A Banyan Tree Grows On The Moon

March 29, 2020 at 11:10 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, love, Mythology, News, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

A Banyan Tree Grows On The Moon

Walking the streets of Honolulu in 1946
Was Los Angeles private eye Carson Cody Albion 
He was on vacation 
After having solved the mysterious case of the Blue Velvet Dandelion
back in LA 

He walked through some of the crafts shops in the city 
He noticed one belonging to a man who made ships in a bottle
Carson entered the store and looked around
He noticed one ship in a bottle that attracted his attention

“What ship is this?” Albion asked the craftsman
“The Santa Maria,” the craftsman replied 
“The Santa Maria?” Carson looked at the ship in the bottle, “That was Christopher Columbus’ flagship in 1492 on his journey to the New World wasn’t it?”
“That’s right,” the craftsman nodded.
“I’ll take it,” Albion paid the craftsman 

He walked out of the store and on to the avenue
An elderly Hawaiian woman was at a stand selling coconuts 
The private eye looked at the coconuts but wasn’t hungry at the moment 
So he didn’t buy.

“A Banyan tree grows on the moon,” the coconut woman shouted after him.
“What?” Albion walked back to her.
“A Banyan tree grows on the moon,” she repeated.
“Oh, okay,” Albion figured that the woman had been adding too much rum to her coconut milk 
and decided to continue walking 

“What are you planning to do with that ship in a bottle that’s in your shopping bag?” The woman asked him.
Albion wondered how she knew there was a ship in a bottle in his shopping bag
However he answered, “I don’t know”.

“Here’s a small piece of Kapa cloth,” the woman handed him just that,
“Take this pen and write on it what I have told you, “A Banyan tree grows on the moon”. Then put the Kapa cloth with the message in the bottle alongside the ship and throw it in the ocean where the waves will carry it where it may.”

It was a strange request but Albion felt compelled to comply
That night as the Hawaiian moon shone bright on the shore and sands, he threw the bottle with the ship, Kapa cloth and message into the ocean.

It was a late March night in 2020
The streets of London were deserted because of the countrywide lockdown over the Coronavirus 
but Dracul Van Helsing had a paper signed by Boris Johnson
granting him permission to walk the streets
To rid the city of any evil nocturnal creatures 

As Dracul walked along the banks of the Thames
He noticed a small bottle floating close to the shore
The vampire hunter picked it up
It appeared to be very old 
And it almost had the appearance of having travelled all over the world 
How did it wind up here on the Thames? he wondered.

He looked inside the bottle 
He recognized the ship as being the Santa Maria
He pulled out the small piece of Kapa cloth and noticed the message on it

“A Banyan tree grows on the moon,” Dracul read aloud.

He went back to his London apartment 
Carrying the ship in the bottle and its message with him
He went inside the room he used as an office 
And saw this vision

“Who are you?” Dracul asked.

“I am Mahina the Hawaiian and Polynesian goddess of the moon”

The woman answered.

-A narrative poem 
and vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Sunday March 29th
2020.

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Yaldabaoth and Morrigan

February 10, 2020 at 11:45 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Yaldabaoth and Morrigan

Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun looked exceedingly pleased with himself as he was nestled in the arms of Morrigan the Irish Celtic goddess of war.

The year was 1955.

The place Monte Carlo.

And Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun had been cleaning up at the roulette tables.

House management had become concerned.

Unfortunately their regular house detective had been killed in a shoot out last month involving the American CIA, the Soviet KGB, the IRA (Irish Republican Army), the California Harper Valley PTA (Parent-Teachers’ Association) and the American IRS (Internal Revenue Service).

The IRS must have emerged the winner.

Because the IRS operative put a hand in the house detective’s pocket, pulled out a stone and squeezed blood out of the stone into a jar (that had a piece of paper written on the jar’s outside saying For Uncle Sam).

After an hour the stone no longer cosmologically or ontologically existed and the large jar was filled to the top with blood.

The house detective was buried in a grotto honouring the goddess Fortuna.

Los Angeles Private Eye Carson Cody Albion was hired by the casino to serve as house detective until a replacement for the deceased fellow could be found.

So far no one was willing to take the job.

Because Jocasta a parent representative on the California Harper Valley PTA (who was quite overly protective of her son) was one nasty target shooting markswoman.

Fortunately for Carson Cody Albion, he had been turned into an immortal by Atargatis the Syro-Phoenician goddess back in the early 1940s.

