Dulcinea Lucia and The Vampiric Knights-Templar

September 17, 2017 at 11:34 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Dulcinea Lucia and The Vampiric Knights-Templar

Once Private Eyes 👀 Agathor Christie and Magog Rhys Petley decided to take the case for Allatallahbel the Vampiress Priestess of Baal and search for the 13 Vampiric Knights-Templar who survived French King 👑 Philip the Fair’s Friday October 13th 1307 raid on Jacques de Molay and his fellow Knights-Templars, they started where most Private Eyes would when confronted with such a case.

They went to see a gypsy fortune 🔮 teller.

And a young beautiful and sexy one at that.

Dulcinea Lucia the gypsy fortune teller of London’s Carnaby Street.

When they entered her shop, they discovered she was dressed like Elvira the popular American horror movie show hostess of the 1980s- a black evening dress slit at the sides from thigh to ankle, black silk pantyhose and black spiked stiletto high heeled shoes.

This would thus be an interview both men would enjoy.

Dulcinea Lucia told Agathor and Magog that the 13 Knights had managed to escape King Philip’s Friday the 13th raid by being in a Paris brothel at the time.

When informed of the raid, the 13 knights went south to the village of Rennes-le-Chateau in the Languedoc region of southern France 🇫🇷.

“Any idea, why there?” Agathor asked.

“One of Jesus’ cousins is buried in a grave there,” Dulcinea Lucia answered.

“The Jesus?” The Marxist atheist former Labour MP Magog raised an eyebrow.

“Yes,” Dulcinea Lucia answered.

“How did they become vampires?” Agathor asked.

“The ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith was in the village of Rennes-le-Chateau at the time,” Dulcinea Lucia answered, “she bit each man on the neck and turned them into vampires on the evening of October 23rd 1307 – 10 days after Philip the Fair’s Friday the 13th October raid on all the lodges and temples of the Knights-Templar in France.”

“And have those 13 Vampiric Knights-Templar survived since then?” Magog queried.

“7 of them were slain inside the Episcopalian Cathedral of St. John The Divine in New York City on Friday October the 13th 2006 while attending a Meatloaf concert being held at the central altar of the cathedral,” Dulcinea Lucia answered.

“The Meat Loaf?” Agathor asked.

“Yes,” Dulcinea Lucia nodded, “the one who sang Bat 🦇 Out of Hell, Two Out of Three Ain’t Bad, I’d Do Anything For Love and Rock And Roll 🎸 Dreams Come Through.”

“And they had a Meat Loaf concert right at the central altar?” Asked Magog who had visited the Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine in New York City with Agathor on their recent U.S. trip where they had encountered Shiva the Hindu god of destruction and transformation at that very same central altar.

“It was more of a Knights-Templar Illuminati satanic ceremony where they were going to sacrifice Meat Loaf to the Baphomet because Baphomet wanted both a singer and a meatloaf dish for his birthday so the Illuminati and the Knights-Templar were going to give him a 2 for 1 special,” Dulcinea Lucia opened her book of meatloaf recipes.

“And you said that 7 of the Vampiric Knights Templar were slain at that Friday the 13th October 2006 Meatloaf sacrifice ceremony in the Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine?” Agathor questioned.

“Yes, the 7 who attended the ceremony,” Dulcinea smoothed her dress, “the other 6 were still in their New York City 🌃 hotel rooms recovering from severe hangovers the night before- hangovers that saved their lives in the long run.”

“Who slew the 7 Vampire Knights that attended the ceremony?” Agathor asked.

“That was Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing and the mighty Lakota Sioux vampire huntress Jennifer Cochran,” Dulcinea Lucia smiled, “both of them were Meat Loaf fans.”

“Of the singer or the dish?” Magog inquired.

“Both,” Dulcinea Lucia smiled and winked.

A bell went off in the kitchen behind her gypsy 🔮 ball reading room.

“If you’ll excuse me, gentlemen,” Dulcinea Lucia stood up, “my own meatloaf is ready. Unless you care to join me.”

