Renfield’s Podcast For Thursday March 16th 2023
An oil painting 🖼️ on display at The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.
Famed London art curator Dashwood Forrest was having an exhibit of 19th Century oil paintings in his gallery.
He was also listening to British MP Renfield R. Renfield’s Thursday night podcast.
Said Renfield, “The reason Canada’s air headed Defence Minister Anita Anand and her boss Canadian Neo-Stalinist tyrant Justin Trudeau want regime change in Moscow has nothing to do with Ukrainian nationhood 🇺🇦 or killing Ukrainian citizens. It has everything to do with the fact that Putin won’t let the perverts in the Alphabet Soup community pridefully parade 🏳️🌈 in the streets of Moscow and Saint Petersburg. For most leaders and politicians in the Western world, catering to the whims and desires of the perverts in the Alphabet Soup community has become a psychotic and neurotic obsession for them and to stand up to the perverts in the Alphabet Soup community is a sign of global high treason against the New World Order.”
Renfield moved on to another subject, “Pope Francis has said that the design of sacred architecture must flow from the Church’s liturgy. This may explain why so many architectural monstrosity looking churches have been built since the end of the Second Vatican Council.”
Said Dashwood Forrest who had excellent good taste in both art and architecture, “I couldn’t agree more.”
Meanwhile at a Roman Catholic Church not far from the art gallery a Thursday evening Mass was being held.
A priest dressed in a clown 🤡 suit and riding a tricycle around the Altar blew his nose and his tricycle horn loudly while a trio of singers dressed like psychedelic inhaling Woodstock hippies sang Puff The Magic Dragon.
Said a visiting Russian diplomat from the Russian Embassy in London, “I thought the Roman Catholic Mass was supposed to tie in with Christ’s Sacrifice On The Cross at Calvary. Did they do this at the foot of the Cross of Calvary?”.
“The pagan Romans and the treacherous High Priesthood of the Jerusalem Temple at the time probably did,” a woman sitting next to him answered.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday March 16th
2023.
₱ainting of The Countess Gina
Isabelle Rocher and The Ghost of Prof. James Moriarty
Isabelle Rocher or Brigitte Bardot?
The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London was having a photo exhibit of original photos of European actresses.
On this particular early October evening (it had been exactly 3 years since the satanic AntiPope Jorge Mario Bergoglio aka Pope Francis had brought an idol of the demoness Pachamama into the Vatican Gardens to help open the Vatican Synod On The Amazon) it just so happened that the ghost of Prof. James Moriarty (Sherlock Holmes’ arch enemy) was wondering the streets of London.
Hades had granted Moriarty’s ghost a dispensational release from the Realm of the Underworld at the request of the demoness Pachamama.
Moriarty’s ghost noticed The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery and decided to enter.
He stared intently at a photograph of noted French actress Brigitte Bardot.
He kept saying over and over again, “Isabelle Rocher, Isabelle Rocher.”
“No,” Dashwood Forrest the owner of the gallery approached the ghostly spectral leader, “That’s Brigitte Bardot the famous French actress.”
“She looks exactly like my French mistress Isabelle Rocher,” the brilliant mathematician and criminal mastermind was astounded at the resemblance, “although I never saw her wear a skirt that looked like that. If I had, I’d have probably got hornier and had sex with her a lot sooner.”
“When did this Isabelle Rocher live?” Dashwood Forrest inquired.
“Back in the 19th Century,” Moriarty replied.
“No not many women wore skirts that looked like that back in the 19th Century,” Dashwood Forrest admitted, “save possibly women who worked in the inside of bordellos.”
“I had fled to Latin America when she told me that she was pregnant,” Moriarty recalled, “And when I returned to France, I discovered that she had given birth to a son called Louis. They left Paris and went to the French countryside somewhere. I could never track them down. I saw Louis’ baptismal certificate and she had listed the father as unknown. So I imagine he took his mother’s last name for his own. Louis Rocher would have been his name.”
“There was a famous French scientist called Dr. Louis Rocher who was shot down and killed by the Red Baron the day before the Red Baron himself was shot down and killed,” Dashwood Forrest recalled.
“The Red Baron?” Moriarty’s ghostly face looked quizzical.
“I’ll explain the history later,” Forrest was familiar with entertaining the dead as he once had had an Irish zombie named Mulligan as a manservant.
