Renfield In Egypt and Then Germany

April 29, 2017 at 2:33 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Religion, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

After the papal speech at al-Azhar University in Cairo, Pope Francis and the Egyptian vampire Osiris met behind closed doors with Islamic leaders from across the Muslim world.

A phone call from the conference room was put in to Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu and the Chief Rabbis of Israel.

Renfield R. Renfield who had bugged the room made notes.

“That’s very interesting,” Renfield thought to himself.

He left the notes on the table in his Cairo hotel room and put in a call to his boss the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set letting him know the developments.

“What,” Set seethed, “that bastard Osiris! Why does everyone want to make deals with him and not me?”.

“The world has bad taste, boss,” Renfield replied as he flicked through the Cairo hotel TV guide and noticed the reality TV shows Survivor and also Big Brother Canada were available on the hotel’s TV programming.

“What the world needs is a statue of Set in the proposed ecumenical Interfaith Temple in Jerusalem,” Set started pulling his hair out with his razor sharp fingernails in a dramatic barber like scene that hadn’t been seen since the days Johnny Depp played Edward Scissorhands.

Meanwhile over in North Korea, Kim Jong-un was busy sobbing on to his teddy bear (that had the face of Anthony Hopkins as Dr. Hannibal Lecter on it), “That woman in my dream told me that if I painted an image of a scorpion attacking the testicles of a white bull on my ballistic missiles, they’d launch successfully.”

The beautiful Korean woman in the white gown (from his dream) appeared behind him in reality and kicked him in the ass and told him, “I also told you to write the Latin words IN HOC SIGNO VINCES above the image, you idiot.”

Renfield decided to stop off in Germany on his way home from Cairo.

He had received a message from his new found ally the Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing.

There was important business that Renfield had to attend to in Bavaria.

In a quiet Bavarian village, Herr Dummkopf Drecksack was a driving test administrator.

He was the motherfucking asshole of all driving test administrators.

He had just given a hard time to a personal friend of Dracul Van Helsing and Renfield R. Renfield.

Flunking her for making one mistake.

Renfield followed the pink velvet pants wearing Herr Dummkopf Drecksack as he walked down the street.

He followed him to a post office where the man picked up a dozen packages of viagra and a dozen packages of cialis.

He then put them in his brown coloured VW bug and drove home.

Inside his house, he lit a candle in front of the giant photo of Adolf Hitler above his black altar.

“Like Adolf, do you?” Renfield said behind him.

“What the?-” Herr Dummkopf Drecksack turned around.

That evening, Berlin’s national TV news channel reported, “The driving test administrator was found hanging from his rusty brown VW bug in the middle of the town square with his pants and underpants pulled down and a dozen packages of viagra hanging from his right arm and a dozen packages of cialis hanging from his left arm…”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday April 29th
2017.

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Napoleon’s 244th Birthday and The Ghosts of Antiochus Epiphanes and Alexander The Great

August 15, 2013 at 6:19 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Napoleon’s 244th  Birthday and The Ghosts of Antiochus Epiphanes and Alexander The Great

As ghosts continued to leave Hades by the thousands after Cerberus abandoned his post at the River Styx (the 3-headed dog was currently frolicking on a Mexican beach drinking Mexican Bulldogs which was a combination of Margarita and Corona beer and then complaining about the bill since all 3 heads were imbibing) , the ghost of Antiochus Epiphanes was walking the streets of Damascus and looking at all the carnage and said, “Well if people really want, I’ll gladly become King of Syria again.”

At the moment he spoke those words,  a small but powerful tremor shook the Temple Mount in Jerusalem.

                 .            .             .

At the CERN Large Hadron Collider in Switzerland, the ghosts of Alexander The Great, his generals and his soldiers had taken over the facility.

For Alexander being the great genius he was with his strategic frame of mind and tactical insight had realized that by taking over the CERN Large Hadron Collider, he could make himself the Master of Time and thus the Master of the Universe.