They did.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday September 17th
2017.

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Vampiress Priestess of Baal Hires Two London Private Eyes

September 13, 2017 at 6:52 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, News, Religion, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Vampiress Priestess of Baal Hires Two London Private Eyes

Agathor Christie and Magog Rhys Petley were both sitting in their newly opened London office.

Agathor Christie had been the sitting incumbent British Conservative MP for the constituency of Tewkesbury In The Cotswolds until he got defeated by British Transhumanist Party candidate Renfield R. Renfield in this past June’s UK 🇬🇧 General Election.

Magog Rhys Petley had been been the sitting incumbent British Labour MP for the constituency of Newbridge in Wales until he got defeated by British Transhumanist Party candidate Morgana Fay Lee in this past June’s UK 🇬🇧 General Election.

Since both men (although from different parties) had lost their respective parliamentary seats to candidates for the up and coming British Transhumanist Party, they decided to take a post-defeat consolation tour of the U.S. together.

Now back in London, both men decided to open up a private detective firm together since it turned out that, as children, both had loved reading Raymond Chandler’s Philip Marlowe private eye novels and stories.

After officially opening the office and helping themselves to both bourbon 🥃 and cigars, they sat back in their respective comfortable leather upholstered mahogany armchairs and waited for their first client to walk through the door.

The story on BBC World News they watched on the office television was about a Kraken rising out of Lake Okanagan in British Columbia’s Okanagan Valley and walking through a grape 🍇 and wine 🍷 orchard near the city of West Kelowna and eating grapes 🍇 and drinking bottles of wine.

It then grabbed a statue of the Virgin Mary as Our Lady of Lourdes from the orchard gardens and took the statue with him back into the lake.

The vineyard owner speculated that the Kraken might be the lake’s famed sea serpent lake monster Ogopogo who was said to have haunted the lake for centuries.

“Certainly a lot of krakens rising up all over the place these days,” Agathor quipped.

“There are,” Magog quickly downed his glass of bourbon, “nasty business that.”

“I wonder if some beautiful woman femme fatale will walk in through the door wearing a tight fitting dress like always happens in Philip Marlowe stories?” Agathor asked as he polished off his glass of bourbon.

“I wonder,” Magog re-filled his glass.

At that moment, a beautiful dark haired and dark eyed woman wearing a tight fitting Phoenician purple evening dress and a diamond 💎 necklace with the diamonds cut into the shape of human skulls around her neck walked into their office with the sharp click of spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes 👠.

“I am the Vampiress Allatallahbel the Priestess of Baal,” said the incredibly sexy and beautiful female figure standing in front of them, “I’m here to hire you to find the last of the band of 13 Vampiric Knights-Templar -13 individuals who were the sole escaping survivors of French King Philip the Fair’s Friday October 13th 1307 raid on Jacques de Molay and his fellow Knights-Templar.”

“Well that answers the question you asked a few minutes ago,” Magog addressed Agathor as he finished yet another glass of bourbon.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday September 13th
2017.

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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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London Swings Like A Pendulum Do: The Tower of Big Ben

August 17, 2017 at 8:13 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Espionage, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Romance, Science-Fiction, The Supernatural, Vampire novel, western) (, , , , , , , , )

London Swings Like A Pendulum Do: The Tower of Big Ben

Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing had received an urgent text message from the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec.

Apparently Qonzilqointec had always wanted to make out underneath the bell of Big Ben in the famous London clock tower that people also called by that name.

Now the Aztec vampiress had just found out that the Big Ben clock tower would be undergoing renovations for the next 4 years and the bell would fall silent following the chimes at noon next Monday August 21st.

She asked Dracul to meet her underneath the bell at the clock tower between 7 and 8 tonight so they could make out.

“I’ve got to go,” Dracul explained the whole situation to Amadeus Emanon whom he was having tea ☕️ with.

Dracul exited the tea shop.

Amadeus’ iPhone went off.

“Hello?” Amadeus answered.

