Willard 1971 Film Characters Show Up In The Year of The Rat

January 25, 2020 at 11:57 pm (Aesthetics, Culture, Film, magic, Movies, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Willard 1971 Film Characters Show Up In The Year of The Rat

“When was this photo taken?” British MP Renfield R. Renfield asked art gallery owner Dashwood Forrest as he held a martini (stirred not shaken) at an exhibition of the photographs that never made it into LIFE Magazine during the years of its existence.

“Sometime in the 1950s in Havana, Cuba,” Forrest answered.

“That’s a zombie isn’t it?” Renfield inquired.

“It is,” Forrest replied as he accepted the cocktail drink called the Zombie that was handed to him by his living dead walking dead Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie.

Dead skeleton meets living dead Zombie.

. . .

Krampus the demon-goat of old Bavaria and the old Austro-Hungarian Empire received an elegantly written handwritten note from his friend the genetically created satyr serial killer Pan Goatee (who specialized in killing ugly women) complaining about the vast number of ugly women living in the City of Calgary.

Krampus decided to help his friend out.

He went to a Calgary repertory theatre that were showing the 1971 American horror film Willard (about a young man who trains rats to eat people) to mark the start of the new Chinese lunar new year The Year of the Rat that begins today.

It was the sort of thing that a city like Calgary known for its brainless white Caucasian males (with the exception of Pan Goatee as well as a journalist/historian/geopolitical analyst who lived on a medical disability pension) and its hideous repulsively ugly Caucasian white females (of which sadly there were very few exceptions) would put on to mark the start of a Chinese New Year that called itself the Year of The Rat.

Krampus went to the theatre and calling upon an ancient spell from an ancient Aztec copy of The Necronomicon brought the rats to life off the movie screen and into the theatre where they proceeded to eat the brainless white men and the ugly white women.

After vomiting their unsatisfactory meals into the theatre toilets and urinals, the rats then went running out into the streets of Calgary.

Fortunately a former Neo-Nazi (who this morning had become a born again non-white supremacist after seeing how ugly the white women of Calgary were thus showing the idea of whites being the master race to be a total lie) had already left the downtown core and so avoided being eaten by the rats.

Pan Goatee meanwhile was entering his nearby shopping mall food court.

Approaching from the direction of the public library was an ugly looking white woman who looked like a hideous medieval cathedral gargoyle sporting an Afro.

“Cultural appropriation again, eh, you pathetic blemish on the peas in the garden of Mendelian genetics,” Goatee remarked as he beheaded the creature and cut her up into 999 trillion pieces.

As he walked away, no dark glasses wearing and barf bag wearing Hounds of Hell showed up.

As they were all being treated for Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder from trying to environmentally dispose of Goatee’s uglocidal victims the other day.

Goatee went inside the food court where he was enjoying a Vietnamese submarine sandwich and a Lebanese donair style pizza.

Unfortunately for him, the most hideously ugly thin stoat sized white woman in all recorded history walked by and walked around the food court.

Goatee immediately cut up the ugly woman into 999 trillion pieces without bothering to behead her first.

He put on Welder’s glasses and put his astral laser machete on slow-mo (for slow motion) to take its time on cutting up the ugly looking creature into tiny pieces.

Using the Michtlantecuhtli tempus suspendendi ray, Goatee was able to withhold death from ending the uglo’s agony until such time as the 999 trillionth piece fell to the floor.

“How am I going to clean up this mess?” The food court janitor asked as he arrived on the scene.

His answer soon became apparent with the arrival of hundreds of thousands of rats who appeared and proceeded to eat up the Guinness Book of World Records holding uglo thin sized stoat award winner.

Another group of hundreds of thousands of rats went into the washroom where they vomited up the remains of the white uglo looking gargoyle with the Afro they had encountered and eaten outside.

Well so far today, Goatee had encountered an uglo looking gargoyle and an uglo looking stoat.

All that was needed to totally ruin his day was for him to encounter a fat ugly blimp.

That happened as soon as he went outside to cross the street to the bus stop in front of the high school.

There approaching him was a fat ugly blimp with her stupid looking brainless white boyfriend (with lousy taste in women).

Goatee beheaded the blimp as well as her stupid boyfriend.

He cut up both uglo and brainless boyfriend into 999 trillion pieces each.

He wasn’t sure what 999 trillion x 2 was as he had left his antique Chinese abacus at home.

He wondered if it would have taken him awhile to figure out that particular multiplication.

Oh well, he wouldn’t worry about it, he thought as he headed for home.

