Renfield and Morgana At Lumiere Festival of Light

January 18, 2018 at 9:41 pm (Comedy, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Renfield and Morgana At Lumiere Festival of Light

British MP Renfield R. Renfield and his fellow Transhumanist MP Morgana Fay Lee (also known as the Welsh Vampiress Morgana) were walking across central London attending the first night of the four-night Lumiere Festival of Light.

The two MPs looked at an ice sculpture of a frog 🐸 lit up in front of the W Hotel in Leicester Square.

“Why don’t you kiss it and see if it turns into a prince 👑?” Renfield said jokingly.

“All right,” said Morgana who had been hitting the Smirnoff vodka a bit harder than usual earlier this evening.

She kissed the ice sculpture of the frog 🐸 and sure enough it turned into a handsome prince 👑.

“Great Scott!” Renfield shouted as a huge gust of wind blew up the kilt of a Scottish bagpiper who walked by.

“My God, a handsome prince,” Morgana swooned, “he looks like pictures I’ve seen of the Jacobite prince Bonnie Prince Charlie.”

“What do you suppose was in those fudgsicles they were handing out at the Canadian Embassy?” Asked Renfield who felt his hamster whiskers growing on his face.

“Hey, man, did you try those marijuana laced fudgsicles they were handing out at the Canadian Embassy?” Two aging hippies from California asked.

“This must be Prime Minister Justin Trudeau’s contribution to Western civilization,” Renfield remarked as he fell back on the sidewalk and noticed a thousand points of lights overhead.

“Yoo-hoo, Charlie,” Morgana ran after the kilt wearing frog 🐸 turned prince 👑.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday January 18th
2018.

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Have You Seen Jessica Urbano? A Poem

June 21, 2017 at 5:45 pm (Commentary, News, Poetry) (, , , , )

Josef Stalin was alleged to have said, The death of one is a tragedy, the death of millions is a statistic
Words uttered by someone who ought to know
So the Grenfell Tower fire we are told was a major fire
at a 24-storey 220 foot (70 metre) high tower of public housing flats
in North Kensington, west London which started on 14th June 2017
resulting in a high number of casualties and severe damage to the building
Such do the gods at Wikipedia tell us
As of this date 5 fatalities have been identified
and a further 74 people are presumed missing
bringing the presumed number of fatalities to 79
the deadliest fire in mainland Britain in over 100 years-
statistics, statistics, statistics,
so let me ask you this?
Have you seen Jessica Urbano?

Jessica Urbano was a schoolgirl on the 20th floor of the Tower
when she was separated from her family.
She last spoke to her mom when she borrowed a phone and said
that she was on the stairs with other people.
She was never seen again
although some people thought they had seen her being put into the back of an ambulance
all unconfirmed.

So I ask you,
Have you seen Jessica Urbano?

Studio E. Architects who oversaw the 8,7 million British pound refurbishment of Grenfell Tower, have you seen Jessica Urbano?
Rydon Ltd. of Forest Row, East Sussex who undertook the refurbishment, have you seen Jessica Urbano?
Artelia who administered the contracts, have you seen Jessica Urbano?
Max Fordham- specialist mechanical and electrical consultants, have you seen Jessica Urbano?
All those who were responsible for putting in the new aluminum composite rainscreen cladding to improve the appearance of the building on the outside (now believed to have been responsible for rapidly spreading the fire from floor to floor), have you seen Jessica Urbano?
All those who neglected to put in smoke detectors and sprinkler systems into the building, have you seen Jessica Urbano?

All those rich people in the borough of Kensington and Chelsea who complained about the outside appearance of Grenfell Tower as an eyesore (leading to the 8.7 million British pound refurbishment on the outside), have you seen Jessica Urbano?
Or are your eyes still sore?

British Prime Minister Theresa May, when you visited Grenfell Tower on June 16th but were in too much of a rush to actually stop and speak to the residents who lived there, have you seen Jessica Urbano?
Did you ever stop to look if Jessica Urbano was there when your limo sped away?

Jessica Urbano represents the face of the faceless in every tragedy
Jessica Urbano is the voice of the voiceless in every tragedy
In tragedy, we tend to remember the names of the perpetrators
but never the names of any of the victims
because usually the perpetrators are few
and the victims are many
The victims are… statistics.

