Shakespearian Commentary On Contemporary Social Media

June 2, 2021 at 10:33 pm (Plays, Short play) (, )

Enter a servant into the study of Lord Falconcrest.

Lord Falconcrest (moaning): Oh, woe is me. Woe is me.

Servant: What is it, my lord?

Lord Falconcrest: It has hit me with the full fury of an idiot that I accidentally sent a text message to my girlfriend last night instead of the woman I had slept with a couple of hours earlier. The message was meant for the eyes of the woman I had a chance but very pleasant encounter with.

Servant: A grave matter indeed, my lord. Especially if it results in your sudden demise.

Lord Falconcrest: Let me checketh out her Facebook page.

(Falconcrest pulls out his smart phone and checks it)

Lord Falconcrest: Oh, woe is me. Woe is me.

Servant: My Lord?

Lord Falconcrest: She hath changeth her status from being “In a relationship” to being “Single”. And I have been removed from her Friends list.

Servant: It is a surprise that she hath not blocked thee, my lord.

Lord Falconcrest: She no doubt wanteth me to see all the comments on her timeline from would-be suitors who want to move into the territory from which I have been so unceremoniously cast aside.

Servant: If thou hast not grabbed another pussy before the blast of the last Trump of the evening before Joe Biden falleth down the stairs, thou wouldst not be in this predicament.

Lord Falconcrest: Thou hast spoken wisely, noble Mercutio.

Servant: It is as my old grandmother used to say on occasion- ‘Tis sometimes best to keep thy pecker in thy pants.”

Lord Falconcrest: Oh, wouldy I had heard of thy grandmother’s sage advice before the cock crowed last night.

-A Shakespearian style dialogue
written by Christopher
Wednesday June 2nd
2021.

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Hera and The Gangsters

March 1, 2021 at 11:39 pm (Arts, Culture, Entertainment, Ghost Story, Mythology, Plays, Romance, The Supernatural, theatre, Theatre Arts, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The Greek goddess Hera starring in a 1930s Broadway play about gangsters

It was the decade of the 1930s.

And the Greek goddess Hera was honing her theatrical skills by starring in a Broadway play about gangsters.

It was dress rehearsal night – the evening before the official opening.

Hera was awaiting the arrival of the gangster boss Big Frank Malone.

A man came on stage wearing a fedora hat and gangster suit and carrying a big violin case.

Hera, speaking out of character, said, “You don’t look like John Barrymore to me.”

“I’m afraid John is a bit under the weather tonight,” the understudy replacement for John Barrymore replied.

“How many bottles did he have to drink today?” Hera asked.

“You know the real Barrymore obviously,” Dracul Van Helsing, who had time travelled from the future and was now playing the role of Big Frank Malone in this play about gangsters, replied.

“That’s funny,” the ghost of Orson Welles, who had likewise time travelled from the future, remarked as he sat in the front row, “I don’t ever recall John Barrymore starring in a play about gangsters.”

“He possibly drank before each performance and never made it to the stage,” Van Helsing noted.

“By Jove, I think you’re right,” Welles agreed.

“Please, don’t use one of my husband’s Roman names,” Hera stood up.

“I forgot,” Welles bowed, “I do apologize.”

Hera approached Van Helsing, “Well, Dracul, since you’ve come from the future to step in for the great John Barrymore, perhaps we can do an improvisational performance tonight.”

“And what improvisational performance did you have in mind?” Van Helsing inquired.

“How about making out here on the stage?” Hera smiled.

And Hera and Van Helsing did just that.

“Not again,” Welles’ ghost buried his ghostly head in his ghostly hands.

As Hera and Van Helsing made out, soon thunder and lightning flashed around the stage.

“And furthermore, I just would happen to be in the very theatre on the night the Greek god Zeus decided to attend a Broadway play,” Welles’ ghost sighed.

The next day a hangover stricken John Barrymore was asked what happened to the theatre as it lay in ruins.

“Well, I know people are once again going to say this was a hallucination brought on by too much drink on my part,” Barrymore commented, “but it was an angry and cuckholded Greek god Zeus who destroyed this theatre because his wife the Olympian queen Hera was making out with a mortal.”

The members of the New York press laughed and shook their heads.

And that was the reason history has no record of John Barrymore starring in a Broadway play about gangsters.