So Jocasta’s bullets didn’t amount to much.

Although after missing Albion, they did strike and kill a Ph.D student in Psychology who was doing his doctoral dissertation on the theories of Sigmund Freud and his analysis of the connection between the male libido and psyche.

When Albion opened the hotel room door, he saw Yaldabaoth in the arms of Morrigan.

“Other guests in the hotel have been complaining about the sound of spanking coming from this room,”
Albion said.

“That is strange,” Yaldabaoth admitted.

“May I inquire, sir, as to why both your pants and underpants are on the floor and your bottom seems to be glowing like the fireflies of a warm August night?” Albion asked.

“I must confess I’m at a loss for words,” Yaldabaoth answered.

Morrigan reached over to the dresser, pulled a dictionary off it and handed it to the leprechaun.

“Even more than the sound of spanking,” Albion cleared his throat, “management is concerned about your constant winning at the roulette wheel.”

“It is the luck of the Irish, it is,” Yaldabaoth grinned.

“Our detectors detected a magnet coming from your direction,” Albion stated.

“Ah, for sure ’tis my magnetic personality,” the leprechaun smiled, “overflowing like the River Shannon after a week of spring rains.”

“What about this magnet on your belt?” The detective picked up the leprechaun’s pants.

“As Saint Patrick is my witness, I don’t know how that got there,” the leprechaun protested.

“But Saint Patrick isn’t here to be your witness,” Morrigan pointed out.

“Shibboleth, I don’t know what to say,” Yaldabaoth shook his head.

“You might start by improving the pronunciation of your conversational ancient Hebrew,” Albion noted.

The detective had recently taken a course in conversational ancient Hebrew.

“I know how to punish Yaldabaoth for his offences,” Morrigan once again took the leprechaun over her knee.

“I’ll show myself out,” Albion remarked as he went over to the door, opened it and exited.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Sunday January 19th
2020
Finally posted on 
Monday February 10th
2020.
The Morrigan-Yaldabaoth the
Irish leprechaun story for Anonymole.

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Carson Cody Albion and The Zombies of 1950s Havana

January 26, 2020 at 11:59 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Carson Cody Albion and The Zombies of 1950s Havana

The year was 1956.

Fidel Castro and Ernesto Che Guevara were busy working on their plans to topple the Cuban government of President Fulgencio Batista.

Britain, France and Israel would attack Egypt over the Suez Canal.

And John George Diefenbaker would win the leadership of the Canadian Federal Progressive Conservative Party.

The last good leader the Federal Progressive Conservatives would ever have.

And the last good Prime Minister Canada would ever have.

So naturally he was a threat to the Canadian establishment and elites as well as the U.S. State Department.

The State Department got global bankers and investors to sabotage the value of the Canadian dollar during the 1963 Canadian election campaign so Diefenbaker would be blamed for it and lose the election.

Which is what happened.

Canadian Federal Liberal Party leader Lester Bowles (should really have been spelled Bowels) Pearson became Prime Minister of Canada in 1963 and eventually paved the way for Marxist-Leninist Cultural Marxist Pierre Elliot Trudeau (should really be spelled Turdeau) to become Prime Minister in 1968 and to set forth plans for the destruction of Canada as a great nation.

The destruction became complete when Progressive Conservative Party leader Brian Mulroney (should really be spelled Bulroney) was elected Prime Minister of Canada in 1984.

Bulroney was so obnoxious, he drove the Federal Progressive Conservative Party of Canada to extinction to be replaced by the Reform Party later Canadian Alliance Party and later just plain Conservative Party of Canada.

So Diefenbaker was Canada’s last great hope before the onset of political zombies (mindless living dead corpses who went around eating brains) on to the Canadian political landscape which governed the country ever since.

And speaking of zombies, Cuban casinos were having a problem with zombies in that year of 1956.

Zombies were entering the casinos and frightening customers.

As well as stealing cash from the casino safes and safety deposit boxes.

A meeting of Cuban casino owners was held in the Glowing Sun and Burning Sands Whorehouse in Havana to discuss the problem.

A follow up meeting was held in the city’s Sexually Transmitted Diseases Clinic waiting room.

It was agreed to call in Los Angeles Private Eye Carson Cody Albion to investigate the problem.

