Dr. Faustus Imhotep and The T-Rex ETs

May 1, 2021 at 10:09 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Politics, Science-Fiction, Sorcery, Technology, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , )

Dr. Faustus Imhotep the head of DARPA was playing a game of chess via computer with a Russian chess grandmaster.

His smart phone rang.

“Dr. Imhotep,” the voice at the other end said, “Last night a group of T-Rex ETs landed in an extraterrestrial craft and stole a bunch of strategic missiles from the Air Force base at Cheyenne, Wyoming.”

“Why are you telling me all this?” Dr. Imhotep pondered his next chess mood, “Shouldn’t you be telling all this to the President of the United States?”.

“Yes, but his aide told us that he’s fallen and he can’t get up,” the voice at the other end pointed out.

“What about informing Vice-President Kamala Harris?” Dr. Imhotep was anxious to make his next chess move, “Surely she can do something about it.

“But Vice-President Harris thinks that the strategic missiles are phallus shaped,” coughed the voice at the other end, “and thinks as such they’re sexist weapons. She wants nothing to do with them.”

“Well I guess Xi and Putin should have no trouble getting America to give up its nuclear missiles should Kamala Harris become President,” Dr. Faustus Imhotep reasoned aloud.

“We did try contacting heads of various government departments and government agencies as well as Senators and Congresspeople who sit on Defense and Intelligence Committees but all of them are attending parties of drunken debauchery or sex orgies this being a Saturday night and so are unavailable,” sighed the voice at the other end, “We knew the only one available on a Saturday night would be you playing chess with someone.”

Dr. Faustus Imhotep sighed.

This is what he got for being a chess playing nerd.

“All right,” Dr. Imhotep agreed, “I’ll send my best agent to look into the matter.”

He buzzed the intercom on his desk.

“Send in Jefferey,” Dr. Imhotep directed.

Minutes later an otter carrying a bottle of Otterbury Beer under one of his flippers entered Dr. Faustus Imhotep’s office.

. . .

French President Emmanuel Macron was strolling up and down the French Presidential Palace.

He was worried due to the fact that 10,000 French military forces members led by 40 officers had signed a petition expressing their concern that Macron’s policies were leading to the destruction of France.

Macron was wondering if a military coup d’etat might be carried out against him.

He looked out the window and noticed a Kraken carrying a machine gun had parachuted out of a French Air Force plane.

Macron gulped.

. . .

It was May 1956.

And Carson Cody Albion had been hired by a Hollywood producer to purchase a group of sketches.

Albion thought that possibly the sketches might be of the Hollywood producer in compromising sexual encounters.

He was to meet a Fraulein Immergrun in the parking lot of a beachside cocktail lounge to purchase the sketches.

Albion was to tell Fraulein Immergrun that he was the member of a government agency named Project Bluebook and then hand the envelope with cash inside (that the Hollywood producer had given to him) to the fraulein.

Albion wondered about the background of this Fraulein Immergrun.

He had found out that there had been a Nazi spy named Fraulein Immergrun.

There were rumours that she had poisoned Britain’s most famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes in the spring of 1939 causing his death.

After the war Fraulein Immergrun had seemingly vanished.

Although there were other rumours that she was the test subject for what was dubbed a Nazi immortality cocktail that was being experimented with in the spring of 1945.

Albion drove into the beachside cocktail lounge parking lot and approached the woman he thought was Fraulein Immergrun.

He handed her the envelope with cash inside.

She opened the envelope and counted the cash.

She then handed him the large manila envelope with sketches inside.

The envelope was to remain unopened.

Delivered intact to the Hollywood producer.

As Albion got back into his car, his curiosity got the best of him.

He opened the envelope.

He was expecting to see sketches of the Hollywood producer in compromising sexual positions.

Instead he saw sketches of a group of alien T-Rex ETs emerging out of a UFO flying saucer.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday May 1st
2021.

