Renfield and Rebecca Black’s Moment

July 19, 2011 at 9:29 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

“I noticed Rebecca Black has just released a new song and video called My Moment,” Amadeus Emanon remarked as he spilled hot buttered popcorn all over his freshly washed shirt.

“That was the wonderful thing about being in a coma for two months,” Renfield said through mouth loads of tuna fish sandwich, “I missed all the fuss and kefuffle over Rebecca Black’s song Friday.”

“I happen to like Rebecca Black’s song Friday,” Amadeus looked at the calendar and noticed that it was a Tuesday.

“Well, if you don’t mind me saying so, Amadeus, I’ve always thought you a bit weird,” Renfield put some bananas and chocolate sauce on top of his tuna fish sandwich.

“I noticed Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing on his relationship status at Facebook says In a complicated relationship with Rebecca Black and Robinson Crusoe’s manservant Friday,” Amadeus then helped himself to his plate of fish n’ chips.

“Really?” Renfield was shocked, “But Rebecca Black is only 13 years old. I didn’t know Van Helsing liked them that young and wouldn’t a manservant be a reference to a guy? I didn’t know Van Helsing swung both ways.”

“I believe his relationship status is meant to be a joke,” Amadeus explained, “since Rebecca Black had a hit song called Friday and as for Robinson Crusoe’s manservant Friday, he’s a fictional character in a fictional novel called Robinson Crusoe that was written by British writer Daniel Defoe back in 1719.”

“Well not everyone has the advantage of a classical education such as yourself,” Renfield snorted between mouthfuls of tuna fish and banana and chocolate sauce sandwiches.

“Well, I’ve never had a formal classical education,” Amadeus replied, “I just read a great deal of the books in the Boss’ library. Maybe if you read the books in there instead of all the porno girlie magazines, you’d be classically educated too.”

“I don’t look at porno photos of women in magazines,” Renfield protested, “I look at them on the Net.”

“So Van Helsing doesn’t really pursue 13-year-old girls nor is he bisexual,” Amadeus put some more malt vinegar on his fish, “in fact he’s 100% excessively heterosexual.”

“How can someone be excessively heterosexual?” Renfield put his sandwich down and stared at Amadeus quizzically.

“Well those were the words that South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Grace Kwan used of him in a conversation I had with her once,” Amadeus bit into the batter of fresh Atlantic cod.

“Really?” Renfield bit his lip, “Damn! I knew I should have videotaped what Dracul and Hyung were doing in that hotel room in Cannes that time we had a room next to them. It would have made for one hot tape.”

To be continued.

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Cyborg Goes Beserk Over Cupcakes

July 4, 2011 at 7:08 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield picked up the phone when it rang.

“Colossal London mansion of billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set,” Renfield answered, “This is Renfield R. Renfield Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering For Set Enterprises speaking.”

“Is Mr. Set in?” an exasperated voice asked.

“I’m sorry,” Renfield replied, “seeing as how it is still daylight, Mr. Set is currently napping in his sarcophagus.”

“Are you the one in charge then?” the exasperated voice asked.

“I am,” Renfield answered.

“Well, this is the Blue Bell Bakery calling,” said the exasperated voice, “just to let you know that Mr. Set’s cyborg Sophia is going beserk with the cupcakes in this place. She’s eating them all and the more she eats the more she goes on a sugar high and the crazier she becomes.”

“I’ll be right there,” Renfield put the phone down, “hm. Eating that many cupcakes is surely the sign of an addiction. And an addiction is a weakness in my opinion.” He finished eating his 99th tuna fish sandwich of the morning and ran to the door.

Amadeus Emanon followed him- eating his 50th bag of potato chips for the day.

* * *

Later in the Blue Bell Bakery, the short skirted redhead Cyborg Sophia was dancing on top of the counter in her spiked stiletto heels and singing, “Friday. Friday. Gotta get down on Friday.”

“But it’s Monday,” Amadeus pointed at the calendar.

“Just another manic Monday,” Sophia kicked up her heels and did a juggling routine with the few remaining cupcakes in the Blue Bell Bakery.

Renfield fired a tranquilizer dart at the Cyborg.

She collapsed on the counter.

