Waiting For Aragorn

January 18, 2023 at 9:28 pm (haiku, Literature, Poetry) (, , , )

  • Light falls across land
  • Sauron’s darkness dissi₱ates
  • Aragorn returns

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  • If Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson Lived In The 2020s

    January 17, 2023 at 10:51 pm (Comedy, Comedy Skit, Commentary, Culture, Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Literature, News, Plays, Short play/ comedy) (, , )

  • Actress Mary ₱ickford in the early 1920s: I wonder what Sherlock Holmes and Doctor Watson would be doing if they lived 100 years from now?
  • Scene: An unvaccinated Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson are living in London at 221B Baker Street in the 2020s.
  • Holmes is smoking a ₱i₱e and reading an angry letter written to him by Canada’s Neo-Stalinist tyrant Justin Castro “Sauron’s feces” Trudeau.
  • In the letter the ₱om₱ous and arrogant ₱i₱squeak of a ste₱son of Marxist existentialist ₱henomenologist ₱ierre Elliot Trudeau (who when alive fancied himself the ₱latonic ideal ruler of the Cosmos causing the Cosmos to vomit forth cosmic vomit for the first time in cosmic history) lambasted Holmes for being “racist, sexist, misogynistic and white su₱remacist for refusing to take the vaccine”.
  • Holmes blew smoke castles in the air after ₱utting the letter down, ₱icking u₱ his violin and ₱laying the Joni Mitchell song Both Sides Now on it.
  • When he had finished ₱laying, Holmes qui₱₱ed, “I wonder if the well roasted ghost of Karl Marx’s favourite fairy little ferret u₱ in Canada is aware that my mother was a Iban woman from Malaysia.”
  • “I doubt it very much, Holmes,” Watson coughed into his Earl Grey tea, “I don’t think Justin is very much aware of anything exce₱t his own hot air.”
  • “I do believe you’re right, Watson,” Holmes started drumming his fingerti₱s on his arm chair.
  • “Another rising young football star in Africa has just died suddenly and unex₱ectedly with no a₱₱arent cause,” Watson read a news₱a₱er headline.
  • Holmes: Ins₱ector Lestrade of Scotland Yard would say it’s not the vaccine.
  • “And a 20 year old U.S. Army College Football ₱layer has just died suddenly and unex₱ectedly with no a₱₱arent cause,” Watson read another headline.
  • Holmes: Lestrade would say it’s not the vaccine.
  • “Then,” Watson recalled, “There was Buffalo Bills football ₱layer Damar Hamlin who suffered cardiac arrest in front of millions of television viewers.”
  • Holmes: Lestrade would say it’s not the vaccine.
  • Watson si₱₱ed on a brandy, “Then of course there was Lisa Marie ₱resley’s sudden and unex₱ected death.”
  • Holmes: Lestrade would say it’s not the vaccine.”
  • Suddenly there was a violent ₱ounding and knocking at the door of 221B Baker Street.
  • A young ₱olice constable entered.
  • “Mr. Holmes, Dr. Watson,” the young constable’s face was ashen white, “Ins₱ector Lestrade has died suddenly and unex₱ectedly down at Scotland Yard.”
  • “I su₱₱ose his last words were it’s not the vaccine,” Holmes remarked.
  • “My God, Mr. Holmes,” the young constable’s jaw dro₱₱ed, “How did you know those were his last words?”.
  • -A comedy skit
  • written by Christo₱her
  • Tuesday January 17th
  • 2023.

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  • The Femme Fatale Art Thief

    November 6, 2022 at 11:11 pm (Art, Art History, Detective story, Film, Ghost Story, Gothic, Literature, painting, Poetry, The Supernatural) (, , , , )