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Just Another Day In Paradise

April 11, 2021 at 10:21 pm (Detective story, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, News, Poetry, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

“I didn’t expect you to be back so soon,” the woman smiled at Carson Cody Albion Private Eye as she sat on the stairs leading up to his apartment.

The year was 1950.
“Do I know you?”
Albion inquired
After the woman greeted him on the stairs.

“Sadly, we’ve never met before,” the woman continued to smile at him.
“Are you a widow?” Albion asked her, “I notice you’re wearing a black dress and a black veil.”
“I am wearing what you say,” she continued to smile, “But I’m also wearing white flowers in my hair.”
“And wearing a smile,” Albion noted.
“That too,” the woman laughed.
“So you’re not a recent widow?” Albion asked.
“I am a recent widow,” the woman nodded, “but only in the stage play I’m acting in. I murdered my husband. I am a villainess… in the play.”

“Oh,” was Albion’s response as he rolled himself a cigarette.
“I walked direcly from the playhouse to here without stopping to change,” the woman explained.
“And who are you in real life?” Albion asked.
“My name is Sherrielock Holmes,” the woman answered.
“The name sounds familiar,” Albion lit his cigarette.
“Sherlock Holmes was my twin brother,” the woman lifted her veil and accepted a cigarette from Albion.
“But he’s dead and he’d be almost 100 if he was alive and…” Albion did not finish the sentence.
“I’m alive and I’m immortal,” the woman accepted a light.
“That explains everything,” Albion blew out the match.

“It does,” Sherrielock smiled.
“Do you wish to hire me?” Albion sat on a step below her.
“I do,” Sherrielock smiled.
“For what purpose?” Albion wanted to know.
“To investigate Richard M. Nixon,” Sherrielock answered.
“The presumed Republican Party candidate for U.S. Senator from California this year?” Albion took a bottle of bourbon from his coat pocket and took a sip.
“Yes,” Sherrielock nodded.
“Why?” Albion wanted to know.
“To see why Mei-ling Manchu is interested in him,” Sherrielock raised the hem of her skirt.
“Mei-ling Manchu?” Albion blew smoke rings.
“She’s a vampiress and a member of the CCP,” Sherrielock stated.
“CCP?” Albion was quizzical.
“Chinese Communist Party,” Sherrielock smiled, “Not Coca-Cola Playtime.”
“That’s good,” Albion raised his fedora, “Because I hear Nixon drinks Pepsi.”
“And here I was going to offer Tahiti Treat,” Sherrielock laughed.
“What’s Tahiti Treat?” Albion wasn’t familiar with that beverage.

“Well,” Sherrielock spoke breathlessly, “Why don’t we go up to your apartment and I’ll show you?”.
“Now there’s an offer I can’t refuse,” said Albion.

A young actor named Marlon Brando cast a glance up the stairwell.

Now there was a line he’d like to be able to use someday or a line like it.

-A Carson Cody Albion narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 11th
2021.

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Carson Cody Albion Encounters Greek Goddess Psyche In Shanghai

February 12, 2021 at 11:16 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


The Greek goddess Psyche in Shanghai

The year was 1947.

And Los Angeles Private Eye Carson Cody Albion was pursuing an arms smuggler to Shanghai.

Albion had been hired by Howard Hughes of all people.

Howard Hughes, one evening after drinking far too much, had taken to his room what one Hughes accomplice called “the ugliest looking woman that he had ever seen”.

The “ugliest looking woman” turned out to be FBI Director J. Edgar Hoover in drag.

The equally inebriated Mr./Ms. Hoover told Hughes that there was a Hollywood film mogul that was strongly suspected of Communist sympathies.

This film mogul had paid for arms to be shipped to Mao Tse-tung’s Communist forces in China.

And an arms dealer would soon be sailing to Shanghai China from the Port of Los Angeles carrying arms to be delivered to a Mao Tse-tung associate in Shanghai.

Hughes did not trust the FBI to capture the arms dealer and his arms.

He felt leery of an agency headed by a man who dressed in drag.

