The Phantom Within
Christine Daae (center) with the Phantom (left) and Viscount Raoul (right)
In the files of MI6, his code name was Diablos Nocturna.
He sat in a pub in London eating steak and kidney pie π₯§.
A very very very beautiful woman entered the pub for a take out order.
She paid the bill and left with her order.
Diablos Nocturna recognized the woman as Lucy St. Louis the woman who played Christine Daae in the 35th Anniversary West End London production of Andrew Lloyd Webberβs The Phantom of The Opera.
Lucy St. Louis as Christine Daae in the 35th Anniversary West End London production of Andrew Lloyd Webberβs The Phantom of The Opera
Diablos Nocturna took a quiet sip of his glass of ale πΊ.
Andrew Lloyd Webberβs The Phantom of The Opera was his favourite musical and Lucy St. Louis was his favourite Christine Daae.
There had been great singers/actresses who had played Christine Daae in Lloyd Webberβs The Phantom of The Opera over the years- Sarah Brightman, Emmy Rossum, Sierra Boggess.
Yet when he saw Lucy St. Louis as Christine Daae, he had said, βThat is Christine.β
He had never understood why.
Then one day he had watched a YouTube video of Lucy St. Louis as Christine Daae singing with the Phantom the title song Phantom of The Opera and in the comments below the video, someone had posted the comment, βLucy St. Louis sings the role of Christine Daae the way I had always imagined in my mind the way Christine Daae would have sung in Gaston Lerouxβs original novel The Phantom of The Opera.β
And that was it.
Not many people had read Gaston Lerouxβs The Phantom of The Opera but he had.
In fact he had read it when he was 10 years old.
With the impressionability of someone that age.
And it wasnβt the character of The Phantom who had captivated him.
It was the character of Christine Daae.
The character who could have tamed the Phantom if the Phantom had got over his insecurities and allowed her.
For Diablos Nocturnaβs entire inner life seemed to have been a battle between the Phantom within and the Viscount Raoul within.
Which one would win?
He did not know the answer.
For he had yet to meet his Christine Daae in life.
Diablos Nocturna finished his meal, paid his bill and walked out alone into the night.
The labyrinth of night.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 27th
2023.
Joe Biden Asked To Perform An Agamemnon
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.
Theatre At The Comedie-Francaise
She watched the play being performed
Dom Juan ou le Festin de Pierre
(Don Juan or The Feast of the Stone {Statue})
A five-act 1665 comedy by Moliere
As she watched with increased intensity
She herself longed for a taste of Dom Juan’s own sword
She licked her lips
And reached for a handkerchief
To dab a spot
On the stage Dom Juan told a jealous husband,
“Young Leibniz says this is the best of all possible worlds”
To which the jealous husband replied,
“Thou black hearted swine,thou hast made a cuckold of me
Like Zeus did of Philip II of Macedon with Queen Olympias
And you have the nerve to say,
“This is the best of all possible worlds”.
“Last night,” Dom Juan bit into an apple, “Your wife
experienced the best of all possible worlds.”
The husband went into a rage, lifted his sword
and spoke, “I shall make a pork pie of thee
And feed thy black heart to my chickens.”
She watched the sword play on the stage
And redness came to her cheeks
“Oh let his heart be mine
and not that of the chickens.”
Her breasts rose up and down
like a stormy night on
the English Channel.
“Oh, I am slain,” said the husband.
“Young Leibniz is right,” Dom Juan smiled and raised his sword in triumph,
“This is the best of all possible worlds.”
The woman fainted in her seat.
Later in the final act and the final scene
As the stone statue of a man
Whom Don Juan had murdered
Carries Dom Juan down to Hell,
Dom Juan shouts,
“Young Leibniz is wrong,
This is NOT the best of all possible worlds.”
The woman up in the theatre balcony box
Fanned herself with a handkerchief
And said,
“Oh Leibniz, there are more things in Hell
Than are dreamt of in thy philosophy.”
Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster
Awakened from his dream
And wondered if Moliere’s 1665
production of Dom Juan
was actually like that.
-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday February 3rd
2022.
Hera and The Gangsters
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.