Albion was recommended to the Havana Casino Owners group by a Monte Carlo casino owner (who had employed Albion as a house detective in a Monte Carlo casino and hotel the year before).

Albion arrived in Havana the following week.

After spending an evening drinking Cuba Libres in a Havana bar with a couple of interesting fellows named Fidel and Che, Carson Cody Albion set to work on the case.

Meanwhile in an Anglican Church in Havana that served British and Commonwealth diplomatic staff at the city’s embassies, an intensely stupid looking man with fish eyes and weird looking silver hair (that would have easily given Donald Trump’s urine golden coloured toupee a run for its money) sat playing the organ.

The man’s name was Keith Bennett.

Although that wasn’t the man’s real name.

His real name was Armilius Wolfstein a Nazi scientist (but not a very bright Nazi scientist unlike many of the evil geniuses of the Third Reich) who served as a somewhat dim witted assistant to the evil and notorious Dr. Josef Mengele.

Armilius Wolfstein fled to Argentina when the Second World War ended.

Wolfstein had had an interesting history.

He lived in Munich in the 1920s where he had tried unsuccessfully to apply to various universities and post-secondary institutions in the city.

He landed a job as a commercial and advertising salesman for a newspaper and magazine publishing firm in the city.

He had a friend Kitz Mjolnir (like the hammer of Thor) who lived in Munich.

When Kitz’s father died and the Mjolnir family estate was sold, Kitz had taken a small preliminary payout from the Estate to move to Berlin where he hoped to get into that city’s burgeoning film industry.

Armilius Wolfstein had told Kitz that if he ever needed help or decided to move back to Munich to get in touch with him and he’d move an arm and a leg to help him out.

While Kitz was in Berlin, his father’s Estate lawyer in Munich, either due to being a crook or due to gross incompetence, had absconded with most of the Estate funds.

Kitz was now left with nothing.

Unable to pursue his chance of a film career in Berlin and unable to land a job, Kitz returned to Bavaria.

But to the city of Regensburg.

Having trouble settling down in Regensburg, Kitz decided to move back to Munich but would need help finding a place.

He recalled Armilius Wolfstein’s offer to help so wrote him a letter.

Being the pompous asshole that Armilius Wolfstein was, Wolfstein had replied to Kitz with an arrogant and condescending letter.

Kitz thought of writing a letter in which he’d tell Wolfstein that he (Wolfstein) was so full of shit that if they gave him an enema before he died, they could bury him in a cigar box.

But he decided not to waste time in replying to such a venereal disease infested piece of rubbish.

So having stabbed a friend in the back, Wolfstein went on to join the German National Socialist Workers’ Party (the Nazis).

. . .

When the Nazis succeeded in taking power in Germany in 1933, Wolfstein like numerous misfits across the country was able to land a job by acting as a total brown shirted brown noser to the Nazi Party and moved into a position of importance, power and prestige.

He became a lab assistant to Dr. Josef Mengele although he bragged to friends and acquaintances that he was a scientist.

He assisted Mengele in performing the various inhumane experiments that the Nazis’ Dr. Death performed on individuals belonging to groups that the Third Reich had deemed and labelled as subhuman.

During those experiments, Wolfstein had occasionally run into an individual known as Franz Kohler of the Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau.

When the war ended in 1945, Armilius Wolfstein had fled to Argentina.

There he changed his name to Keith Bennett and claimed to be an English expatriate living in Argentina.

Bennett had taken up the study of music and became an organist (although in fact he played the instrument very badly).

Whilst living in Buenos Aires, he came across a Spanish language edition of The Necronomicon (mentioned in Lovecraftian lore) and getting help with the translation from a professional Argentinian wrestler, Bennett started using dark arts sorcery to raise the dead.

It was while he was doing this, that Keith Bennett (the former Armilius Wolfstein) once again encountered Franz Kohler of the Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau.

Kohler then took Bennett (as he now called himself) to Haiti to study under Haitian voodoo practitioners in raising the dead.

Bennett posed as an Anglican lay missionary while in Haiti.

No one thought of asking what an Anglican lay missionary was doing in learning voodoo, raiding cemeteries and cultivating plantations of zombies.

Although Bennett in the 1950s was doing what the later Anglican Communion of the 1960s would be doing when such notables as U.S. Episcopalian Bishop James Pike would be busy consulting spiritist mediums such as Arthur Ford on television.

Pike would go on to die a horrible and mysterious death in a desert in Israel for his efforts.