“And did this Dr. Louis Rocher have any offspring?” Moriarty inquired.
“He did,” Forrest nodded, “In fact his great- grandson Dr. Cadbury Rocher is the chief scientist for Set Enterprises here in London.”
“I wonder who Louis Rocher’s wife was?” Prof. James Moriarty mused aloud.
“Sherrielock Holmes,” Forrest answered.
Moriarty’s jaw dropped, “Sherlock Holmes’ lesser known twin sister?”.
“That’s her,” Forrest nodded.
“You mean I have descendents that have both Holmes and Moriarty blood in them?” Prof. Moriarty was shocked out of his skull.
In fact Moriarty had carried his skull with him out of Hades and had now dropped it on the art gallery floor.
At that moment British MP Renfield R. Renfield and the quite literally immortal Sherrielock Holmes (she had once consumed Lingzhi supernatural mushrooms on one occasion that had made her immortal) entered the gallery.
“Prof. Moriarty!” Sherrielock exclaimed in surprise as she recognized the ghost.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday October 4th
2022.
The John William Waterhouse Painting
An oil painting by John William Waterhouse (April 6th 1849- February 10th 1917)
Dashwood Forrest the famous London art curator was sitting in his art gallery The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery waiting for any customers to walk in through the door.
It was a Saturday night.
A Saturday night in mid-June.
Dashwood Forrest’s art gallery was generally busy on a Saturday night in autumn or winter but rarely on a Saturday night in spring or summer.
The sole exception was during the years of the plandemic of 2020-2021 when his art gallery was pretty well closed all year long.
Forrest was thus surprised when he saw someone walk through his door.
Unbeknownst to Forrest, the man was on the run from Special Branch of the Metropolitian London Police.
The man had stolen a top secret document.
A secret agreement signed between George Soros, Bill Gates, Klaus Schwab, Pope Francis and the 2 leading religious authorities in Islam.
The man thought he’d drop into The Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in hopes he could escape his Special Branch pursuers.
“Good evening,” Forrest stood up from his desk.
“Good evening,” said the man, “I’d… uh… like to look at some paintings.”
“Certainly,” Forrest smiled, “We have some very good originals along this wall here.”
“What an absolutely lovely painting,” the man walked over to one and looked at it intensely.
“That’s a reproduction not an original,” Forrest explained, “It’s a reproduction of an oil painting by the British Pre-Raphaelite painter John William Waterhouse whose art works were known for their depictions of women from both ancient Greek mythology and Arthurian Legend.”
Forrest added, “And none of the women who served as models for the subjects in Waterhouse’s paintings would have been beheaded by Pan Goatee had he lived back in the day.”
“What is the name of this particular Waterhouse painting?” The man asked, “I notice there’s no name in the description.”
“Just a minute,” Forrest went over to his desk and his gallery catalogue, “I’ll look and see.”
“What a beautiful woman,” the man looked at the subject of the painting.
Suddenly the man looked through the gallery window and noticed the operatives of Special Branch approaching the gallery.
“Oh God,” the man prayed, “let me into the picture.”
Forrest returned, “I can’t seem to find the name..”
Dashwood stopped speaking.
The man had disappeared.
Special Branch walked through the door.
“Excuse me,” said the head honcho as he flashed his badge, “Has anyone been in the gallery tonight?”.
“Well there was a gentleman who was here who was inquiring about this reproduction of a John William Waterhouse painting but he seems to have disappeared,” Forrest answered.
“That’s one John William Waterhouse painting I don’t seem to recognize,” said a female Special Branch operative who had been an Art History major at Cambridge.
Forrest looked at the painting and gasped.
For the man who had been standing and talking to Forrest in the gallery minutes earlier was there.
In the painting.
Talking to the beautiful woman in the picture.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday June 18th
2022.
Tanaka and The Pendlebrook Lyre
British MP Renfield R. Renfield was taking a stroll through a London park.
By chance, he happened to hear a lovely musical melody being played.
He looked and noticed a beautiful young woman playing a lyre.
He recognized the woman.
He had met her on a few occasions.
She was the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka.
She was wearing a beautiful and elegant classical Grecian dress.
When she had finished playing, she passed her lyre to the bandstand security detail for safekeeping and approached Renfield.
