with tales of his adventures (somewhat highly embellished of course!).
Belvedere was then called away by his editor to attend a late night session of the House of Lords who were debating if there would be enough sausages available to make full English breakfasts should a no-deal Brexit happen.
When Belvedere left, Michelangelo fell asleep and dreamed that he was living in the days of the Wild West.
The place was Dodge City
The times were not pretty
Willy Malone and The Bronson Boys
had fired their guns certainly not toys
They were the gang that called the shots
And gave their horses the best parking spots
No one could stop their reign of terror
thinking that one could was a total error
You’d find yourself plugged full of lead
and resting ‘neath tombstones with the rest of the dead
It was on a hot and dusty day
that a lobster wandered this way
He went up to the bar and ordered a beer
using chalk and a chalkboard to make himself clear
For the crustacean was the strong silent type
and his body odour was not overly ripe
Willy Malone and the Bronson Boys came strolling through the door
Got the shock of their life seeing a lobster on the floor
Said Malone as he saw the lobster drinking his beer
and finding the whole thing very queer
This town ain’t big enough for the both of us
So I say unto you, Hit the road, Gus
The lobster wrote on the chalkboard
with all the pizzaz of a High British Lord
My name is Michelangelo and I shall not leave
So stick that up your nose and wipe your sleeve
Malone was beside himself
As he knocked beer bottles off the shelf
Step out into the street for a show down
And when you’re dead you’ll leave town
I’m challenging you to a gun fight
Bullets blazing will be your last sight
Michelangelo accepted the challenge to a draw
And was out on the street with gun in claw
The town’s privy clerk counted to three
And the lobster shot old Malone in the knee
He did the same with the Bronson Boys
who keeled over in the street making lots of noise
For Michelangelo was the fastest claw in the West
And the Malone-Bronson gang wasn’t up for the test
-A vampire novel chapter
and poem
written by Christopher
Sunday October 6th
2019.
One of the witnesses to the gunfight between Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster and the Malone-Bronson Gang
An Inkling of What Is To Come
An Inkling of What Is To Come
The Inklings
An informal literary discussion group
Associated with Oxford University
For two decades
From early 1930s to late 1940s
They praised the value of narrative in fiction
And encouraged the writing of fantasy
They met informally in the Eagle and Child Pub (called Bird and Baby by the students)
in Oxford during the university term
every Tuesday morning
Among its members J.R.R. Tolkien the author of The Lord of The Rings
C.S. Lewis the author of The Chronicles of Narnia
Charles Williams who wrote on Hell, Purgatory, witches, ghosts and All Hallow’s Eve
One morning as these three Inklings sat,
Lewis said, “There is one Inkling that is not yet here.”
“Which one is that?” Asked Tolkien.
“He’s never been here yet,” Lewis said.
“What do you mean he’s never been here?” Williams looked at Lewis.
“He’s the Inkling who has not yet come,” Lewis simply said.
“When will he arrive?” Tolkien raised his glass.
“When the world has most need of him,” Lewis answered.
He too raised his glass.
And Williams joined in.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday September 8th 2019
The Nativity of Saint Mary
Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet
Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet
The noted New York feline thespian Wilkie The Cat was on stage appearing in his own production of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
The vain cat actor was naturally playing the lead role.
“If it were done when ’tis done,
then twere well it were done quickly…”
“You idiot, that’s from MacBeth,” shouted Mitzi the French cat who was playing Ophelia.
“Oh,” Wilkie took a look at what he had written on his cuff links.
“Sorry folks,” Wilkie grinned at the audience.
Wilkie struck a dramatic Sir John Barrymore style pose.
“I have come to bury Caesar not to praise him,” Wilkie began.
The body of a German shepherd is carried by four marching legionaries across the stage followed by a weeping female French poodle.
“That’s from Julius Caesar, bozo!” Mitzi exclaimed.
“Oops!” Wilkie took a look at what was written on the cuff links of his other front paw.