So the next time you hear the Grenfell Tower story on the news,
will you see Jessica Urbano?
(If only in your mind’s eye?)
The next time you encounter tragedy on TV, in newspapers or on the Net?
Will you think of Jessica Urbano?
And all those like her… single, unique, who want to be able to live the rest of their lives…people like you and me… people struck by tragedy… and are then forgotten…
because they are one of many.

So the next time tragedy strikes, please see Jessica Urbano
And if you’re doing a job where ultimately people’s lives are at stake,
please see Jessica Urbano.

-A poem written by Christopher
Wednesday June 21st
2017.

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Renfield At London’s Heathrow Airport

April 12, 2017 at 3:30 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield the Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for Set Enterprises was waiting in line at London’s Heathrow Airport to check in for his flight.

Renfield was en route to Caracas Venezuela where he was to meet with the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec and put the finishing touches on a plot to overthrow the government of Venezuelan President Nicolas Maduro.

Qonzilqointec’s spiritual godfather the Aztec feathered serpent god Quetzalcoatl had said that he was willing to leave his beloved Mexico for a few months and serve as Venezuela’s interim President until such time as new elections were called.

As Renfield looked out the window of the airport lounge, he noticed a bunch of bloodied, bruised and injured passengers lying outside on the airport tarmac.

“Good God,” he said to a lounge hostess, “has a terrorist attack just occurred at Heathrow?”.

“Oh no, sir,” the lounge hostess shook her head, “nothing like that. United Airlines overbooked one of its flights again. And those people down there are passengers who refused to volunteer to give up their seats and had to be removed off the plane.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday April 12th
2017.

United Airlines Passenger Assaulted
United Airlines: United we stand, divided we fall.

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A Night In The Life of Lepardia Marango

March 7, 2017 at 8:06 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Mythology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Lepardia Marango ran down the street in her purple mini dress and purple spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

Lepardia who was the cultural attache at the South African Embassy in London had been spending her Tuesday night clubbing with some friends.

She thought it was safe to do so since the next full moon was 5 days away.

For Lepardia had the misfortune of being a were-leopard (a person who turns into a leopard during the full moon) having been bitten by a were-leopard 7 years ago in South Africa.

There were other circumstances when Lepardia would turn into a were-leopard besides during a full moon.

One was being in the presence of a powerful witch.

As far as she knew, there were no powerful witches at the club she was at.

Little did Lepardia know that Hecate the Greek goddess of witchcraft was in London visiting Apollo the Greek sun god who had spent the past couple of months in London.

And both of the Greek immortals had been at the Dionysus or Bust (of Aphrodite) Club tonight where Lepardia had been celebrating a friend’s birthday.

Subsequently Lepardia felt herself turning into a were-leopard.

She immediately left her startled friends and went running out the back door of the club.

Desperately she searched the streets of London for a place that sold buttermilk.

For she had discovered there was some sort of antidote to her condition in buttermilk that prevented her transformation.

She ran into a small grocery.

A taxi driver had moments before just bought the last carton of buttermilk.

He was delivering it to the British House of Commons at Westminster where there was a lot of howling going on quite literally on the Opposition Labour Party backbenches.

The howling was coming from Welsh werewolf British Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley who had visited the Dionysus or Bust (of Aphrodite) Club earlier tonight.

Lepardia felt herself turning into a were-leopard.

“Oh, God, no,” Lepardia said to herself.

Then from around the corner, she smelled the sweet smell of buttermilk.

She ran around the corner and pounced.

She eagerly drank from the carton and then ran back around the corner… transforming from leopard to Lepardia again.

“That leopard stole my buttermilk,” Amadeus Emanon pointed out the empty carton to his friend and co-employee Renfield R. Renfield.

“It could have been worse,” Renfield ate a tuna fish sandwich, “she could have stolen my tuna fish sandwiches.”

Lepardia meantime had hailed a cab and was on her way back to the club.

Lepardia Marango The Were-Leopardess

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday March 7th
2017.

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The Puppy Monkey Baby: Licensed To Thrill Or To Kill?

March 18, 2016 at 10:05 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Horror, International Espionage, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, News, Science, Science-Fiction, Television, The Supernatural, TV Commercials, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The Puppy Monkey Baby: Licensed To Thrill Or To Kill?

Russian Assistant Deputy Foreign Minister Nikolai Sonavitch was in London, England for a secret conference to see if the conflicts in Ukraine and Syria could be solved simultaneously.

The meeting was very hush hush and top secret.

Not even Barack Obama or even Alex Jones knew about it.

