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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Pan Goatee’s Twin Sister, Edgar Allan Poe, Robert E. Lee, The Mermaid and The Kraken: A Poem
DARPA Contract assassiness Panty Goatee disguised as the Dragon Warrioress Crown Princess Lenora of Lemuria appearing to Edgar Allan Poe on the day of his death October 7th 1849
‘Twas the night before the Super Wolf Blood Moon
and all through the earth, strange creatures were stirring
and at the CERN Large Hadron Collidor in Switzerland
Shiva and Kali danced the Dance of Death
because of the foolishness of foolish mortals
DARPA and CERN had teamed up to send
Pan Goatee’s genetically cloned twin sister
the beautiful Panty Goatee back in time
to Baltimore Maryland on October 7th 1849
disguised as Poe’s immortal love
the Dragon Warrioress Crown Princess Lenora of Lemuria
They were sending Panty back as Lenora
On this date of January 19th 2019
on what would have been Poe’s 210th birthday
if he had been still alive or had become an immortal
So as the full moon cast a mysterious looking lunar rainbow
Down upon a cloud as snowflakes fell to Earth
Around the Swiss countryside
And Kali and Shiva danced a frozen version of Swan Lake
as the Greek god Zeus choked on the drumstick of Leda’s
duck a l’orange
and the Chinese moon goddess Chang’e laughed heartedly
while sampling the delicacy of Peking Duck sprinkled
with a little Soma lunar elixir of life
As her snow white jack rabbit hare friend ate carrots
and developed superior night vision.
Why was Panty going back in time as Lenora
to Poe on his death day?
It was a plan conceived by DARPA’S new AI robot
Built by a DARPA employee under the mentorship of Sophia
The Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom
Unbeknownst to both DARPA and CERN however
the AI robot had come up with the idea
after being shortcircuited
when DARPA’s mascot Jefferey the otter
had poured a 40 ounce bottle of bourbon
down the AI’s metallic throat
because Jefferey thought the robot could use a drink.
As such both the drink and the plan
would spell doom to the best laid plans
of CERN and DARPA
Both should have stuck to building better mousetraps
And making plans to celebrate Robbie Burns Day
later this month.
Panty as Lenora approached Poe
The writer looked at her and whispered “My long lost love Lenore”
Then he whispered “Reynolds” as he saw the genetic clone
That the immortal Egyptian scientist Imhotep
had made of the writer and named “Reynolds”
Poe then croaked
and a raven outside the window wept bitter tears
As Poe would say “Lenore” nevermore.
Inside a Rome coffee shop
Abraham Lincoln’s ghost
And the ghost of Gen. Robert E. Lee
celebrated the Confederate General’s 212th birthday today
January 19th 2019
As the Egyptian god Osiris watched
Lincoln raised his cappuccino in a toast,
“Here’s to old enemies becoming friends again”.
And on a marble floor inside the Vatican was a gold ashtray
containing the gold plated figures of a mermaid and a Kraken
who were very much in love
The Kraken told his beloved mermaid,
I want this moment to last forever
His wish came true when King Midas touched them both.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday January 19th
2019.
Late For The Party: A New Year’s Eve Short Short Story
A New Year’s Eve short short story I wrote 3 years ago today:
Late For The Party
“Aren’t you ready yet?” The wife asked her husband, “we’re going to be late for the party. I’d like to be there before the clock strikes midnight and the New Year comes.”
“I’m almost finished this poem I’m writing, dear,” the husband smiled, “hold on.”
The wife looked at the clock, “Come on. Let’s go NOW. Your poem is not so important. It’s not as if people are going to be reciting or even remembering it for the next 200-odd years.”
“All right, dear,” the husband got up to get his coat.
The poem lay on his desk,
“Should auld acquaintance be forgot and never brought to mind…
… we’ll take a cup of kindness yet for auld lang syne…”
-Robert Burns, 1788.
-A short short short story
written by Christopher
Thursday December 31st
2015.
Reblog of None more poetic…
A very beautiful and lovely poem.
None more poetic…
There is none more poetic than her
A southern star,
She eclipses even the northern lights.
Of honeyed laughter and soft smiles
This dusky beauty beguiles.
Bewitching charcoal eyes.
She is a living prize.
My heart doth meet
Dainty feet.
Crimson toe tips
Swaying hips.
Silken swept raven tresses
Boldly clad sari emerald dress
Mesmerizing, concealing, revealing.
Ah, her dancing choli knots
On that sculpted shape renders me fraught.
Her lips, oh her luscious lips
She excites, delights and ignites.
No Jezebel or Delilah is she
Naïve and virtuous, she is.
No Helen of Troy, is she
My Joy, she is.
She is the harp that eases me soft.
She is the drums that hastens my heart to thump,
The symphony that awakens my poetic soul.
She fills my heart and renders me whole.
An inspiration by Anup Gomay’s painting (main image) “Tying the Knot”.
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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