“Hello, Amadeus?” It was Renfield R. Renfield, “I’ve lost Dracul’s mobile phone number. Is he still there with you?”.

“No, he’s gone to the Tower of Big Ben to make out with the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec underneath the bell since they’re going to silence the bell for the next 4 years starting next Monday,” Amadeus unwrapped and ate a chocolate covered peanut shaped replica of the Dr. Who TARDIS Police Call Box Public Phone Booth.

“Wow, some guys have all the fun,” Renfield remarked as the Simon and Garfunkel song The Sounds of Silence played on the radio behind him.

. . .

Cardinal Walter Kasper was walking through the halls of the Vatican when a statue of Our Lady of Fatima crashed down right beside him.

“Oh well,” Cardinal Kasper looked at his watch ⌚️ 7:06 PM, “No great loss.”

. . .

The great South African artist SAREJESS was having another dream.

He dreamed that the Tower of Big Ben in London was sending out a great searchlight signal that read 1001 Positions of the Kama Sutra.

He saw Dr. Who’s TARDIS Police Call Box Public Phone Booth flying through the air.

He saw the Greek god Ares dressed in a full suit of armour prepared for war and sailing on the Ship of Hades (a ship he had recently painted a few weeks ago) at sea.

He saw North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un wearing a top hat 🎩, tux, tails and cane and tap dancing while holding hands with Bob Hope and Bing Crosby singing Thanks For The Memory while the clock struck midnight at Rick’s Cafe Americain in Casablanca.

He saw Donald Trump shampooing his hair and a barrel of monkeys falls out of it.

He saw the three-headed dog Cerberus biting a scythe holding Father Time on the buttocks.

He saw Ares trying to shove a large tornado shaped vortex into a small bottle.

He saw a red dress wearing red headed woman standing in the middle of snow ❄️ in the middle of a forest and firing two unusual looking armed weapons.

The woman (although a redhead) looked like Serena the blonde he had seen in the room with Belvedere on the 2nd floor of The Wild Tomatoes and Mushroom Saloon in that dream he had a few weeks ago where an Egyptian Pharaoh looking Orson Welles had come out of a Cuckoo Clock on the room’s wall.

. . .

British Prime Minister Theresa May was just walking below the clock tower of Big Ben at Westminster when a pair of very sexy red lingerie Victoria’s Secret panties fell down on top of her head.

“Nice looking panties, Mrs. May,” British Transhumanist MP Renfield R. Renfield remarked as he walked by.

“They’re not mine,” Mrs. May’s blushing 😊 red face could not be seen under the red panties.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday August 17th
2017.

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Orson Welles and The Woman of Mystery Part 3

August 15, 2017 at 9:24 pm (Arts, Culture, Entertainment, Film, History, Literature, Movies, Mystery, News, Science-Fiction, The Supernatural, Vampire novel, western) (, , , , , )

Orson Welles and The Woman of Mystery Part 3

“So,” Welles looked over again at Serena, “From where did Serena learn this ancient Egyptian spell that turned Belvedere into a ghost white salamander?”.

“You mean from whom?” Serena smiled seductively at Welles and licked her lips.

“From whom?” Welles looked at her quizzically, “You mean it was a person who taught her this spell?”.

“Let’s just say a being or an entity,” Serena laughed once again as she threw back her hair.

“And who is this being or entity?” Welles asked the blonde enchantress seated on the desk in front of him.

“It’s revealed at the end of the script,” Serena winked at him, “at the end of the movie.”

“But I notice the last few pages of the script are missing,” Welles held up the papers in his hand.

“That’s because I want you to take an oath never to reveal the ending of the script before I show it to you,” Serena brought out a King James Bible from her purse since she knew Welles loved the language of the King James Bible.

“An oath?” Welles looked shocked, “But my grandmother warned me never under any circumstances to join the Freemasons.”

“I’m not asking you to take a Freemasonic oath,” answered Serena who had recently seen a Vatican Cardinal do just that.

