Peter Whitstable On The Temple Mount

March 23, 2014 at 7:21 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Peter Whitstable On The Temple Mount

Peter Whitstable the man they called the Fox Mulder of Interpol stood on the Temple Mount.

He was looking for signs of a panther that had been seen on the Temple Mount.

Peter Whitstable believed the panther was Konalu a creature that was created by being astral projected from the mind of Fenrir the Battle of Ragnarok apocalyptic wolf from Norse mythology.

He decided it would be a good thing to get out of the office at Interpol’s International Headquarters in Lyon, France because it looked like it would only be a matter of time before his co-workers called the men in the white suits bearing straight jackets and emerging from their paddy wagons.

While in Israel, he had asked to see the man at Mossad they called the Controller of the Golem.

His request for an appointment was turned down.

As he stood on the Temple Mount, he recognized the demon Asmodeus standing on the same mount yawning and smoking a large extra-King sized cigarette.

Peter Whitstable sometimes wished that he had taken up drinking or sniffing glue.

Then he’d have an excuse for seeing what he sometimes saw.

This was one of those moments.

. . .

Turkish Prime Minister Recep Tayyip Erdogan was in his bedroom.

He looked up and noticed a black panther approaching him.

Unsure of what to do, Erdogan held out his hand and started purring, “Nice kitty. Nice kitty.”

He hoped that the panther wasn’t Syrian and wasn’t a pro-Bashar Assad sympathizer seeing as how Turkey had just shot down a Syrian military plane.

He hoped that the panther wasn’t an avid Twitter user either- one who was pissed at not being able to access his Twitter account in Turkey.

. . .

Russian President Vladimir Putin told the Commander of Russian Forces who were amassing on the border with Ukraine to wait for his instructions on whether or not to go ahead and invade all Ukraine.

He would leave the speaker phone on in his office and if he were to start shouting “Yes! Yes! Yes!” that would be his order to cross the border and take all of Ukraine and unite it to the Russian Motherland.

As he stood at the window and gazed out at the Moscow landscape with its domed churches and crosses, he wondered if he could spot the Golden Arches of the nearest McDonald’s as he suddenly felt a craving for a Big Mac (which mercifully had escaped the list of U.S. and EU sanctions against Moscow).

Suddenly the beautiful and lovely seductress the Babylonian Vampiress Lilith flew in through his office window.

She was wearing the latest spring fashion Cartier white evening dress with gold sequins.

She threw Putin back on to the Russian black bear skin rug in his office, ripped off all his clothes and mounted him.

“Yes! Yes! Yes!” Putin was soon screaming in a matter of minutes.

The General put his phone down.

He addressed his aide- a handsome young lieutenant with whom he re-enacted ancient Spartan army nighttime maneuvers.

“Well there we have the order,” the General said, “we take all of Ukraine.”

“That’s good,” his lieutenant answered, “I’ve kind of got a hankering for Kiev style homemade perogies at the moment.”

“But first you must have a Russian sausage,” the General pulled down his pants.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday March 23rd
2014.

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7/11 Day 2013

July 11, 2013 at 10:39 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

“Mr. President,” the Secretary of State John Kerry addressed Barack  Obama, “we’ve got a response from the Chinese government over our strongly worded protest to them over Edward Snowden being allowed to leave the Hong Kong territory to go to Russia.”

“And what’s their response?” President Obama asked.

“Well it’s addressed to you personally sir,”  Secretary Kerry noted.

“Really?” The President looked quizzical, “What is it?”.

Secretary Kerry winced as he spoke it,  “They tell you to go —- yourself.”

“What?!” The President was livid, “How dare they?  Don’t they know that I’m the President of the United States?”.

                     *          *            *

“Of course I do,”  Chinese President Xi Jinping said as he fed a thousand year old egg to the dog under the table (a dog whose bark he did not like),  “that’s why I said it.”

The dog would never bark again.

                   *           *          *

Russian President Vladimir Putin sighed,  “The United States is becoming more and more arrogant with each passing day.  They’re treating other leaders of the world the same way Germany treated other European leaders back in the 1930s.”

