Hitler’s Ghost Views Paris and The Eiffel Tower As Amadeus and Angelique Make Out

August 23, 2018 at 10:42 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, love, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Hitler’s Ghost Views Paris and The Eiffel Tower As Amadeus and Angelique Make Out

Amadeus Emanon and his girlfriend the New Orleans vampiress Angelique Dumont were spending a romantic getaway in Paris France 🇫🇷.

The vampiress had stocked up on Dr. Cadbury Rocher’s special sunblock which prevented vampiresses from being fried to a crisp in the daylight sun.

They boated along the Seine River and lunched in elegant Parisienne street cafes as artists painted their portraits.

They watched someone wearing a Donald Trump mask dive into the river and announce to the world, “It’s official. I’m in Seine.”

They visited Notre Dame Cathedral and kissed under one of the gargoyles.

Not since the Hunchback of Notre Dame had lit up the night with Esmeralda the gypsy had the gargoyle seen such action.

Amadeus and Angelique then went to a spot with a great view of the Eiffel Tower and made out there.

Moments before, Amadeus had received a text message from his friend the British MP Renfield R. Renfield pointing out that today was the 79th Anniversary of the signing of the Nazi-Soviet Pact.

Renfield said he had just posted a message on the timeline of Vladimir Putin’s Facebook page to that effect and got a bunch of Russian 🇷🇺 expletives hurled at him in return.

And speaking of Nazis, Hitler’s Ghost had temporarily left the body of the grey wolf he was possessing and was walking in astral spirit form through the streets of Paris recounting memories of his glorious triumphal trip to Paris on June 28th 1940 after he had conquered the French nation.

He stood alongside Amadeus and Angelique as they looked at their tourist maps (fearing that Trump’s NSA would monitor the GPS on their smart phones) and stood looking out at the city before he then turned and gazed at the Eiffel Tower.

He then looked at Amadeus and Angelique who had dropped their tourist maps and were now kissing.

“Oh,” Der Fuhrer mused aloud to himself, “to be alive and young and in Paris.”

Coincidentally at that very same moment, Donald Trump was saying the exact same thing as he was watching an old reality TV show with Paris Hilton on Netflix.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday August 23rd
2018.

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Nikola Tesla, Tantric Sex and The Eiffel Tower

November 28, 2017 at 8:45 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Radio, Romance, Science, Technology, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Nikola Tesla, Tantric Sex and The Eiffel Tower

The stranger stood at the window of the Paris apartment he had rented for his birthday.

He lit a cigarette and gazed at the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

He then turned and looked at the beautiful woman who sat on his bed.

She looked exactly like the woman in one of his favourite contemporary music videos.

She was even wearing the same red halter top and sexy red skirt that the woman was wearing in the video.

He had run into her in a Paris martini 🍸 bar earlier this evening and was glad that “of all the martini bars in Paris he could have walked into, he walked into that one” to paraphrase a comment made by Humphrey Bogart in the movie Casablanca.

“Are you coming to bed?” She purred at him.

“I am,” the stranger put a Tesla coil and radio receiver on the window sill, “and with you with me, I’ll probably be coming in bed as well.”

He adjusted the wireless frequency on his Apple Watch ⌚️ and then walked over to the bed and started passionately kissing the woman in the red skirt.

She fell backwards on to the bed and raised her skirt.

The stranger noticed that she wasn’t wearing any panties.

He smiled.

He was glad to be with a woman who followed that Girl Guide motto Be Prepared.

As he mounted her, a wireless transmission hit the receiver at the top of the Eiffel Tower.

The wireless transmission had actually been sent 114 years earlier back on July 14th 1903 by Nicola Tesla at his Wardenclyffe Tower in Shoreham, Long Island, New York.

The Eiffel Tower then relayed the transmission to the Tesla coil and radio receiver on the window sill of the birthday celebrating stranger’s rented apartment.

The Tesla coil and radio receiver then sent the transmission to the stranger’s Apple Watch as a receiver.

The transmission then sent a major electrical discharge through the man’s body and the body of the woman in the red skirt causing both to have a major earth shaking climax and orgasm simultaneously.

“Holy Christ,” the woman shouted.

“Well, I’ve always thought of myself as the world’s greatest sinner but thanks for the compliment,” the man fell backwards on to his pillow and lit a cigarette.

