The Ghost of Orson Welles and The Russian Spy Beluga Whale Defector To Norway

May 3, 2019 at 10:17 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Radio, Spy Tales, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

While British MP Renfield R. Renfield was in Thailand to attend the coronation ceremony of King Maha Vajiralongkorn, his spirit advisors the ghosts of Orson Welles and Sir Winston Churchill were hanging around the colossal London mansion of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set smoking huge amounts of spectral cigars with Churchill drinking huge amounts of spectral brandy and Welles drinking huge amounts of spectral wine.

After a couple of days of this, an exasperated billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set asked his butler and valet Athelstan, “What’s the number for Ghostbusters?”.

“I regret to say, sir, that Ghostbusters was pure fiction and the Ghostbusters team portrayed by Bill Murray, Dan Aykroyd, Harold Ramis and Ernie Hudson do not exist in reality,” Athelstan sighed.

“Damn,” Set spilled his crocodile casserole all over himself at this upsetting piece of news.

The phone rang.

Athelstan picked it up.

“It’s for you, Orson,” the valet called out to Welles’ ghost who was busy talking to the clock on the living room mantelpiece and telling it, “We will sell no wine before its time.”

“Who is it?” Welles asked.

“It’s Erna Solberg the Prime Minister of Norway,” Athelstan replied.

“What does the Prime Minister of Norway want with me?” Welles asked.

“Well, why don’t you pick up the fucking phone and find out?” Set said angrily as he was using vast amounts of Sherrielock Holmes’ Bavarian Magic Mushroom Stain Remover trying desperately to remove the crocodile casserole stains off his suit and tie.

Welles’ ghost took the phone.

After a long conversation, Welles’ ghost put the phone down.

“What is up, Senor Welles?” Athelstan asked.

“Apparently, that beluga whale that showed up in Norway that some people are calling a Russian spy wants to defect to the Norwegians,” Welles replied.

“And what does that have to do with you?” Set asked as he found out where Renfield kept his secret stash of bourbon (it was under the stairwell under a post office box marked HARRY POTTER Age 21) and helped himself to two bottles of bourbon.

“Apparently, the beluga whale doesn’t speak Norwegian,” Welles replied, “he only speaks Russian (which he learned at the Russian Navy’s Northern Fleet Headquarters in Murmansk where he was being taught to be a spy) and English. Apparently he learned English because his spy handler listened to my old radio programs that are available on the Internet. Shows like The Shadow, The Adventures of Harry Lime, and The Black Museum. He also liked a radio commercial ad I once did for Norwegian cod. Apparently it was that ad which inspired him to defect to Norway. While swimming towards Norwegian waters, he ran into the mermaid Miranda who had met Renfield once on the Israeli coast off Tel Aviv. Miranda told the beluga whale that while it is true that I’m dead, I was granted dispensational leave from Purgatory by Hades the god of the Underworld and I’m currently serving as a spirit advisor to Mr. Renfield along with the ghost of Sir Winston Churchill. The beluga wants to make his formal defection to the Norwegian government with me present.”

“Does that mean you’ll go to Norway and be out of my house for a while?” Set asked as he started working on his 99th bottle of bourbon.

“Yes,” Welles nodded, “If I can borrow one of your Persian flying carpets to fly to Norway.”

“Yes, go down to the Set Enterprises Laboratories and Rug Emporium and get one,” Set directed, “In the name of God, go.”

Welles’ ghost walked out the door and went out into the London night with his spectral fur coat adorning his huge spectral shoulders.

Set looked over into the armchair by the fireplace where Churchill’s ghost sat fast asleep and singing in his sleep, “Oh my darling, oh my darling, oh my darling Clementine, you are lost and gone forever, oh my darling Clementine.”

“Now, if I can only find a way to get rid of that one,” the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire pointed a bony finger at Churchill before falling to the floor in a drunken stupor.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday May 3rd 2019.

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