“Hello, Mr. Renfield,” she greeted him, “How are you?”.
“Very well, thank you, Tanaka,” Renfield tipped his hat, “And you?”.
“I’m very well, thank you,” she smiled.
“That was a lovely lyre you were playing,” Renfield noted, “Where did you get it?”.
“I bought it from the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery,” she answered, “who purchased it from the Pendlebrook Estate.”
“Ah yes, the Pendlebrook Estate,” Renfield nodded, “I understand the last Lord Pendlebrook died in Berlin, Germany on May 7th 1945 the same day that Germany unconditionally surrendered. But it took until early this year before the Estate was finally settled. And that only happened because one of the sole remaining litigant/claimants died after receiving the Covid-19 vaccine. Otherwise the matter might still be before the courts. It was like a long running Charles Dickens Bleak House novel.”
“So I understand,” Tanaka replied.
“That lyre certainly sounded divine,” Renfield acknowledged, “I wonder how the Pendlebrook family got ahold of it?”.
“According to a Pendlebrook family journal that Dashwood Forrest also purchased,” Tanaka explained, “Lord Peter Pendlebrook the First acquired it in 1810 after seeing a woman jump off a Cornish cliff into the sea during a raging sea storm. Pendlebrook rushed to the cliff but saw no sign of the woman. However he discovered that she had left a lyre behind. This is that same lyre.”
“It appears,” Renfield commented, “that the Pendlebrook lyre is like a good Scotch whisky. It gets better with age.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday June 8th
2021.
Dashwood Forrest Visits The Cornish Coast
Dashwood Forrest the owner and curator of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London decided to spend a few days away from London.
He decided to visit the coast of Cornwall and checked into a comfortable Bed and Breakfast in a small village on the Cornish coast.
He had heard on the radio in his room that a ferocious storm was approaching the coast.
Instead of being frightened by it, Forrest was excited about the idea of watching a storm on the Cornish coast.
It brought back those old stories of pirates and cutthroats and shipwrecks and ghosts that he had heard about the Cornish coast as a child.
He put on his heavy rainjacket and headed down to the cliff near the village to watch the storm unfold.
As he sat on the edge of the cliff, Forrest watched the tempest begin.
Storm clouds turned from gray to fierce black.
The waves churned and roared with all the fearsome turbulence the angry sea had to offer.
A streak of lightning came down seeking to pierce and slice the waves while thunder roared its approval.
Forrest thought he heard a voice cry out, “It’s a long way from the Cape of Good Hope to the coast of Cornwall.”
Strange, Forrest thought.
And then he looked and saw that infamous ghost ship The Flying Dutchman being tossed to and fro through the combatting waves while an eerie green ghostly light surrounded the ship and its torn masts.
The ship crashed and was torn apart on the jagged rocks under the cliff below.
Bodies of men appeared on the beach.
Bodies that quickly became skeletons.
And then turned to dust.
The broken wood of the ship seemed to vanish among the sea foam that washed up on to the beach.
Forrest sat there petrified and staring in disbelief at what he saw.
Meanwhile in London, Dashwood Forrest’s good friend Sherrielock Holmes was looking after the gallery for him.
British MP Renfield R. Renfield entered the gallery.
“Where’s Dashwood?” Renfeld asked.
“He’s taking a well deserved vacation,” Sherrielock answered, “Down to the Cornish coast.”
“Good for him,” Renfield nodded, “So any new items in the gallery?”.
“In fact, a new parcel came in this evening,” Sherrielock replied, “Containing a most magnificent and unusual painting. I’ve already had it unpacked and put on the wall over there.”
Renfield went over to look at the painting.
“I have the feeling,” Renfield remarked, “that Dashwood will be very surprised when he sees this.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 28th
2021.
Morgan Le Fay
Picture of Morgan Le Fay
“So you’re trying to track down the original painting that appears at this website?” British MP Renfield R. Renfield asked Dashwood Forrest the owner and curator of the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London.
“I am,” Forrest nodded, “I’ve come across sketches of this portrait in various books and they say it’s a portrait of Morgan Le Fay.”
“The Arthurian era enchantress?” Renfield sipped a martini, “But the woman in this portrait looks like a woman of the 1930s judging by her hairstyle and style of dress. I thought Morgan Le Fay died back in the Arthurian era.”