So he hired Carson Cody Albion to sail aboard the ship S.S. Call of The Orient and to be on the lookout for any suspicious people who might be arms dealers.

Albion recognized a Greek importer of Persian rugs on the ship Alexander Darius and wondered why he wasn’t on the U.S. East Coast sailing a ship to Greece or Iran.

Albion suspected that Darius was the arms dealer.

Upon arrival in Shanghai, he noticed Darius had large amounts of crates delivered to a warehouse in the city.

Albion entered the warehouse and opened one of the crates.

It was full of various guns.

He alerted Shanghai Police Authorities and the warehouse was raided and the arms were seized by forces loyal to the Nationalist Kuomintang Government of China under President Chiang Kai-shek.

That night Alexander Darius visited Albion’s hotel room and labelled his room full of bullets.

It was fortunate for Albion that he wasn’t in his hotel room that night.

However the noise of the bullets disturbed the occupants of the next room to Albion’s which were a powerful Shanghai courtesan and her client.

The noise of the bullets caused the courtesan’s client to ejaculate prematurely leaving an enormous stain on the courtesan’s expensive silk sheets.

Angered the courtesan left her room and carrying her own gun encountered Alexander Darius who now stood holding an empty gun after spraying bullets around Albion’s room.

She shot Alexander Darius dead.

He wouldn’t be importing any more Persian rugs to America or exporting any more U.S. arms to China.

Meanwhile Albion had gone to a bar called The Shanghai Scorpion.

While there, he happened to glance in the direction of the lounge’s statue of Kwan Yin the Buddhist goddess of mercy and noticed a woman standing in front of the statue.

Albion recognized the woman from his Encyclopedia of Greek Mythology.

She was the Greek goddess Psyche wife of Eros/Cupid the Greco-Roman god of love (who was the son of Aphrodite/Venus).

“Aren’t you the Greek goddess Psyche?” Albion approached her with his drink in hand.

“I am,” Psyche answered.

“What are you doing here in Shanghai?” Albion asked, “So far from Greece?”.

“It’s getting close to Valentine’s Day and I’m sick of my hubby Cupid going around shooting arrows into people’s hearts,” Psyche sighed, “So I came to Shanghai to escape all his Valentine’s Day madness.”

“Can I buy you a drink?” Albion asked.

“Why not?” Psyche agreed.

After The Shanghai Scorpion Lounge closed, Albion and Psyche went back to Psyche’s hotel room.

Thus saving Albion’s life.

Of course Albion had become immortal a few years ago so the bullets of Alexander Darius might not have had an effect.

But they were silver bullets.

So then again they might have.

Still Albion got to watch the Shanghai sunrise with the Greek goddess Psyche.

The same could not be said for Alexander Darius.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday February 12th
2021.

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South Seas Christmas

December 5, 2020 at 11:32 pm (Poetry) (, , , , , , )

It was December 1946
And the war in the Pacific
had been over for a year
So Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye
Who lived and worked in
Los Angeles
But usually spent his Decembers
In winter wonderlands
To recapture the Christmas feelings
of his childhood
Had this year
decided to spend his December
in the South Pacific

As he had always dreamed of someday
visiting the South Seas
And so why not spend a Christmas
in the South Seas?
And so he had taken a ship
And landed here on a beautiful
South Seas island

And so here he was
In the South Pacific
In December
On a South Seas island
Paradise

It was a moonlit night
He was on the beach
Under the shade of a palm tree
Since there was no sun
There was no need for him to be
In the shade of a palm tree
But no matter

Within his view
Was a nearby island
That was a dormant volcano
At least he hoped
It was a dormant volcano
Otherwise his South Seas
Christmas holiday
Might turn out to be
An even bigger blast
Than he had
originally expected

From his viewpoint and perspective
In the nightsky
To the left of the dormant island volcano
Were clouds that appeared to be reindeer
Pulling Santa and his sleigh
Full of presents

It was a bit early for Santa to be flying
Another 20 days
Until the midnight hour of Christmas Eve
But maybe he was getting an early start

Albion sipped his coconut milk
Straight from a coconut
And said,
Merry Christmas to all
And to all
A good night.

