Renfield Meets Prince Charles

October 22, 2016 at 4:11 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Renfield Meets Prince Charles

Renfield R. Renfield had been called in to meet H.R.H. The Prince of Wales to discuss the latest failed peace treaty between Syrian President Bashar al-Assad and his opponents.

A memorandum of understanding that Welsh werewolf British Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley had put together between the various parties (on a secret diplomatic mission for the British government) had collapsed thanks to help from Renfield R. Renfield.

Prince Charles was meeting Renfield to see if something could be done to rectify the situation.

As Renfield waited for His Highness inside the waiting room at Clarence House, he broke into a little song and ditty he had written and composed himself a few years back,

“Oh, I’m Charles Prince of Wales,
I’ve got plenty of tails
to help keep the women afloat…”

“Ahem,” a cough came from behind Renfield.

Renfield turned.

It was Charles Prince of Wales.

“Your Highness,” said Renfield, “I didn’t hear you come in…”

“Throw that bum out of here,” Charles directed his servants.

“But Your Highness,” Renfield protested.

Too late.

Renfield was thrown out of Clarence House.

Meanwhile Russian President Vladimir Putin was deploying the largest naval force since the end of the Cold War.

All headed towards Syria.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday October 22nd
2016.

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Sekhmet Explains The ET Gray

May 22, 2014 at 6:14 pm (Entertainment, Music, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Sekhmet Explains The ET Gray

Nero Wilson sat in the hotel dining room drinking orange juice and eating pancakes.

It had been a couple of days since he had discovered the ET gray in his hotel bedroom closet.

He found out that the ET gray had been introduced to his band’s lead singer Sekhmet after the open-air desert concert outside Mesa, Arizona by a groupie of the band named Lana who had then made out with the band’s drummer Dave Wilson (stage name Abbott Costello).

Sekhmet had hidden the ET gray in her suitcase telling everyone that it was just a teddy bear a fan had given her.

And so the ET gray had been in her suitcase the whole time they had driven from Arizona to California.

The ET gray had then been in the closet in Sekhmet’s hotel room but he had gone out in the night to take an extraterrestrial leak and when he came back in the darkness, all the hotel rooms had looked the same to him so he entered Nero Wilson’s room and closet by mistake.

Stories about Nero Wilson’s finding the ET gray in his closet had hit the Internet the same way a diarrhea ridden acrobatic knife thrower’s shit would hit the fan.

Of course one good thing about the story was that it made for two sold out performances the past couple of nights at The Tropicana Nightclub a small venue in downtown Los Angeles where his band Nero Wilson and The Cleveland Cleavers were performing.

Plus he had also been invited to be a guest and have his band perform on The Arsenio Hall Show while he was here in Los Angeles as a result of the story about him and the ET gray.

. . .

“I see six young people in Iran were arrested for filming a tribute video to Pharrell Williams’ song Happy,” Amadeus Emanon remarked as he ate his Happy Meal from McDonald’s.

“I suppose the assholes who govern Iran don’t want anyone in the country to be happy,” Renfield R. Renfield replied as he ate his Filet ‘o Fish.

“I suppose not,” Amadeus answered.

Amadeus then noticed that Renfield was booking a British Airways flight from London to Los Angeles on his laptop.

“Why are you flying to Los Angeles?” Amadeus asked.

Renfield winced.

He dare not tell bigmouth chatterbox Amadeus that he had been hired by their boss’ Archenemy the Vampiress Isis to steal a laser death ray gun from an ET gray.

Nor that the ET gray had shown up in Los Angeles according to the Internet’s leading social networking sites.

So Renfield said, “I’m going to see how my porn movie company in Orange County is doing.”

It was perfectly true that Renfield owned a small pornographic film studio in Orange County and he occasionally checked in from time to time to see how they were doing (not to mention personally auditioning young actresses who were hoping to break into the industry).