The ghost of radio announcer Paul Harvey appeared in front of the lightning produced charred ashes of the theatre and gave his usual radio show sign-off, “And now you know the rest of the story.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 1st
2021.

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Selena

December 1, 2020 at 11:31 pm (Arts, Culture, Entertainment, Gothic, Gothic romance, History, Life, love, Plays, Poetry, Romance, theatre) (, , , , )

The old playhouse was closing
It had a successful run throughout its long life
As a playhouse theatre
For 25 years
From comedies to tragedies
Romance to dramas
Several hits
And a few flops

It was a victim of its own success
For so many people
Were wanting to subscribe to its season
Of plays
This old playhouse
Could not seat all those who wanted to attend
What its company of performers and directors
Stage hands and lighting technicians
Had to offer.

So last night was the last performance
In the old playhouse
And now this 1st of December 1945
The new playhouse with new seats
And a much larger seating capacity
For a much larger audience
Would be opening its run
Of Dickens’ classic tale
For Christmas
A Christmas Carol

A Christmas Carol
With Ebenezer Scrooge
And his longsuffering clerk
Bob Cratchit
And Tiny Tim
And the ghost of Scrooge’s
7-years dead partner
Jacob Marley
With chains upon his feet
And the Ghosts of Christmas Past
Present
and Yet To Come

Selena was an actress

She wasn’t appearing in A Christmas Carol
But she had appeared in the last play
Ever performed in this old playhouse
The play that had finished its run last night
Wuthering Heights
Emily Bronte’s classic tale
of tragic doomed love
Of lovers who went far beyond star-crossed
Trying to reach the heavens
And end up
Falling
Into the abyss.
Of ghosts
And knocking outside the window
And howling winds
And desolate moors
And souls that are damned
And what happens when compassion is lacking
And revenge is always served
Hot or cold.

Selena had played Cathy
The love of Heathcliff’s life
And the woman who loved Heathcliff
Hot love
Passionate love
Forbidden love
The love only hinted at by Emily Bronte
As if Orestes and Electra
Had come from tragic Mycenae of old
To perform unfinished business
On the early 19th Century
Yorkshire Moors

Selena sat on coverings
On the sofa
Where she as Cathy
Had sat with the man
Who was Cathy’s husband
But not Cathy’s love or lover
Edgar Linton
In Bronte’s classic tale

And then
As if in one magic moment
A lighting technician
Suddenly shone the spotlight
On Selena
(Who was dressed to attend
The new theatre playhouse
Christmas Carol
Opening night party)
As she sat on that sofa

And that spotlight
Shone on one promising young actress
Who had performed many great performances
In that old playhouse
And soon would perform many more
In a new playhouse theatre

The spotlight would soon fade
And the lights would come down
For good
on the old playhouse
It may not have been Shakespeare’s Globe Theatre of London
But it had been the town’s old playhouse
Bringing joy and sadness
Heartache and hearbreak
To so many spectators
And audiences over the years

Like many old buildings
This old playhouse
Had character
And thus would be missed
And its old plays
And many performances
Would only be played again
In the memories
of the theatre
Of the mind

-A poem written by Christopher
Tuesday December 1st
2020.

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Uncle Ernie, The Koala With Chlamydia and Eulogy For Falstaff

July 31, 2020 at 10:45 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Literature, Plays, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , )

Back on July 14th of this year, the satanic old bat Ruth Bader Ginsburg had to be hospitalized at John Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland.

The cause of her hospitalization was that notorious Australian entertainer and queen of the outback drag queens better known as Uncle Ernie.

Uncle Ernie was flown from the Australian outback (where he was found out back making unsanctioned pharmaceuticals) to Washington DC in the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s cannabis oil powered environmentally friendly eco-friendly dirigible.

Uncle Ernie had been hired by Set to give a private performance for Justice Ginsburg in her private chambers’ personal washroom in the Supreme Court Building in Washington DC.

Uncle Ernie went into the Supreme Court Building dressed as Marlene Dietrich in the 1930 German film The Blue Angel when her character of cabaret singer Lola-Lola sang the song Falling In Love Again.

Ginsburg entered her private washroom cubicle just as Uncle Ernie exited.

Uncle Ernie dressed as the fishnet wearing Marlene Dietrich held a stuffed toy koala bear between his legs as he performed his rarely ever requested musical dance number that he had entitled The Koala With Chlamydia.