But that would not be the fate of Keith Bennett, Anglican lay missionary.

Having mastered the art of zombie raising, Bennett was then taken by Franz Kohler to Havana, Cuba.

There Bennett would start raising Cubans from the dead.

Kohler was hoping to raise an army of Cuban zombies to attack Florida and establish a Nazi Fourth Reich beachhead on the United States of America.

But like the best laid plans of mice and men, the best laid plans of Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau officers often go astray as well.

Two men named Fidel and Ernesto were planning a Communist revolution in Cuba.

So what would Cuba end up being?

A Communist state?

Or the Caribbean launching grounds for a Neo-Nazi Fourth Reich?

In fact it would be neither Franz Kohler and the asinine Keith Bennett nor Fidel Castro and Ernesto Che Guevara who would throw the deciding and winning pair of dice in which way the winds of change on the Caribbean island of Cuba would blow.

That would be decided by Carson Cody Albion Private Eye.

. . .

Albion was lying in bed after spending the last several hours making out with Dolly Castro (a cousin of Fidel and Raoul).

There was a pounding at the door.

It was the hotel and casino manager.

“Zombies,” shouted the hotel manager, “zombies have crashed the hotel’s dirty dancing competition and one of them has carried away the U.S. Ambassador’s niece.”

“Wow, someone certainly hasn’t been having the time of their life,” Albion opened the door.

“You’ve got to come quickly,” the manager said.

“That’s the opposite of what Dolly has been telling me all evening,” Albion remarked.

“The U.S. Ambassador’s niece is in danger,” the manager cried.

“I guess you don’t want the U.S. Ambassador’s niece dirty dancing with a zombie,” Albion followed the manager down the hallway.

. . .

The zombie was dragging the Ambassador’s niece into the house owned by Keith Bennett Anglican lay missionary and badly playing organist.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” the Ambassador’s niece cried.

The zombie (whose name had been Patrick in his mortal life) was busy swaying or swayzing in the Caribbean breeze on this moonlit Havana night.

Within seconds, salt pellets being fired by a machine gun sprayed the zombie killing him instantly.

For of course blessed salt kills zombies.

Albion picked up the U.S. Ambassador’s niece and carried her to his red convertible.

Screams could be heard from inside the house.

Just as Keith Bennett was playing The Old Master Painter on his organ.

Albion returned to the house with his machine gun containing 400 rounds of salt pellets, kicked in the door and began firing.

Franz Kohler’s army of zombies began dropping like flies.

Bennett reached for his own revolver to shoot at Albion.

The former Nazi pseudo-scientist turned Anglican lay minister and incompetent organist had his head blown off by Che Guevara’s machine gun as the young revolutionary came charging through the backdoor.

“Brains, brains,” a dying zombie tried to lick up what was oozing out of Bennett’s gaping head wound.

“No brains,” were the zombie’s last words before he died.

“Nice shooting,” said Albion.

“Thanks,” Che smiled, “I always have this recurring nightmare about being killed in a shoot out in the mountains of Bolivia.”

“You don’t want that to happen,” Albion noted.

“So, where are you going now?” Guevara asked.

“Out to my convertible to entertain Uncle Sam’s niece,” Albion answered.

“Really?” Guevara had a twinkle in his eye, “Do you know what Chairman Mao Tse-tung’s favourite quotation is?”.

“Can’t say that I do,” Albion admitted, “I’ve never read his Little Red Book.

“His favourite quotation,” Che winked, “is screw the U.S. Imperialists.”

“An excellent idea,” Albion smiled and walked out towards his car on this warm Havana night.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Wednesday January 22nd
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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Harvey Tallbanger Knocks Out Zeus With A Lightning Bolt

June 9, 2019 at 9:54 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Romance, Spy Tales, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Harvey Tallbanger Knocks Out Zeus With A Lightning Bolt

The gypsy Esmeralda had just finished a dance and was sitting in a corner of Quasimodo’s Cafe in Paris.

Suddenly she was approached by the Greek god Zeus.

“Howdy,” said Zeus who had been sitting up at the bar and shooting the breeze with a Texas oilman, “How would you like to see my Olympian sized Greek sausage?”.

The deity started to raise his Greek toga.

“Be a gentleman,” said the 6 foot 8 tall invisible Welsh pooka bunny rabbit secret agent Harvey Tallbanger who hit Zeus over the head with one of his own lightning bolts that he had left behind in an Adidas bag full of lightning bolts next to his stool.

