Nimrod Sees A Psychiatrist: Recalling Life With Semiramis

November 27, 2018 at 11:54 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, love, Mythology, News, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The famous Welsh psychiatrist Dr. Morgana Jones was able to see a new patient at her London clinic.

She did have an appointment with one of her regular patients the Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing to help treat his problem of sex addiction but she received a phone call from him cancelling at the last minute because he had spent the past 24 hours making out with the Russian vampiress Svetlana Kireeva of the FSB and he would likely be spending the next 24 hours doing the same.

She did receive a phone call from somebody claiming to be a British Member of Parliament who said he was feeling lonely and depressed because he was sitting alone in his hot tub and had nobody to blow bubbles and play his musical instrument with.

Dr. Jones told him to buy himself a Japanese sex robot and slammed the phone down.

The recepient on the other end called out, “Athelstan, can you find me the number of a sci-fi writer called George Finneganburg in the U.S.? I think he knows where I can buy a good Japanese female sex robot.”

As the Member of Parliament went about blissfully planning his own death by electrocution in a hot tub by hoping to get a Japanese female sex robot prone to blowing her fuse and short circuiting, Dr. Jones’ receptionist brought in a new patient.

He was a little green frog who called himself Nimrod and he hopped out from the top of a low-cut dress worn by the ancient Babylonian vampiress Lilith.

“You’ll be okay while I go do my Christmas shopping for myself at Harrods?” Lilith asked.

Nimrod ribbited in the affirmative and Lilith was out the door like a bat out of Hell to go shopping at Harrods.

“Are you the Nimrod mentioned in the Bible?” Dr. Morgana Jones asked her new patient as he lay back on the couch and hugged a Sesame Street Miss Piggy doll.

“I am,” Nimrod ribbitted in the affirmative, “I used to be a mighty hunter before the Lord although it really should be properly translated against the Lord. But I like quoting the King James Version myself. It has such beautiful English.”

“How did you become a little green frog?” Dr. Jones queried as the “mighty hunter before the Lord” used his extra long tongue to catch and swallow a fly.

“It was the result of a love potion gone horribly wrong,” Nimrod hiccoughed after swallowing the lord of the flies.

“I don’t remember reading about that in the Biblical account,” remarked Dr. Jones who was raised in a Methodist home in Wales.

“It didn’t happen in Biblical times. It happened after I croaked the first time in Biblical times,” Nimrod croaked in Miss Piggy’s ear.

“Perhaps you better explain,” Dr. Jones crossed her legs which was followed by murmuring from the office’s lobster tank.

“Well, several centuries after I died in Biblical times,” Nimrod licked his lips, “I was brought back from the dead by ET grays who were visiting Earth on an expedition. Later I was killed again when the UFO they were flying crashed near Tuktoyaktuk in the Canadian Arctic. This time I was brought back to life by DARPA while the ET gray bodies were sent to Area 51 and became hopelessly lost like all ET gray bodies at Area 51 are prone to do. The guy in charge of the Freezer section at Area 51- some old geezer who has held the job since Roswell in 1947 and really should have retired years ago has just been named director of Canada Post’s Marijuana Parcel Delivery Program by Justin Trudeau after the latter was visited by Sherrielock Holmes as part of some act of vengeance by her friend Dracul Van Helsing against the country’s marijuana users.”

“So what would you say was the primary cause of your mental trauma that brings you here today?” Dr. Jones uncrossed her legs once again causing murmurs to come from the office’s lobster tank.

“That does date back to Biblical times,” Nimrod admitted.

“Was it perhaps building the Tower of Babel that did it?” Dr. Jones smoothed her pantyhose causing the office’s lobster tank to shake.

“I wasn’t the one who built the Tower of Babel,” Nimrod blubbered into his handkerchief.

“You weren’t?” Dr. Jones was astounded.

“The Bible never says I built the Tower of Babel,” Nimrod blew his nose, “That was later expositors who said that. In fact it was my wife Semiramis who built the tower of Babel after she murdered me.”

Nimrod started to sob hysterically.

“Murdered you?” Dr. Jones was astounded.

“With an ice pick,” Nimrod bawled, “with the result that I never got the chance to enjoy my last cold beer in life. Then the bitch had the nerve to bury me face downwards so I could see where I was going.”

Nimrod was silent.

Then he admitted, “Still I suppose not seeing all those flames at first might have come as the greater surprise.”

“I can see why you’ve been traumatised,” Dr. Jones smoothed her skirt traumatizing the lobster in the tank.

“Yes, she murdered me, buried me face downwards so I could see where I was going and then had the nerve to tell the people of Babel that I had ascended into the heavens as a sun god,” Nimrod wept, “The only thing I got from the sun was sun burn. Then 18 months after I died, she gave birth to Tammuz claiming that it was a virgin birth.”

“It wasn’t?” Dr. Jones arched an eyebrow.

“No, the woman was a nymphomaniac,” Nimrod seethed, “she slept with every single member of the Palace Guard and gave them all sexually transmitted diseases.”

Nimrod looked at Dr. Jones with a pained expression on his face, “Do you know how hard it was to find a good palace guard in those days? I tell you not many were applying for the job or returning to it once word of the pox of Semiramis spread like wildfire among unionized members of Palace Guard guilds everywhere across the known world at the time.”

“Was Semiramis good in bed?” Dr. Jones asked as the lobster in the tank edged closer to the glass to hear the answer.

“I don’t know,” Nimrod shrugged.

Dr. Jones looked at the frog in shock.

“I remember when my very good friend Gilgamash Potatocus the commander of my Palace Guard lay dying,” Nimrod had tears in his eyes, “he said to me, “Your majesty, I have a confession to make to you before I die. I slept with your wife.” I looked at him and said, “With Semiramis?.” He nodded, “Yes.” And I said to him thoughtfully, “Gosh. Well, then you’re one up on me.” Then he expired. Just like the time on Lilith’s parking metre next to her Porsche as I see the policewoman writing her a ticket and putting it on the dashboard.”

The little green frog was standing at the window.

“Gilgamash Potatocus?” Dr. Jones repeated the name.

“Yes, everybody in Ancient Studies these days with the exception of the Dragon Sister prof Sydney Fox and her teaching assistant Nigel Bailey are always shooting their mouths off about how great The Epic of Gilgamesh is,” Nimrod seethed, “But the Epic of Gilgamash Potatocus is even greater. About how Gilgamash Potatocus visited Ireland where he was skinned alive and then mashed and then almost eaten by Irish cannibals before he managed to escape.”

Dr. Jones dropped her pen and bent right over to pick it up.

The lobster tank exploded.

“What’s up with that lobster?” Dr. Jones looked at the water and mess all over the floor, “I was told when I bought Chaucer that he was the younger brother of one of Set Enterprises’ star employees.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 27th
2018.

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