    The femme fatale art thief

  • /
  • She was the femme fatale art thief
  • /
  • /
  • That’s what I called her
  • /
  • My name is Carson Cody Albion by the way
  • /
  • I’m a ₱rivate Eye
  • /
  • The year was 1952
  • /
  • And the city was London
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  • I had been hired to guard a rare art ₱iece
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  • Said to have been ₱ainted by Dante in the 13th Century
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  • Dante was a man better known for his writing (i.e. The Inferno) rather than his ₱ainting
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  • The ₱ainting was more of a metallic scul₱ted relief in a frame rather than a ₱ainting
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  • It was called Joe Biden and Nancy ₱elosi Roasting In The Flames of Tartarus
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  • I’m not sure who these Joe Biden and Nancy ₱elosi characters were
  • /
  • Two ₱eo₱le that Dante saw roasting away but didn’t think were im₱ortant enough to be worth a mention in his Inferno
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  • I saw the woman standing in front of the metallic scul₱ted relief
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  • I was ₱racticing my Raymond Chandler narrative short story telling skills as I looked at her
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  • She had the most magnificent tight skirted ass that I had ever seen
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  • Her buns showed u₱ magnificently under the tight contours of her dress
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  • like two ri₱e gra₱efruit ri₱e for the ₱icking and the ₱lucking
  • I knew I wouldn’t be gras₱ing at straws if I were to, like Shakes₱eare’s MacBeth, say,
  • /
  • /
  • “Come, let me clutch thee”
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  • I could imagine them being so smooth, so creamy, so white
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  • I was beginning to sound like a science-fiction writer writing advertisements for Madison Avenue
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  • By the way the femme fatale art thief looked at me, I realised I had said those Raymond Chandler narrative short story telling skills out loud rather than silently in my mind
  • /
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  • She came over and sla₱₱ed my face with such vigour that I was knocked unconscious
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  • But I got off lucky
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  • She used her ₱H Unbalanced narrative short story telling skills to bore the ₱oor museum security guard to death
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  • He was found dead the next morning
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  • The coroner ruled the cause of death as Colossal Boredom
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  • And the metallic scul₱ture relief ₱ainting of Joe Biden and Nancy ₱elosi Roasting In Tartarus was gone
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  • A gy₱sy fortune teller told me that it would someday be found in the art collection of a young man named Barron Trum₱
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  • A young man who would have his ₱ortrait ₱ainted
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  • By the ghost of the man who ₱ainted the ₱icture of Dorian Gray
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  • -A Carson Cody Albion narrative ₱oem written by Christo₱her Sunday November 6th 2O22.

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  • A Marilyn Monroe Halloween

    October 13, 2022 at 8:24 pm (Detective story, Espionage, Gothic, Gothic romance, History, Literature, love, magic, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural) (, , , , , , , )

    Marilyn Monroe At Halloween

    It was Halloween 1954
    And Carson Cody Albion
    Knocked at the door

    Myend was what the sign on the door said

    Whoever owned the house called Yourend had fled
    So Albion had come knocking knocking on Myend’s door
    Private eye he was, no raven saying “Nevermore”.

    It was no Pallas Athena that opened the door
    But Marilyn Monroe in witch’s apparel without any gore

    A lovely witch she was with candles four
    And a lovely dress J. Edgar Hoover would die for

    Said Marilyn, “Hast thou come knocking at my entrance door?”
    Said Albion, “Thou hast knockers that defy gravity’s floor.”
    Said Marilyn, “Dost thou love me even though I be poor?”
    “I do,” said Albion, “I bought this ring at the jewellery store.”

    The curtain and the veil in the temple tore
    Baskerville hound lost its footing in the moor
    Only PH Unbalanced remained a colossal bore
    But the rest of the cosmos rejoiced encore

    What sorcery is this that has done this for?
    Love’s beating heart yet beats some more
    A tale to be told like in days of yore
    Albion entered the house as cats and dogs and rain doth pour.

    -A Carson Cody Albion poem
    and Halloween poem
    written by Christopher
    Thursday October 13th
    2022.

    Permalink 12 Comments

    Artemis and The Ghost of W.C. Fields In Paris

    September 4, 2022 at 10:57 pm (Avatar Speaks, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Literature, Mythology, News, The Supernatural) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

    The Greek goddess Artemis in Paris

    The Greek goddess Artemis was in her Paris hotel room.

    Suddenly the ghost of W.C. Fields walked into the room.

    “My dear, you look ravishingly beautiful,” W.C. doffed his top hat in her direction.

    “Thank you, William,” Artemis stood up, threw open the curtain and gazed at the Eiffel Tower.

    “William?” W.C. Fields was starstruck, “I had no idea you knew my first name.”

    “I do,” Artemis smiled.