“That’s good,” Welles breathed a sigh of relief, “I don’t really relish the idea of getting my throat slit from ear to ear or getting disembowelled within stepping distance of the ocean.”

“No sane sensible person would,” Serena agreed.

“But how then are we to make this movie if the ending is kept a secret?” Welles looked at her.

“This will be the most unique movie in all recorded history, Mr. Welles,” Serena spoke in a whisper, “to go along with all the unique movies you have made. This movie will be released to the general public to see within a year of its making but its ending will only be seen in a re-release of the film several years down the road. You of course will shoot the ending Mr. Welles with your own unique style but the ending will be kept on a separate reel stored in a Swiss bank vault and released to the general public several years down the road during the film’s re-release.”

“What a splendid idea,” Welles enthused, “so splendid in fact that it’s a wonder I didn’t think of it…”

“You will, Orson, you will,” Serena laughed.

“So how long will the public have to wait before they see the film’s ending during the movie’s re-release?” Welles asked.

“August 2017,” Serena answered with a smile and a sudden flick of her classic vintage antique railway watch.

“That’s a long way aways,” Welles looked at Serena with an understated expression of shock and astonishment.

“72 years,” Serena did not bother counting the years down on her fingers and toes as she did not have that many fingers and toes.

. . .

Needless to say the chief executive of RKO Radio Pictures Studios did not look at Welles with an understated expression of shock and astonishment when Welles described the project to him.

In fact, the studio head had even taken back the cigar he had offered Welles when the young genius film maker had entered his office.

“A bit early in the day for you to be drinking isn’t it, Orson?” The studio head exploded, “Now get out of here and come back with a more practical idea for a picture.”

Welles hurriedly exited the studio head’s office.

As he left, he heard the studio head’s pet parrot say, “Squawk. You should drink no wine 🍷 before its time. Squawk. You should drink no wine before its time.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday August 15th
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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Orson Welles and The Woman of Mystery Part 2

August 9, 2017 at 5:48 pm (Arts, Entertainment, Film, Movies, Mystery, Romance, Science-Fiction, The Supernatural, Vampire novel, western) (, , , , , , )

Orson Welles and The Woman of Mystery Part 2

It turned out that Serena was a screenplay writer.

“A screenplay?” Welles reached for her script, “And what sort of screenplay have you written?”.

“It’s for a Western,” Serena replied.

“Really?” Welles raised an eyebrow, “I was just contemplating whether I should make a Western. You must have read 📖 my mind.”

“It’s a great mind to read, Mr. Welles,” Serena smiled at him.

“Thank you, my dear,” Welles started to read through her script.

When he had finished reading, Welles peered at Serena, his eyes looking at her just above the script.

“So, let me get this straight,” Welles looked at Serena, “this Wild West saloon bartender named Belvedere is still a virgin at 45 years of age. He is propositioned by one of the recently hired working girls at the saloon/bordello (which Belvedere naively doesn’t know is a bordello as well as a saloon) to come up to her room above the saloon and sleep with her. When he wakes up the next morning after a night of passionate lovemaking, not only is his virginity now gone but he’s received a bill for $20 as the price of payment for her sleeping with him.”

“That is correct,” Serena sat on Welles’ desk and crossed her lovely nylon clad legs as she smoothed her skirt.

“Ah, those glory days of the Wild Wild West,” Welles smiled, “it’s considerably more than $20 for such services these days.”

Serena looked at him.

“Or so I’ve been told,” Welles cleared his throat.

Serena just smiled.

“And then,” Welles returned to the script, “when Belvedere refuses to pay her, she uses an ancient Egyptian spell to turn him into a white salamander. In fact a colour of white that was ghostly white in colour so he becomes a ghost white salamander.”

“That is correct,” Serena nodded.

“And then in a panic once he discovers that he’s become a ghost white salamander, Belvedere runs down the outside stairwell of The Wild Tomatoes and Mushroom Saloon and jumps into the Main Street of the town where he is promptly run over by a covered wagon heading west. He dies instantly and becomes the ghost of a ghost white salamander.”