The chairman for the meeting would be a British parliamentarian named Magog Rhys Petley.

Nikolai was in his hotel room at the Saint James Hotel and had not been called to the meeting yet because apparently Petley was busy scouring the streets of London trying to find a carton of buttermilk.

Meanwhile reports on the radio said that a werewolf was seen walking the streets of London.

Nikolai turned off the radio and put on the television.

The TV was showing the Mountain Dew Kickstart commercial with Puppy Monkey Baby:

“How did the capitalist warmongers at Mountain Dew find out about Dr. Nicht Werhoffen’s secret Puppy Monkey Baby creation in his top secret Moscow lab?” The lifelong Bolshevik Sonavitch wanted to know.

Dr. Nicht Werhoffen was the Russian FSB’s leading mad scientist.

Dr. Werhoffen was formerly a mad scientist for the Stasi (the East German Secret Police) but had to seek employment elsewhere when the Berlin Wall came down.

The commercial it turned out (as Nikolai Sonavitch started to feel thirsty) was part of a documentary the BBC was doing on the Puppy Monkey Baby phenomenon.

As Sonavitch phoned down to the front desk and asked them to send up 3 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart, the BBC was interviewing Set Enterprises’ chief corporate mad scientist Dr. Cadbury Rocher.

Said Rocher, “The Puppy Monkey Baby is so yesterday. I created one back in 2001. Unfortunately it was applying for a job on the upper floors of one of the World Trade Center towers the morning of September 11th 2001. Set Enterprises’ corporate lawyers still aren’t sure whether to sue the Estate of Osama Bin Laden, the trio of George W. Bush, Dick Cheney and Donald Rumsfeld or the Illuminati over that loss.”

Shit, the British beat us in creating a Puppy Monkey Baby, Sonavitch thought to himself as the hotel porter brought in the 3 cans of Mountain Dew Kickstart.

Sonavitch opened the first can and started drinking.

That old movie from 1942 The Cat People with Simone Simon was on one of the other channels so he started watching.

He was soon on his 3rd can of Mountain Dew Kickstart.

On the screen, the old Black and White movie suddenly turned into a coloured film and a beautiful leather skirted Asian dominatrix woman who called herself Sherrielock Holmes was standing there in the midst of a bunch of fiery red coloured cats.

“That’s funny, I don’t remember this scene,” Nikolai Sonavitch commented.

The hotel room door suddenly opened and a Puppy Monkey Baby entered the room.

“Puppy Monkey Baby,” the Puppy Monkey Baby kept repeating over and over.

The Puppy Monkey Baby jumped up on the coffee table in front of Sonavitch and did a little dance.

He then jumped on to Sonavitch’s lap and proceeded to lick him on the face all the while saying Puppy Monkey Baby.

He then kissed Sonavitch on the lips and then pulled a carving knife out of his diaper and slashed the assistant deputy foreign minister of Russia to death.

The Puppy Monkey Baby then shapeshifted into his natural form of satyr serial killer and hired contract assassin Pan Goatee.

Said Goatee, “That was fun. I always thought it would be cool to play the part of Judas Iscariot but be quick about it.”

He picked up the remaining can of Mountain Dew Kickstart and finished it saying, “There’s no need to let this new Holy Trinity or 3-in-1 to go to waste.”

He downed the Kickstart, belched and put the can back on the table.

“I’ll let the cleaning staff pocket the return deposit money for this,” Pan Goatee couldn’t help but grin at his own personal generosity.

He turned back into a Puppy Monkey Baby again, “My audience- the hotel security cameras- awaits.”

He went out the door and into the hall saying over and over again, “Puppy Monkey Baby… Puppy Monkey Baby… Puppy Monkey Baby… ”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday March 18th
2016.

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Qonzilqointec In London

October 10, 2014 at 7:57 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, History, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Qonzilqointec In London

MI-6 Agent Diablos Nocturna was in his London apartment reading documents about the unstable political situation in Turkey over Kurdish anger at the Turkish government’s refusal to use its military to defend the Syria-Turkey border town of Kobane.

A rustling came through the curtains of his apartment.

And standing there was the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec wearing a black evening dress and black spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

“Well, hello,” Diablos Nocturna put his folder of documents down.

“Hello, Diablos,” the Aztec vampire princess smiled, “if I may call you by the first name of your MI-6 code name.”

For Qonzilqointec had known Diablos Nocturna before he had become an MI-6 agent.