As Zeus hit the floor, he moaned, “That’s the first time in history I’ve been hit by one of my own lightning bolts. And by a bunny rabbit at that.”

“By a very tall bunny rabbit though,” Esmeralda said as she sipped a Harvey Wallbanger allowing her to see the usually invisible (to mortals) bunny rabbit.

“I’ll be the laughing stock of the Vegreville summit,” Zeus sighed, “Vegreville being to the gods and goddesses of the world’s nations – the Greeks, the Norse, the Egyptian, the Celtic, the Phoenician, Babylonian etc. what the Davos summit is to mortal men and women.”

“You gods and goddesses meet yearly in the city of Vegreville, Alberta, Canada?” Harvey Tallbanger was shocked, “In the name of God, why?”.

“I hear Vegreville has the world’s tallest Easter egg,” Esmeralda pointed out.

“Well it wasn’t me who laid it,” Harvey the rabbit said in his own defense.

“It may have been me,” Zeus remarked before succumbing to unconsciousness as a result of being hit by one of his own lightning bolts.

. . .


The Greek goddess Hera

“I have the feeling my husband Zeus is once again up to no good,” the Greek goddess Hera remarked to private eye Carson Cody Albion.

Years before, Hera had hired Albion to spy on her horny husband and now she was doing so again.

“What makes you think so?” Albion lit himself a cigarette.

“Well,” Hera got up from her chair, turned around and looked at Albion:

“We were at the 75th Anniversary celebrations of D-Day on Juno Beach last Thursday,” Hera explained and smoothed the top of the chair, “Juno Beach was named after me, you understand? Or at least the Roman side of my persona. Donald Trump had just signed his name at the top of the 75th Anniversary D-Day proclamation whereas every other world leader present had signed their name at the bottom when Zeus told me, he had to get back to Paris for some reason and he wasn’t talking about the long dead Trojan who had slain Achilles with an arrow to the foot.”

“You suspect he’s got something going on in Paris?” Albion closed his notebook and put it in his pocket.

“I do,” said the goddess as she fanned herself.

Albion marvelled at how in the past 2 minutes, Hera was able to make clothing changes even faster than Japanese pop music superstar Moritaka Chisato.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday June 9th
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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The Debutante’s Ball 1941: A Poem

March 18, 2019 at 10:30 pm (Comedy, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


Marissa Van Horne, Debutante

“You’re here to escort me to the ball, Mr. Albion?”
The laughing smiling face of the beautiful young woman
looked at me with merriment and amusement in her sparkling eyes
which glimmered like stars above her sunshine golden gown,
“A famed Los Angeles private eye reduced to a chaperone?”

I, Carson Cody Albion, stopped in my tracks
when I heard this statement
I was a private eye
But I had never thought of myself as famed.

“Don’t be so modest,” Marissa remarked with a wry smile as if she could read my mind, “of course you are!”
“The ball starts at 8 PM?” I queried looking at my watch.
“Yes, but drinks are served starting at 7,” she laughed.
“I don’t think your parents hired me to watch you get inebriated before the ball,” I said as I held open the arms of her fur coat
so she could finish her fashion ensemble for the evening.

Only the LA glitterati rich would wear fur coats
on a hot Los Angeles evening
But as the hired help, what did I know?

“No,” she slid her arms through the coat, “my parents hired you to keep me away from Lev Tomi.”

That was true.
They had.
Titus Van Horne was an influential newspaper editor in the city.
He seemed to know everything about everyone in the state of California
A West Coast J. Edgar Hoover as it were
Minus that DC bureaucrat’s penchant for wearing women’s clothing in private
Which was a good thing for the Van Horne family fortune
For the Paris dresses and gowns that Mrs. Van Horne and daughter Marissa wore
were already keeping the Bank of Monte Carlo afloat
to say nothing of Hitler’s Reich
while the Vichy government were reduced to making money off mineral water
A third Van Horne (and a male one at that) adorning the best of Parisienne feminine apparel
would definitely have put the Van Horne family fortune in the red
like Alger Hiss in the U.S. State Department

Van Horne knew all about Orson Welles’ private life
He had to
For the Boy Wonder of New York radio and theatre
was making a movie based on the life of Van Horne’s boss