Up on the roof of the high school, Socrates and Ben the two mastermind rats who lead the band of rats in the 1971 film Willard were busy examining the satellite TV dish at the top of the high school as there were no satellite TV dishes on top of high schools back in the era of 1971.

. . .

The demon Mephistopheles to the Norse goddess Hel: I wonder what the Year of the Rat will bring, my dear?

. . .

Yaya Han the Chinese leprechaun had a combined Chinese Lunar New Year/Robbie Burns Day dinner celebration with Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun.

They had sweet and sour haggis as a Beijing wrestler wearing a little known Ming Dynasty tartan style kilt recited Robbie Burns’ Address To A Haggis before plunging the ancient Chinese dagger into the haggis.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Saturday January 25th
2020.

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The Portrait of Dorian Gray’s Teddy Bear

December 9, 2019 at 11:07 pm (Art, Arts, Culture, Literature, Mystery, painting, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

The Portrait of Dorian Gray’s Teddy Bear 

Dashwood Forrest the owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery had spent the day visiting a London Christmas Market.

On his way home, he had visited a small antique store where he noticed a rather old painting of a child’s teddy bear.

Intrigued by the painting, Forrest had bought the painting for £20 and brought it back to his gallery with him.

He gave the painting a cleaning and noticed the name of the artist- Basil Hallward.

The same artist who had painted the original portrait of Dorian Gray that Forrest had purchased at an estate sale back in October of 2012.

Prior to purchasing that painting, Forrest had just believed that the artist Basil Hallward was a fictional character and the famous portrait of Dorian Gray had been a figment of Oscar Wilde’s imagination.

Back on September 3rd of this year, the figure of Dorian Gray had disappeared from the painting when Hurricane Dorian had struck the Caribbean.

Only to return when the storm finally faded into oblivion.

And now here was a portrait of a teddy bear done by the same man who had painted a portrait of Dorian Gray.

Forrest noticed the year below Basil Hallward’s name -1860- the same year he had painted the picture of Dorian Gray.

Forrest decided to take the frame off and check the back of the canvas of the painting.

There on the back of the canvas of the painting were the words Portrait of Dorian Gray’s Toy Bear- painted 1860.

So Dorian Gray had owned a teddy bear before teddy bears became popular (teddy bears had emerged as a phenomenon back in the early 1900s and the toy bears had in fact been named after Teddy Roosevelt who was the U.S. President of the day).

Forrest went to the secluded room in the gallery where he kept the picture of Dorian Gray.

He hung the portrait of Dorian Gray’s teddy bear next to Gray’s portrait.

He then put the velvet curtains up again in front of both paintings, turned off the lights and closed the door.

Had he stayed in the room a few minutes longer, he’d have noticed the figure of Dorian Gray’s teddy bear in the portrait had gone missing.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday December 9th
2019.

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The Jeffraken Rises In The Sea of Galilee

September 4, 2019 at 11:04 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, Horror, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mystery/horror, News, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

The Jeffraken Rises In The Sea of Galilee 

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was smoking a cigar and drinking brandy and eating tuna fish sandwiches in his office and trying to think up hundreds of amendments to give to pro-Brexit peers in the House of Lords in order to delay passage of the bill forbidding a no-deal Brexit until Parliament was suspended next week.

Among the amendments Renfield had come up with for the bill was a demand that the EU should change the European Union anthem from the tune and lyrics of Beethoven’s Song of Joy to the tune and lyrics of the Monty Python’s Flying Circus song How Sweet To Be An Idiot.

Another amendment was a demand that the EU must pay for Labour leader Jeremy Corbyn’s gender reassignment surgery in Sweden and also donate a portion of the European Union’s Research and Development Budget to allocate funds to see if it was scientifically possible for Jeremy Corbyn to grow himself a pair of testicles.

. . .

Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol was walking along the shores of the Sea of Galilee.

For the past few days, there were reports of the sighting of a Kraken rising from the Sea of Galilee.

Whitstable had heard it on good authority (from the Greek sea god Poseidon no less) that Zeus had recently ordered his Kraken to be released upon the world.

Whitstable was walking the shores of Galilee to see if this was Zeus’ kraken who was rising from the depths of the Sea of Galilee.

Suddenly there were huge screams coming from along the shores.

Whitstable looked and up rose from the waters a giant kraken with 8 huge gigantic legs covered in huge gigantic tentacles.

Even more terrifying was the head of the kraken.

For the head was not an octopus head.

Rather it was the head of the supposedly dead perverted billionaire financier and possible Mossad operative Jeffrey Epstein.