As a result of this birthday night orgy of Teslian physics and tantric sex, the world was about to change forever.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday November 28th
2017.

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Michelangelo’s Dream of Raymond Red Reddington and Saad Hariri

November 17, 2017 at 6:08 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Television, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Michelangelo’s Dream of Raymond Red Reddington and Saad Hariri

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster was asleep in his aquarium at the Set Enterprises laboratory in London.

He was dreaming a dream about TV character Raymond Red Reddington from The Blacklist holding Lebanese Prime Minister Saad Hariri hostage in Riyadh Saudi Arabia.

“Why are you doing this?” Saad Hariri asked Red, “I thought you were busy sharing a blacklist with law enforcement authorities in America in return for being allowed to keep your vast criminal empire. Why are you helping the Saudis?”.

“I owe Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman a favour,” Red lit a cigar, “I have nothing against you personally.”

“Why do you owe the Crown Prince a favour?” Saad asked.

“Well I must admit it’s quite embarrassing,” Red brushed cigar ash off his trousers, “A couple of years ago I was in a Paris apartment getting the best blow job I had in my life from an extremely charming and beautiful young Saudi businesswoman Miss Fatima Suleiman when unexpectedly the Saudi Religious Police (who seem to have some trouble knowing where their jurisdiction lies) came bursting into the room. They were going to charge the charming Miss Fatima with adultery and take her back to Saudi Arabia where she’d be stoned (in a different sense of that word from Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau inhaling too much pot smoke). I felt it would be a terrible tragedy for the world if it were to lose Fatima’s delicious lips of mass exhilaration. So I phoned Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman and asked that he commute her sentence and that she be allowed to remain in Paris where she could continue to perform oral healing on me. His Highness agreed on condition that I owe him a favour which he could call in at any time.”

“What became of the Saudi Religious Police officers who witnessed Fatima’s actions?” Hariri inquired.

“His Highness drafted them into the Saudi Army and sent them to the front lines of Damascus to fight Bashar al-Assad’s forces where of course they were killed immediately,” Red poured himself a glass of bourbon.

“And the favour the Crown Prince called in was for you to hold me hostage and get me to resign as Prime Minister of Lebanon 🇱🇧?” Hariri was beginning to see the light.

Reddington quickly closed the blinds.

“That is correct,” Red finished his bourbon.

“So why is the Crown Prince now allowing me to fly to Paris at the invitation of French President Emmanuel Macron?” Saad asked.

“Beats me,” Reddington shrugged, “For myself, I’ve always been suspicious of any French male politician who wears more makeup 💄 than Caitlyn Jenner and the Kardashian sisters put together.”

“So it’s a mystery why I’m being allowed to fly to Paris, France 🇫🇷,”
Hariri noted.

“Well there are rumours that a few days ago a kraken calling himself Napoleon VI burst into Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman’s palace while His Highness was hosting a seafood banquet,” Reddington opened a tin of smoked oysters, “and after eating all the seafood, the kraken demanded that His Highness release you.”

“And so as a result of the kraken’s digestive actions, I’m now flying to Paris,” Saad Hariri was impressed.

“That appears to be the case,” Red started eating the oysters using chopsticks, “as for myself, I appear to have misplaced my fork.”

“Say, Red,” Hariri looked imploringly at Reddington, “what’s the address of Miss Fatima Suleiman’s apartment in Paris?”.

Michelangelo woke up and wondered how much of his dream was reality.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 17th
2017.

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Ernest Hemingway and The Vampiress In Red- A Poem

February 19, 2017 at 4:43 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Poetry, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

At his apartment window
he sat at the old typewriter
cigarette in his mouth
a glass of bourbon at his right hand

From his window he could see the Eiffel Tower
and the surrounding lights
Paris the City of Lights they called it
a most apt description

A bat flew in through the window
The hazards of having the window open
Hemingway reflected
He saw the bat heading towards the sofa
land on it
and turn into a beautiful Egyptian woman
in a lovely scarlet red evening dress

“My doctor said this might happen
if I didn’t stop drinking heavily”
Hemingway grabbed the bottle
and put it away in a bottom desk drawer
He was going to throw the contents
of the glass
on to the streets below
then thought better of it,
“It seems a pity to waste such good bourbon
on such unappreciative cobblestone”

He downed the glass’ contents in one quick swoop
“That’s the last drink I’ll ever take”
Hemingway announced to Paris and the world.
A sudden gust of wind entered the room
causing his dresser and mirror to shake
making it appear that his reflection
was laughing at him.