“Oh I see,” Amadeus decided to change the subject, “that Prince Charles while visiting an Immigration Museum in Halifax, Nova Scotia, Canada compared Vladimir Putin’s recent actions to Hitler’s actions in the 1930s.”

“He did?” Renfield suddenly turned white.

For it was Renfield’s latest project and goal and dream in life that he be awarded a knighthood from The Queen sometime this year.

Renfield immediately went on to Facebook and unfriended Vladimir Putin.

. . .

“I’m going to kill him,” Russian President Vladimir Putin shrieked and foamed at the mouth to Russian Vampiress and FSB agent Svetlana Kireeva.

“Who?” Svetlana asked, “Charles, Prince of Wales for comparing you to Hitler?”.

“No,” Putin went apoplectic, “Renfield R. Renfield for unfriending me on Facebook.”

To be continued.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday May 21st
2014.

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Lunar Vampire In Iran and Werewolf On The Road To Damascus

November 16, 2011 at 9:39 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

Interpol’s paranormal investigator Peter Whitstable was having a glass of wine with vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing in a Paris cafe.

“So Dracul, did you hear about Renfield R. Renfield stealing a classified document from CIA headquarters in Langley, Virginia?” Whitstable asked.

“I did,” Van Helsing nodded.

“And are you aware of the contents of that document?” Whitstable inquired.

“It relates how the Apollo 11 astronauts found a vampire in suspended animation in a coffin on the moon and were ordered by NASA to bring the coffin and vampire back to Earth,” Van Helsing answered.

“Do you know what ever became of that vampire?” Whitstable wanted to know, “no one seems to know.”

“Well it was aroused from its state of suspended animation and escaped and fled to Iran,” Van Helsing replied.

“Iran?” Whitstable’s ears perked up, “what happened to it there?”.

“It or he if you prefer now serves as an advisor to Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad,” Van Helsing stated.

“To Ahmadinejad?” Whistable’s jaw dropped.

“Yes, Ahmadinejad believes this vampire is the Imam Mahdi,” Van Helsing sipped his wine and gazed through the cafe window at the Eiffel Tower.

“The Twelfth Imam of Shia prophecy?” Whitstable blinked.

“That’s right,” Van Helsing noticed the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec standing in a red dress on the Eiffel Tower.

“And what does this vampire posing as the Imam Mahdi want?” Whitstable downed the rest of his wine in a single gulp.

“Nuclear war against Israel and the U.S.,” Van Helsing answered.

“Good Lord,” Whitstable whispered.

* * *

Welsh werewolf Labour MP Magog Rhys Petley was attending an art show at an exclusive art gallery in London.

Rhys Petley often attended these functions- as an MP he was of course immediately let in- but he did not attend because he was an art connoisseur.

Rather he attended because of the free wine and cheese served at these functions.

Magog Rhys Petley loved wine and cheese.

But he didn’t like paying for them.

As Rhys Petley entered the gallery’s exclusive entrance he passed a lone Occupy London protestor holding up a sign outside the gallery saying “We are the 1%.”

Inside the gallery, Rhys Petley felt an arm on his shoulder.

He turned and was surprised to see that it was Charles Prince of Wales holding a glass of wine and a slice of cheese.

What was Prince Charles doing greeting him?

He Magog Rhys Petley was a staunch republican and rabid anti-monarchist.

“Magog,” the Prince smiled.

“Er… your Highness,” Rhys Petley blurted, “congratulations on your 63rd birthday.”

Prince Charles had just turned 63 this past Monday November 14th.

“Don’t remind me of my age,” the Prince shook his head, “if I was a common man, I could look forward to retirement in another couple of years.”

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown-in-waiting,” Rhys Petley nodded sympathetically.

“I’ve kept abreast of your activities this year, you know,” Charles helped himself to a smoked oyster on a cracker, “your meeting with Silvio Berlusconi on a British trade mission to Italy, your going to Cairo to ask then Egyptian President Hosni Mubarak to immediately step down before any protestors were killed and your going to Libya to ask Col. Muammar Gaddafi to step down and leave Libya to prevent civil war.”