The Jeffraken had risen from the depths of the Sea of Galilee.

. . .

Dashwood Forrest was getting a visit from the ghost of the 18th Century Irish pirate of the Caribbean Captain Kerry Donegal.

Donegal was carrying news from Persephone the Greek goddess Queen of the Underworld.

Persephone was feeling guilty over something her husband Hades had done.

Hades had recently released from the realm of the dead the ghost of Captain Rainbow Beard the most infamous and bloodthirsty pirate ever to sail the 7 Seas.

Captain Rainbow Beard made the pirate Blackbeard and the notorious wife murderer Bluebeard look like Boy Scouts by comparison.

Captain Rainbow Beard was a devout worshipper of the demons Baal and Baphomet.

His human sacrifices and degenerate perverted orgies were the stuff of pirate lore.

Today he’d probably be considered the leading candidate for the U.S. Democratic Party Presidential nomination in 2020 to run against Donald Trump the personal and favoured choice of the demons Mammon and Mephistopheles.

Apparently Captain Rainbow Beard was still bitter about the only defeat he had ever suffered as a pirate- the Battle of the Bahamas.

A battle which would turn out to be Captain Rainbow Beard’s last- for he was killed in that battle.

Rainbow Beard’s opponents in that battle were Captain Kerry Donegal himself and the 18th Century Scottish Jacobite Pirate Queen Sonja Henderson (who was turned into a vampiress shortly after that battle).

All the while he was roasting away on his spit in Tartarus (as his rear end was sodomized by a goat), Captain Rainbow Beard swore vengeance on the Bahamas- the area of the world where he was defeated and killed.

One day the god Hades was walking by and challenged him to a poker game.

Hades lost.

The price for losing was that Rainbow Beard was freed from his spit (and his rear end was freed from the goat) and someday the pirate would be allowed to leave the Underworld for the world above.

When Rainbow Beard heard news of the storm Dorian forming in the Atlantic off the coast of Africa and the possibility it might become a hurricane, the insidious pirate set off in search of the notorious Victorian era libertine Dorian Gray (whom Oscar Wilde had once written a book about) that he had once encountered in the flames of Tartarus.

Rainbow Beard gave Gray some Hellish hashish (which would make him more susceptible to the pirate’s hypnotic powers of suggestion) and also fed him some of the Philistine giant Goliath’s blood making him rapidly increase in stature and height.

Rainbow Beard then went to see Hades and the infernal deity granted the pirate and Dorian Gray permission to leave the Underworld.

Rainbow Beard got the now giant Dorian Gray to enter the eye of the storm of Hurricane Dorian and cause massive chaos and havoc when it hit the Bahamas- site of Captain Rainbow Beard’s massive defeat centuries earlier.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday September 4th
2019.

The 18th Century Scottish Jacobite Pirate Queen Sonja Henderson now a vampiress

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Dashwood Forrest, The Empty Portrait and Hurricane Dorian

September 3, 2019 at 11:01 pm (Aesthetics, Art, Arts, Fantasy, Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Gothic, Gothic romance, History, Horror, International Intrigue, magic, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, News, Philosophy, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Dashwood Forrest, The Empty Portrait and Hurricane Dorian

Dashwood Forrest sat in his office in his art gallery in London and quietly sipped a drink of absinthe.

The Green Fairy as it was called was one of the favourite drinks of his idol the writer, novelist, poet and playwright Oscar Wilde.

Forrest’s living dead Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie (who had been brought back from the dead many years ago by South African witch doctor Dr. Sterling Makabo) was out for the evening.

Mulligan had been hired for the evening by British MP Renfield R. Renfield to haunt the residence of British Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn and stand outside the back entrance of Corbyn’s lodgings and say in a spookily haunting zombie voice (with an Irish lilt to it), “The Irish backstop ends at your back door, Mr. Corbyn. The Irish backstop ends at your backdoor.”

As Jeremy Corbyn began to suffer the worst nightmares of his life, Forrest finished his glass of absinthe, left his office and locked it.

He walked down to the end of the gallery where he entered a room marked PRIVATE.

No one (not even Mulligan the Irish zombie) ever entered that room.

Only he Dashwood Forrest art historian, art gallery curator and extraordinary gentleman of many talents ever entered that room.

For that room contained a portrait behind purple velvet curtains.

A portrait of a man.

A portrait of a man painted in the year 1860.

A portrait that was first mentioned in a book published in July 1890.

A book that most people (and even Dashwood Forrest himself for most of his life) had considered a work of fiction.