                  .            .            .

The ghost of Napoleon Bonaparte had taken over Magog Rhys Petley’s hotel room in Cairo much to the British Labour MP’s displeasure.

Magog had gone out to see what cheap souvenirs he could pick up at the neighbourhood bazaar.

Napoleon decided to mark his 244th birthday which was today by having a bunch of harem style dancing girls dancing for him in the hotel room.

He had also ordered a cake personally baked for him by world famous Toronto Ontario based cake maker Joanna Lo the Caking Girl (made in the shape of the City of Paris) .

He also had 244 candles placed on the cake by one of the dancing girls and then another dancing girl (with a low-cut top)  bent over to light them all.

Napoleon’s ghost then made a wish (which was to rule the world) and then tried to blow out all 244 candles.

But seeing as how Napoleon was now spirit, he could not blow out physical objects.

A huge fire broke out in the hotel room.

                      .          .           .

Authorities blamed the hotel fire on the Muslim Brotherhood and used that as an excuse for rounding up and arresting more members.

Magog consoled himself by licking the lovely yet slightly singed breasts of a beautiful woman who said her breasts were singed when she had to light 244 candles on a birthday cake.

To be continued.

– A vampire novel chapter
 written by Christopher
 Thursday August 15th
 2013.

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The Mummy, The Wolfman and The Serial Killer

August 8, 2013 at 6:14 pm (Commentary, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The Mummy, The Wolfman and The Serial Killer

The flight to Cairo was indeed a long one.

Pan Goatee explained to Magog Rhys Petley that this was his first time on a plane as he usually astral projected with his astral body to various destinations all over the world.

Magog buried his head in his hands and then ordered another buttermilk from the flight attendant.

However Pan Goatee continued to drone on coincidentally at the same time a U.S. drone flew by carrying a sign that said Yemen or bust.

Pan explained that he had gone down to the airport in person to see what trouble he could cause there.

“I’m a musician by profession but serial killing is my hobby,” Pan Goatee remarked as he played on his harmonica a short piece from the theme music to Alfred Hitchcock’s movie Psycho.

“What do you do? Bore your victims to death?” Magog wondered to himself.

“So anyways I was down at the airport trying to see what trouble I could cause,” Pan droned on as the U.S. drone exploded in a self-induced suicide bombing brought on by the motormouth satyr’s constant blabbering, “and I happened to see you. And I noticed you carried in your body the spirit of my friend Neb-Senu.”

This time Magog ordered a triple whisky when the flight attendant came around again.

Pan Goatee explained that the last time he had seen his extraterrestrial and ancient Egyptian friend was when Neb-Senu had become trapped in a test tube in a doctor’s office in the West Bank town of Bethlehem.

Magog did have to wince when Pan Goatee mentioned the name of the doctor.

It was the same doctor he had visited in Bethlehem to get a shot for a possible sexually transmitted disease after he had paid a nocturnal visit to the town prostitute a beautiful and alluring and mysterious redheaded woman who called herself Lilith- a woman whom the townspeople said was a vampiress.

So Pan explained that when he saw Magog at the British Airways boarding gate to Cairo with the spirit of Neb-Senu inside the portly Welsh baritone’s frame, he decided to use a credit card from his most recent victim (his victim being dead, he would be unable to phone in to cancel it) to purchase a ticket on the same flight as Magog.

“And that’s how I’m here beside you,” Pan grinned.

Magog finished his sixth triple whisky and then despite being an atheist, said a silent prayer of thanks to Allah when the plane’s Captain announced that they’d soon be landing in Cairo.

Mercifully for Magog as well, Pan Goatee was detained by Egyptian Customs for not having a visa and so the Welsh werewolf British Labour MP was able to hail a taxi to his hotel without the obnoxious and monotonously boring and boastful serial killer following him.

But that was yesterday.