“Now is the winter of our discontent,” Wilkie began as imagery of hot dogs and ice cream cones and a summer beach and loads of bikini clad women and swimming suit men appear on the screen behind him.
“Richard III, idiot!” Mitzi shook her head.
An actor dressed like John Wayne appears on stage and in a John Wayne like voice says, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”.
Wilkie sits down and takes a look at what was written on one of the white socks on his back paws, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”.
“That’s Juliet’s line from Romeo and Juliet, you nincompoop!” Mitzi threw her paws in the air in exasperation.
Wilkie hearkens to what was written on the white sock on his other back paw.
“I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot!” Wilkie puts his right front paw to his feline brow in ultra melodramatic fashion.
“That’s from Pyramus and Thisbe the play within a play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you ninny!” Mitzi grabs her parasol umbrella from the stage hand off stage so she can hit Wilkie over the head with it.
Wilkie pulls off a piece of paper he has stapled to his tail.
“Those are the lines from King Lear you have there!” Mitzi approaches menacingly with her umbrella.
“King Leer!” Wilkie protests too much, “I’m no King Leer! You must think me a voyeur of some importance.”
The disgraced Pee-wee Herman walks across stage holding a pair of binoculars through which his eyes are peering.
Wilkie rips out a piece of paper that’s stapled to his tongue, reads it and cries out, “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia!”.
Mitzi casts her parasol to the stage and sighs, “Finally now, you’ve got the right play.”
At that point, Donald Trump with his toupee falling off, walks on stage and proclaims,
“In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Trump by name, present a wall…”
At that moment, the mostly Democratic Party aligned New York City audience rushes towards the stage to tear it apart (along with many in the audience who just want their money back).
As the New York City Mayor’s wife (a former lesbian) rushes on to the stage, Wilkie the Cat shouts, “Get thee to a nunnery!”.
Wilkie is then immediately attacked by New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo who tries to inject the feline with saline solution and then suck him up with a Planned Parenthood approved Electrolux vacuum cleaner.
Needless to say like every other play Wilkie had produced and directed for Broadway, the cat’s adaptation of Hamlet did not have a second night’s performance.
-A Wilkie the Cat Short Story
written by Christopher
Tuesday August 20th
2019.
Dolores Costello with her husband John Barrymore.
Barrymore, unlike Wilkie The Cat, could perform Shakespeare.
Legacy of The Baskervilles
Legacy of The Baskervilles
“I always wanted to do a movie based on a Sherlock Holmes story,” said the ghost of Orson Welles as he entered Baskerville Hall.
“And you’re thinking of the Hound of The Baskervilles?” Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing asked.
“I am,” Welles lit himself a spectral cigar.
“Of course that story has been done several times in film format,” Van Helsing noted, “you will have to do something that makes yours stand out from the rest.”
“Precisement,” Welles pulled out a bottle of spectral red wine from one overcoat pocket and a glass from the other, “and I’m just the man to do it.”
“I would have to agree,” Van Helsing nodded.
“So I hear Baskerville Hall is now owned by Britain’s Heritage Trust,” Welles poured himself a glass of spectral red wine.
“It is,” Van Helsing acknowledged, “it was purchased recently by Dashwood Forrest the owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London. He donated it to Heritage Trust to get a big charity donation receipt to help him with a big tax deduction.”
“A most astute decision,” Welles sipped his red wine.
“So, have you given much thought to how you intend to make your adaptation of The Hound of The Baskervilles different?” Van Helsing asked.
“Let us go into the living room of Baskerville Hall,” Welles suggested, “perhaps seeing that large spacious room will give me some ideas.”
Welles and Van Helsing entered the living room.
And there stood….
The Welsh vampiress Morgana.
“As you know,” Morgana spoke, “Britain’s new Prime Minister Boris Johnson recently appointed me Deputy Home Secretary In Charge of Midnight Security. And both of you are trespassing on Heritage Trust property.”