“I am quite real, Mr. Hemingway,”
said the beautiful Egyptian woman
in the red dress.
“I’m happy to hear that,”
Hemingway replied,
“it encourages me to take a second look
at this evening’s vow of abstinence.” .
“Abstinence from what, Mr. Hemingway?’
the vampiress Isis raised her dress
above her thighs
showing lovely pantyhose clad legs.

“Abstinence from drinking,” Hemingway replied,
“I’ve made no other pledge
in the past 24 hours,
past 24 minutes
or past 24 seconds.”

“I’m happy to hear that,”
the woman smiled showing lovely vampiric incisors.
“What big teeth you have, Grandma,” said Hemingway.
Isis laughed, “The better to bite you with, my dear.
I am Grandma times one thousand. I am Isis.”
“The goddess?” Hemingway asked.
“Very much the goddess,” Isis lay back on the sofa.
“Then let me worship at thine altar,”
Hemingway lay down on top of her
and kissed her breasts.

. . .

In a little Parisienne cafe
the vampire Set sat
after an evening spent
with Josephine Baker
Set was busy playing a game of chess
by himself

“I see you’ve got the black queen,”
Isis remarked
as she looked down
at the chess board.
Set looked up
into the eyes
of his sister and sister-in-law Isis.
“But I just took the white knight,”
Isis removed a chess piece off the board.

“How long shall we play this cosmic game
of chess, sister?” Set asked.
“Until there are no pieces left on the board,”
Isis answered.

When the light of dawn filtered through
the windows of the cafe,
no piece remained on the chess board
and all the players had gone home.

-A narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday February 9th
2017.

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Egyptian Vampire Set Visits Paris- 1927

February 14, 2017 at 12:55 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set had been sent a film delivered in the mail to his Berlin apartment.

Set had rather enjoyed the film.

A few days later he had received a note from the star of the film inviting him to Paris.

That night he had announced to his German valet Hans Franz Benz that he would be visiting Paris.

“Permanently, sir?” Hans Franz Benz started to worry about his future employment.

“Oh, no, only for a few nights,” Set answered much to Benz’ relief.

Set took a night train from Berlin to Paris.

He spent the day sleeping in bed at the Hotel de Crillon where he dreamed of King Louis XVI losing his head in front of the building and U.S. President Woodrow Wilson’s advisor Colonel Edward Mandell House plotting a one world government there.

At 9 PM, he took a taxi from his hotel to the Eiffel Tower.

He then took the elevator up to the observation deck (although being a vampire, he could have easily turned into a bat and flown up but he decided to act human on this occasion).

At 9:45 PM, the Egyptian vampire took out his moon dial watch which operated by the power of the rays of the moon (The watch had been specially designed and made for him by a dynamic duo of a top notch master Swiss watch maker and the Serbian inventor Nikola Tesla).

Set looked up from his moon dial watch when he heard the observation deck elevator door open.

Sure enough it was her the star of the film who had sent him a message inviting him to Paris to meet her.

“Mr. Sol Invictus Set?” The beautiful American actress and dancer called him by the name he had been using since late 1918.

“Miss Josephine Baker,” the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set kissed her hand.

Josephine Baker Dancer In The Rain
Josephine Baker danced in the streets of Paris for Mr. Sol Invictus Set on their evening together.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 9th
2017.

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Renfield Meets Dr. Cadbury Rocher In Paris

January 8, 2015 at 7:52 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Espionage, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

Renfield Meets Dr. Cadbury Rocher In Paris

Dr. Cadbury Rocher looked at the huge pile of bodies piling up in front of the Parisienne cafe in which he was sitting.

As they completely blocked his view to the window, he was about to ask for his cheque and leave when suddenly Renfield R. Renfield entered the cafe carrying a machine gun.

“Sorry, I took so long,” Renfield apologized, “but I had to shoot my way through a bunch of Islamist terrorists to get here.”

“Are they the ones whose bodies are piled up out there? Dr. Rocher asked.