Until Forrest came across the painting in an estate sale back in October of 2012.

The picture was of a man named… Dorian Gray.

And the artist who signed the picture was named Basil Hallward.

The painting was of an extremely handsome young man in his early 20s.

Exactly as described in Oscar Wilde’s famous Gothic Philosophical novel of the 19th Century- The Picture of Dorian Gray.

Forrest drew back the purple velvet curtains that covered the painting and hid it from view.

Forrest got the shock of his life when he saw the portrait was empty.

There was no subject in the painting.

Dorian Gray was gone.

. . .

Forrest stared blankly at the blank canvas and blinked.

His smart phone went off.

It was a text message from his friend Amadeus Emanon.

A Set Enterprises satellite over the Bahamas had photographed the eye of the storm of Hurricane Dorian.

And a giant mysterious almost human figure seemed to be standing and moving with the eye of the storm in the hurricane.

Forrest again blinked.

For the figure was the spitting image of Dorian Gray.

The figure now missing from the painting.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher 
Tuesday September 3rd
2019.


Sibyl: She loved Dorian in vain.

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Athena and Dashwood Forrest

July 5, 2019 at 11:27 pm (Folklore, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Athena and Dashwood Forrest 

“That bust does not do you justice, Athena,” London art gallery curator Dashwood Forrest remarked to the Greek goddess of Wisdom.

“To which one of her breasts are you referring, Master?” Asked Mulligan the Irish zombie who was Dashwood Forrest’s somewhat inept living dead manservant.

“Mulligan, go outside and play in the rain,” Forrest ordered.

The Irish zombie did so where he was swept away by the rain.

“I apologize for the idiotic intrusion,” Forrest bowed to the Greek goddess.

“It’s all right,” Athena smiled, “I found his remark somewhat amusing.”

“I wish more customers were like you,” Forrest sighed, “Mulligan drives a lot of them away with his comments that is if his zombie appearance doesn’t drive them away first.”

“Who sculpted this bust of me?” Athena asked.

“A chap by the name of Mario Rossini,” Forrest answered, “A promising young sculptor who was killed after being hit by a train while moulding a clay figure of a bull (in a farm field) while sitting on a railway track. He really took the combined fields of performance art and sculpture to a new level. What level of Dante’s cosmos he wound up in, I could not say.”

“I don’t think I shall purchase this bust of me,” Athena moved on to an oil painting of Hermes.

“I do not blame you,” Forrest placed a towel on the head.

“What a remarkable figure of a leprechaun,” Athena looked at a clay statue of a leprechaun, “he looks somewhat like my grandson.”

Forrest coughed, “Grandson? But I thought you were a virgin goddess?”.

“Have you never heard of artificial insemination, Mr. Forrest?” Athena winked at him.

Forrest turned ghastly pale at the Greek goddess’ remark.

“Relax, Mr. Forrest,” Athena laughed, “I’m only joking.”

“Thank God,” Forrest looked relieved.

“You no doubt heard how I was born from my father’s head when my father Zeus had a headache,” Athena recalled.

“That tale I remember very well,” Forrest commented as he took an aspirin with a glass of water.

“Well one day I had a headache after walking across the desert sands of Egypt feeling quite dehydrated and I gave birth to Sophia from my head,” Athena recounted.

“Sophia?” Forrest drank the water.

“The Greco-Egyptian Gnostic goddess of wisdom,” Athena explained, “worshipped by various Gnostic groups throughout the centuries. Anyhow back in the 1st Century AD, she encountered the immortal Egyptian scientist Imhotep. Imhotep was working on the concept of artificial insemination back then and he artificially inseminated Sophia and she gave birth to a leprechaun whom she called Yaldabaoth.”

“That name Yaldabaoth sounds familiar,” Forrest creased his eyebrows in thought, “but I don’t associate him with leprechauns.”

“Well no mother wants to say her son is a leprechaun with a serious drinking problem,” Athena smiled, “so she told people that Yaldabaoth was the demiurge who created the material physical universe.”

“Oh yes,” Forrest nodded, “that’s where I’ve heard the name.”

Meanwhile Mulligan the Irish zombie was being swept down the street in a torrent of rain water.

He suddenly came to a halt after crashing into an alley wall.

But not before knocking over a garbage can first.

Out of the garbage can fell an Irish leprechaun.

“Saint Patrick and Saint Kevin preserve us!” Yaldabaoth exclaimed, “What a rude awakening!”.

“Mulligan!” The Irish zombie doffed his shamrock emblazoned cap to the little fellow, “Irish zombie Mulligan.”