The site of Uncle Ernie dressed as Marlene Dietrich’s character of Lola-Lola from The Blue Angel holding a stuffed toy koala bear between his legs as he sang The Koala With Chlamydia to the tune of the song Falling In Love Again was too much for satanic old bat Ruth Bader Ginsburg to handle.

Her heart gave out on her.

She was taken to John Hopkins University in Baltimore, Maryland.

The demons Baal and Baphomet quickly found a beautiful young vampiress (who had been a vampiress less than a year) and ripped her heart out giving it to Ruth Bader Ginsburg as a replacement.

Then two days ago, Ruth Bader Ginsburg was reviewing some music videos that the Democratic National Committee was thinking of playing at the virtual Democratic Party convention online at the moment senility prone Joe Biden announced his Vice-Presidential running mate.

And one of the videos was of Uncle Ernie dressed as Marlene Dietrich from The Blue Angel and holding a stuffed toy koala bear between his fishnet legs as he performed his rarely ever requested musical dance number The Koala With Chlamydia.

This was again too much for satanic old bat Ruth Bader Ginsburg to handle.

Once again the demons Baal and Baphomet quickly found a beautiful young vampiress (who had been a vampiress less than a year) and ripped her heart out giving it to Ruth Bader Ginsburg as a replacement.

Today Ruth Bader Ginsburg was released from a New York City hospital.

She was wheeled in her wheelchair past a group of supporters- a bunch of pro-abortion women who were all wearing mandatory face masks and all wearing t-shirts that read NO GOVERNMENT IS TELLING ME WHAT I CAN DO WITH MY BODY.

. . .

The ghosts of Orson Welles, Sir John Gielgud and Sir Laurence Olivier were all sitting as social distancing spectral judges in the front row of the Old Vic Theatre in London.

They were judging an online competition where livestream video performances were shown on the wall at the back of the stage.

The performance being judged was Mistress Quickly’s eulogy on Falstaff delivered in Act II, scene iii of Shakespeare’s Henry V.

The last contestant was from Australia.

Uncle Ernie dressed as Marlene Dietrich from The Blue Angel and holding a toy stuffed koala bear between his legs.

Uncle Ernie stroked and played with the bear as he recited his lines:

Nay sure, he’s not in Hell!
He’s in Arthur’s bosom,
if ever man went to Arthur’s bosom.
He made a finer end
and went away an it
had it been any christom child.
He parted ev’n just between twelve and one
ev’n at the turnin’ o’ the tide;
for after I saw him fumble with the sheets
and play with flowers
and smile upon his finger’s end….

…So he cried out ‘God!’ ‘God’! ‘God’! three or four times!
Now, I, to comfort him,
bid him he should not think of God…

… So he bade me lay more clothes upon his feet.
I put my hand into the bed and felt them,
and they were as cold as any stone.
Then I felt to his knees,
and so upward and upward,
and all was as cold as any stone.

With that Uncle Ernie as Mistress Quickly finished his eulogy for Falstaff.

The ghost of Orson Welles quickly downed a 10 litre spectral bottle of spectral red wine.

After a pause of about half an hour, Welles remarked, “That’s a performance of Mistress Quickly’s eulogy for Falstaff that I’ll never forget.”

The ghosts of Olivier and Gielgud nodded their assent.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday July 31st
2020.

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Lady MacBeth and The Death of Soleimani

January 14, 2020 at 11:53 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Plays, Short Story, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , )

Lady MacBeth and The Death of Soleimani

Lady MacBeth’s ghost served as a spirit advisor to Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman.

Her advice had started out very bloody indeed and the Crown Prince had to rinse very hard to get the blood of Saudi journalist Jamal Khashoggi off his hands in the eyes of the world.

In fact to a certain extent, he still had not done so.

However he did manage to get blood off his hands in the eyes of Donald Trump.

And that was the important thing.

Lady MacBeth advised the prince MbS (as he was called) to let the blood be on someone else’s hands in planning future killings.

Several months ago as MbS mused aloud in a paraphrase of England’s King Henry II murmuring about Thomas a Beckett, “Who will rid me of this troublesome general?” referring to Iran’s Gen. Qasem Soleimani, Lady MacBeth suggested, “Get Trump to do it.”