“You’ve got it,” Serena threw back her hair and smiled at him.

“You know,” Welles sat there and reflected, “years ago when I was in my radio studio in New York City 🌃 and doing my final script reading of the Mercury Theatre On The Air’s War of The Worlds broadcast before it was actually broadcast over the airwaves, a ghost white salamander named Belvedere appeared to me and told me a similar story of what had happened to him. Later I just thought I had fallen asleep at the microphone 🎤 while rehearsing and dreamed the whole thing.”

“Maybe you didn’t dream the whole thing,” Serena uncrossed and crossed her legs again.

“I must say,” Welles laughed, “that I love the idea of the proprietress of this Wild Tomatoes and Mushroom Saloon where Belvedere works being Sherlock Holmes’ lesser known twin sister Sherrielock Holmes who’s a professional dominatrix by profession.”

“It makes for interesting reading doesn’t it?” Serena laughed.

“And for even more interesting camera 🎥 angles and close-up shots,” Welles mused aloud with a huge smile on his face, “I particularly love the directions in the script where the saloon/bordello’s new working girl Serena… say that just hit me now… same name as yours… has a classic old style railway watch that hangs on a chain down the middle of her bosom.”

“Yes, Belvedere really liked that,” Serena smiled, “he was always asking what time it was.”

Welles looked at her and laughed, “You almost talk like you were there.”

Serena just smiled and said nothing.

“Funny that dream… or what I thought was a dream the day I was rehearsing for that evening’s War of The Worlds broadcast back on October 30th 1938, Belvedere the ghost white salamander told me that he thought it was a gypsy he didn’t pay for sleeping with him who turned him into a ghost white salamander,” Welles recalled.

“It wasn’t a gypsy,” Serena pulled a classic vintage antique railway watch on a chain up from her blouse, “it was a time traveler.”

“A time traveler?” Welles smiled at her, “so we have a movie that’s both a Western and Science-Fiction at the same time?”.

“That is correct,” Serena put the antique railway watch back down her blouse undoing some buttons at the top.

Welles had noticed this action.

“I say,” Welles said to her, “you wouldn’t happen to know what time it is would you?”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday August 5th
2017.

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Belvedere and The Enchantress’ Spell

July 24, 2017 at 7:10 pm (Art, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, Romance, Science-Fiction, The Supernatural, Vampire novel, western) (, , , , , )

Belvedere and The Enchantress’ Spell

Belvedere lay asleep 😴 in the arms of Serena.

With a look of post-orgasmic bliss on his face. 😁

In her room above the bar of The Wild Tomatoes and Mushroom Saloon.

In his sleep, Belvedere whispered, “Knockers, must have knockers, cried the paint zombie.”

“Who’s the Paint Zombie?” Asked the awake Unsleeping Beauty Serena beside him.

“SAREJESS,” Belvedere answered.

“Who’s SAREJESS?” Serena asked.

“He hasn’t been born yet,” Belvedere replied as the cuckoo clock on the wall silently started moving ahead.

“I see,” Serena laughed.

“Reminds me of that song from the 1980s who can it be now, knickers at my door 🚪?” Belvedere continued to quietly rant and rave.

“My, we have moved forward in time, haven’t we?” Serena laughed again.

The cuckoo bird 🐦 came out of the cuckoo clock holding a small sign that said GREED IS GOOD.

“Oh, dear,” Belvedere continued his somniac insanity, “Knockers, a pair of knockers for my king 👑 dom.”

“Knickers and knockers?” Serena continued her exquisite laughter, “This SAREJESS must have a lot on his mind these days.”

“He does,” Belvedere nodded, “He’s the one chosen to paint the arrival of…”

“Hush,” Serena put her fingers on Belvedere’s lips, “you mustn’t name the name of He who cannot be named at this point in time.”

She then kissed his lips with her own lips 👄.

Outside her window, an ancient Egyptian Nile River barge seemed to quietly float over the moon. 🌙

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday July 24th
2017.