“Of course your Highness,” Diablos smiled, “what brings you to London?”.

“Well I spent a few days in Paris,” Qonzilqointec answered, “where I was meeting with various art dealers trying to buy a painting that Toulouse-Lautrec had once painted of me.”

“I didn’t know that Toulouse-Lautrec had once painted a picture of you,” Diablos Nocturna was suitably impressed.

“Yes,” Qonzilqointec smiled as she touched her jade earring, “two actually. One of me wearing a fashionable Parisienne evening gown of the 1890s and the other of me in the nude.”

“Toulouse painted one of you in the nude?” Diablos Nocturna had never heard this in the art history course he once took.

“Yes,” Qonzilqointec sighed, “unfortunately that particular painting went down on the Titanic.”

“No wonder there have been so many salvage trips down to the ocean depths to see what can be recovered from the Titanic,” Diablos Nocturna poured two glasses of red wine.

“Thanks,” the sexy and seductive Aztec vampire princess brushed back her hair as she accepted both the compliment and the glass of red wine.

“Anyone else try to paint a picture of you in the nude?” Diablos Nocturna was starting to regret not having taken any oil painting classes himself when he was younger.

“Pablo Picasso,” Qonzilqointec answered, “but since I had no desire to look like a cube or an ear or an eye with two noses, I turned down his request.”

Diablos Nocturna laughed.

In the distance sounded the howl of a wolf-like creature.

“That sounds like a werewolf,” said Qonzilqointec who was familiar with such creatures.

“It does indeed,” Diablos Nocturna agreed.

He too was familiar with such creatures.

“Never recalled hearing anything about there being a werewolf in the neighbourhood tonight,” Diablos sipped his wine, “there’s a trade union meeting in the neighbourhood labour hall at which far-left Marxist British Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley is the guest speaker.”

“Maybe the meeting is turning out to be a howling success,” the Aztec vampire princess suggested.

“Indeed,” Diablos Nocturna laughed, “so did you locate the painting that Toulouse-Lautrec painted of you fully clothed?”.

“I was fully clothed in an evening gown in the painting,” Qonzilqointec answered, “Henri himself was in the nude when he painted it.”

“I see,” Diablos Nocturna was intrigued, “and did he paint it using a brush or looking at you was he inspired enough to paint it using something else?”.

Now it was the Aztec vampire princess’ turn to laugh.

“I take it from the look on your face that you managed to locate the painting,” Diablos Nocturna poured two more glasses of red wine.

“Yes,” the Aztec vampire princess smoothed her dress, “I found it– this painting of me with its unique ‘brush’ strokes and mixes of paint and precious stains.”

“And what did the art dealer have to say when you bought it?” Diablos Nocturna asked.

“He said it was a good thing for art and history that the German businessman who bought the painting in the early 1930s took seriously ill the first week of May 1937 thus preventing both him and the painting from being aboard the Hindenburg that ill fated week,” Qonzilqointec answered.

“A good thing for art and history indeed,” Diablos Nocturna raised his glass of wine and drank a toast, “so anything else exciting happen to you in Paris?”.

“Well I watched that sleezy harlot Isis push Swiss scientist Dr. Fahrenheit Celsius off the bell tower of Notre Dame Cathedral which caused him to plunge to his death,” the Aztec vampire princess seethed through her vampiric fangs.

“Yes, I heard about that murder on the news here,” Diablos Nocturna finished his wine, “so it was the Vampiress Isis who committed it eh?”.

“Yes,” Qonzilqointec replied.

The news reported on BBC a week ago last Wednesday evening noted that not only had Dr. Celsius been killed but he had landed on top of a street corner poetry reciter killing him as well.

The street corner poetry reciter had just finished reciting John Donne’s famous lines, “Therefore, send not to know For whom the bell tolls, It tolls for thee” when the bell tower plunging Swiss scientist fell on top of him.

As for the deep-rooted enmity between Qonzilqointec and Isis, that went back to the time when the French Emperor Napoleon III who served as an imperial puppet for the Vampiress Isis’ plans for world domination attempted to place a Hapsburg on the throne of Mexico as the Emperor Maximilian I.

This ticked off the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec who believed that the throne of Mexico was reserved for her spiritual godfather Quetzalcoatl.

“So you went to Paris to purchase a painting that Toulouse-Lautrec painted of you,” Diablos Nocturna smiled at Qonzilqointec, “what brings you to London?”.

