Where’s Renfield When You Really Need Him?

February 20, 2014 at 8:47 pm (Humour, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

Where’s Renfield When You Really Need Him?

Dr. Cadbury Rocher scratched his head and some more dandruff fell out.

Damn! he thought.

Maybe he should start using that American brand Head and Shoulders shampoo instead of that expensive French shampoo that smelled like lavender robed in the blooming garb of spring which his wife bought for him in upscale downtown London hair salons on the recommendation of male hairstylists who did perpetual Truman Capote voice impersonations.

Back to the matter at hand.

He had intercepted two Italian secret service agents Giuseppe and Antonio last night who were trying to steal DNA samples from the Set Enterprises Laboratories lab.

But he had no idea how to interrogate them.

Renfield R. Renfield who was the Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for Set Enterprises was in France where he had been swept away by the gale force rain and wind storms that had been attacking Britain this past winter.

He was now in Paris living out the lives of various great artists who had lived in that city.

Last night he had been Toulouse-Lautrec.

Today he was Vincent Van Gogh.

Feeling a bit squeamish about cutting off his own ear, Renfield decided to cut off the ear of someone else instead.

He was now in a Paris courtroom facing charges of aggravated assault.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday February 20th
2014.

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Green Tea For A Green Dragon

February 18, 2013 at 11:22 pm (Humour, Poetry) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Green tea for a green dragon

because he was on the wagon

his early days he spent drinking green absinthe

which caused him to lose his common sense

and so this led him to join AA

to escape the clutches of the green fair-ee.

 

 

 

Although he was no Oscar Wilde

he was considered a precious child

-a youthful 1000 years-

at concerts he gave many bronx cheers

and although he tried to be another Charles Baudelaire

his style of French just could not compare

and so he tried painting like Toulouse-Lautrec

but only ended up a nervous wreck

and he lost the chance to meet Hemingway

when he missed the train at Santa Fe.

 

 

And so his youth was misspent

he had no money to pay the rent

and thus he ended up on the street

where gangsta dudes made fun of his feet.

“I can’t help being a dragon,”  said he

burying his heart at wounded knee

and so he went on the wagon

this absinthe drinking green dragon

and that’s why these days you’ll only see

our hero dragon drinking green tea.

 

 

 

 

 

-A poem written by Christopher

 circa 3:28 PM Saturday afternoon

 February 16th 2013.

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