After whispering in the ear of Nancy Pelosi to go ahead with impeachment hearings against Donald Trump, Lady MacBeth’s ghost returned to Saudi Arabia from Washington DC and informed the Crown Prince, “The stage is set. The trap to be sprung. Trump’s ego will ensure the job to be done.”

When Trump was impeached, Lady MacBeth returned to Washington to whisper in Pelosi’s ear to hold up the Articles of Impeachment and not deliver them to the Senate right away.

Said Lady MacBeth, 

“He whose toupee from red spider monkey fur has bleached golden in the sun,
Thinks a quick acquittal by the Senate will be so much fun.
But let not golden showers be the only thing to rain on his toupee,
I say rain on his parade should be your Democrats’ way.”

Pelosi took Lady MacBeth’s advice and held up the articles of impeachment.

Trump fumed in the darkness of the night,
As bald head replaced toupee in the absence of light,
“When Oh God,” he addressed his image in the mirror, “shall this trial come to an end?
Isn’t it time once again for lesser wills to bend?”

Lady MacBeth put hand gently on yonder narcissist’s groin and whispered,

“Nay, soft, Roy Cohn’s once golden boy,
Among Netanyahu’s Messianic backers,
Thou art their most favoured goy,
Take out this Qasem Soleimani who gives poor Bibi such pain 
And causes Saudi oil profits to go down the drain.
Bibi and MbS alike will think you a man with golden spike
rather than a circus clown turned tethered dyke
And your approval ratings will soar
while Pelosi’s articles be in tatters on Senate floor.”

And so Trump gave the order for Soleimani to be taken out by drone.
And then had Big Macs delivered to him via his app on the phone.

“The blood is now on Trump’s hands,” 
Lady MacBeth watched the cheers coming from football championship stands,
As Melania quickly withdrew from the grasp of the Donald’s hands.

Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman smiled,
“How easy it is to wag the tail of this American dog 
A would be Caesar with the brains of a bump on a log.”

-A poem, Shakespearian drama
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday January 14th
2020.

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Reblog of Orson Welles and The Unusual Production of MacBeth

March 31, 2019 at 9:11 pm (Entertainment, Horror, Literature, Movies, Plays, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

A vampire novel chapter and blog post I wrote 4 years ago today.

Dracul Van Helsing

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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Orson Welles’ Original Fake News Broadcast 80 Years Ago Today

October 30, 2018 at 11:47 pm (Arts, Culture, Entertainment, Fantasy, Fashion, Film, Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Literature, love, Movies, Mystery/horror, News, Plays, Radio, Science-Fiction, Short play, theatre, Theatre Arts, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

80 years ago today, the great Orson Welles and the Mercury Theatre On The Air presented a radio play adaptation of H.G. Welles’ 1897 science-fiction novel The War of The Worlds.

The play was presented by Welles as a series of realistic sounding news bulletins interrupting a program of orchestral dance music on the CBS Radio Network from New York City.

The program was held on Sunday October October 30th 1938 (the evening before Halloween) and a few people took it seriously.

It was one Hell of a Halloween prank on Welles’ part.

If Donald Trump had been around at the time, he would have called it “fake news” and it would have been one of the few times in history that Trump was actually right about something.


Gene Tierney to Orson Welles, “I don’t know, Orson. It sounds to me like a very naughty broadcast and you should be spanked soundly on the bare bottom for going ahead with it.”

Orson: Well, Miss Tierney, if you’re the one doing the spanking, I shall not mind.


Gene Tierney (listening in on the radio on October 30th 1938):
Oh, Orson, Orson, I’m going to have to spank you after all.


Laura (talking to a future suspect in her future murder): And where were you on the night of the Orson Welles broadcast?

Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): I was dropping a living woman into a vat of acid in the basement of a wax museum to turn her into a wax figurine of Queen Marie Antoinette. And where were you, my dear?

Laura: I was getting my portrait painted. Who knows if I’m ever murdered, some future police detective might look at my painting and fall in love with me.

Future Suspect (in Laura’s future murder): How charmingly macabre, my dear. You should run for Congress in the year 2018.


I’m a witch and I ain’t afraid of no Martian. And I say, spankings for all.


Alfred Hitchcock (making himself some pumpkin pie): I’ll second that.


Well, what are you waiting for? Over my knee, Alfred.