“There were rumours that back in 1930 an archaeologist found her grave on the Isle of Avalon not far from Glastonbury and a spiritist medium friend of the archaeologist used her incredible occultic powers to bring Morgan Le Fay back from the dead,” Forrest explained.
“And someone in the decade of the 1930s painted her picture?” Renfield finished his martini.
“Yes,” Forrest nodded.
“I wonder who?” Renfield looked at the website photograph of the painting as Forrest shrugged.
. . .
The ghost of Winston Churchill and the ghost of Orson Welles were sitting in comfortable armchairs in the living room of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s colossal West London estate.
Both were smoking spectral cigars.
Churchill was sipping a spectral brandy.
And Welles was sipping a spectral glass of spectral red wine.
“Anyways,” Churchill continued with his story to Welles, “In my painting career, I painted in various different painting styles. I once painted what looked to be in style a black and white photo of Morgan Le Fay but it was actually a painting. One I must say I was exceptionally proud of. Sadly, Clementine didn’t like it and gave it away to someone. She wouldn’t say who. She didn’t want me to get it back. I think Clementine was jealous of Morgan Le Fay’s exceptional beauty.”
“Do you mean Morgan Le Fay the Arthurian era enchantress?” Welles almost spilled his spectral glass of spectral red wine all over his ghostly suit, “But I thought she died back in Arthurian times.”
“She was apparently brought back from the dead in 1930,” Churchill explained.
“Is she still alive today?” Welles asked.
. . .
“Is this seat taken?” The beautiful and attractive young woman asked Dracul Van Helsing in the Saint George’s Pub.
“No, it most definitely is not,” Van Helsing answered.
The woman sat down in the pub booth directly across from Dracul Van Helsing.
Her dress, her fur covering, her necklace, her gloves, her hairstyle and appearance seem to have been accurately and prophetically depicted by one Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill many decades ago.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 21st
2021.
The One and The Many
London art and antiques curator Dashwood Forrest was sitting in his office at the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery in London prior to a meeting.
He was listening to the news on the radio read by British MP Renfield R. Renfield
“Last night two London policemen stopped a Good Friday liturgy from being said in the Polish Catholic Christ the King parish in London.
Two policemen entered the sanctuary without showing any respect for the religious ceremony, marched to the altar and threatened the faithful with fines and even arrest if they remained in the Church.
The priest (showing the spineless courage of most UK Catholic bishops) asked the faithful to obey and the congregation left the church.”
Forrest turned off the radio and put on the TV to listen to the BBC World News read by Geeta Guru-Murthy.
The anchorwoman was reading a similar story, “And after the incident at Christ the King Polish Catholic Parish, another pair of London policemen went to the Anglo-Catholic Parish of Saint Genevieve in West London where a Good Friday service was being held by the parish’s vicar Father Aidan Bury Saint Edmunds in disobedience to recent decrees by the Archbishop of Canterbury.
When they announced they would fine and arrest anyone who remained in the Church, they were immediately set upon and beat up by British MP Renfield R. Renfield who was attending the service with his friend Amadeus Emanon a member of the parish congregation.
Both policemen were rushed to hospital where they are reported to be in comatose condition.”
As Metropolitan London’s Fascist Police Commissioner Cressida Dick (who had spent most of the past 24 hours enrolled in a Zoom seminar examining the benefits of the Big Brother system written about in George Orwell’s novel 1984) came to her office, she was informed that two of her Metropolitan London Fascist policemen were in hospital in a “non-medically induced coma”.
Dashwood Forrest was then reading on his computer the latest statistics from the Center For Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia.
Statistics that would no doubt go unreported by the mainstream news media.
The report was on the number of vaccine deaths (deaths caused by vaccines) in the first quarter of 2021.
The report was then compared with the number of vaccine deaths (deaths caused by vaccines) in the first quarter of 2020.
The number of deaths caused by vaccines from January 1st 2020 to March 31st 2020 was 36 deaths.
The number of deaths caused by vaccines from January 1st 2021 to March 31st 2021 was 2,213.
That is a 6000% increase in the number of deaths caused by vaccines for the first quarter this year compared with the same quarter last year.
He could well imagine his friend Renfield saying, “Gee, I wonder what vaccines they’ve introduced to the market in the space of one year that’s suddenly causing a massive increase in the number of deaths caused overall by vaccines?”.