“Who’s going to pay for the damages?” the Blue Bell Bakery owner demanded to know.

Renfield fired a tranquilizer dart at him as well.

“Okay,” Renfield threw the short skirted Cyborg over his shoulder, “let’s get out of here.”

To be continued.

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It’s Saturday… The Day After Friday… And Tomorrow’s Sunday

April 23, 2011 at 8:35 pm (Commentary, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Satire, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing and the South Korean vampire huntress Hyung Crace Kwan were having coffee in a Parisienne cafe after having attended Easter Vigil Evening Vespers at Notre Dame Cathedral.

Hyung was dressed in a black blouse and black skirt and black silk nylons and black spiked stiletto heels.

“So what are you thinking about?” Hyung asked the Canadian vampire hunter.

“About how Good Friday and Lenin’s birthday fell on the same day this year,” Dracul replied.

“That’s right, they did,” Hyung nodded, “yesterday was April 22nd.”

“Many people don’t know that’s why Earth Day is celebrated on April 22nd,” Dracul stated, “back in the 1960s and 1970s, the Soviet KGB had heavily penetrated both the upper levels of the United Nations and the environmental movement in the Western world. So when the date was selected for the very first Earth Day in 1970. April 22nd 1970 was chosen since that would have been Lenin’s 100th birthday.”

“So are Marxists still heavily involved in Earth Day celebrations?” Hyung asked.

“Not since the collapse of the Soviet Union, no,” Dracul shook his head, “it’s mainly run by New Agers and Gaia earth-goddess worshipping neo-Pagans now.”

“But still celebrated on Lenin’s birthday,” Hyung said.

“Yes, Lenin seems to be one very green corpse,” Dracul remarked.

* * *

Renfield R. Renfield was sitting in a Piccadilly Circus restaurant and eating a tuna fish sandwich recalling how he had spent his Good Friday.

Early in the wee hours of Good Friday morning, Renfield had nailed the heavy metal rocker Stryker (nailed him quite literally) both hands and feet to the rafters of London’s latest trendiest discoteque and nightclub.

Renfield ripped off the rocker’s clothes and threw them to screaming female fans on the floor below where they played World of Warcraft on their smart phones and whoever got the highest score would be entitled to a portion of the metal rocker’s clothing.

At one point, Stryker let out a cry, “Lama, lama, deli-sabama?” which being interpreted is “Where the Hell did I leave my car keys?”.

“This man calls for the Dalai Lama,” some pot-smoking doper shouted.

“Let’s see whether the Dalai Lama comes to save him,” another doper cried out.

“The Dalai Lama isn’t coming,” a psychedlic mini dress wearing blonde with glazed eyes said after 5 minutes had passed.

“Bummer,” a doped-out dopey looking nerd with glasses and curly hair remarked, “I was wanting to ask him where he bought his orange robes. And then I was going to ask him if he knew of any place that sold apple or grapefruit robes as well.”

Then Stryker said, “I thirst.”

A groupie in a black leather mini skirt pulled up her skirt and pulled down her pantyhose and panties and removed her tampon. She then put her tampon on one of the lounge’s cool looking bamboo poles and held it up to Stryker’s lips where he drank.

Renfield then grabbed a customer’s samurai sword and went and cut off Stryker’s erect phallus.

“My penis, my penis,” Stryker screamed, “why hast thou forsaken me?”.

“He’s bleeding all over me!” a doper shouted.

“Father,” Stryker looked down towards what lay beneath the dance floor, “Into thy hands, I commend my spirit.”

He then gave up the ghost.

Then the power and the electricity and the lights went out.

A doper flicked his cigarette lighter open and said, “Truly, this man was the Son of Belial.”

* * *

Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell organized a group of the nightclub bouncers who took down Stryker’s body and wrapped it in a blanket.

He then told the bouncers to go to Heathcliff Dionysus Campbell’s own tomb in London’s Highgate Cemetery and bury the body there.

And they did so.

* * *

And Renfield still had not received an invitation to attend Prince William’s and Kate Middleton’s wedding.

And spilling some loose change on the floor of the restaurant, Renfield went out into the night into the bright lights of Piccadilly Circus and wept.

* * *

To be continued.

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