Tiny Tony
Everyone sings of Rudolph
And Frosty the Snowman too
And all the other happy folks
That make Christmas dreams come true
But there’s one little fellow
Who’s forgotten every year
He’s Santa’s special barber
Who trims old Santa’s hair
He’s Tiny Tony
He stands upon the chair
He’s such a little shaver
To take care of Santa’s hair
He’s Tiny Tony
Who everyone should meet
Happy Tiny Tony
Keeps Santa looking neat
When Christmas Eve comes here at last
And all the bags are packed
And Santa knows which boys and girls
Have been good or bad
He’ll stop into Tony’s barbershop
And you’ll hear old Santa say,
A little off the side, a little off the top
For tomorrow is Christmas Day
He’s Tiny Tony
He stands upon the chair
He’s such a little shaver
To take care of Santa’s hair
He’s Tiny Tony
Who everyone should meet
Happy Tiny Tony
Keeps Santa looking neat
Santa’s hair is all in place
His beard is neat and trim
And you can see his jolly face
Because Tony keeps it prim
If you ever visit the North Pole
The pole is quite a sight
For it’s just like a barber pole
It’s painted red and white
He’s Tiny Tony
He stands upon the chair
He’s such a little shaver
To take care of Santa’s hair
He’s Tiny Tony
Who everyone should meet
Happy Tiny Tony
Keeps Santa looking neat.
-A song written by
Bob Bradburn
CHQT Radio Producer
and Host
Edmonton, Alberta, Canada
1967.
An Elk, Cthulhu and The Antichrist
An Elk, Cthulhu and The Antichrist
Monsieur Philippe Geoffrei Gaston a TV reporter for France 24 Live (which is France’s 24/7Β international news TV channel) was interviewing British MP Renfield R. Renfield to get a British perspective on Britain leaving the EU.
Renfield was eating malt vinegar covered Fish and Chips wrapped in the Times of London newspaper, drinking brown ale and eating gulab jamun for dessert which as the British MP told the French journalist would definitely be considered the most typical British cuisine in the year 2020.
“Boris Johnson says he wants a final deal between Britain and the EU before December 31st of this year or otherwise it’s a no deal Brexit,” Gaston noted, “Do you think a final deal is possible before that date?”.
“No, it will probably turn out to be a no deal Brexit,” Renfield wiped his mouth with a napkin.
“And why is that?” Gaston asked.
“Because the Europeans are so unreasonable about everything,” Renfield lit a cigar.
“Well,” Gaston frowned, “as a Brit waving good-bye to Europe, what do you think would be the best thing to happen to Europe?”.
“The best thing to happen to Europe is if a Bourbon once again sat on a restored French throne, a Hapsburg sat on a restored Austro-Hungarian throne and a Romanov sat on a restored Russian Czarist throne,” Renfield answered, as with his heavy cigar smoke, he set fire to a small bookshelf behind him on which sat three books entitled respectively The Legacy of The French Revolution, The Legacy of Woodrow Wilson and The Legacy of Lenin.
Startled by this answer, Monsieur Gaston with his cigarette accidentally set fire to the small French tricoloured flag that sat on his desk.
The interview came to an abrupt end and Renfield was then interviewed by a BBC reporter.
Towards the end of that interview, Renfield was asked by the BBC reporter Sir Valk Zisvay Humphreys on whether or not Bill Gates could be the Antichrist.
“No, Bill Gates is far too bland, boring and nerdy to be the Antichrist,” Renfield answered, “his vaccine implant tracking system could pave the way for the Antichrist’s Mark of The Beast system so in that way Gates could be a forerunner. But Gates just doesn’t have that necessary cool to be the Antichrist. Lucifer is not only intelligent but also an artist who likes to dazzle with his beauty. So Gates doesn’t quite cut the mustard. Although he most likely does cut the cheese.”
Sir Valk Zisvay Humphreys was quite taken aback by this answer.