At that moment, his friend Renfield rang the doorbell of the gallery.
Forrest opened it and let the MP in.
“I understand you have something to show me,” said Renfield.
“Yes, it’s a fragment of an ancient Latin parchment under glass,” Forrest took him over to the glass display case.
Renfield (whose Latin was as rusty as that of the late British Prime Minister Sir Winston Leonard Spencer Churchill) read the English translation on the outside of the display case, THE ONE MADE A SACRIFICE FOR THE MANY AND SOMEDAY THE MANY SHALL MAKE A SACRIFICE FOR THE (ONE).
“Why is the One in the latter part of the quote in parentheses?” Renfield inquired.
“A friend of mine from the Faculty of Classics at Cambridge University examined the fragment and thinks it’s part of a lost manuscript written by Saint Augustine when he was making the transition from Neo-Platonism to Christianity,” Forrest explained, “The One was the name of the deity in Neo-Platonism and Augustine was using that title for Christ in this statement. The One in parentheses in the English translation is a counterfeit One. Hence the parentheses. The Antichrist in the Classics scholar’s opinion. Just as Christ sacrificed Himself for many (“This is my Blood of the New Covenant which is shed for you and for many” as Christ told His Apostles at the Last Supper) so someday many will have to be sacrificed in order to bring about the arrival of the counterfeit One- the Antichrist.”
“That is interesting,” Renfield nodded, “Christ sacrificed Himself to save many. And someday many will have to be sacrificed to bring forth the One- the Counterfeit “One” – the Antichrist. And the past couple of years all public memorials of Christ’s Sacrifice for the Many have been banned, harrassed or discouraged all over the planet. And people are dying from a virus released by a Chinese Commie lab. And who knows how many are going to die from the supposed antidote for it. Maybe enough deaths to bring about the arrival of the counterfeit One.”
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday April 3rd
2021.
Jack The Ripper Nosferatu
British MP Renfield R. Renfield received an email from Peter Whitstable the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol.
Whitstable was doing research into Count Orlok Nosferatu the bald-headed vampire who was the subject of F.W. Murnau’s 1922 German Expressionist silent film Nosferatu.
Whitstable had come across a diary from 1888 in which Count Orlok Nosferatu claimed that he had turned the man Scotland Yard called Jack the Ripper into a nosferatu back in the spring of 1888.
And that the murders of the Ripper’s Autumn of Terror in London in the late summer and early autumn of 1888 was Jack the Ripper going through an intense blood lust common to beginning nosferatu.
As he matured in his nosferatuhood, Jack settled down and just bit women on the neck to remove their blood instead of cutting their throats and removing their internal organs like he did when he was the Leather Apron Whitechapel Murderer of the Autumn of 1888.
After reading the email, Renfield recalled an antique journal that London art gallery curator Dashwood Forrest had come across written by a woman named Colleen Darcy O’ Derby who had apparently worked in a brothel in the seaside town resort of Brighton.
The experience that happened to Miss O’ Derby one spring night in 1889 struck Renfield as being an encounter with a nosferatu.
Renfield rang Forrest up and asked if he could take a look at the journal.
Forrest agreed and Renfield drove over in his 1937 Peugeot 402 Darl’mat to the Dashwood Forrest Art Gallery.
Taking a look at the March 31st 1889 Journal entry, Renfield read in Miss Colleen Darcy O’Derby’s own words,
“This Jack as he called himself was a peculiar client.
Peculiar and repugnant.
He had a bald head, an elongated face, a flat nose, sinister lips, a mountainous chin and deadset eyes.
Like a human skull that still had a thin layer of flesh attached to it.
I could not sleep with the man no matter how much he paid me.
I ran from the room.
Along a boardwalked path that still had a chill in the air.
It felt more like winter than spring.
The few trees and few bushes along the path had the look of dead late autumn to them.
I felt like something was behind me.
A giant head without a body.
I turned and that’s exactly what it was.
A giant head without a body.
I screamed.
He gave a leering smile and a body of a caped figure carrying a walking stick suddenly appeared below the giant head as it shrank in size and attached itself to the body of the caped figure carrying the walking stick.
He spoke, in a hiss, like a snake, “I should do to you what I did to those women in Whitechapel last fall.”
I froze.