“All those missions were failures,” noted Magog Rhys Petley who failed to grab an oyster on a cracker before the French maid looking waitress carrying the tray walked away.

“But to succeed at failure,” Prince Charles smiled, “surely that’s a success of sorts?”.

“I suppose if you put it that way it is,” Rhys Petley agreed.

“Anyways I was wondering if you’d undertake a mission for me on behalf of the British government,” Charles reached for a strawberry underneath the small statue of Diana of the Ephesians, “a mission where I hope you’ll succeed. I want you to go to Damascus and ask Syrian President Bashar Assad to step down before any more of his countrymen are killed. Tell him to go into exile in Iran.”

“Um….” Magog Rhys Petley didn’t know what to say so he finally said, “Okay.”

He looked at the prince and then noticed the curious juxtaposition of the statue of Diana of the Ephesians against the background of an oil painting of a Paris tunnel.

He noticed Diana’s statue seemed to be urinating champagne on the prince just as Camilla came over to greet the duo.

To be continued.

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Goo and Gum and Gnashing of Teeth

April 17, 2011 at 9:05 pm (Horror, Humour, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield and Amadeus Emanon are watching the BBC News on television.

“More on our main story on the death of financier Trevor Fontaine later,” the BBC News announcer intoned, “but in other news a body that was found in the street below the hotel where Mr. Fontaine was eaten by grey goo self-replicating nanobots has now been identified. The body that was apparently drained of all its blood has been identified as that of London’s notorious Russian Mafia hitman Dmitri Ibumpuov. Further reports suggest that the night after Mr. Ibumpuov was brought into the Scotland Yard morgue, the body mysteriously disappeared. There are rumours that Mr. Ibumpuov is now a vampire.”

“Wow, a vampire assassin,” Amadeus Emanon munched on his popcorn.

“Might come in handy some day,” Renfield sent a text message to the Assassins For Hire On-Line Employment Bulletin Board that said, “Anybody there called Dmitri Ibumpuov?”.

“Getting back to our main story, authorities still have no idea who created the grey goo self-replicating nanobots that ate Mr. Fontaine,” the BBC announcer said, “and whether it was part of a plot to stop the new global currency that Mr. Fontaine was working on. As for the grey goo self-replicating nanobots themselves, they apparently choked to death trying to eat a huge wad of bubble gum that had been left on the hotel hallway carpet.”

“So it looks like the nanobots you made weren’t so indestructible after all,” Amadeus remarked as he blew a huge bubble with his bubble gum.

“Harrumph,” Renfield snorted.

“And still in other news, eccentric London concert pianist Amadeus Emanon somehow inadvertently wandered into a press conference where the Prince of Wales was lamenting the tragic death of financier Trevor Fontaine… here are some clips from that…”

“You were at a press conference with the Prince of Wales?” Renfield’s ears turned fiery red, “you never told me that.”

On the screen,

Amadeus Emanon: Tell me your Highness, if you found out who it was that created the grey goo self-replicating nanobots that ate Mr. Fontaine, would you invite such a person to your son Prince William’s wedding?

Prince Charles: You must be joking. I didn’t quite catch your name Mr. …?

“Emanon,” Amadeus replied.

“Emanon,” the prince nodded, “and what news outlet are you with?”.

“The Shapeshifting Hamster’s Daily Toilet Paper,” Amadeus answered with a wry smile.

“Never heard of that,” said the Prince of Wales, “I’ll have to check it out sometime. But in answer to your question, no. Not only would the individual who created these grey goo self-replicating nanobots not be invited to my son’s wedding but I would personally see to it that this individual was personally hung, drawn and quartered.”

Renfield looked at the TV screen- in a total state of shock- his face completely drained of all colour.