Humphreys’ assistant, a man dressed in a British army captain’s uniform and wearing a peacock mask over his face, enters the room where the BBC reporter is livestreaming, “Are you free, Mr. Humphreys? We’d like you to look at some video footage of Donald Trump getting a cream pie in the face thrown by an invisible entity while Trump was surrounded by Evil Empire Stormtrooper looking Military Police as black military helicopters were hovering overhead in the background. One of our video technicians, who in my opinion has been drinking far too many Harvey Wallbangers on the job, claims that it was a 6 foot 8 tall bunny rabbit with big pink floppety ears who did it. We’d like your opinion.”
“Not now,” Humphreys foamed, “I’m busy interviewing Renfield. Ask Mr. Lucas.”
“Mr. Lucas, are you free?” The peacock masked wearing army captain ran down the hall.
Sir Valk Zisvay Humphreys turned back to Renfield.
“So you think the Antichrist will be an artist?” Humphreys inquired.
“Yes, it will be a scientific technocratic world state that the Antichrist will be running,” Renfield answered, “But the Antichrist won’t come across as being a scientific technocrat himself as those of a strictly scientific technocratic personality are generally quite bland and boring. Most people would probably prefer being beheaded rather than pledging fealty to or offering worship to such a personality. However someone who is quite artistic and flamboyant the people would have no problem following or even worshipping. The Mexican artist Diego Rivera asked Leon Trotsky in 1938 who he thought would genuinely win the most popularity in a worldwide election if one were held, Hitler or Stalin? And Trotsky answered Hitler because Stalin too much acted the stiff technocratic scientific socialist in his personality and demeanour (unlike the smiling demeanour that Stalin was portrayed as having in Soviet art propaganda) whereas Hitler had the dramatic showmanship of an artist and could easily capture people’s emotions and feelings.”
. . .
Outside the CERN Large Hadron Collider Tunnel in Switzerland, the demon Asmodeus and the little green frog Nimrod were having a picnic.
Nimrod was adding black flies to a sandwich while Asmodeus was lighting a cigarette.
A hundreds of meters tall creature with an octopus head, the wings of a dragon and the body of a human with webbed looking human arms and legs emerged from the tunnel.
“Isn’t that Cthulhu the High Priest of the Great Old Ones and the Sleeper of R’lyeh coming out of the tunnel?” Nimrod asked.
“I believe it is,” Asmodeus put on his monocle to look.
Cthulhu was followed by an elk.
“Isn’t that an elk?” Nimrod put peanut butter and jam on his black flies.
Asmodeus struggled between lighting his cigarette and putting his monocle on his right eye again, “I believe it is.”
“What’s Cthulhu doing emerging from the CERN tunnel with an elk?” Nimrod wanted to know.
“Well, I wouldn’t go down that rabbit hole if I were you,” Asmodeus was trying to decide between buffalo gryphon’s wings or teriyaki gryphon’s wings from his KFC Hybrids Bucket.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday June 2nd
2020.
Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet
Wilkie The Cat Plays Hamlet
The noted New York feline thespian Wilkie The Cat was on stage appearing in his own production of William Shakespeare’s Hamlet.
The vain cat actor was naturally playing the lead role.
“If it were done when ’tis done,Β
then twere well it were done quickly…”
“You idiot, that’s from MacBeth,” shouted Mitzi the French cat who was playing Ophelia.
“Oh,” Wilkie took a look at what he had written on his cuff links.
“Sorry folks,” Wilkie grinned at the audience.
Wilkie struck a dramatic Sir John Barrymore style pose.
“I have come to bury Caesar not to praise him,” Wilkie began.
The body of a German shepherd is carried by four marching legionaries across the stage followed by a weeping female French poodle.
“That’s from Julius Caesar, bozo!” Mitzi exclaimed.
“Oops!” Wilkie took a look at what was written on the cuff links of his other front paw.
“Now is the winter of our discontent,” Wilkie began as imagery of hot dogs and ice cream cones and a summer beach and loads of bikini clad women and swimming suit men appear on the screen behind him.
“Richard III, idiot!” Mitzi shook her head.
An actor dressed like John Wayne appears on stage and in a John Wayne like voice says, “A horse! A horse! My kingdom for a horse!”.
Wilkie sits down and takes a look at what was written on one of the white socks on his back paws, “O Romeo, Romeo, wherefore art thou, Romeo?”.