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South African Artist SAREJESS and The Railway Watch

July 23, 2017 at 6:11 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mystery, Science-Fiction, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

South African Artist SAREJESS and The Railway Watch

The great South African artist SAREJESS was having another dream.

In this dream, he saw a lovely elegantly designed railway watch on a chain that was hanging between a shapely pair of feminine breasts.

He heard a voice saying, “Oh Serena, what a lovely pair of knockers you have.”

SAREJESS found himself repeating those words in his sleep.

SAREJESS immediately found himself being awakened by his wife Winnie who asked, “Who’s Serena?”.

Tim (SAREJESS’s real first name) stammered in reply.

He figured he’d better run down to his studio.

Because in SAREJESS’ opinion, a frying pan 🍳 was meant for frying eggs and not for hitting husbands over the head when they make stupid statements which husbands are prone to do.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 23rd
2017.

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Renfield, Michelangelo and The Vampiress Isis

July 20, 2017 at 5:44 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Renfield, Michelangelo and The Vampiress Isis

Newly elected British Transhumanist MP Renfield R. Renfield was hard at work in his Parliamentary office at Westminster.

“Hello, Venus In Stilettos 👠 Escort Agency?” Renfield was on the phone, “I was wondering if you could send a girl over to my Parliamentary office here in Westminster?”.

A voice similar to that of Charlie Brown’s teacher on old TV Peanuts cartoon specials spoke in reply.

“What am I interested in?” Renfield asked, “A literal reenactment of the title of that old Bryan Adams song The Summer of ’69.”

A choked gasp came from the voice that sounded like Peanuts Charlie Brown’s teacher.

“That’s right,” Renfield nodded and grinned, “I want to be able to say these are the best days of my life.”

The voice spoke again.

“Thanks,” Renfield smiled, “Send her right over.”

Renfield put the phone down and manicured his fingernails.

“Who knew that being an MP could be so much fun?” Renfield looked at himself in the mirror atop his desk.

The phone rang again.

“Renfield R. Renfield,” the new MP answered.

It was the Paris-based Egyptian vampiress Isis calling.

“Oh, hello, Isis,” Renfield undid his tie, “Thanks very much for taking me on that month long motorcycle 🏍 tour of France right after I was elected MP.”

“It was my pleasure, Rennie dearest,” Isis spoke in a sultry seductive voice, “Now, I was wondering if you would do me a favour.”

“Anything,” Renfield looked at his globe of the world.

“I understand Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster has the ability to enter people’s dreams,” Isis stated.

“That is correct,” Renfield picked up a volume of Jung On The Collective Unconscious.

“I was wondering if you could talk to Michelangelo and get his psychic antennae to pay attention to this one certain individual’s dreams for me,” Isis requested.

“Well,” Renfield in his mind’s eye could see his former boss the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set slashing his delicate Renfieldian throat with those 66-inch long vampirically red fingernails of his, “Um… well as you know Michelangelo is a genetic creation bought and paid for by my former boss Set’s hard earned billions. I really don’t feel like betraying my former boss especially when I’m still living in his mansion.”

“Fine, you be loyal to your former boss then,” the vampiress Isis laughed an evil laugh, “but don’t be so unhappy when I send all those London newspapers the photos I took of you in all those compromising positions with various young French mademoiselles.”

Renfield was silent for a moment.

Finally he grabbed a pen and paper and spoke, “And what was the name of the individual whose dreams you want Michelangelo to enter?”.

Isis mentioned the individual’s name.

Renfield wrote it down.

He then hung up the phone without bothering to say good-bye.

That name sounded familiar for some reason.

Renfield checked his mobile phone and read an email that his friend and former co-employee Amadeus Emanon had sent him that afternoon.

“You asked me to tell you whenever Michelangelo predicted a good sound investment for the future. This afternoon he came up with one. He recommends you buy paintings painted by the South African artist SAREJESS as sound art investments for the future.

-Amadeus ”

Renfield looked at the globe of the world again.

Was this coincidence?

Or a case of Jungian synchronicity at work?

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday July 19th
2017.

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