Carson Cody Albion and The Zombies of 1950s Havana

January 26, 2020 at 11:59 pm (Detective story, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , )

Carson Cody Albion and The Zombies of 1950s Havana

The year was 1956.

Fidel Castro and Ernesto Che Guevara were busy working on their plans to topple the Cuban government of President Fulgencio Batista.

Britain, France and Israel would attack Egypt over the Suez Canal.

And John George Diefenbaker would win the leadership of the Canadian Federal Progressive Conservative Party.

The last good leader the Federal Progressive Conservatives would ever have.

And the last good Prime Minister Canada would ever have.

So naturally he was a threat to the Canadian establishment and elites as well as the U.S. State Department.

The State Department got global bankers and investors to sabotage the value of the Canadian dollar during the 1963 Canadian election campaign so Diefenbaker would be blamed for it and lose the election.

Which is what happened.

Canadian Federal Liberal Party leader Lester Bowles (should really have been spelled Bowels) Pearson became Prime Minister of Canada in 1963 and eventually paved the way for Marxist-Leninist Cultural Marxist Pierre Elliot Trudeau (should really be spelled Turdeau) to become Prime Minister in 1968 and to set forth plans for the destruction of Canada as a great nation.

The destruction became complete when Progressive Conservative Party leader Brian Mulroney (should really be spelled Bulroney) was elected Prime Minister of Canada in 1984.

Bulroney was so obnoxious, he drove the Federal Progressive Conservative Party of Canada to extinction to be replaced by the Reform Party later Canadian Alliance Party and later just plain Conservative Party of Canada.

So Diefenbaker was Canada’s last great hope before the onset of political zombies (mindless living dead corpses who went around eating brains) on to the Canadian political landscape which governed the country ever since.

And speaking of zombies, Cuban casinos were having a problem with zombies in that year of 1956.

Zombies were entering the casinos and frightening customers.

As well as stealing cash from the casino safes and safety deposit boxes.

A meeting of Cuban casino owners was held in the Glowing Sun and Burning Sands Whorehouse in Havana to discuss the problem.

A follow up meeting was held in the city’s Sexually Transmitted Diseases Clinic waiting room.

It was agreed to call in Los Angeles Private Eye Carson Cody Albion to investigate the problem.

Albion was recommended to the Havana Casino Owners group by a Monte Carlo casino owner (who had employed Albion as a house detective in a Monte Carlo casino and hotel the year before).

Albion arrived in Havana the following week.

After spending an evening drinking Cuba Libres in a Havana bar with a couple of interesting fellows named Fidel and Che, Carson Cody Albion set to work on the case.

Meanwhile in an Anglican Church in Havana that served British and Commonwealth diplomatic staff at the city’s embassies, an intensely stupid looking man with fish eyes and weird looking silver hair (that would have easily given Donald Trump’s urine golden coloured toupee a run for its money) sat playing the organ.

The man’s name was Keith Bennett.

Although that wasn’t the man’s real name.

His real name was Armilius Wolfstein a Nazi scientist (but not a very bright Nazi scientist unlike many of the evil geniuses of the Third Reich) who served as a somewhat dim witted assistant to the evil and notorious Dr. Josef Mengele.

Armilius Wolfstein fled to Argentina when the Second World War ended.

Wolfstein had had an interesting history.

He lived in Munich in the 1920s where he had tried unsuccessfully to apply to various universities and post-secondary institutions in the city.

He landed a job as a commercial and advertising salesman for a newspaper and magazine publishing firm in the city.

He had a friend Kitz Mjolnir (like the hammer of Thor) who lived in Munich.

When Kitz’s father died and the Mjolnir family estate was sold, Kitz had taken a small preliminary payout from the Estate to move to Berlin where he hoped to get into that city’s burgeoning film industry.

Armilius Wolfstein had told Kitz that if he ever needed help or decided to move back to Munich to get in touch with him and he’d move an arm and a leg to help him out.

While Kitz was in Berlin, his father’s Estate lawyer in Munich, either due to being a crook or due to gross incompetence, had absconded with most of the Estate funds.

Kitz was now left with nothing.

Unable to pursue his chance of a film career in Berlin and unable to land a job, Kitz returned to Bavaria.

But to the city of Regensburg.

Having trouble settling down in Regensburg, Kitz decided to move back to Munich but would need help finding a place.

He recalled Armilius Wolfstein’s offer to help so wrote him a letter.

Being the pompous asshole that Armilius Wolfstein was, Wolfstein had replied to Kitz with an arrogant and condescending letter.

Kitz thought of writing a letter in which he’d tell Wolfstein that he (Wolfstein) was so full of shit that if they gave him an enema before he died, they could bury him in a cigar box.

But he decided not to waste time in replying to such a venereal disease infested piece of rubbish.

So having stabbed a friend in the back, Wolfstein went on to join the German National Socialist Workers’ Party (the Nazis).

. . .

When the Nazis succeeded in taking power in Germany in 1933, Wolfstein like numerous misfits across the country was able to land a job by acting as a total brown shirted brown noser to the Nazi Party and moved into a position of importance, power and prestige.

He became a lab assistant to Dr. Josef Mengele although he bragged to friends and acquaintances that he was a scientist.