Welles’ ghost made haste out of the living room and out of Baskerville Hall on the off chance that Morgana might sic the ghost of the Hound of the Baskervilles on him.
Only Dracul Van Helsing remained.
The Welsh vampiress took the vampire hunter over her knee and spanked him.
Welles’ ghost walked around the Baskerville Hall grounds and finished his spectral bottle of spectral red wine and smoked his entire spectral box of spectral cigars.
He thought he better go back inside and see what happened to Van Helsing.
There was Van Helsing on the living room floor having tantric sex with Morgana.
Welles turned and hastily closed the door behind him (forgetting that he could walk through doors and walls).
“Well,” Welles took out a piece of spectral chewing gum, “after seeing that scene, that should give me no shortage of ideas on how to make my film adaptation of The Hound of the Baskervilles different from everybody else’s.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday August 7th
2019.
Reblog of Some Comedy for a Change – Mr. Christopher Milner’s “The Giant Rat of Sumatra”
The first book review of my 1st novel The Giant Rat of Sumatra when it was published back in January 2016.
Dear, the Dearer, the Dearest, today is the day when I’d like to make one of my rather rare book recommendations. I couldn’t resist this one. It’s from an author that I follow regularly, because he has such cool, erudite humour that often makes my day.
As you know by now, I always try to stay as honest as honest goes, and will admit this: what attracted me to this author are his absolutely hilarious, super skilfully crafted and witty Vampire Novel series, made mostly of scenes and snippets between characters you come to know and love very quickly. As a gal, I’m totally into THOSE.
But today Chris has published his first novel, a Sherlock Holmes Fan Fiction “The Giant Rat of Sumatra” which gives a taste of his unique brand of humour. My personal opinion is that this book will be especially appealing to men, but us gals…
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Orson Welles’ Ghost Views The Only Scene Ever Filmed For Roman Polanski’s Wuthering Heights
The ghost of Orson Welles was admiring a small sculpture of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow that the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set had recently purchased from the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.
The sculpture showed the Headless Horseman and his pumpkin head riding a black horse while the schoolteacher Ichabod Crane is seen getting run over by one of Santa’s reindeer who, after drinking too much Kickapoo Joy Juice, mistook Halloween night for Christmas Eve and was venturing in the forest near Sleepy Hollow following the Headless Horseman and his black horse and his orange pumpkin head mistaking the latter for Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’s red shiny nose.
“What a delightfully eclectic and eccentric sculpture,” Welles’ ghost remarked as he looked at it while sampling a glass of spectral red wine.
Welles had been informed by British MP Renfield R. Renfield that Boris Johnson (the former Foreign Secretary of Britain) had purchased a retirement gift for British Prime Minister Theresa May at the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.
The gift was an 18th Century portrait painting of an 18th Century Irish Pirate of the Caribbean Captain Kerry Donegal.
Welles had recently met the ghost of Kerry Donegal in person when Renfield had brought him home after a night of carousing at the Oscar Wilde Pub.
Welles decided to go down to the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in person to see what other great treasures were available there.
The door to the gallery was opened by Dashwood Forrest’s Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie who was undergoing his own personal zombie apocalypse after having drunk too much Guinness stout and Jameson’s Irish whiskey the night before.
“Excuse the hand on the floor,” Mulligan remarked after his right hand came apart at the wrist and fell on the floor.
As Mulligan tried to re-attach his right hand to the rest of his right arm, Welles’ ghost was greeted by art gallery owner and curator Dashwood Forrest who had a martini in his own hand.
“You know the trouble with being dead is you’re decomposing all the time,” Mulligan the Irish zombie remarked as his right ear fell off.
“Mulligan never did have an ear for music,” Forrest invited Welles into his office, “but do come into my office. I have something that a great film director such as yourself would be interested in.”