“Yaldabaoth!” The leprechaun replied, “Irish leprechaun Yaldabaoth! And I dare you to try and pronounce that name correctly after you’ve had 20 glasses of whiskey.”

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Friday July 5th
2019.

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Orson Welles’ Ghost Views The Only Scene Ever Filmed For Roman Polanski’s Wuthering Heights

May 30, 2019 at 10:40 pm (Arts, Culture, Film, Literature, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The ghost of Orson Welles was admiring a small sculpture of the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow that the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set had recently purchased from the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.

The sculpture showed the Headless Horseman and his pumpkin head riding a black horse while the schoolteacher Ichabod Crane is seen getting run over by one of Santa’s reindeer who, after drinking too much Kickapoo Joy Juice, mistook Halloween night for Christmas Eve and was venturing in the forest near Sleepy Hollow following the Headless Horseman and his black horse and his orange pumpkin head mistaking the latter for Rudolph the Red Nosed Reindeer’s red shiny nose.

“What a delightfully eclectic and eccentric sculpture,” Welles’ ghost remarked as he looked at it while sampling a glass of spectral red wine.

Welles had been informed by British MP Renfield R. Renfield that Boris Johnson (the former Foreign Secretary of Britain) had purchased a retirement gift for British Prime Minister Theresa May at the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.

The gift was an 18th Century portrait painting of an 18th Century Irish Pirate of the Caribbean Captain Kerry Donegal.

Welles had recently met the ghost of Kerry Donegal in person when Renfield had brought him home after a night of carousing at the Oscar Wilde Pub.

Welles decided to go down to the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in person to see what other great treasures were available there.

The door to the gallery was opened by Dashwood Forrest’s Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie who was undergoing his own personal zombie apocalypse after having drunk too much Guinness stout and Jameson’s Irish whiskey the night before.

“Excuse the hand on the floor,” Mulligan remarked after his right hand came apart at the wrist and fell on the floor.

As Mulligan tried to re-attach his right hand to the rest of his right arm, Welles’ ghost was greeted by art gallery owner and curator Dashwood Forrest who had a martini in his own hand.

“You know the trouble with being dead is you’re decomposing all the time,” Mulligan the Irish zombie remarked as his right ear fell off.

“Mulligan never did have an ear for music,” Forrest invited Welles into his office, “but do come into my office. I have something that a great film director such as yourself would be interested in.”

As Mulligan managed to find his right ear below a portrait of Vincent Van Gogh, Dashwood Forrest closed the office door behind him and Welles.

“Let me run the film projector,” said Forrest, “for I have here on film the only scene ever completed and shot for a film adaptation of Wuthering Heights that Roman Polanski intended to make back in 1989 but financing for the movie was pulled at the last moment. Polanski was setting his version of Wuthering Heights in the late 20th Century. This was a scene between Heathcliff and Cathy.”

The projector ran and the Polanski 20th Century Wuthering Heights scene between Heathcliff and Cathy- a single still shot appeared:

“Where’s Heathcliff?” Welles asked.

“Heathcliff is the old car in the photo,” Forrest answered, “Polanski intended the movie as a cross between Emily Bronte’s Wuthering Heights and Stephen King’s Christine.”

“Now I’ve seen everything,” Welles looked stonefaced, “Jack Nicholson must have sent Polanski plenty of California grass that Roman smoked before he came up with the idea for this picture.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday May 30th
2019.

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Dashwood Forrest Meets Captain Kerry Donegal

May 22, 2019 at 9:51 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Dashwood Forrest was in his art gallery putting the finishing touches in hanging paintings for a new exhibition that would soon be opening.

“A remarkable likeness,” said the ghost of Captain Kerry Donegal who had just walked in off the street.

Forrest, who was somewhat psychically sensitive, turned to gaze at the speaker and noticed how much he resembled the figure in the painting.

“Captain Jack Sparrow!” Forrest gasped.

“Actually the name is Captain Kerry Donegal!” The pirate bowed, “But a few other people with the ability to see me around London have called me by that name.”

Former British Foreign Secretary Boris Johnson entered the gallery at that moment.

“Hello, Dashwood,” Johnson walked right through Kerry Donegal’s ghost since he couldn’t see him, “my sources tell me that you have a painting of Johnny Depp as Captain Jack Sparrow for sale.”

“I’ve just been told by an expert that it’s Captain Kerry Donegal,” Forrest mentioned.