“That’s Juliet’s line from Romeo and Juliet, you nincompoop!” Mitzi threw her paws in the air in exasperation.
Wilkie hearkens to what was written on the white sock on his other back paw.
“I fear my Thisbe’s promise is forgot!” Wilkie puts his right front paw to his feline brow in ultra melodramatic fashion.
“That’s from Pyramus and Thisbe the play within a play in A Midsummer Night’s Dream, you ninny!” Mitzi grabs her parasol umbrella from the stage hand off stage so she can hit Wilkie over the head with it.
Wilkie pulls off a piece of paper he has stapled to his tail.
“Those are the lines from King Lear you have there!” Mitzi approaches menacingly with her umbrella.
“King Leer!” Wilkie protests too much, “I’m no King Leer! You must think me a voyeur of some importance.”
The disgraced Pee-wee Herman walks across stage holding a pair of binoculars through which his eyes are peering.
Wilkie rips out a piece of paper that’s stapled to his tongue, reads it and cries out, “Soft you now, the fair Ophelia!”.
Mitzi casts her parasol to the stage and sighs, “Finally now, you’ve got the right play.”
At that point, Donald Trump with his toupee falling off, walks on stage and proclaims,
“In this same interlude it doth befall
That I, one Trump by name, present a wall…”
At that moment, the mostly Democratic Party aligned New York City audience rushes towards the stage to tear it apart (along with many in the audience who just want their money back).
As the New York City Mayor’s wife (a former lesbian) rushes on to the stage, Wilkie the Cat shouts, “Get thee to a nunnery!”.
Wilkie is then immediately attacked by New York Gov. Andrew Cuomo who tries to inject the feline with saline solution and then suck him up with a Planned Parenthood approved Electrolux vacuum cleaner.
Needless to say like every other play Wilkie had produced and directed for Broadway, the cat’s adaptation of Hamlet did not have a second night’s performance.
-A Wilkie the Cat Short Story
written by ChristopherΒ
Tuesday August 20th
2019.
Dolores Costello with her husband John Barrymore.
Barrymore, unlike Wilkie The Cat, could perform Shakespeare.
Wilkie The Cat Plays Abraham Lincoln On Broadway: A Poem
Wilkie the feline thespian decided to celebrate Presidents’ Day 2019
By not drinking his own urine as proposed in AOC’s deal New Green
Rather he would play the role of Abraham Lincoln
and he did so after much heavy drinkin’.
Now Wilkie the Cat fancied himself the Orson Welles of Broadway
even though he was a bigger flop than a halibut caught in a codway
His proposal for a Presidents’ Day play
which drove theatregoers away
Was to play the role of Abraham Lincoln
with his catty whiskers, he’d be winkin’ and blinkin’
And his girlfriend would play Mary Todd
while the audience would play the part of Nod
which in their seats would be what they’d be doin’
As great theatre lovers underwent a serious screwin’
With encouragement from the ghost of that junior Ed Wood
Wilkie would put on the best show he could
which meant that turkey from outer space Plan 9
would when compared with Wilkie’s Lincoln look like Casablanca sublime
Wilkie fancied a play within a play like weeping over Hecuba within Hamlet
or Pyramus and Thisbe looking for rooms to let
all for the benefit of Midsummer’s wet dream
As Puck causes mortal aspirations to come apart at the seam
Wilkie’s idea was to have John Wilkes Booth as an actor on stage
appearing in Our American Cousin an 1865 theatrical rage
and have Booth shoot Lincoln from the stage rather than the Presidential Box
And allow John Wilkes Booth time to wipe the blood off his socks
Needless to say the idea sounded so much better over 10 bottles of gin
as Wilkie regaled the cast with his own peculiar historical spin
taking dramatic license to the seeming level of a mortal sin
Which it was pre-Vatican II
As Fishy Fridays
gave way to beef stew.
Sean Connery would play Our American Cousin
His line, “Miss Moneypenny, my head is abuzzin’
I have swiped the Army’s budget for the building of a wall
Because doing so I must admit makes me feel rather tall
As wearing this wee tartan kilt has me in its thrall
And the blasted neighbours won’t pay for this fine looking wall
Can you imagine their sheer arrogance and gall
And Congress won’t let me shut down government until way next fall
so I’m forced to declare an emergency even though there’s none at all.”