“Yes,” Renfield wiped all the blood off his machine gun with his table napkin, “the Paris sanitation workers should be along any minute now to take away the trash unless they’re on strike again because they figure they’re still not getting a long enough coffee break to enjoy their cheese and croissant sandwiches.”

“May I get you something, Monsieur?” The waiter asked Renfield.

“Well, I already banged Julie Gayet for breakfast in my hotel room while I was on the speaker phone with Francois Hollande this morning,” Renfield tied the bloodied napkin around his neck as a bib, “so now I’ll have the toasted tuna fish and cheese sandwich.”

Renfield then discussed old times with Dr. Rocher- like creating gooey green coloured flesh-eating nanobots and then letting them loose in the bedroom of the Prince of Wales the night before he was scheduled to give a speech to a scientific conference on the threat posed to humanity by “gray gooey flesh-eating nanobots”.

“So what have you been up to these days?” Dr. Rocher asked Renfield.

“Well I just wrote a letter to Her Majesty the Queen noting that she forgot to add my name to her roll of knighthoods in her New Year’s Honours list for this year,” Renfield blew his nose into the table cloth because his napkin bib was no longer the proper colour for nose blowing in his opinion, “but I expect that situation to be rectified in the next few weeks.”

The waiter arrived with Renfield’s tuna fish and cheese sandwich.

“Excuse me,” Renfield called out after the waiter, “I asked for my tuna fish sandwich toasted not burnt.”

Renfield pulled out his machine gun and blew the waiter away to kingdom come.

The impact sent the waiter flying through the window out into the street where the Paris sanitation workers had just finished throwing the last of the Islamist terrorists’ bodies into the sanitation truck (which would have been called a garbage truck in America).

“Another one, Henri,” one of the sanitation workers called out to his partner.

“Not now, Andre,” his partner looked at his watch, “coffee break time.”

Both men sat on a street bench and took out their lunch pails which they opened and brought out bottles of cognac and several plates of cheese and croissants which they ate.

Two hours later when Renfield had talked Dr. Cadbury Rocher into returning to work for the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian Vampire Set and the pair had then left the cafe, both sanitation workers were still sitting on the street bench eating and drinking while groups of vultures had flown down from the skies and were now feeding on the bodies in the sanitation truck and the waiter’s body still lying on the street.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday January 8th
2015.

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Haikus About Charlie Hebdo Massacre

January 7, 2015 at 7:15 pm (Commentary, Crime, History, Literature, News, Poetry) (, , , , , , , , )

Haikus About Charlie Hebdo Massacre

So Jonathan Swift
made modest proposal that
led to no killings

Now Mister Swift’s ghost
travels to Paris and says
oui je suis Charlie

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Isis In Rome

October 13, 2014 at 10:12 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, Horror, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Isis In Rome

The ancient Egyptian Vampiress Isis sat on top of the obelisk in Saint Peter’s Square in Rome wearing a red blouse, short black leather skirt, black silk pantyhose and super spiked black stiletto high-heeled shoes.

She checked her prototype Apple iWatch (given her as a gift from the CEO of Apple ahead of next year’s release date for the general public) and read on her News ticker that the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec’s plane had arrived safely in Mexico City on its way back from London, England.

Damn.

She’d have to hire a better bomb maker next time.

In the distance, she noted a giant vampire bat entering one of the apartment windows of the Vatican.

“The fun and games look like they’re about to start now,” the Egyptian Vampiress thought to herself.

Isis stood atop the point of the obelisk and balanced herself on her right super spiked stiletto high-heeled shoe and then turned into a giant vampire bat herself and flew in the direction of the same Vatican apartment.

. . .

Cardinal JM was in the dining room of his apartment entertaining the deputy Russian Ambassador to Italy.

His openly gay secretary Father Oliver Thomas Wardenclyffe was in his own bedroom in an adjacent apartment entertaining an episcopal member of the Synod of Bishops on The Family and getting him to change his mind on the nature of homosexual relationships.

Father Wardenclyffe was doing an excellent impersonation of Captain James T. Kirk of the U.S.S. Enterprise as he was boldly going where no man had gone before.

Cardinal JM was entertaining the deputy Russian Ambassador to Italy with a lavish dinner because the Cardinal had been asked by Pope Francis to engage in diplomatic talks between officials of Russia and Ukraine to see if a permanent peace deal could not be reached in the current civil war in eastern Ukraine.