-A Carson Cody Albion poem
written by Christopher
Saturday December 5th
2020.

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A Date With Destiny

November 28, 2020 at 11:28 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Poetry, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

It was approaching Christmas 1940
Less than a month away
And Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye
And resident of
Los Angeles, California
decided to spend
Christmas
Like the Christmas of his childhood
Surrounded by crisp white snow on the ground
And glistening frost on the trees

As such he decided to spend Christmas
In the blue Canadian Rockies
On the banks of Lake Louise
Well it wasn’t exactly Lake Louise
But it was a beautiful townhouse chalet
In the beautiful mountain town of Banff
Not far from Lake Louise

He looked up at the clock
And watched the ticking of it
His mind seemed to be transported
forward in time
How far forward he did not know
But he was traveling with a father and a son
In a car
But a car far different from any he had seen

They were traveling across the high plains
of Washington State
Past Electric City
where the father remarked
Not quite the metropolis people hoped it would become
When it was built not far
From the Grand Coulee Dam
And the hydroelectric generating facility there
Past Lake Roosevelt
The lake created by the dam

What was this Electric City?
What was this Grand Coulee Dam?
Carson Cody Albion wondered.
A Lake Roosevelt?
In Washington state?

The father and son drove along the road
They had left what seemed to be desert country
And were now traveling through farmland
On a distant hill they could see what appeared
to be an abandoned one room schoolhouse
On top of the hill

On the side of the schoolhouse
Was faded ancient lettering
That read “Class of ’41”
I suppose, the son remarked,
That school was closed
shortly after the last class there
The Class of ’41 had graduated.
Little did that class of ’41
know the struggles they were about to face
And how the world they knew
Would change forever.

Albion thought to himself
Surely there were no one room schoolhouses
In Washington state (then a territory)
In 1841.
The class of ’41 they were talking about
Must surely be the class that graduated
In June 1941
Next year Albion reflected.

Albion’s mind returned to the present
His present
The last days of November 1940
He turned on the radio

The radio was delivering news bulletins
From the date May 10th 1940
Germany had just invaded
Belgium, France, Luxembourg
and the Netherlands
Neville “Peace in our time” Chamberlain
has just resigned as British Prime Minister
And Winston Churchill has just been summoned
to Buckingham Palace
There in the presence of King George VI
to be sworn in as Prime Minister
and to preside over a wartime UK
coalition government

After being sworn in,
Churchill later talks
to a BBC radio reporter,
“I feel all my life
I have been walking with destiny
And that all my life has
been but a trial and preparation
for this hour…”

The radio seemed to move forward
In time to a month later
June 18th 1940
When Churchill was giving a speech
In Parliament
Giving a summation of the impending Battle of Britain
“This was their finest hour…”

Albion then looked over towards the chair
By the window
And noticed a beautiful woman sitting there
Dressed in the most beautiful dress
And the finest shoulder length
Black leather gloves

Albion had no idea
How the woman got there
He had never even seen her enter the room
And believe me, Albion thought to himself,
She’s definitely one woman you would notice
enter a room.

“Who are you?” He asked her.

The woman smiled and answered, “I am Destiny”

Albion walked over to her
And embraced Destiny.

-A Carson Cody Albion
narrative poem
written by Christopher
Saturday November 28th
2020.

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Carson Cody Albion En Route To The Los Angeles Civic Grand Opera

October 7, 2020 at 11:00 pm (Arts, Entertainment, Film, Short Story) (, , , , , )

The year was 1948.

And Los Angeles Private Eye Carson Cody Albion had earned himself two tickets to the Los Angeles Civic Grand Opera.

The newly formed company would be mounting its first production – a performance of Verdi’s Rigoletto in a church hall in Beverly Hills.