And Johnny Depp playing the fairy godmother of walls would appear in pink tights
giving LGBTQ members of the audience severe nocturnal frights
As Depp waves his magic wand, lo and behold
From one of his mix matched socks, a gun he does unfold
For the fairy godmother of walls is John Wilkes Booth
his night day job of exchanging nickels for a tooth
the Shakespearian actor did kindly forsooth
But Wilkie as Lincoln was eating a tuna fish sandwich
And Baphomet in the next booth was eating roast ostrich
And as William Shatner appeared as Captain James Kirk
It turned out both patrons’ food allergies were at work
With the force of a mid-Atlantic gale breeze
Wilkie and Baphomet let out a ferocious sneeze
And the wall came a tumblin’ down
right on the Statue of Liberty’s crown.
The play is over
The day is done
And Wilkie from his creditors
is now on the run.
-A Wilkie The Cat poem
written by Christopher
Monday February 18th
2019.
Theatre goers smiling because they haven’t yet seen Wilkie The Cat’s Broadway play about Abraham Lincoln.
Artemis, Dracul and What Happened To The Deerslayer’s Daughter
The Greek goddess Artemis performing in New York City’s Ziegfeld Follies in 1927
The Greek goddess Artemis had wanted to act in a Ziegfeld Follies production ever since she saw her first one in 1910.
As she was getting her photo taken to appear on the theatre marquee, she noticed a tall blonde man approach her.
She recognized the man as being Dracul Van Helsing a vampire hunter said to have the ability to travel through time according to a vision given her brother Apollo’s prophetess at Delphi.
“Mr.Van Helsing,” the goddess in mini dress, black silk fishnet pantyhose and high heeled shoes smiled at him,
“What brings you here?”.
“I’m here to negotiate a happy ending,” the man answered.
In the theatre lobby, screams were being heard as the requests of Dracul’s blue eyed white wolf and silver eyed black jaguar for hot dogs and coke were not understood by the theatre lobby vendor who was from Brooklyn.
“A happy ending to this particular Ziegfeld production,” Artemis raised one of her legs in Dracul’s direction and pointed at him, “but the script is a musical comedy.”
“No, a happy ending to the tale of Agamemnon and Iphigenia,” Dracul answered referring to the story of King Agamemnon sacrificing his daughter Iphigenia at Aulis as a human sacrifice to Artemis so that she would allow fair winds for the Greek ships to be able to sail for Troy.
Agamemnon being an ass had slighted Artemis the Greek goddess of the hunt by killing one of the goddess’ deer in a sacred grove.
He was forced to sacrifice his daughter to Artemis as punishment to allow the Greek ships to sail to Troy.
Again being the supreme ass he was, he preferred sacking Troy for its gold than his young daughter living (although the official reason for war was to take Helen from Paris and return her to her husband King Menelaus).
“You want me to travel back in time and allow Iphigenia to live?” Artemis raised her other leg at Dracul, “what will you give me in return?.”
“Tantric sex,” Dracul answered.
Artemis smiled.
“That’s the answer I wanted to hear,” she ran her hands through her hair, “All right, Iphigenia will live but Clytemnestra the mother of Iphigenia must still think she was killed by Agamemnon because the fates have decreed that Clytemnestra and her lover must kill her husband King Agamemnon.”
“I care not for the butcher of Troy,” Dracul replied.
“All right,” Artemis laughed, “Funny my father Zeus warned me that I would lose my virginity if I ever appeared in a Ziegfeld Folly. I guess he was right.”
She giggled and opened her legs for the time travelling vampire hunter.
That was the night that the lights went out on Broadway as a huge surge of electricity sent everything black in the Big Apple.
Meanwhile 14 years later in 1941, Princess Iphigenia of Mycenae suddenly appeared on the bear skin rug of Carson Cody Albion Private Eye in Los Angeles, California:
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday January 22nd
2019.
Orson Welles’ Original Fake News Broadcast 80 Years Ago Today
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.
Dracul Van Helsing 
You must be logged in to post a comment.