Saint Nicholas’ Night In Spitsbergen

December 6, 2019 at 11:56 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Spy Tales, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Saint Nicholas’ Night In Spitsbergen

The Set Enterprises jet landed down at the Spitsbergen International Airport.

On board were British MP Renfield R. Renfield, his friend Amadeus Emanon, members of Renfield’s personal British Army Brigade of Gurkhas and the pot smoking desert cactus plant Strawberry Fields Forever.

Strawberry Fields Forever had been flown to Spitsbergen for safe keeping since Xi Jinping had placed a death edict on him.

Renfield was dressed in the robes of and wearing the mitre of an Eastern Orthodox bishop.

He was also sporting a huge white beard and carrying a bishop’s staff shepherd’s crook.

“Tell me again why you’re dressed like that?” Asked Amadeus.

“Just on the off chance anybody asks, I’m Saint Nicholas the Bishop of Myra here to deliver a gift to the Frozen North Orleans Jazz Cafe in Spitsbergen,” Renfield answered as he practiced his knockout the heretic Arius at the Council of Nicaea punch.

“And the gift is Strawberry Fields Forever?” Amadeus asked.

“Exactly,” Renfield nodded.

When the plane finally halted, Renfield got off the plane in his bishop’s robe and gave his Apostolic episcopal blessing on the frozen wasteland.

Renfield imparted the Sign of The Cross blessing and said, “Ho-te-deum. Ho-te-deum. Ho-te-deum.”

“What does that mean?” Amadeus inquired.

“That’s Ho-Ho-Ho in Latin,” Renfield grinned underneath his beard.

“But I thought Saint Nicholas was a Greek bishop,” Amadeus noted.

“Oh shut up, Amadeus,” Renfield tripped over his bishop’s staff shepherd’s crook and went tumbling down the plane stairs.

“And I just text messaged J.K. Rowling,” Amadeus looked at his smart phone, “and she answered back right away. That isn’t how you say Ho-Ho-Ho in Latin.”

“I’ve got more important things to worry about,” Renfield stood up on his feet, “like I just froze my ass off hitting the ice on the airport tarmac.”

Suddenly a huge beam of light came down on the plane.

“This is Norwegian Immigration Authorities,” a voice said, “we want to see your identification papers.”

“We don’t have any,” Renfield answered back.

Suddenly a group of armed Norwegian Immigration officials surrounded them.

“We didn’t think you did Immigration checks here in the frozen wasteland of Spitsbergen,” Renfield called out, “We didn’t think you Immigration and Customs types enjoyed freezing your asses off.”

“We don’t,” said the snarky Immigration official, “we don’t enjoy freezing our balls off either if we had any. Mostly we’re at Customs and Immigration points where we harass tourists from Spain. But a psychic talking lutefisk on the King of Norway’s silver plate in his palace had a vision of a man dressed up as Saint Nicholas the Bishop of Myra up to no good on the island of Spitsbergen on the Night of the Feast of Saint Nicholas. That’s why we’re here.”

“No doubt, the psychic talking lutefisk also told you about the cartloads of illegal lutefisk we’re trying to smuggle into Spitsbergen in the cargo section of the plane,” said Renfield.

“What?” The Norwegian Immigration official immediately shit his pants which immediately turned to ice on this godforsaken frozen night, “Everybody unlock and search the cargo boxes.”

All the Norwegian Immigration officials immediately took the lids off the cargo crate boxes and dove in.

“But, Renfield,” Amadeus pointed out to his friend, “There’s no lutefisk in those crates. The Boss (the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set) stocked them with crocodiles to give Strawberry Fields Forever extra protection during his stay at the Frozen North Orleans Jazz Cafe.”

“Silly me, I forgot,” Renfield grinned sheepishly as the Norwegian Immigration officials uttered loud shrill piercing screams while they were eaten alive by crocodiles who were busy enjoying their first night in frozen Spitsbergen.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Friday December 6th
2019.

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The Kraken Visits A Christmas Market

November 24, 2019 at 10:48 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mythology, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The Kraken Visits A Christmas Market 

The Kraken who called himself Napoleon VI (because he hoped someday to become Emperor of France) and his wife Medusa (the ex-Gorgon) decided to head north across the border into Germany to visit one of the famous German Christmas markets.

They rented a one horse open sleigh for their journey.

As they journeyed north, the Kraken wearing red and white and a false white beard waved and said, “Ho, ho, ho” at all the passers-by.

“Mommy,” said one little girl, “I didn’t know Santa had 8 arms.”

“He has to in order to handle 8 reindeer,” her mother answered.

They soon came to a very beautiful Bavarian village with a Christmas market.

The Kraken exited the sleigh and posed for pictures with various people who were anxious to increase the likes on their Instagram accounts.

Medusa went shopping for candles and ornaments.

The Kraken then went over to a mulled wine stand and spent a great deal of time imbibing.

“Hic! Hic! Hic!” The Kraken said as he walked (or more accurately stumbled) his way towards the Christmas market central square to meet up with Medusa.

Playing at the gazebo bandstand in the Christmas market central square was the noted Norwegian jazz singer Olaf Fjordson.

His orchestra consisting of a jazz pianist, a jazz saxophonist, a jazz guitarist and a jazz violinist was behind him.

Olaf Fjordson and His Jazz Orchestra normally played the very popular wintertime jazz cafe Frozen North Orleans on the island of Spitsbergen, a jazz cafe that had been frequented by such notables as Orson Welles, Pablo Picasso, Howard Hughes and his biographer Clifford Irving.

They had been flown in from Spitsbergen to open the town’s Christmas market.

The jazz pianist was on stage trying to scrape the icicles off his piano keys.

The jazz saxophonist was holding his saxophone over an open fire as ice fell out of the mouthpiece.

The jazz guitarist was likewise scraping ice off his strings.

The jazz violinist was sitting on stage with his hands tied behind his back as his Australian Ernievarius violin (made out of winter tires) sat on his lap and therefore was not being played (for which the Christmas market crowds should be truly thankful).

As such, jazz singer Olaf Fjordson was currently singing a capella.

Sang Fjordson,

I feel it in my fingers 
I feel it in my toes 
Frostbite’s all around me 
And so the feeling grows…

After singing this last line, Fjordson immediately started screaming his head off like a heavy metal singer in concert.

“That Fjordson seems to have an extensive range when it comes to varieties of musical genre,” the Kraken remarked to Medusa.

“He does indeed,” Medusa agreed.

The Kraken then checked his 8 Rolex watches and noticed that it was time for them to head off in the direction of Berlin where they were due for a midnight banquet with German Chancellor Angela Merkel.

As they left, they noticed a World War I Sopwith Camel (that had flown the jazz orchestra from Spitsbergen to the Bavarian village Christmas market) being de-iced along with the pilot – a beagle wearing a World War I flying ace’s cap and goggles.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher 
Sunday November 24th
2019.

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