The two tickets Albion had received were payment for a case in which Albion had tracked down a valuable stolen piece of furniture made by Hollywood furniture maker Francesco Pace.

Pace was the man who started the company and was its first director.

Albion accepted the tickets because he realized Pace was putting all his money into getting the opera company up and running.

It was fortunate for Pace that Albion was an opera lover.

Albion asked an up-and-coming young Hollywood actress Eva Roman if she would be his date for the evening.

Eva agreed.

They went for drinks before the opera at The Tropical Nights Lounge in Beverley Hills .

Actor Orson Welles came strolling through the door and strolled up to the couple.

“Carson, Eva,” Welles asked, “How are you doing?”.

“We’re off to see Verdi’s Rigoletto being performed by the new Los Angeles Civic Grand Opera Company,” Eva answered.

“Well,” Welles smiled, “Do beware of licentious Dukes of Mantua and hunch-backed court jesters when you’re attending the performance.”

“Will do,” Albion sipped his bourbon, “How about court jester’s daughters named Gilda?”.

Welles winced.

“I’m sorry, Orson,” Albion apologized, “I forgot Rita’s most popular performance was as Gilda.”

The Rita to whom Albion was referring was Rita Hayworth who was Orson’s ex-wife whom Welles had recently divorced.

Rita Hayworth had played Gilda in the 1946 film titled Gilda.

Gilda was also the name of the court jester’s daughter who gave up her life to save the Duke of Mantua (whom she loved) when she protected him from the assassin that her father Rigoletto had hired to kill him.

“It’s all right, Carson,” Welles took his usual glass of red wine from the Tropical Nights bartender, “I was an ass for spending more time in my thoughts and ideas for new movies than I was in giving my wife the attention she deserved. It was as my barber once said to me, genius can have its draw backs.”

Welles took his glass of wine and went and sat in a booth by himself.

“You know,” the bartender wiped the bar, “There but for the grace of God goes God.”

Albion did not smile or laugh.

It was a remark often said in Hollywood about Welles.

“The path of genius can be lonely at times,” Eva remarked.

“It can, indeed,” Albion looked over at Welles.

Albion looked at his watch as Eva put her stole over her shoulders.

The pair headed out to the performance of Rigoletto.

Welles continued to sit in the booth alone with his thoughts.

The bartender made a Shanghai Sling for a customer.

Welles watching could not help notice the irony of the drink being made.

“The slings and arrows of outrageous fortune,” Welles thought.

He finished his wine, left his money on the table and left.

He walked past a movie theatre showing a poster of the film he and his ex-wife Rita had made together before their divorce The Lady From Shanghai.

The theatre ticket cashier looked at Welles as he walked by.

She thought to herself what others had thought, “There but for the grace of God goes God.”

-A short story written by Christopher
Wednesday October 7th 2020.

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Marianne de Lilith

June 13, 2020 at 10:18 pm (Culture, Detective story, Fantasy, Gothic romance, Literature, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )


Marianne de Lililth

Carson Cody Albion sat in his private eye office
From his window, he could get a good view of parts of the city burning
The private eye felt hungry so he ordered a pizza to be delivered to his office

Unbeknownst to Albion, the courier got his orders mixed-up
A pizza that was to be delivered to the leader of a rival gang
A gang in opposition to the gang that owned the pizza shop
Was delivered to Albion instead

The pizza contained several doses of toad venom
Luckily for Albion the pizza cook got his recipe books mixed up
He did not sprinkle enough toad venom on the mozzarella to deliver death
Only enough to give the eater a high

Although Albion might not have died anyways
He was immortal
Having drunk breast milk from the lovely knockers of
the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis back on VE-Day
May 8th 1945

Albion ate the pizza
and drank his bourbon
And soon he was off on a hallucinogenic trip
That would have made Samuel Taylor Coleridge green with envy
For there was no storytelling sailor with an albatross around his neck
Nor a Kubla Khan in Xanadu stately decreeing a pleasure dome

Rather this sight greeted his senses

Marianne de Lilith

I am Marianne de Lilith
said the sexy redheaded witch

Well, Marianne, said Albion,
I love the way you’re holding that broomstick.