As Mulligan managed to find his right ear below a portrait of Vincent Van Gogh, Dashwood Forrest closed the office door behind him and Welles.
“Let me run the film projector,” said Forrest, “for I have here on film the only scene ever completed and shot for a film adaptation of Wuthering Heights that Roman Polanski intended to make back in 1989 but financing for the movie was pulled at the last moment. Polanski was setting his version of Wuthering Heights in the late 20th Century. This was a scene between Heathcliff and Cathy.”
The projector ran and the Polanski 20th Century Wuthering Heights scene between Heathcliff and Cathy- a single still shot appeared:
“Where’s Heathcliff?” Welles asked.
“Heathcliff is the old car in the photo,” Forrest answered, “Polanski intended the movie as a cross between Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and Stephen King’s Christine.”
“Now I’ve seen everything,” Welles looked stonefaced, “Jack Nicholson must have sent Polanski plenty of California grass that Roman smoked before he came up with the idea for this picture.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 30th
2019.
Reblog of Orson Welles and The Unusual Production of MacBeth
A vampire novel chapter and blog post I wrote 4 years ago today.
Orson Welles and The Unusual Production of MacBeth
It was March 1945.
And talented director and actor of stage, radio and film the great Orson Welles was directing a short scene from William Shakespeare’s MacBeth for an upcoming charity event.
Welles (in front of the stage): All right. Enter the three witches.
(Thunder and lightning. Enter three witches)
First Witch (lowering “her” cowl to reveal the face of Adolf Hitler- a fact which startles Orson Welles):
When shall we three meet again?
In thunder, lightning or in rain?
Second Witch (lowering her “cowl” to reveal the face of Josef Stalin- a fact which also startles Orson Welles):
When the hurlyburly’s done,
When the battle’s lost and won.
Third Witch (lowers its cowl to reveal a face wearing a mask. It speaks in a very metallic sounding voice):
That will be ere the set of sun.
(On the wall at the…
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The Siren of The Sea Plays A Sweet Melody: A Poem
A Sea Spell 1877 by Dante Gabriel Rossetti
A great beauty was she
The Siren of the Sea
who played sweet melody
Her fingers played softly each tender string
And with melodious voice she did sing
Birds of the sea flew to hear her
Sailors landed on rocks just to be near her
So tenderly tenderly she played the cords of the lute
while caught in her long flowing hair was forbidden fruit
A garland of flowers adorned her head like a sacred crown
Luminosity shone like the sun off her golden gown
Oh divine beauty, how can it be?
I’m here with you, you’re here with me
when music plays like golden rays
And with tender eyes you gaze
Then on your lap, I’d gladly lie
as the sea waves dance to the seagull’s cry.
-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday March 13th 2019.
Reblog of The Sailing Ship: A Poem
Here’s a poem I wrote 3 years ago today:
The Sailing Ship: A Poem
Sail ahead to distant shores when yonder morning breaks
with wind at your back, listen to the cry that the screeching seagull makes
and sail on into waters of deep crystal blue
venture forth to destinations new
It is a time when the world is wide
so beckon to the surging tide
The mast is your guide
to horizons wide
white sails against skies of blue
they’re your towers- the world to view
and take the brunt of gray skies and stormy seas too
Poseidon’s realm stretches most of the globe
the sites to be seen- what tales to be told
Dolphins and Krakens, mermaids and sirens
aquatic femme fatales- they be a bitin’
Inviting you to Davy Jones’ locker- grave of missing Titan
This is the age of true adventure
where shark makes of mate’s leg a gaping denture
Whales spout
fish about
The…
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Haiku About Dostoevsky’s Vision of Future Communism In Russia
March 22, 2019 at 10:11 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, Literature, Philosophy, Poetry, Politics, Religion) (Bolshevism, Communism, Dostoevsky, haiku, poem, Russia, Russian Bolshevik Revolution, visions of the future)
Fire in minds of men
Blood and revolution come
Hell will replace Christ
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