“I came to see Dr. Cadbury Rocher,” Qonzilqointec answered, “and then I saw Renfield R. Renfield.”

“You saw the Vampire Set’s chief research scientist and then his shapeshifting hamster/human Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering?” Diablos Nocturna lit a pipe.

“That’s right,” the Aztec vampire princess nodded.

“So how’s Renfield doing?” Diablos Nocturna looked up the term Severe Narcissistic Personality Disorder in the Complete Oxford Dictionary and noticed Renfield’s picture was along side it.

“Well talking of oil paintings of people posing in the nude,” Qonzilqointec laughed, “Renfield boasted to me that a well-known Malaysian woman artist who I had never heard of had painted two oil paintings of him posing in the nude.”

“Really?” Diablos Nocturna started to choke on his pipe, “and whatever became of those paintings?”.

“Well one of them disappeared along with the plane that it was on- Malaysia Airlines Flight MH370,” the Aztec vampire princess replied, “and the other went down on Malaysia Airlines Flight MH17 when the Amsterdam art dealer who bought it was trying to return it to the Kuala Lumpur art gallery from which he bought it to demand his money back.”

“I see,” Diablos Nocturna remarked.

“Although,” the Aztec vampire princess rubbed her chin, “there are rumours that it was found among the wreckage on the ground and its finding is responsible for giving recurring nightmares to Russian soldiers who are covertly operating in Ukrainian territory.”

“That I can believe,” Diablos Nocturna emptied his pipe.

“And now,” Qonzilqointec approached him, “I have discussed with Dr. Cadbury Rocher and Renfield R. Renfield a project I have in mind. And now I’m going to discuss that project with you.”

She leaned forward giving Diablos Nocturna a good view of her ample bosom down her low-cut evening dress.

“Well,” Diablos Nocturna said, “as Dr. Frasier Crane used to say on his Seattle radio call- in show on that old 1990s TV comedy series Frasier, ‘I’m listening’. ”

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
during the time period
of Tuesday October 7th
to
Friday October 10th
2014.

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Renfield In Israel

July 23, 2014 at 2:50 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Espionage, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Renfield In Israel

Renfield flew his Boss’ private plane from London to Ben Gurion Airport in Tel Aviv since U.S. and European commercial airlines suspended their flights there due to a Hamas rocket landing one mile away from the airport.

Renfield was to meet the Mossad agent called The Controller of The Golem.

He would then be taken to meet Ukrainian Vampiress Inna Hukulak who was in the protective custody of Mossad after she had been rescued by Israeli commandos from an FSB interrogation center in Moscow last month.

From Miss Hukulak, he would be given detailed information about Miss Hukulak’s personal arch-enemy the Russian Vampiress Svetlana Kireeva of the FSB.

Miss Kireeva would then be the one to use to get close to Russian President Vladimir Putin.

Renfield’s meeting with the Controller of The Golem had been arranged by MI-6 Agent Diablos Nocturna.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday July 22nd
2014.

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Vampiress Morgana Visits Renfield

January 9, 2014 at 8:57 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Vampiress Morgana Visits Renfield

The Welsh Vampiress Morgana knocked on the knockers of the door of the colossal London mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.

She was dressed in the tight brown skirted uniform of a member of the North Korean Army’s Women’s Corps.

She had recently left North Korea where she had been for celebrations marking the 31st birthday of North Korean dictator Kim Jong-un.

Renfield R. Renfield the genetically created shapeshifting hamster/human Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set answered the door.

He was wearing a red velvet dressing robe and smoking a pipe.

He had been in the bathtub playing with his rubber ducky and making plans for the new political party he had just founded- The British Transhumanist Techno-Progressive Anti Bio-Conservative Party.

“Rennie,” Morgana spoke to him in an out-of-breath voice, “we need to talk.”

. . .

Elton was walking on thin ground with his employers at Special Branch.

He had blown his last 10 assignments.

One more and he was out of his job with Special Branch.

His mission today was to stand at this street corner and wait for the Ukrainian Ambassador to London to walk towards him.

He was then to put the Ukrainian Ambassador into the waiting Rolls-Royce limousine which would then drive away to an undisclosed location where the Ambassador would have a top-secret meeting with British Prime Minister David Cameron to discuss the on-going political crisis in Ukraine.

Elton was wearing pink-framed and rose-coloured sunglasses like those worn by his mother’s idol Sir Elton John (for whom he was named).