Bats flew in the light of the full moon
Behind the dead desolate tree.

“This is but a vision of the mind,” Albion reflected
“As I don’t think the Farmer’s Almanac called for a full moon this evening.”

“The tree behind me died as a result of being watered with toad venom,”
Marianne explained.
“That is a shame,” Albion reflected as he threw his cigarette lighter at Marianne’s feet.
Albion crawled over to pick it up.

“I’m reminded of fishing season for some reason,” Albion remarked as he gazed up her stockings and her skirt.
A spiked stiletto high-heeled shoe crushed his hand.

“This never happened to John Candy when he made a splash with his loose change aboard that boat,” Albion grimaced with pain.

Albion soon found himself in Marianne’s shack.
He started whistling that song “What A Lovely Bunch of Coconuts”
as he gazed at the pair of knockers that weren’t hanging on Marianne’s door.

“I take it you still like being breast fed?” Marianne asked the private eye.
“I do,” Albion nodded, “I’m like Jerry Seinfeld in that respect.”

So Marianne breast fed him.
Breasts that were loaded with toad’s venom and not milk.
Albion went into cardiac arrest and was rushed to an LA hospital.

“Beware the breasts of Marianne de Lilth!” Calpurnia’s ghost warned as she strolled the corridors of the hospital emergency ward.
Her warning came a little too late for Carson Cody Albion private eye.

-A poem and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday June 13th
2020.

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Albion’s Reflections On A Rainy Night

June 19, 2019 at 10:22 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Poetry) (, , , )

Albion’s Reflections On A Rainy Night

There was always something comforting about the sound of rain on the roof
Carson Cody Albion Private Eye couldn’t quite explain it
Maybe because it rarely rained in Southern California 
The heat of the day 
Would compete with the heat of the night 
to see who would produce 
the sweating heavyweight champion of the world

Rain allowed a cool down 
The sky’s method of baptism
On the sinning and criminality that occurred below

Albion was getting tired of all the greed and the lust and the shenanigans 
That he saw daily but more often nightly at his job

The rain kept everyone indoors 
No exchange of larceny or bodies or souls was going on in the streets outside
Just the pitter patter of gentle droplets on the roof 
Albion looked over at his dresser 
And noticed his bottle of bourbon remained untouched and unopened 

Something that was never the case on a hot and humid Los Angeles night
His head felt clear and free of headache
So this was what his room sounded like when the fan wasn’t running full blast 
One could actually hear oneself thinking 
And the rain drops on the roof were like a soothing melody

Albion reached for a stick of licorice 
rather than his usual cigarette 
Strange about the rain, Albion reflected,
It was like a return to innocence 
Maybe that’s what God was hoping with the flood in Noah’s time 

But once the sizzling heat returned
It was like eating the forbidden fruit in Eden
One had knowledge of both good and evil 
And more often than not, evil.

The private eye decided to go out 
And taste the gentle rain on his tongue
And feel the gentle rain on his skin

Albion for some reason 
(He supposed it was the influence of Philip Marlowe movies on the silver screen)
always wore a raincoat when he went out
Like advertising a trademark for Private Eye

But on a night when he should be wearing that coat for the purpose for which it was created
He did not put it on 
He went outside in a sleeveless shirt 
And let the rain wash off any dirt 
that was usually accumulated 
and came with living in Los Angeles

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday June 19th
2019.

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Isabel Esmeronde: Cuban Singer Extraordinaire

March 27, 2019 at 10:17 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, love, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )


Isabel Esmeronde: Cuban singer extraordinaire

The year was 1956.

And U.S. Vice-President Richard M. Nixon sat in the LA private eye office of Carson Cody Albion.

Carson Cody Albion was an immortal Private Eye.

Quite literally immortal.