But Van Horne knew nothing whatsoever about Lev Tomi
This older man that young Marissa had started seeing at the start of this year
Marissa just claimed that she was taking Russian language lessons from him
Nothing like a LA society girl with a hankering to visit the Soviet Union and see Josef Stalin’s paradise for herself
The movie The Grapes of Wrath had recently been shown in Moscow
Uncle Joe had hoped that this would cause outrage among Moscow’s workers
when they saw how the poor in America were treated
It caused outrage all right
but not in the way that Uncle Joe had hoped
Moscow workers had become outraged that the poor in America actually owned their own trucks
Viewings of the movie soon became obsolete in the USSR
Joining the obsolescence of most personally owned motor vehicles among the common people there

When Marissa came home and told her parents
that she had asked Lev Tomi to be her date
to the LA society’s debutante ball
Titus Van Horne finally put his foot down
causing him to be rushed to LA General Hospital
to get his now even deeper ingrown toe nail surgically removed

After a week of recuperation, Titus Van Horne and his wife Olivia came to see me
And asked me to be Marissa’s escort to the debutante’s ball
Since I had nothing pressing on me at the moment
Save some old white shirts that needed to be steampressed at the neighbourhood’s Chinese laundry
I took the case.


Olivia and Titus Van Horne asked Carson Cody Albion Private Eye to be their daughter Marissa’s escort to the LA society elite debutante’s ball

As I got into the back of the limousine with Marissa
I instructed the chauffeur to drive us to Ming Lo’s Blue Lantern Restaurant
I figured imbibing Marissa with a light Chinese dinner at 7
would far be safer than imbibing her with drinks prior to the ball

I turned out to be wrong on that
It must have been the spicy chop suey
that was the Blue Lantern special
It turned Marissa into a tigress in heat
And I was explorer Frank Buck
Bringing her back alive

It was now 11 PM
I had failed to present Miss Van Horne to the debutante’s ball by some 3 hours
Her beautiful gold dress lying on the seat of the booth along with her nylons and spiked stilettos
And all my clothes lying on the floor underneath the table
Implied a very unusual Russian language lesson was going on
when coincidentally Mr. and Mrs. Van Horne entered the restaurant right at 11 PM

I felt no inclination to open my fortune cookie which the waiter just brought
If it was accurate, I knew well what it would say
You can send me my cheque in the mail for my services
I hastily said to Mr. Van Horne before heading out into the night
like a stallion galloping out into the Santa Ana winds

I had no idea who this Lev Tomi fellow was
But I think I may have just saved his life
Too bad, I can’t say the same for my own.

-Carson Cody Albion Private Eye

-A Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 18th
2018

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Nice Work On The Trinity Case, Mr. Albion: A Poem

February 22, 2019 at 11:57 pm (Crime, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Film, Movies, Mystery, Poetry) (, , , )


“Nice work on the Trinity case, Mr. Albion.”

They came to Hollywood by the dozens
In search of fame and fortune
Positive they’d be the next goddess of the silver screen
Girls from the mid-west, girls from the northeast, girls from the south,
Girls from Canada
and girls from Mexico.

Such a girl was Trinity Esperanza
From Mexico City
19, she’d come to Hollywood with stars in her eyes
A week later
She had disappeared
A woman from another country
disappeared?
Who cares was the attitude here

Her disappearance wasn’t even reported in the press here
Just another foreigner who disappeared
Carson Cody Albion Private Eye would not have known about it
Unless the girl’s grandmother hadn’t shown up in his office

“Please find Trinity,” She begged
As she emptied her purse on the table
And with all the money sitting there
Albion looked down at the table
And counted the money in his head
$37.42

“Mrs. Esperanza,” he poured himself another glass of bourbon,
“How much money do you have in your bank account?”
” $37.42″, she answered.
Albion looked at her,
Drank the glass of bourbon
Lit himself a cigarette
And blew smoke at the ceiling
Where the fan quickly dispersed it to the 4 corners of his world-
his office.

“Put your money away,” he told Mrs. Esperanza, “this one’s on the house.”