Was he the Whitechapel Murderer?
Leather Apron?
Jack the Ripper?
“But you’re too beautiful for that,” he grinned like the face of sinister Death as depicted in Churches built during the era of the Black Death.
Fangs protruded from his sinister lips and he bit me on the neck.
I could feel the blood and the life force drifting out of me.
He stopped.
He spoke, “You have only one ounce of blood left my dear. Should I drain it and turn you into a nosferatu? No. No, my dear. Your hair is far too beautiful for that. Baldness does not become you. A mere vampiress you shall be. Not nosferatu.”
And with that, he departed into the dark stormy sky from whence he came.
And I became a vampiress.”
“Very interesting,” Renfield made notes.
He then closed the journal, thanked Dashwood Forrest and returned to his car.
A beautiful woman with beautiful beautiful long long dark hair stood watching him as he got into his 1937 Peugeot 402 Darl’mat Roadster.
She smiled.
Her fangs glistened in the dark.
She put her hands through her long dark luxurious hair and laughed.
She was definitely vampiress.
But not nosferatu.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday March 31st
2021.
Dracul Van Helsing 
If It Ain’t Broke, Don’t Fix It
June 18, 2021 at 10:43 pm (Commentary, Culture, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (Bill Gates, Build Back Better, Dashwood Forrest, Ghost of Orson Welles, Orson Welles, Renfield R. Renfield, The Ghost of Orson Welles)
“I’ll take that last slice of pizza if you don’t mind, Mr. Farrow.”
“Cut!” Orson Welles shouted, “That’s a take!”.
“I’ll say it is,” said the actress as she grabbed and ate the last slice of pizza.
The day’s production was over.
Welles took his hat and coat and went to a nearby lounge where he ordered a glass of red wine.
After a few sips, he fell asleep.
When he awoke, he was a ghost in a pub in London called The Ghosts’ Inn and he was sipping a spectral glass of spectral red wine.
Welles wasn’t sure whether he was a mortal man dreaming that he was a ghost or whether he was a ghost dreaming about his days as a mortal man.
It was like that myth he had once heard about the man who fell asleep and dreamed that he was a caterpillar and then when he woke up again, he wasn’t sure whether he was a man who dreamed he was a caterpillar or whether he’s a caterpillar who’s now dreaming that he’s a man.
“Such intense thoughts on the cusp of the summer solstice,” British MP Renfield R. Renfield remarked over a gin and tonic.
“I wasn’t aware that I was thinking such thoughts aloud,” Welles’ ghost sighed.
“You were,” Renfield dug into his fish and chips with his knife and fork.
A butterfly flew in through the window of the pub.
“I wonder what the butterfly dreams,” Renfield mused aloud.
“Not sure,” Welles admitted, “But he’s got both man and caterpillar beat.”
“Of course there are some idiots,” Renfield pointed out, “let’s call them in Seinfeldian fashion Klaus Schwab, the World Economic Forum, Joe Biden, Justin Trudeau and Boris Johnson who probably figure that when it comes to butterflies, they can still Build Back Better.”
A British engineering student (who had spent the Covid lockdown studying Schwab’s book on The Fourth Industrial Revolution) was in another booth operating his robotic butterfly (that he called the Transbutterfly).
The Transbutterfly was trying to take nectar from the petal of an artificial flower.
The butterfly who had flown past Renfield and Welles flew out the door while the Transbutterfly flew into another customer’s pint of ale where it burst a gasket and disintegrated.
Dashwood Forrest the noted London art gallery dealer walked past Renfield and Welles carrying a godawful painting.
“What’s that hideous monstrosity?” Both Welles and Renfield asked at the same time.
“I don’t think I’ll be able to give this painting away,” Forrest admitted, “Bill Gates gave it to me on commission to sell. It’s a painting that he himself painted. He calls it Painting of A Build Back Better Sunset.”
“That’s a sunset?” Welles and Renfield both asked increduously at the same time.
Renfield put on his spectacles and Welles put on a ghostly spectral monocle.
Both man and ghost reacted with horror.
Renfield vomitted all over the painting while Welles spewed forth ghostly ectoplasm.
“I have to say that’s a very significant improvement,” Forrest declared after the vomit and ectoplasm now found their way on to Bill Gates’ Build Back Better Sunset.
-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday June 18th
2021.
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