He had been turned immortal by the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis back on May 8th 1945 when her breasts started lactating over the news that Nazi Germany had unconditionally surrendered over in Europe.

Albion, who was going through severe bourbon withdrawal at the time, immediately started drinking the milk and became immortal.


Atargatis: Prior to hearing the news of Germany’s surrender on May 8th 1945.

“I’ve been told you’re the height of discretion, Mr. Albion,” Nixon said.

“That I am,” Albion turned off his tape recorder, “Normally I like to record my clients’ conversations but in your case, I’ll make an exception.”

“Those tape recorders are kind of handy things, aren’t they?” Nixon looked at the machine, “I might have to start using them someday.”

“What can I do for you, Mr. Vice-President?” Albion asked.

“Well, as you know I saved my political ass four years ago by the fact I owned a dog named Checkers and my wife Pat owned a good Republican cloth coat and not a mink coat,” Nixon said.

“I recall that,” Albion nodded.

“Anyways that damned fool Nelson Rockefeller went and bought my wife Pat a mink coat last Christmas,” Nixon frowned.

“Why did he do that?” Albion looked perplexed.

“I’ve been told that it was vengeance for my leaving his hotel room door open for his wife Mary at the 1952 Republican convention,” Nixon now looked perplexed, “She apparently walked into the bedroom while some British woman named Sherrielock Holmes was showing Nelson how to make tomatoed buns. I thought Mary would be happy about someone showing her husband how to cook but apparently she wasn’t.”

“So Rocky bought Pat a mink coat as vengeance?” Albion ate some jelly beans.

“That’s right,” Nixon said, “And now it’s been stolen. By the Mafia. And they’re offering it for sale to the highest bidder down at a casino in Havana. That bastard Joe Kennedy Sr., the father of Sen. Jack Kennedy, is going to try to buy it in a move designed to embarrass me. He’ll present it to the press as evidence that “Pat doesn’t have cloth to mink around anymore.” The swine.”

“So what would you like me to do?” Albion asked.

“It will be offered both at the cards table and then the roulette table prior to auction,” Nixon scratched his nose, “I want you to try to win it for me ahead of time.”

. . .

Fidel Castro sat in the lobby of the Spanish Crown casino.

He pointed out the decor and the clientele to his friend Ernesto Che Guevara.

Said Castro bitterly, “This is what Batista wants to turn all of Cuba into. A playground for America’s wealthy.”

. . .

“Who is the best poker player in all of Cuba?” Albion asked the British Ambassador to Havana.

“And what do you want with the best poker player in all of Cuba?” Sir Justin Burstpipes asked.

“I need him to win a mink coat for me,” Albion replied.

“You always come up with the most interesting answers to my questions, Albion,” Sir Justin sipped his gin, “We could use you at the Foreign Office in London. Your answers could shake the dust off the cobwebs there. But in answer to your question, the best poker player in Cuba is a her not a him.”

“And who is she?” Albion asked.

“Right over there,” Sir Justin Burstpipes pointed in her direction, “Isabel Esmeronde, Cuban singer extraordinaire.”

. . .

Isabel Esmeronde won Pat Nixon’s mink coat at the poker table.

Carson Cody Albion lived up to the British Ambassador’s last name as soon as he saw her as did the British Ambassador himself.

After Isabel left the cards table, Albion said to her, “Can I buy you a drink?”.

Isabel smiled and shook her head no, “I have an appointment with a time traveling Canadian vampire hunter later tonight.”

And with that statement, she bowed and left.

“Well with her answers and her assets, she’d definitely shake up the Foreign Office in London for the better,” Sir Justin Burstpipes remarked as he gazed at her entrance into the casino lounge.

Later in the lounge that night, Isabel Esmeronde sang, “Some enchanted evening, you may see a stranger…”

Dracul Van Helsing time traveler from the future watched her sing.

He loved enchanted evenings.


Isabel Esmeronde: Some enchanted evening

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 27th
2019.

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