                      *           *           *

Syrian President Bashar Assad looked at the document in front of him and said,  “Gentlemen, it’s time we carry out Project Asmodeus.”

None of his generals voiced disagreement.

                  *           *          *

The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set looked at the unfolding chaos in Egypt being shown on the TV by BBC News and spoke to his valet, “You know Athelstan, none of this would be happening if Papa Ra had appointed me Pharaoh of Egypt instead of Osiris millennia ago.”

“Indeed, sir,”  Athelstan handed his boss a two minute boiled egg along with some toast and jam.

                 *         *          *

Welsh werewolf British Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was sitting inside the doctor’s office in the hospital in Bethlehem.

The Welsh werewolf was feeling somewhat sheepish.

He was here because he feared that he may have picked up a sexually transmitted disease from the town harlot- a beautiful and alluring and mysterious red headed woman who called herself Lilith.

The physician went over to the test tube filled with the penicillin and inserted a syringe.

He then took the syringe and injected Magog Rhys Petley.

And that’s how the spirit of Neb-Senu mysterious entity from planet Nibiru who had once sojourned in ancient Egypt and who had recently possessed a moving ancient Egyptian statue in a Manchester museum entered the body of Magog Rhys Petley.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
 written by Christopher
 Thursday evening
  July 11th 2013

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Bashar Assad and The 13th Year

June 10, 2013 at 8:55 am (Geopolitics and International Relations, Vampire novel) (, , , )

Bashar Assad reflected that he never wanted to be President of Syria.

 

He wanted to be a physician.

 

He had studied ophthalmology at the Western Eye Hospital in London, England.

 

It was only in 1994 after his older brother Bassell the heir apparent to the Assad Presidential throne in Damascus was killed in a car crash that Bashar was called home to Syria to be groomed as the new heir apparent.

 

His father Hafez Assad had died in office 13 years ago today June 10th 2000.

 

Hafez Assad had ruled Syria for almost 30 years.

 

When Bashar Assad took over from his father, he had been looked upon as a potential reformer both at home and in the international community.

 

But that was all gone.

 

Not even the great Mediterranean Sea could wash all the blood off his hands now.

 

Bashar looked at the handwritten note he had received from Russian President Vladimir Putin.

 

He then put it down.

 

He took some comfort in the note.

 

As he looked into the distance, it seemed as if a giant eye had appeared in front of him.

 

Had all those ophthalmology exams he had studied many years ago finally come back to haunt him he wondered?

 

As he looked at the eye, he suddenly realized the eye looked like the eye of Horus that had been depicted in ancient Egyptian art millenia ago.

 

To be continued.

 

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Werewolf On The Road To Damascus Part 2

November 20, 2011 at 9:08 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Magog Rhys Petley was meeting with Syrian President Bashar Assad in the Presidential Palace in Damascus.

“Mr. President,” Rhys Petley pulled a letter from out of his pocket, “I’m here to give you a highly confidential message from the British government…”

“First, I must tell you there are no human rights violations or mass killings going on in Syria,” Bashar Assad wagged his finger at Magog Rhys Petley.

Outside could be heard the sounds of machine gun fire and the voices of men, women and children screaming in unison, “I’ve been shot… I’ve just been shot…”

Suddenly the Syro-Phoenician vampiress Astarte appeared from behind the curtains wearing only a see-through black silk lingerie nightie and did a quiet dance for Magog Rhys Petley’s viewing pleasure.

Magog Rhys Petley felt a huge erection coming on.

Not to mention the fact that whenever he was sexually aroused, he turned into a werewolf.

Within seconds, Rhys Petley had grown fur and was crawling around on all fours and snarling and growling.

“A werewolf,” President Assad screamed, “the British government has sent a werewolf to kill me.”

Quickly Assad’s Presidential bodyguard formed a circle around him to protect him from said werewolf.

*      *    *

BBC News Announcer: This just in.  The Arab news service al-Jazeera is reporting that the Syrian government is making the bizarre claim that British Intelligence sent a werewolf to kill Syrian President Bashar Assad.

To be continued.