With Alfred taking a paddling at Veronica Lake, who will eat my pumpkin pie?


I shall swoop down with my pussy and eat your pie.


I the cyborg ripper, creation of the Martian invaders of New Jersey, shall seek to kill all AI sex robots created in the year 2018. Let George Finneganburg beware. Tell Akira I’m coming.


Linda Darnell (listening in on the radio in 1938 to a radio broadcast from the future year 2018): How like Orson or at least his theatrical apostolic successor Christopher Dracul Van Helsing to having the cyborg ripper killer robot destroyed after tripping over the tail of a drunken otter named Jefferey who drank too many bottles of Otterbury Green Minnow Beer while reciting the Otterbury Tales. DARPA’S Nibiruan otter mascot once again saves the world from Martian invaders and their cyborg ripper killer robots of future AI sex robots like the Amazing Akira.


The Amazing Akira: She would have kicked the cyborg ripper killer robot’s ass if God in His mercy had not allowed the Martian invader of New Jersey created cyborg ripper killer robot Jack Raven (who murdered someone’s lost love Lenore shouting “Nevermore!” and then descecrated a statue of Pallas Athena) to destroy himself by tripping over the tail of the passed out drunken otter Jefferey…

… Orson Welles’ radio broadcast narration ended with the above words.

-A Halloween montage
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 30th
2018.

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Wilkie The Cat As The Shadow: A Poem

October 18, 2018 at 9:26 pm (Comedy, Culture, Humour, Literature, Plays, Poetry, theatre, Theatre Arts) (, , , , , , , , )

Wilkie considered himself the Big Apple’s NYC leading thespian
When he told people what he did, they thought he said lesbian
but thespian was the Shakespearean term for actor
not a bull dyke riding one Hell of a tractor

Now Wilkie was a feline by species
one whose litter box was full of feces
Wilkie naturally thought of himself as a cool cat
when he played James Cagney saying, “You dirty rat.”
Now the lovely French cat Mitzi was the love of his life
he longed to make la belle mademoiselle his beloved wife
but the Parisienne Pussy (so called by President Macron) wanted no such strife
for her current single state now was such a delightful life

Now it came to pass that a big Broadway producer
when he encountered a #MeToo woman, he did goose her
now he was in disgraced exile
Alyssa Milano’s Wiccan spells cast on him by the pile
only Bret Kavanaugh’s pile of hexes was much longer
as Hillary made a voodoo doll of Bill and his donger

Now it so happened that Wilkie had several incriminating photos
of the producer seducing starlets in one of his chateaux
so Wilkie blackmailed the producer from Park Avenue
who forced gruesome things on the young nubile Frou Frou La Rue
and made him finance Wilkie’s new play
a heavy price the theatrical big wig had to pay
for wanting to engage in getting a lay
in such a very strange, awkward and peculiar way

Wilkie wanted to do a stage version of that old radio play The Shadow
that showed Man About Town Lamont Cranston always on the go
The Shadow’s object of affection was one Margo Lane
to organized crime, Lamont Cranston was a first rate pain

So once again a Wilkie directed Broadway stage play came to pass
Theatre critics went to the play expecting the feline to again make himself an ass
and Wilkie certainly did not let them down
The Broadway disaster was the talk of the town

Wilkie playing Cranston opened the play with The Shadow’s opening line,
“Who knows what…” and there was a sudden pause,
as Wilkie held to his head his feline claws
for the catty thespian had forgotten his lines
to say nothing of not paying library card fines
He was recognized by a librarian sitting in the audience
who leapt on stage like a secret agent of a Saudi Crown Prince incensed
Mitzi leapt into action with her parasol to prevent Wilkie being dismembered on the spot
and Trump’s future defense of petulant librarians was such poppycock
the aftereffects of a urine coloured toupee causing a brain to rot

The play’s opening moments were its very last
petulant librarian got a parasol up the ass
and Wilkie’s earlier pork and beans dinner produced much gas
and the pervert producer’s line of credit did not come to pass
for he committed hari kari permanently ending his tendency to harass

So now the time has come to say to one and all, Good night
as for The Shadow playing a 2nd night, theatre owner told Wilkie to go fly a kite.

-A Wilkie The Cat poem
written by Christopher
Thursday October 17th
2018.