“Well, whoever,” Johnson looked at the painting, “I’ve just been told on the highest authority that British Prime Minister Theresa May goes into orgasm whenever she sees a handsome looking pirate. No wonder the boys in Brussels were able to sweep her off her feet and get a Brexit deal to their liking and not to Britain’s. Although I’ve been told by an old school chum of mine that the boys in Brussels aren’t all that handsome. I wonder why he’d take note of that. Fills one with trepidation when I recall we shared a locker together in the school gymnasium’s shower and changing room.”

“You want to buy this painting for Theresa May?” The flower dropped out of Dashwood Forrest’s lapel.

“Yes,” Johnson nodded, “as a good-bye present. The old girl is undoubtedly on her way out. She’ll undoubtedly fail in her 4th attempt to get a Brexit deal passed through Parliament. Hell, even Renfield R. Renfield’s British Transhumanist Party is now ahead of the British Conservatives in the opinion polls for the upcoming European Parliament elections. I’m not sure how much more humiliation she can take. So she’ll probably resign soon. I’m sure this painting of a pirate captain will lift her spirits as she exits 10 Downing Street while I’m on my way in.”

“Hasn’t this fellow ever heard that expression, Don’t count your chickens before they’re hatched?” Captain Kerry Donegal asked in a thick Irish brogue.

“Did you feel a breeze just then?” Johnson looked around.

“Come to the office and I’ll write you up a Bill of Sale,” said Forrest.

“I’m sure it was this question of the Irish backdoor that did her in on Brexit,” Johnson remarked.

“Don’t you mean the Irish backstop?” Forrest asked.

“Oh yes, of course,” Johnson nodded, “why did I have Irish backdoor on my mind?” .

He once again walked through Captain Kerry Donegal’s ghost as the pirate was bending over to pick up his sword.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday May 22nd
2019.

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Fish and Chips With Holmes and Watson

May 17, 2019 at 10:28 pm (Detective story, Entertainment, Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

It was a May evening in London at 221B Baker Street the residence of the world-famous consulting detective Sherlock Holmes.

The year was 1899.

“Well, Holmes,” Dr. Watson put down his newspaper, “what do you deduce that Mrs. Hudson has made us for dinner tonight?”.

“Oh, I forgot to tell you this morning, Watson,” Holmes lit his pipe, “Mrs. Hudson is going to a Church Auxiliary Tea and Bake Sale this evening so sadly for us, no fine dinner from Mrs. Hudson tonight.”

“Blast it, Holmes,” Watson grimaced, “I wish you had told me. I’d have gone for dinner at the club tonight.”

“What and leave me home alone, Watson?” Holmes smiled, “Leaving me to fend for myself?”.

“Damn right, I would, Holmes,” Watson nodded, “If I can’t enjoy Mrs. Hudson’s fine cooking, I can get a very fine beef steak at the club.”

“What say we go out for some good old English fish and chips, Watson?” Holmes started putting his rain coat on.

“All right,” Watson put his jacket and coat on, “seeing as how they’ve probably stopped serving dinner at the club an hour ago.”

Holmes and Watson exited their room, walked down the stairs and through Mrs. Hudson’s parlour out the front door.

“Where shall we go for Fish and Chips, Holmes?” Watson asked.

“I noticed just the other day that a new Fish and Chips place opened up a few blocks away, Watson,” Holmes pointed in the direction, “What say we try there?”.

“All right,” Watson agreed, “Lead on, MacDuff.”

The duo walked enjoying the evening air.

“Here’s the place,” Holmes pointed at the entrance with his walking stick.

“The Captain’s,” Watson looked at the sign above the door, “Quite an original name for a Fish and Chips place.”

“Sarcasm does not become you, Watson,” Holmes remarked.

“Neither does being hungry,” Watson opened the door, “let’s go in.”

Inside both Holmes and Watson ordered the 3 pieces of Fish with Chips plate.

The detective ordered a brandy and his physician friend ordered a gin for liquid refreshment.

“Interesting portrait painting on the main wall, there,” Holmes said to the waiter when he brought the drinks, “who is that supposed to be?”.

“That is a picture of the Captain,” the waiter replied.

“He looks like a bloody pirate if you ask me,” Watson gazed at the painting.

“He was, sir,” the waiter nodded, “he was a pirate captain.”

“Oh, really,” Watson harrumphed, “What was his name?”.

“That we do not know, sir,” the waiter answered, “The restaurant’s owner bought that painting in an antique shop in Plymouth. The painting dates back to the 18th Century the antique dealer said. But who the man in the portrait is, he had no idea. But the painting inspired the owner to open up a Fish and Chip shop and call it The Captain’s named after the figure in the painting.”