As such he had forgotten his regular eyeglasses at home.

Walking down the street was Amadeus Emanon the genetically cloned and laboratory created personal concert pianist to the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set (Amadeus had been cloned from the DNA of locks of hair from composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, California mass murderer Charles Manson and British actor Alan Rickman).

Amadeus just happened to be carrying a take-out dish of perogies and sour cream.

As soon as Elton caught the whiff of perogies and sour cream, he deduced that this must be the Ukrainian Ambassador and so immediately grabbed Amadeus and pushed him into the waiting Rolls-Royce limousine.

And so Amadeus was off- to an unexpected meeting with David Cameron the Prime Minister of Great Britain.

And Elton stood there on the street waving to the departing limousine- oblivious to the fact that he’d soon be out of a job.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday January 9th
2014.

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Haiku About Sherlock Holmes

August 28, 2013 at 7:11 pm (Poetry) (, , , )

Haiku About Sherlock Holmes

Mister Sherlock Holmes
out of London’s mists and fog
great mind for all time

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Renfield and The Pompous Arrogant Millionaire

July 23, 2013 at 1:31 am (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield and Amadeus Emanon entered the seafood restaurant in London.

 

As they were entering, a man walked directly in front of Renfield and knocked into him without saying “Excuse me.”

 

“I’m going to kill that bastard,” Renfield turned to go after the man.

 

Amadeus grabbed Renfield and held him, “Calm down.”

 

As they were seated at a table, their usual waitress came over to their table and seemed to be somewhat upset.

 

“What’s wrong?” Amadeus asked.

 

“That man who just walked out,” she pointed outside to the man walking on the sidewalk- the same man who had carelessly bumped into Renfield, “he had a meal worth 50 pounds and tipped me nothing. Usually he leaves me a 5 pound tip but because I didn’t deliver his crab to him within 30 seconds of the chef ringing the bell to say the order was ready, he left me nothing.  But I had a whole bunch of drinks on my tray for another table at the time and I couldn’t rush to deliver them. So for that, he left me a tip of nothing.”

 

“Really?” Amadeus was shocked.

 

“The guy’s a millionaire too,” the waitress sighed, “and always boasting about how philanthropic and charitable he is.  But because I didn’t deliver his crab to him within 30 seconds, that philanthropic millionaire left me a tip of nothing.”

 

“That does it,” Renfield said, “I’m going to kill the bastard.”

 

This time Amadeus did nothing to stop him.

 

Renfield ran outside the restaurant and spotted the man about to enter the back seat of a Rolls Royce limousine whose back door was being held open by a chauffeur.

 

Renfield went behind the man, pulled out his gun and fired six rounds into the man’s back.

 

Then he turned around and walked back into the restaurant.

 

As the man lay on the sidewalk bleeding to death, his chauffeur (who had often been the victim of many of the pompous arrogant millionaire’s tirades) text messaged a friend on his phone (one he knew would be slow to answer him) and asked him what was the emergency number for police, fire and ambulance in the United Kingdom.

 

The friend responded 15 minutes later, “999 but you should know this.”

 

“You’re right I should,” the chauffeur text messaged back in Dracul Van Helsing style longhand, “I guess I must have forgotten momentarily.”

 

By this time the man was already dead and and had started his eternity of roasting on a nice warm red hot spit in Hellish flames.

 

When Renfield entered the restaurant a minute after shooting the man 6 times with his gun, he remarked to himself, “It’s a good thing there’s a special on illegal ammunition this week down at the gang warehouse in the London dockyards or otherwise I’d be kicking myself silly right now for excessive wastage of bullets.”

 

“What did you do?” Amadeus asked.

 

“I shot and killed him,” Renfield calmly remarked as he tied his napkin around his neck to form a protective bib as he quite often splashed while eating his oysters.

 

“You know I’m worried about myself,” Amadeus remarked, “I should be feeling a sense of moral outrage right now since you killed someone albeit someone who was a total asshole.   Yet I’m finding it hard to work up a sense of moral outrage over his death.”

 

“That’s because you’ve just learned a little known truth,” Renfield grinned, “which is totally oblivious to most idiots who work in the Crown Prosecutor’s Office and also sit on the bench which is that most societies do require psychopaths in order to be able to function properly in a manner that ensures true fairness and justice for all.”

 

 

To be continued.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

-A vampire novel chapter 

 written by Christopher

 Monday night July 22nd 2013.

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