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On The Beach

August 31, 2017 at 3:28 pm (Arts, Culture, Mythology, Plays, The Supernatural, Theatre Arts, Vampire novel) ()

The great London stage actor Sir Carlton Hardisty sat on the North Sea beach on Norfolk’s coast.

He had spent a quiet summer with his daughter and grandchildren down in Cornwall.

And was now looking forward to the start of the West London theatre season this autumn.

Although he hadn’t quite escaped from his acting career over the summer.

They had wanted him to perform a murder in the Jamaica Inn one weekend down at that famous pub in Bodmin Moor which was the subject of Daphne du Maurier’s 1936 novel and Alfred Hitchcock’s 1939 film.

He found out that talking like Charles Laughton and not Johnny Depp didn’t make such a big hit with the younger crowd while playing the role of a Cornish cutthroat pirate.

Still he enjoyed eating the Cornish pasties after his performance.

Now that summer was winding down, he found the need to be alone.

As Greta Garbo once said, “I want to be alone.”

So he had left the Cornish coast and went in a straight northeasterly direction to the Norfolk coast.

Now he was sitting on a beach overlooking the North Sea.

He sat there wondering if he was too old to play James Bond.

It was damned inconsiderate of Daniel Craig to sign on to do another Bond picture thus robbing him of the chance to play the coveted secret agent.

Oh well, maybe he’ll end up playing an aging Captain Kirk who cries at Mr. Spock’s deathbed before he had the chance to ask Spock to march in a Gay Pride parade with him.

Hardisty looked down at the object in his hand.

It was a ship in a bottle.

Or more precisely Captain Nemo’s submarine Nautilus from Jules Verne’s novel 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea.

His grandson had made it and asked his grandfather to cast the bottle adrift in the North Sea.

Inside the Nautilus submarine itself was a note written in Latin, his grandson had explained.

A message in a ship in a bottle.

Written in Latin.

Oh well, maybe Julius Caesar’s ghost will find it, Sir Carlton reflected as he threw it into the North Sea.

Otherwise the Latin message would be Greek to most people especially a Novus Ordo Catholic priest.

After he threw the bottle into the sea, a seagull circled around him flying metres above his head.

Then the seagull landed on the beach and circled around him walking in the sand.

Then it flew away squawking.

The whole scene reminded him of Nina’s line from Anton Chekhov’s play The Sea Gull, “You speak in symbols.”

Speaking of Chekhov, maybe he could ask the Starship Enterprise’s navigator to march in a Gay Pride parade with him now that Spock was dead, Sir Carlton Hardisty thought aloud reverting to character as an aging Captain James Tiberius Kirk with emphasis on his middle name.

30 metres from shore, the Greek god of the sea Poseidon stood with his head just above the waves picking his nose with his trident.

“Puck was right,” Poseidon puckered as he picked, “What fools these mortals be.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday August 31st
2017.

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Wilkie The Cat As James Bond: A Poem

March 4, 2017 at 4:51 pm (Comedy, Entertainment, Film, Humour, Literature, Plays, Poetry) (, , , , , , )

Wilkie the Cat was assigned to play James Bond
even though his fur was far too blonde
so Wilkie made the transition from stage to film
His Bondish image stamped on mugs fresh from the kiln
But all that pottery went to pot
those martinis hit too much the spot

Wilkie showed up in front of the cameras thoroughly sloshed
and made a mess of those upper class British parties quite posh
Those aristocratic estates will never be the same
as asses go, Wilkie was a first-rate pain

Mitzi was assigned to play the Bond girl
she thought she’d give the role a whirl
her acting was great
her sex appeal first rate
but Wilkie was loaded to the gills in every scene
and among the cast, only Sean Connery was serene
he was assigned a role considered cameo
and ended up fair Juliet’s Romeo
in the Shakespeare scene
among England’s hills so green

Wilkie the Cat was given the axe
thrown out on his ass along with his snacks
Mitzi left the studios in shame
she’d not enjoy Bond girls’ fame

Daniel Craig was called back to play the role
and Connery listened to music- a little soul
Said Sean to Dan who was quite his fan,
“I think we can safely say in the case of Wilkie the Cat,
Never again! will be the slogan on any future Bond director’s mat.”

-A Wilkie The Cat poem
written by Christopher
Sunday March 4th
2017

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