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Lunar Vampire In Iran and Werewolf On The Road To Damascus

November 16, 2011 at 9:39 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Interpol’s paranormal investigator Peter Whitstable was having a glass of wine with vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing in a Paris cafe.

“So Dracul, did you hear about Renfield R. Renfield stealing a classified document from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia?” Whitstable asked.

“I did,” Van Helsing nodded.

“And are you aware of the contents of that document?” Whitstable inquired.

“It relates how the Apollo 11 astronauts found a vampire in suspended animation in a coffin on the moon and were ordered by NASA to bring the coffin and vampire back to Earth,” Van Helsing answered.

“Do you know what ever became of that vampire?” Whitstable wanted to know, “no one seems to know.”

“Well it was aroused from its state of suspended animation and escaped and fled to Iran,” Van Helsing replied.

“Iran?” Whitstable’s ears perked up, “what happened to it there?”.

“It or he if you prefer now serves as an advisor to Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad,” Van Helsing stated.

“To Ahmadinejad?” Whistable’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, Ahmadinejad believes this vampire is the Imam Mahdi,” Van Helsing sipped his wine and gazed through the cafe window at the Eiffel Tower.

“The Twelfth Imam of Shia prophecy?” Whitstable blinked.

“That’s right,” Van Helsing noticed the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec standing in a red dress on the Eiffel Tower.

“And what does this vampire posing as the Imam Mahdi want?” Whitstable downed the rest of his wine in a single gulp.

“Nuclear war against Israel and the U.S.,” Van Helsing answered.

“Good Lord,” Whitstable whispered.

* * *

Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was attending an art show at an exclusive art gallery in London.

Rhys Petley often attended these functions- as an MP he was of course immediately let in- but he did not attend because he was an art connoisseur.

Rather he attended because of the free wine and cheese served at these functions.

Magog Rhys Petley loved wine and cheese.

But he didn’t like paying for them.

As Rhys Petley entered the gallery’s exclusive entrance he passed a lone Occupy London protestor holding up a sign outside the gallery saying “We are the 1%.”

Inside the gallery, Rhys Petley felt an arm on his shoulder.

He turned and was surprised to see that it was Charles Prince of Wales holding a glass of wine and a slice of cheese.

What was Prince Charles doing greeting him?

He Magog Rhys Petley was a staunch republican and rabid anti-monarchist.

“Magog,” the Prince smiled.

“Er… your Highness,” Rhys Petley blurted, “congratulations on your 63rd birthday.”

Prince Charles had just turned 63 this past Monday November 14th.

“Don’t remind me of my age,” the Prince shook his head, “if I was a common man, I could look forward to retirement in another couple of years.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown-in-waiting,” Rhys Petley nodded sympathetically.

“I’ve kept abreast of your activities this year, you know,” Charles helped himself to a smoked oyster on a cracker, “your meeting with Silvio Berlusconi on a British trade mission to Italy, your going to Cairo to ask then Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak to immediately step down before any protestors were killed and your going to Libya to ask Col. Muammar Gaddafi to step down and leave Libya to prevent civil war.”

“All those missions were failures,” noted Magog Rhys Petley who failed to grab an oyster on a cracker before the French maid looking waitress carrying the tray walked away.

“But to succeed at failure,” Prince Charles smiled, “surely that’s a success of sorts?”.

“I suppose if you put it that way it is,” Rhys Petley agreed.

“Anyways I was wondering if you’d undertake a mission for me on behalf of the British government,” Charles reached for a strawberry underneath the small statue of Diana of the Ephesians, “a mission where I hope you’ll succeed. I want you to go to Damascus and ask Syrian President Bashar Assad to step down before any more of his countrymen are killed. Tell him to go into exile in Iran.”

“Um….” Magog Rhys Petley didn’t know what to say so he finally said, “Okay.”

He looked at the prince and then noticed the curious juxtaposition of the statue of Diana of the Ephesians against the background of an oil painting of a Paris tunnel.

He noticed Diana’s statue seemed to be urinating champagne on the prince just as Camilla came over to greet the duo.

To be continued.

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