Like all cases involving disappeared girls and Hollywood
The answer involved sex slaves and lecherous Hollywood producers
For what lay behind the red moviehouse theatre curtains
and the silver screen
was not silver
And definitely not gold

Images of dead Presidents on paper was the currency
And a lot of it
That was the language of Hollywood
Behind the scenes

Carson Cody Albion found Trinity
A prostitution ring that catered to those who lived behind the pearly gates of Beverly Hills
Paradise to those who owned the place
But Hell for some of those who worked there

Albion found Trinity
And after negotiating with the producer
Trinity was freed.
The price?
The real Maltese Falcon from that film a few years back.
Turned out the producer was a big fan of movies made by rival studios.

Albion’s burglary skills came in handy
and not even Sherlock Holmes could have solved the case
Basil Rathbone had other roles to play

Of course no one in LA seemed to care that a young Mexican girl was found
Save when Albion delivered Trinity to Mrs. Esperanza
One customer in a barber shop reflected the thinking
in general
They ought to build a wall to keep those people out
Albion looked at the man from the barber chair where he sat
“Thank God,” Albion thought, “FDR sits in the Oval Office and not this man”.

One day Albion was wandering on the set of the movie Cover Girl
When Rita Hayworth of all people addressed him,

“Nice work on the Trinity case, Mr. Albion.”
So spoke the woman whose real name was Margarita Carmen Cansino.

And on this night
Carson Cody Albion sat in a bar
He decided to order a glass of wine for a change
Maybe it was time he showed a little class as an ex-girlfriend once said to him
“Class? What is it?” Albion asked himself as he lit a cigarette

He reached into his coat pocket to pay the bill
“Put your money away,” Julio the bartender said, “this one’s on the house.”

-A Private Eye Poem
written by Christopher
Friday February 22nd
2019.

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Changes In Latitudes, Changes In Attitudes: A Gothic Mythological Private Eye Poem

January 12, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, Gothic poem, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

All of the faces and all of the places
Wonderin’ where they all disappeared…
It’s those changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Nothing remains quite the same
With all of our running and all of our cunning
If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane

Those changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes…
Through all of the islands and all of the highlands
If we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane.

-Jimmy Buffett, August 1977.


The water nymph Ondine in a pre-Raphaelite painting
that Carson Cody Albion Private Eye gazed at on a wall
An immortal made immortal in stroke of brush and mixture on palette

And now he Carson Cody Albion who had been made immortal by Atargatis

Atargatis

would he too someday be immortalized in stroke of brush and mixture of palette
An immortal beyond time and space
captured on canvas in frame occupying a place on a wall
captured in paint by a particular person at a particular time and place
was this why infinity turned in on itself and formed a pair of loops
intersecting at a particular point in time and space?

And what of his painting?
Albion wondered to himself
Could his own sins and transgressions be transferred to his painted visage
As happened to Oscar Wilde’s hero of one Dorian Gray
in the Victorian dandy’s tale of gothic philosophical fiction?

In the same place California but at a different time over 75 years later
Dracul Van Helsing stumbled upon the aftermath of a child sacrifice to Baphomet
presided over by the state’s governor in an act of officially consecrating the state to the demons Baal and Baphomet
As moonbeams danced and sunflowers turned brown in the darkness of night and the crescent of a moon and the bloodbath following a baby’s screams at the hands of a World War II jerry’s insigniaed knife
Baphometa the daughter of Baphomet emerged

clutching her shoulder as if clutching a bloody wound
that was the sole remaining wound of the last vestige of whatever innocence she might have possessed
prior to participating in her first child sacrifice

Oh even daughters of demons stand wounded
when suddenly they come face to face with the dark side of their nature
when given their pedigree, surely the dark side was theirs by nature
but alas even for daughters of demons, darkness embraced and innocence lost
was not and should not be the lot of any of creation
since that dreaded day when the Light-Bearer ascended and became the Bearer of Darkness
An ascent that descended so rapidly
A light that burned so impenetrably it became the blackest of all darkness

Dracul rushed to embrace the distraught Baphometa
Leaving one to wonder could kindness and consolation drive the darkest darkness away?