“Bloody mysterious if you ask me,” Watson took a sip of his gin.

“And yet my trade is solving mysteries, Watson,” Holmes lit his pipe again.

“So, who is the figure in the painting?” Watson asked Holmes.

“I’m afraid I’ve never really studied the history of 18th Century piracy in depth to hazard a guess,” Holmes blew smoke rings.

“What you mean there’s actually something that the great Sherlock Holmes does not know?” Watson laughed.

The waiter arrived with their Fish and Chips orders and both men raised knife and fork to tackle the huge succulent looking pieces of cod on their respective plates forgetting the question of the pirate in the painting.

“So, what made you decide on a Fish and Chips dinner tonight, Holmes?” Watson asked.

“A dream I had last night, actually,” Holmes took a sip of his brandy.

“But I didn’t think you put much stock in dreams, Holmes?” Watson had to smile.

“Normally I don’t,” Holmes admitted as he wiped his mouth with a napkin, “Still the Bard did write We are such stuff as dreams are made on. And it was a memorable dream I had to admit.”

“What was it?” Watson was curious.

“I dreamed I was aboard a boat and a large octopus… a Kraken actually of mythological folklore fame was drinking 120 barrels of rum,” Holmes sucked thoughtfully on his pipe.

“How did you know there were exactly 120 barrels?” Watson laughed, “You counted?”.

“Brilliant deduction, Watson,” Holmes shook his head in dismay, “Obviously I counted.”

“Holmes,” Watson put down his fork in exasperation, “You’re the only person I know who would spend time in his dream counting exactly how many barrels of rum a Kraken was drinking.”

The duo started getting quizzical looks from customers sitting at other tables.

“So, what significance is there to the number of rum barrels the Kraken was drinking?” Watson cut into another piece of cod, “What does the number 120 signify?”.

“God only knows, Watson,” Holmes poured vinegar on his chips, “The number of years perhaps.”

The detective shrugged.

“Let’s see,” Watson did arithmetic in his head, “120 years from now, that would be May 17th 2019.”

. . .

It was a Friday evening in London in May 2019 and Dashwood Forrest the owner of The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery was removing an old oil painting he had just purchased from the crate it was in.

“Good heavens,” Forrest’s Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie spilled gin and brandy all over himself when he saw it, “That figure in the painting looks exactly like Captain Jack Sparrow from Pirates of The Caribbean.”

. . .

In the May evening in 1899, Holmes lit his pipe again and looked contemplatively at the ceiling.

“You know it’s strange, Watson,” Holmes’ pipe smoke headed in the direction of the portrait of the Captain.

“What’s that, Holmes?” Watson sipped his after dinner coffee.

“That we never seem to call one another by our first names like normal acquaintances seem to do,” Holmes chewed on his pipe.

Now there was a mystery.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 17th
2019.

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Trump’s Norwegian Blue Parrot, An Alcoholic Hag and A Portrait of Lord Byron

March 16, 2019 at 8:17 pm (Aesthetics, Arts, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Donald Trump had a bunch of papers in front of him as Lexington his English butler and valet poured the tea.

“More summaries of your opponents’ tweets from across the world, sir?” Lexington asked.

“Not today, Lexington,” Trump replied, “Today I’m reading field reports from DARPA operatives across the world.”

“And where is that report doused with the most hideous looking and awful smelling blood stains from?” Lexington asked as he closed his eyes and held his nose.

“That would be Pan Goatee reporting from Calgary, Alberta, Canada,” Trump answered.

“Most Calgary white women are quite repulsively ugly, most Calgary white women are quite repulsively ugly,” Trump’s Norwegian blue parrot insightfully commented from atop his perch.

“Sounds like your parrot has read the report before you,” Lexington remarked.

“Sounds like it,” Trump had to admit.

. . .

Pan Goatee left the mall in the immigrant neighbourhood where he lived.

So far his day had gone well.

He had not yet encountered a repulsively ugly looking white woman – which was the result of a Norse trickster god Loki administered genetic hybrid breeding program gone hellishly beyond Hell.

Then his luck ran out.

The hazards of not being Irish the day before Saint Patrick’s Day.

A repulsive ugly looking white woman with a huge 24 can pack of Labatt’s beer emerging from a nearby liquor store stepped in front of him.

“Ah fuck!” Goatee exclaimed, “Just what the world needs at the moment, another hideous looking alcoholic hag!”.

Goatee beheaded the horror that came from beneath Baphomet’s Petri dish.