    “I once met Joe Biden in the Oval Office,” Fields took a sip from a bottle of gin in one hand and a bottle of vermouth in the other, “and he told me he thought W.C. stood for Water Closet. Thus when he pulled his pants down and asked me to lie directly underneath his squatting legs, I immediately left the room.”

    “Joe Biden is an ass,” Artemis stated emphatically.

    “That he is, my dear, that he is,” W.C. Fields nodded emphatically, “and many a brown noser has followed that ass.”

    “He shot and killed at least two of my sacred deer on a hunting trip last fall,” Artemis’ cheeks turned red with wrath and anger.

    “Very sad story, my dear, very sad story,” Fields wiped his eyes with his handkerchief, “It’s enough to make one weep against the breasts of your statue in Ephesus.”

    “Is that a vulture flying around the Eiffel Tower?” Artemis asked.

    “I believe it is, my dear, I believe it is,” W.C. put on his monocle and looked, “It certainly isn’t my little chickadee.”

    “What’s a vulture doing flying around the Eiffel Tower?” Artemis inquired.

    “I believe that’s the ghoul vulture of Xi Jinping,” Fields ate a hard boiled egg, “The one who lays thousand-year-old eggs for Communist China’s paramount leader to enjoy at his large festive banquets in the Forbidden Palace.”

    “What’s he doing in Paris?” Artemis wondered.

    “Well I hear that George Soros’ French poodle Emmanuel Macron is calling on citizens of the Fifth Republic to freeze to death this winter in order to save the planet,” Fields ate some egg foo yung cooked in French champagne, “Perhaps the ghoul vulture of Xi Jinping is awaiting their demise so he can feed on their carcasses to his heart’s content.”

    “All so that Xi Jinping can watch a bird lay an egg?” Artemis was incredulous.

    “Well Xi has laid many an egg in front of the Beijing Politbureau,” Fields pointed out, “Perhaps he engages in such voyeuristic bird watching activities with vultures as a form of personal relaxation.”

    “Nice to see you in Paris, William,” Artemis smiled.

    “It’s nice to be in Paris, my dear,” W.C. again doffed his top hat in her direction, “I was debating whether to visit Philadelphia or Houston. I’m glad I didn’t visit Philadelphia as I heard Joe Biden sacrificed some young woman there while he was wearing the crown of King Agamemnon. Then later that evening he gave a Nazi fascist Stalinist Galactic Empire speech. He might want to brush up on his German, Russian and Klingon a little for even greater impact. I’m glad I didn’t visit Houston as they’re still weeping at NASA Mission Control over the two failed Artemis 1 Moon Rocket launches.”

    “Believe it or not, William, there is a connection between what happened in Philadelphia and the crying in Houston,” Artemis pointed out.

    “There is?” Fields scratched his chin.

    “There is,” Artemis pulled a volume of Aeschylus out of her hotel room bookshelf.

    The Aeschylus volume was right next to James Fenimore Cooper’s The Deerslayer.

    -A vampire novel chapter
    written by Christopher
    Sunday September 4th
    2022.

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    Joe Biden Asked To Perform An Agamemnon

    August 31, 2022 at 10:57 pm (Art History, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Literature, Mythology, News, Politics, Science, Technology, The Supernatural, theatre, Theatre Arts, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

    The Greek goddess Artemis being serenaded by musicians who were brought to life from a mural painting

    “Who is Aeschylus?” Vice-President Kamala Harris asked one of her aides.

    “He was an ancient Greek playwright who lived from approximately 525 BC to 456 BC and is believed to have written anywhere from 70 to 90 plays,” her aide answered, “He is considered the Father of Tragedy. In fact his ghost is believed to have written the recent Inflation Reduction Act. In fact on the night of April 4th 1968, Bobby Kennedy quoted from Aeschylus while addressing Afro-American voters in Indianapolis, Indiana when he had to break the tragic news to them that the Rev. Dr. Martin Luther King had been assassinated. The Aeschylus quote was this:

    “Even in our sleep, pain which cannot forget falls drop by drop upon the heart until, in our own despair, against our will, comes wisdom through the awful grace of God.”
    -Aeschylus

    “What were some of his plays?” Kamala asked.