Back 75 years, the real Ondine stood in front of Carson Cody Albion

Her hair colour had changed since the Pre-Raphaelite artist
had painted her picture in England in the 19th Century
Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
What a change that can bring
Switch the time, switch the place
Switch the hair

By a stream of water, the hero in the Pre-Raphaelite painting
had lost the water nymph Ondine
By a fountain of water, Carson Cody Albion had found her

Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
Even H2O wasn’t the same everywhere
as ice and snow fell into the ocean
Below the cascading castles of clouds

Against a snowy backdrop, the Byzantine vampiress Theodora
stood with her two mastiffs in the Carpathian Mountains of Romania

Facing Interpol agent Peter Whitstable
Whitstable had heard the urban myths and legends and tales of mysterious black eyed children
and now he stood face to face with black eyed dogs
And they stood staring at him
If eyes be the mirror of the soul, then souls these two black eyed mastiffs did not have
But fortunately for Whitstable, he was not their target
The Russian Orthodox monk behind him was
Sent by Patriarch Kirill of Moscow
As an emissary to the Romanian Orthodox Church
to advise them to break communion with Constantinople
But such was not Theodora’s plan
And foolish mortals should not interfere with the best laid plans of vampiresses
Particularly one with black eyed mastiffs at her beck and call

Changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
From the mountain heights of Romania to the desert sands of Arabia
The Countess Draculina daughter of Count Dracula

strolling by the stream of the oasis palace of
Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman
And she saw the Prince walk by
Book in hand
But the book he carried was not the Quran
But the Zohar
Most pre-eminent text in the Kabbalah

Tantric sex with Baphometa was called for
As Marvin Gaye sang Sexual Healing in the background
Dracul Van Helsing healed her
And Persephone the Queen of the Underworld waited for Dracul at sunset
at an Episcopal monastery in Santa Barbara

From the depths of Hades her husband’s realm
To the heights of Santa Barbara
Definitely changes in latitudes, changes in attitudes
As Dracul and the Queen of the Underworld had tantric sex
And the Canadian vampire hunter made a cuckold of Zeus’ infernal brother
A pomegranate was crushed beneath the feet of the pair
And Persephone laughed, “Oh, Dracul,
if we couldn’t laugh, we would all go insane.”

-A vampire novel chapter
and gothic mythological
private eye poem
written by Christopher
Saturday January 12th
2019.

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Amadeus’ Song: A Distant Mirror Reflects

January 9, 2019 at 11:19 pm (Arts, Culture, Geopolitics and International Relations, Gothic, International Intrigue, Music, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Poetry, Romance, Science-Fiction, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Singer Amadeus Emanon was in the recording studio of Aulos Music and Recording Ltd. on London’s Abbey Road.

His producer Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell gave him the thumbs up.

Amadeus started to sing,

In Beverly Hills, you never grow old
your body uses science to take on a new glow
Life eternal is now in a pill

On those nights when the moon rises high
and stardust mixes with water and wine
what was blood to the Son of Man falls on dry barren ground

This is the new Hollywood
replacing that holy wood of long ago
Golgotha’s hill gives way to the hills of Beverly

And now a new god beckons me from behind that silver screen
offering me love, sex and immortality
it’s all so thrilling and so new
All I have to do is give my soul away
And watch the light from blood red moon
signal the start of a brand new day
Amazon and Google like John the Baptist lead the way
5G flows into my brain like San Francisco’s golden rain
Circuitry and arteries have now fused and merged into one

The flashes of light and the deity in sight
They burst all around like galaxies abound
The celestial mass divides again and again
DNA has never been this way
Our being is changed in the twinkling of an eye
And we can do it all without that Carpenter guy

And so I’ve taken the Mark
My life is one with android electrical spark
I’ve changed this flesh for a mechanical heart
one that will forever beat even without love
I know I will live forever and never ever die
That fruit of tree in Garden is so yesterday
far too earthy and natural
nothing like today
when science and high tech have shown us the way

The lights of Metropolis of yesterday
have given way to Metropolis’ lights today
What was there on the screen of ’20s German Expressionist film
has come to pass with Transhumanist technocracy know-how
Lovecraft saw the Great Old Ones coming back
but not the shiny new gadgets they carried in their sack
They have offered us all the kingdoms of this world
gold, precious jewels and all diverse manners of pearl
and have offered us immortality to boot
We have now become the gods
And the food of the gods?
Our own souls
that we eat daily.
Amen and amen.

Heathcliff Dioynsus Campbell nodded that was a rap.

Amadeus took off his headphones and in his mind’s eye, saw a distant mirror.

To the Hollywood of the early 1940s when Carson Cody Albion Private Eye was offered immortality with a divinely human touch from the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis:

The flesh was weak back then.

But, Amadeus reflected, thanks to advances in science and technology, the spirit itself has become weak.

And all of us are now ready to betray the Son of Man without so much as a kiss.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday January 9th
2018.

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