And with one full swoop of his astral laser machete, he simultaneously robbed both Alcoholics Anonymous and Uglos Anonymous of a potential new member.

. . .


Portrait of Lord Byron

“For a moment, I thought Lord Byron was giving me the raised middle finger,” British Prime Minister Theresa May gasped as she unveiled the painting in the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.

“That will come later,” British Labour Party leader Jeremy Corbyn remarked.

Dashwood Forrest the Oscar Wilde admiring art gallery owner sighed as his living dead Irish manservant Mulligan the Irish zombie’s fingers started peeling off his hands as he carried around a tray of cheese and crackers to the various art show patrons.

He hated having politicians showing up to these events.

. . .

French President Emmanuel Macron was considering hosting a major art exhibit of 19th Century French Impressionists in the near future.

And the thought occurred to him that he should invite both America’s Donald Tump and North Korea’s Kim Jong-un to the opening.

After all, Macron thought as he ate a Kit Kat bar, what could possibly go wrong?

Outside the French Presidential Palace, a Kraken wearing a yellow vest was crawling up the side of the building.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday March 16th
2019.

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The Cosmic Origins of P.H. Lovecat

February 4, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Music, Mystery, Mythology, News, Politics, Spy Tales, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

His name was Peter Hieronymous Felinedamour.

P. H. Felinedamour for short.

He was an artist.

An artist inspired by the writings of H.P. Lovecraft.

Many Lovecraftian entities showed up in his paintings.

And in the art show that Dashwood Forrest (the Oscar Wilde admiring owner of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London) would be opening tonight in his gallery, the last painting that Peter Hieronymous Felinedamour ever painted – from December 21st 2012 (the same night that he disappeared) – would be on pre-eminent display in the middle of the gallery for this art show.

Dashwood Forrest was currently showing the painting to British MP Renfield R. Renfield and his date for this evening Lepardia Marango the cultural attache at the South African Embassy in London.

Renfield was bringing Lepardia to the gallery as a way of saying thanks to the cultural attache for saving the Transhumanist MP’s life this past weekend.

Lepardia had stopped an assasination attempt on Renfield by wrestling to the ground the Russian vampiress and FSB operative Svetlana Kireeva.

The incident occurred in the final match of a darts tournament being held at the Clytemnestra’s Revenge and Agamemnon’s Bathtub Pub and Beef House.

The wrestling match between mortal woman and immortal (unless staked through the heart) vampiress caused Renfield to lose the tournament by wrecking his final throw.

Svetlana had intended to assasinate Renfield by firing a poison dart at him with an Amazon tribesman’s blow gun.

Instead the dart hit the left foot of the American Jesuit priest Father Neville Barack Chamberlain (who was theological advisor to New York Cardinal Timothy Dolan advising His Eminence on how to take a firm stand on the most pressing doctrinal and moral issues of the day) causing a paralysis in the priest’s right testicle in an example of acupuncture and chi energy gone horribly wrong.

Lepardia and Renfield gazed at the P.H. Felinedamour painting entitled

Artemis, Cthulhu, Diana’s Sacred Deer and Hecate’s Familiar Black Cat With Clytemnestra Holding A Net and Agamemnon Screaming In The Nude In The Background.

“So that was the last painting he ever painted?” Renfield asked the London art gallery owner as he downed a reddish pink with shades of China blue shooter called Vincent Van Gogh’s Missing Ear.

Ariana Grande walked by in a slit skirted evening dress that prominently displayed her new “Barbecue Grill Finger” (in Japanese lettering) tattoo.

The singer was eating Honey Dipped Chicken Fingers from McDonalds.

No doubt Bill Clinton and the Rev. Jesse Jackson would have loved to have been flies on the wall (or even better, flies on the floor) as the lovely Miss Grande walked by.

“That is correct,” Forrest bowed to Renfield as Renfield crushed and killed a pair of flies on the floor with his right shoe.

Forrest’s personal secretary arrived on the scene to inform the Oscar Wilde lookalike London art gallery owner that his living dead Irish manservant and valet Mulligan the Irish zombie had just accidentally spilled barbecued chicken wings hors d’oeuvres down the evening dress of British Prime Minister Theresa May.

“Excuse me,” Forrest whispered to Renfield and Lepardia as his face turned as pale as the portrait of Dorian Gray and he rushed in the direction of the catastrophe.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday February 4th
2019.


Ariana Grande: Showing off her “Barbecue Grill Finger” (in Japanese lettering) tattoo at the P.H. Lovecat (Felinedamour) Art Show.

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