“In other news,” the BBC News Announcer smiled, “Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth II has bestowed a posthumous honourary knighthood on Frank Henry Fleer the world’s first inventor of bubble gum…”

To be continued.

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Trevor Fontaine and The New Global Currency

April 13, 2011 at 10:03 pm (Horror, Mystery, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , )

Trevor Fontaine felt pleased with himself as he had a glass of champagne in his London hotel room.

He had had a meeting today with several important London financiers.

Tomorrow he would fly home to Paris the home of his company Giza Investments Ltd.

Actually it really wasn’t his company.

It belonged to the Egyptian Vampiress Isis.

But he was the front man for Isis in the world of finance.

This past weekend in Bretton Woods, New Hampshire, Fontaine had met with George Soros and other global movers and shakers in the world of finance, industry and government to set the groundwork for a new global currency.

It was this project- an idea highly favoured by his boss the Vampiress Isis- that had led to the stay over in London to brief various important City of London financiers about the project.

* * *

In another hotel room a few blocks away, Prince Suleiman bin Turki of the House of Saud who was 1,666th in line to the Saudi Arabian throne was making plans.

Well Prince Suleiman bin Turki of the House of Saud was always making plans.

He had spent the past two years plotting and trying to figure out how to get rid of the 1,665 people in front of him to the throne.

But now something else had occupied his mind.

He became aware of this new project to establish a new global currency.

But Prince Suleiman bin Turki’s plans for seizing the Saudi throne entailed the U.S. dollar remaining the de facto global currency for the next 5 years.

If a new global currency were introduced before then, this might upset his plans to become King of Saudi Arabia and ultimately the Caliph of the entire Islamic world.

Allah knew that Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad already had it in his own mind to become the Caliph of the entire Islamic world.

But it was Prince Suleiman’s destiny to become Caliph not Ahmadinejad’s or at least so the megalomaniacal Saudi prince figured in his own highly inflated egocentric opinion.

And as such, Suleiman determined that he was going to bump off those promoting the idea of a new global currency.

And he would start with Trevor Fontaine the CEO of Paris-based Giza Investments Ltd.

It had come to Prince Suleiman’s attention that Trevor Fontaine was in London this evening.

And so Suleiman had gone to a seedy area of London’s Soho District to track down an expert assassin and gunman for London’s local branch of the worldwide Russian Mafia.

Dmitri Ibumpuov had been easy to find provided you knew which palms to grease with the current de facto global currency.

After paying Ibumpuov half up-front for the job (the other half would be paid when the job was completed) and giving a photo and the location of the target Trevor Fontaine, Prince Suleiman went back to his own hotel room and started greasing his own palms while he looked at decadent western on-line porn sites of various beautiful women in interesting positions- something he was unable to do in his own native Saudi Arabia.

* * *

Trevor Fontaine sat on the sofa in his suite laughing his head off at an on-line commentary written by U.S. political commentator Glenn Beck.

Suddenly the door was kicked open and a man burst into the room shooting several bullets directly at him.

“You’re not… dead?” the man with a Russian accent stammered in English.

“No, I’m a vampire,” Fontaine smiled and then proceeded to bite the man on the neck draining him of all his blood.

He then opened the window and threw the body down into the street.

“It’s a rather difficult thing to kill me,” Fontaine laughed while looking down at the body, “tonight is not my night to die.”

Those were Fontaine’s last words before he was attacked by grey goo self-replicating nanobots who ate the vampire alive.

* * *

“Eureka! Vengeance is mine!” Renfield R. Renfield laughed with hearty abandon.

“What’s up?” Amadeus looked up from the peanut butter and jelly sandwich he was eating.

“Well remember that fellow Charles Simeon who stole my tuna fish sandwiches two Fridays ago?” Renfield asked, “And how someone killed him before I had the chance to kill him?”.

“Frankly, you’ve never stopped yacking about it,” Amadeus tried his best to do a Clark Gable Rhett Butler impersonation with his mouth full of peanut butter.