Cardinal JM was going to his study to reach for an old book he had on The History of the Crimean War 1853-1856 in order to quote to the deputy Russian Ambassador from it.

In order to reach his study, he’d have to pass through the bedroom of his apartment first.

As he walked through his bedroom, he noticed standing there was the ancient Babylonian Vampiress Ishtar wearing a red silk lace lingerie nightgown.

Ishtar grabbed him with her long red painted fingernails and threw him on top of his bed, ripped off his Cardinal’s robes and made love to him.

Meanwhile back in the dining room of the Cardinal’s apartment, the deputy Russian Ambassador to Italy was helping himself to some more scalloped potatoes and seafood lasagna when suddenly a rustling came through the curtains of the dining room.

Standing there was the Egyptian Vampiress Isis in her red blouse, black leather mini skirt, black silk pantyhose and black super spiked stiletto high- heeled shoes.

The deputy Russian Ambassador to Italy hadn’t felt such a ping since he had once taken two Viagara tablets by mistake instead of two Aspirins just before bedtime.

The Vampiress Isis used her black silk nylon clad left leg to clear the food, dishes and cutlery off the dining room table.

She then grabbed the deputy Russian Ambassador by his neck with her own long nocturnal black painted fingernails and threw him on top of the dining room table and then bit his neck and drained his body of blood.

As he struggled, the deputy Russian Ambassador pushed a secret button on the side of Cardinal JM’s dining room table.

The button was Cardinal JM’s way of dealing with annoying dinner guests.

As the Cardinal put on a pair of totally dark goggles, he’d push the button and a surprise on a string came down from a secret hole in the ceiling and dangled in front of the annoying guest or guests.

For the Cardinal who was a collector of Classical Greek antiquities had the real Medusa the Gorgon’s Head in his collection.

It was the Head dangling on the string that was the surprise for the Cardinal’s annoying dinner guests.

After the deputy Russian Ambassador to Italy had pushed the secret button and the Cardinal’s Surprise came down from the ceiling, the Vampiress Isis proved the falsity of that saying, “You can’t squeeze blood from a stone.”

– To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday October 13th
2014.

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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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Vampiress Isis On Top of Notre Dame

October 1, 2014 at 7:14 pm (Horror, International Espionage, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Vampiress Isis On Top of Notre Dame

The Paris-based Egyptian Vampiress Isis stood at the top of the bell tower on Paris’ world-famous Notre Dame Cathedral.

The bell tower where she imagined Quasimodo ringing the bells.

She wore a scarlet red evening dress and scarlet red spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes as she stood on the tower in the moonlight.

“The Whore of Babylon,” a visiting Scots Presbyterian tourist shouted up from the street.

Isis grabbed a stone gargoyle and with her bare hands ripped it out of its place on the tower and threw it down on top of the Scots Presbyterian tourist killing him instantly.

As the Presbyterian met his predestined end and no doubt went to his predestined destination of the afterlife, Isis said in an eerily cold voice, “I am NOT Ishtar.”

“I am not fond of heights,” an out of breath Swiss scientist Dr. Fahrenheit Celsius said as he climbed out on to the open part of the bell tower at the top of Notre Dame Cathedral.

“I know,” Isis turned around and laughed a sinister laugh.

“Um… you wanted to see me?” Dr. Fahrenheit Celsius was feeling an intense apprehension.

( For more on the background of Dr. Fahrenheit Celsius, see here:

http://thevampiresamurai.blogspot.ca/2012/11/swiss-scientist-dr-fahrenheit-celsius.html?m=1 )

“You told me,” Isis shrieked at the scientist, “that if you had an ET gray’s laser death ray gun in your possession, you could re-assemble the sub-atomic particles of my husband Osiris and put him back together again.”

“Well, I thought I could,” Dr. Fahrenheit Celsius stepped back from the foaming and hissing Vampiress, “but something is not going according to plan. Just give me more time.”

“Time?” shrieked Isis, “I’m running out of time. I expect results.”

Isis pushed the scientist off the tower.

As she then took out her lipstick and applied some sensuous rouge lipstick to her succulent red lips, Dr. Fahrenheit Celsius fell rapidly like the temperatures at night at this time of year.

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday October 1st
2014.

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