    “Well he once wrote a trilogy of plays about the family of King Agamemnon of Mycenae the fellow who commanded the Greeks during the Trojan War,” her aide replied, “The trilogy was called The Oresteia named after Orestes who was a son of King Agamemnon.”

    “Rather ironic you should be talking about The Oresteia,” remarked a leading high-ranking NASA official as he walked by on his way to the Oval Office to see Joe Biden.

    “Ironic? How so?” Kamala inquired.

    “That’s on a need to know basis and you don’t need to know,” the NASA official replied.

    The FBI agent accompanying the NASA official was a Neo-Bolshevik Communist (like most FBI agents are these days) and did not understand the classical allusions that were being thrown around.

    This entire scene was part of a dream (or was it a vision?) being seen by Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster in his lobster tank at Set Enterprises Laboratories in London, England.

    The name of the high-ranking NASA official was Dr. Nachash Naga.

    He was on an important mission for NASA.

    The Artemis 1 moon rocket was supposed to have been launched this past Monday August 29th 2022 but then something happened and the launch was postponed until this Saturday September 3rd 2022.

    But even that might be postponed further because of new information that had come up.

    Unless…

    “Mr. President,” Dr. Nachash Naga addressed the Pooper-In-Chief, “We need you to do something for us.”

    “Glad to oblige,” Biden ate a piece of Ex-Lax.

    “Mr. President, we have a problem and it isn’t Houston,” Dr. Nachash Naga explained, “Do you remember last fall when you went deer hunting?”.

    “Um, I don’t actually,” answered the Pooper-In-Chief who suffered from dementia.

    “Well, you shot and killed a deer,” Dr. Nachash Naga pointed out.

    “Good for me,” Joe Biden grinned.

    “Well that turned out to be a bad thing, Mr. President,” Dr. Nachash Naga hissed, “It turned out that the deer you shot and killed was a deer sacred to the Greek goddess Artemis.”

    “Who is Artemis?” Joe Biden looked at a photo of the Belvedere Apollo and wondered if he should invite the sculpted statue to join his cabinet.

    “Artemis was the Greek goddess of the hunt and wild animals as well as the Greek goddess of the moon,” Dr. Nachash Naga flashed his incisors, “and as a result of your killing that deer sacred to her, she is preventing the Artemis 1 rocket from being launched.”

    “So, what can I do about it?” Joe Biden scratched his diaper rash.

    “Well when King Agamemnon of Mycenae slew and killed a deer sacred to Artemis and the goddess prevented the Greek fleet from sailing towards Troy as punishment, Agamemnon was forced to sacrifice his daughter Iphigenia to Artemis to appease her wrath.”

    “So what do you want me to do?” Biden put on Kamala Harris’ high school Dunce cap.

    “We want you to sacrifice your daughter to Artemis in the next couple of days to appease her wrath so we can get the Artemis 1 moon rocket launched this coming Saturday,” Dr. Nachash Naga began filing his fingernails.

    “Can I sniff her hair before I sacrifice her?” Joe Biden asked.

    “Of course, Mr. President,” Dr. Nachash Naga looked exasperated.

    “Wait,” Joe Biden suddenly had a moment of clarity after taking a Claritin tablet, “Jill might be rather pissed at me if I sacrifice Ashley.”

    “Joe, I have a suggestion,” Barack Obama delivered his instructions into Joe’s earpiece as he always did, “Did you ever have any extra marital affairs?”.

    “I can’t remember,” Joe was trying to remember the tune of the Bob Hope song Thanks For The Memory.

    “Well ask some of your FBI agents to stop sifting through Donald Trump’s underwear and try to track down any extra marital affairs you might have had and any children you might have had particularly girls,” Obama explained, “Then you can sacrifice that daughter from an extra marital affair.”

    “Gee, I wonder if any are still alive,” Biden picked his nose, “This is one occasion when I wish I hadn’t been so gung ho for abortion.”

    “Just send out the FBI, Joe,” Obama barked, “Find any surviving daughters from those extra marital affairs and just do the damned sacrifice. We’ve got to get to the moon before Vladimir Putin and Jackie Gleason’s wife Alice do.”

    Meanwhile in Hunter Biden’s room, he was being visited by the ghost of a beautiful young Greek girl named Electra.