“Well I found out who Charles Simeon worked for,” Renfield helped himself to a freshly made tuna fish sandwich, “it was Trevor Fontaine the CEO of Giza Investments Ltd. And I found out Mr. Fontaine was staying in a hotel here in London and so all those grey goo self-replicating nanobots I created in the lab last night I sent to Fontaine’s hotel room earlier this evening and now I’ve just got a report over the Scotland Yard police radio that Fontaine was eaten alive by them. So I’ve killed two birds with one stone. I’ve got my vengeance on the thief who stole my tuna fish sandwiches by killing his employer. And I’ve proved Prince Charles’ theory about grey goo self-replicating nanobots being harmful to be correct. So now Prince Charles will probably invite me to his son’s wedding.”

* * *

Away from the glare of both the British and French news media, Prince Charles was spending a quiet evening in an exclusive Parisienne cafe in the company of a beautiful woman who was wearing a stylishly and classically elegant gold evening dress.

The woman’s name was Isis and unknown to the Prince of Wales, she was a vampiress.

The purpose of the meeting was strictly platonic.

Isis had invited the Prince to discuss an article Trevor Fontaine had written in favour of a new global currency for the Council On Foreign Relations’ Foreign Affairs Magazine.

“An excellent article,” the Prince of Wales said, “I would like to meet its author in person. I really would. This gives me some ideas I’d like to discuss with my country’s Prime Minister David Cameron.”

At that moment, the cafe owner turned up the volume of the cafe’s TV which was set to CNN.

The story was about how Giza Investments Ltd. CEO Trevor Fontaine was eaten alive by grey goo self-replicating nanobots in a London hotel room.

The Vampiress Isis immediately excused herself and ran hurriedly from the cafe in her clicking spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

Once outside in the Paris night air, she emitted a nocturnal scream that seemed to shake the Eiffel Tower itself.

For the man, who in addition to being her front man in the world of finance, was able to successfully channel the spirit of her dead son Horus was now himself dead.

To be continued.

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Grey Goo Self-Replicating Nanobots

April 12, 2011 at 7:57 pm (Horror, Humour, Mystery/horror, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Amadeus Emanon carefully observed what Renfield R. Renfield was doing in the Set Enterprises Lab.

He decided he had no idea what it was exactly the evil shapeshifting human/hamster was doing.

So he decided to ask him.

“What are you doing, Renfield?” Amadeus asked.

“I’m creating some grey goo self-replicating nano-robots or as some people call them grey goo self-replicating nanobots for short,” Renfield replied.

“I see,” Amadeus took another bite of his hot fudge sundae, “but why?”.

“Well as you know, I’ve been trying to get an invitation to attend Prince William and Kate Middleton’s wedding but as you no doubt have sadly observed I’ve failed in all my attempts to get one,” said Renfield.

“Well actually I’ve observed that but not in a sad fashion,” Amadeus stated in a remark that seemed to piss off Renfield judging from the expression on his face, “so how is creating grey goo self-replicating nanobots going to help you get an invitation to the Royal Wedding?”.

“Well shortly after the start of this century, Prince Charles gave a speech to a group of scientists in which he said that it was his fear that the world might be destroyed by grey goo self-replicating nanobots,” Renfield explained, “he was immediately laughed at by the scientists and was heavily ridiculed in the press. Some even went so far as to say that the prince was off his rocker.”

Renfield showed Amadeus a video of Prince Charles falling off his rocking horse while playing polo in the midst of a group of toy soldiers.

“Now if I can create some grey goo self-replicating nanobots and let them loose somewhere,” Renfield grinned, “this will show the world that the Prince of Wales was right in his warning and His Royal Highness will ask Will and Kate to send me an invitation to their wedding.”

“I don’t know what to say to that,” Amadeus looked at Renfield in a stunned fashion.

The heavens must have already had their opinion because seconds later Renfield fell off his rocking chair.

To be continued.

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