Magog awoke to the sound of The Beatles singing “I believe in yesterday…” on the alarm clock radio next to him.

He got up and went over to the dressing room table mirror (a 19th Century antique that had once belonged to a magician).

As he looked at himself in the mirror, he thought he momentarily caught a glimpse of a ghostly spectral figure of an ancient Egyptian mummy inside his body.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday August 8th
2013.

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Magog Rhys Petley and Pan Goatee

August 7, 2013 at 7:10 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Magog Rhys Petley and Pan Goatee

As Magog Rhys Petley sat in his seat on the British Airways plane bound for Egypt, a man in Bermuda shorts sat next to him.

Magog noticed the man had goat’s legs and this wasn’t the feature item on the plane’s dinner menu.

Magog decided to make polite conversation,  “Has anyone ever told you that you have goat’s legs?”.

“That’s because I’m a satyr like in Ancient Greek mythology,” Pan Goatee helped himself to a martini from a passing flight attendant’s tray, “I’m half-man and half-goat.”

“Oh of course, naturally,”  Magog nodded.  He hadn’t recalled having had that much to drink in the airport lounge.

“The name’s Goatee,”  the satyr shook his martini,  “Pan Goatee.”

“Rhys Petley,” the British MP ordered a glass of buttermilk from the attractive brunette flight attendant, “Magog Rhys Petley.”

“Did you know that your body is inhabited by the spirit of a friend of mine?”  Pan Goatee asked,  “The spirit of Neb-Senu entity from planet Nibiru who sojourned in ancient Egypt eons ago and was the spirit behind the moving rotating statue in the Manchester Museum?”.  

Atheistic Marxist Magog Rhys Petley buried his head in his hands.

He started to wonder whether there wasn’t some spiritual force present in the Universe that was trying its hardest to get people to give up drinking?

When he had passed a neighbour’s apartment in the hallway recently where an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting was taking place, he had overheard the evening’s speaker say that he decided to give up drinking when he saw the 3-headed dog Cerberus walk by the window of the pub in which he was drinking.

A few nights later when he had backslidden (like a Pentecostal televangelist on his umpteenth visit to a whorehouse),  the same 3-headed dog Cerberus had appeared to him on the street and asked him for directions on how to get to the Palace of Westminster.

Magog Rhys Petley caught a glimpse of the shapely black silk nylon clad legs of the short skirted attractive brunette flight attendant as she walked past down the aisle.

Then he noticed the furry goat’s legs of the strange individual in the Bermuda shorts sitting next to him.

He sighed.

It was going to be a long trip to Cairo.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday August 7th
2013

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Magog In Egypt

July 6, 2013 at 7:27 pm (The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

British Labour MP (and Welsh werewolf)  Magog Rhys Petley’s peace mission to Syria last month was a total failure.

 

Syrian President Bashar Assad refused to meet him saying, “I don’t talk to werewolves.”

 

Leaders of the Syrian Opposition refused to meet him citing severe allergies to wolf hairs.

 

So Magog chose to holiday in Egypt just as anti-Morsi protests erupted in Cairo’s Tahrir Square.

 

Then when the Army ousted the Islamist President of Egypt Mohammed Morsi this past Wednesday, he had to endure militant pro-Morsi protests.

So he stopped drinking buttermilk (the only known antidote to his particular lycanthropy condition) because he discovered that when he turned into a werewolf, most people tended to get out of his way.

 

Now he was standing in front of the Sphinx pondering its riddle.

 

He took out a Caramilk bar and ate it.

 

In another 24 hours, he’d be visiting Bethlehem in the West Bank opening up a new maternity ward in a hospital there.

 

He had been invited to do so by a friend of his in the Palestinian Authority.

Magog dropped the Caramilk wrapper- coincidentally in the direction of Bethlehem.

 

The Welsh werewolf slouched over to pick it up.

 

An Irish tourist reading a book of William Butler Yeats’ poetry walked by.

 

To be continued.

 

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