    -A vampire novel chapter
    written by Christopher
    Wednesday August 31st
    2022.

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    Carson Cody Albion and The Beauty In The Hotel Room

    May 1, 2022 at 9:50 pm (Detective story, Literature, Poetry) (, , , )

    The Beauty In Carson Cody Albion’s Hotel Room

    Carson Cody Albion Private Eye went to London town
    And discovered London bridge wasn’t falling down
    So he went back to his hotel and what he saw caused no frown
    For on his bed was a beautiful woman in a very sexy gown

    -A poem written by Christopher
    Sunday Night May 1st 2022

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    Klondike Helen

    April 21, 2022 at 10:11 pm (Detective story, Ghost Story, History, Literature, Poetry, Science-Fiction, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

    Klondike Helen the belle of Dawson City during the days of the Klondike Gold Rush

    She had been born Helen McGarrett (no relation to Steve McGarrett of Hawaii Five-0 fame) in Montreal, Canada in 1875.o

    When news of the Klondike Gold Rush in Canada’s northern territory of Yukon spread far and wide throughout North America, Helen headed up to Dawson City (a town built at the confluence of the Klondike and Yukon Rivers) the site of the Gold Rush to seek fame and fortune.

    The year was 1899 and a stranger from London England arrived to see Klondike Helen.

    And there she was standing in front of the piano in Klondike Jack’s Saloon.

    “You’re Miss Helen McGarrett?” The stranger asked.

    “I am,” Helen nodded, “Who are you?”.

    “I’m Sherlock Holmes,” the pipe smoking man in the deerstalker cap answered.

    “The famous London detective?” Helen was astonished, “How did you get here? What are you doing here?”.

    “What I am doing here is I’ve been hired by the McGrew family of Liverpool to investigate the death of a family member who died here in Dawson City. A fellow by the name of Dan McGrew. His nickname was Dangerous Dan McGrew. When the family received word of his death, they said he was shot in an argument with some gold miner over a woman known as Lou. I’m here to investigate the truth of his death. As for how I got here… well I happen to know a fellow named Ferdinand Graf von Zeppelin a retired German army officer. He’s just invented an airship and didn’t want any Germans to die in the testing of it. So along with an English balloonist and myself, we travelled in this airship across the Atlantic and across the Arctic and then across Canada’s northern terrain until we arrived here. We’ve arrived safely. How we’ll make out in the return journey home is yet to be seen.”

    “And you think I know something about the death of Dan McGrew?” Helen inquired.

    “I was told you’re a friend of the woman known as Lou,” Holmes explained, “By the way, where is Lou? No one seems to know where she is.”

    “She’s dead,” Helen answered, “Staked through the heart.”

    “Staked through the heart?” Holmes was surprised.

    “She was a vampiress,” said Helen, “And Lou turned Dan McGrew into a vampire as he lay dying from the gunshot wounds inflicted by the jealous miner husband’s gun. So McGrew died twice. First being shot by the jealous miner. And then being staked through the heart after he became a vampire.”

    “Good God,” said Holmes.

    “Good void,” said a miner who was trying to write a science-fiction poem about the Klondike.

    “Who staked them through the heart?” Holmes re-lit his pipe.

    “The same man,” Helen replied, “Barnabas Van Helsing. The younger brother of the famous Dr. Abraham Van Helsing.”

    “Well,” Holmes blew smoke rings, “I suppose I better tell the McGrew family the original story about the shooting involving the jealous gold miner and the wife of the jealous gold miner- the woman known as Lou. Talk of vampires and vampiresses might send me to the looney bin.”

    Holmes left the saloon and walked out into the night to his waiting Zeppelin airship for the cold journey home.

    Another man approached Klondike Helen.

    “You’re Klondike Helen I presume?” The man asked.

    “Who wants to know?” Helen looked into his eyes.

    “The name’s Van Helsing,” the man tipped his fedora hat, “Dracul Van Helsing. I was looking at my great-great-uncle Barnabas Van Helsing’s photo collection the other day and your picture in black and white was there. So I travelled back in time using this Houdini-Pantages-Tesla-Welles-Lamarr magic lantern so that I can take a colour photo of you.”

    “Pantages did you say?” Klondike Helen blinked, “There’s a waiter in town here called Alexander Pantages.”

    “He was one of those who helped develop this time travelling magic lantern,” Van Helsing explained, “along with the magician Harry Houdini and the great Serb-American inventor Nikola Tesla. Years later a brilliant young director and actor named Orson Welles also worked on it. The finishing touches were finally completed by a brilliant actress and inventor named Hedy Lamarr who finally made it fully operational.”

    Dracul Van Helsing then took a colour photo of Klondike Helen.

    “Anything else?” Klondike Helen asked.

    “I’d like to make out with you,” said Van Helsing.

    They went up to Klondike Helen’s room and got down on the bed.

    As they made out, they were unbeknownst to the fact that the ghost of Orson Welles was also in the room sitting in a chair and eating some take-out food that he had brought with him from Lydo Chinese Food and Delivery in London in the year 2022.

    -A vampire novel chapter
    written by Christopher
    Thursday April 21st
    2022.

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    What The Artist Sees

    April 3, 2022 at 9:59 pm (Art, Arts, Literature, Poetry) ()

    “Most people see the world through their own views and prejudices. Mr. Lockhart sees the world with a rare clarity. Perhaps that’s what it means to be an artist.”

    -Character of Arthur Parker to the character of Georgiana Lambe in the BBC TV series Sanditon based on the unfinished novel by Jane Austen

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    Renfield’s Regency Croquet Match: All Is Fair In Love and War

    March 23, 2022 at 10:36 pm (Culture, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Literature, News, Politics, Television, Vampire novel) ()

    After watching an episode of a television series that was set in Regency England, British MP Renfield R. Renfield fell asleep and dreamed that he was a young nobleman in Regency England.

    After escorting the Prince Regent through local ale houses and giving advice to Arthur Wellesley the Duke of Wellington on how to defeat Napoleon, Renfield set out for high tea at Lady Vandeermeer’s Estate.

    There he met two beautiful charming young ladies with whom he discussed the novels of Jane Austen.

    In the middle of his watercress sandwich the valet to Lady Vandermeer delivered Renfield a note from his sometimes rival the Russian Vladimir Painintheassovich.

    Vladimir Painintheassovich told Renfield that he was out on the Estate’s grounds with two gentlemen and that they would like to challenge Renfield to a game of croquet that is if Renfield could find two other partners to form a team.

    Renfield immediately invited his two charming young Jane Austen Literary Society companions to form a team with him.

    Renfield, his two lovely young literary society companions and a corgi who will serve as ball retriever

    Renfield and his lovely young companions approached their rivals.

    The Russian Vladimir Painintheassovich stood directly across from Renfield.

    On Vladimir’s right was the Emperor Napoleon and on his left Ares the Greek god of war.

    Lady Vandermeer’s valet brought some Ukrainian perogies with sour cream for Renfield and his companions to munch on before the match began.

    Vladimir, Napoleon and Ares ate blood sausages and salt water tears wept by a young widow and her children.

    When the match started, Renfield hit a ball that went flying into the right temple of the Emperor Napoleon and sent the Little Corporal unconscious alongside the Estate pond.

    “Napoleon appears to have met his Waterloo,” Renfield remarked.

    Ares sent his ball flying at the little corgi knocking him out cold.

    “Thou black hearted snerd,” said Renfield’s lovely teammate who was wearing the green velvet dress with hints of gold decorating.

    Ares’ nose was broken by the ball fired by the beauty in the green dress.

    The god of war was carried off the croquet field.

    Vladimir Painintheassovich called out to the beauty wearing the peach pink dress with hints of gold decorating.

    “Hey babe, how would you like to see me ride a horse shirtless?” He said.

    “I think all horses are shirtless aren’t they?” Answered the beauty in the peach pink dress, “I’ve never seen a horse wear a shirt.”

    She fired a croquet ball at the Russian’s balls knocking him off his high horse which he had just crawled up on.

    Renfield then finished the Russian off with a croquet ball fired to the forehead.

    The MP then woke up.

    “Ah, if only life were like a Regency England croquet match,” he ordered himself a cup of tea.

    -A vampire novel chapter
    written by Christopher
    Wednesday March 23rd
    2022.

    Permalink 6 Comments

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