He assisted Mengele in performing the various inhumane experiments that the Nazis’ Dr. Death performed on individuals belonging to groups that the Third Reich had deemed and labelled as subhuman.

During those experiments, Wolfstein had occasionally run into an individual known as Franz Kohler of the Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau.

When the war ended in 1945, Armilius Wolfstein had fled to Argentina.

There he changed his name to Keith Bennett and claimed to be an English expatriate living in Argentina.

Bennett had taken up the study of music and became an organist (although in fact he played the instrument very badly).

Whilst living in Buenos Aires, he came across a Spanish language edition of The Necronomicon (mentioned in Lovecraftian lore) and getting help with the translation from a professional Argentinian wrestler, Bennett started using dark arts sorcery to raise the dead.

It was while he was doing this, that Keith Bennett (the former Armilius Wolfstein) once again encountered Franz Kohler of the Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau.

Kohler then took Bennett (as he now called himself) to Haiti to study under Haitian voodoo practitioners in raising the dead.

Bennett posed as an Anglican lay missionary while in Haiti.

No one thought of asking what an Anglican lay missionary was doing in learning voodoo, raiding cemeteries and cultivating plantations of zombies.

Although Bennett in the 1950s was doing what the later Anglican Communion of the 1960s would be doing when such notables as U.S. Episcopalian Bishop James Pike would be busy consulting spiritist mediums such as Arthur Ford on television.

Pike would go on to die a horrible and mysterious death in a desert in Israel for his efforts.

But that would not be the fate of Keith Bennett, Anglican lay missionary.

Having mastered the art of zombie raising, Bennett was then taken by Franz Kohler to Havana, Cuba.

There Bennett would start raising Cubans from the dead.

Kohler was hoping to raise an army of Cuban zombies to attack Florida and establish a Nazi Fourth Reich beachhead on the United States of America.

But like the best laid plans of mice and men, the best laid plans of Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau officers often go astray as well.

Two men named Fidel and Ernesto were planning a Communist revolution in Cuba.

So what would Cuba end up being?

A Communist state?

Or the Caribbean launching grounds for a Neo-Nazi Fourth Reich?

In fact it would be neither Franz Kohler and the asinine Keith Bennett nor Fidel Castro and Ernesto Che Guevara who would throw the deciding and winning pair of dice in which way the winds of change on the Caribbean island of Cuba would blow.

That would be decided by Carson Cody Albion Private Eye.

. . .

Albion was lying in bed after spending the last several hours making out with Dolly Castro (a cousin of Fidel and Raoul).

There was a pounding at the door.

It was the hotel and casino manager.

“Zombies,” shouted the hotel manager, “zombies have crashed the hotel’s dirty dancing competition and one of them has carried away the U.S. Ambassador’s niece.”

“Wow, someone certainly hasn’t been having the time of their life,” Albion opened the door.

“You’ve got to come quickly,” the manager said.

“That’s the opposite of what Dolly has been telling me all evening,” Albion remarked.

“The U.S. Ambassador’s niece is in danger,” the manager cried.

“I guess you don’t want the U.S. Ambassador’s niece dirty dancing with a zombie,” Albion followed the manager down the hallway.

. . .

The zombie was dragging the Ambassador’s niece into the house owned by Keith Bennett Anglican lay missionary and badly playing organist.

“I’ve never felt this way before,” the Ambassador’s niece cried.

The zombie (whose name had been Patrick in his mortal life) was busy swaying or swayzing in the Caribbean breeze on this moonlit Havana night.

Within seconds, salt pellets being fired by a machine gun sprayed the zombie killing him instantly.

For of course blessed salt kills zombies.

Albion picked up the U.S. Ambassador’s niece and carried her to his red convertible.

Screams could be heard from inside the house.

Just as Keith Bennett was playing The Old Master Painter on his organ.

Albion returned to the house with his machine gun containing 400 rounds of salt pellets, kicked in the door and began firing.

Franz Kohler’s army of zombies began dropping like flies.

Bennett reached for his own revolver to shoot at Albion.

The former Nazi pseudo-scientist turned Anglican lay minister and incompetent organist had his head blown off by Che Guevara’s machine gun as the young revolutionary came charging through the backdoor.

“Brains, brains,” a dying zombie tried to lick up what was oozing out of Bennett’s gaping head wound.

“No brains,” were the zombie’s last words before he died.

“Nice shooting,” said Albion.

“Thanks,” Che smiled, “I always have this recurring nightmare about being killed in a shoot out in the mountains of Bolivia.”

“You don’t want that to happen,” Albion noted.

“So, where are you going now?” Guevara asked.

“Out to my convertible to entertain Uncle Sam’s niece,” Albion answered.

“Really?” Guevara had a twinkle in his eye, “Do you know what Chairman Mao Tse-tung’s favourite quotation is?”.

“Can’t say that I do,” Albion admitted, “I’ve never read his Little Red Book.

“His favourite quotation,” Che winked, “is screw the U.S. Imperialists.”

“An excellent idea,” Albion smiled and walked out towards his car on this warm Havana night.

-A vampire novel chapterĀ 
written by Christopher
Wednesday January 22nd
2020.

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The Debutante’s Ball 1941: A Poem

March 18, 2019 at 10:30 pm (Comedy, Culture, Detective story, Entertainment, Geopolitics and International Relations, Humour, International Intrigue, Mystery, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )


Marissa Van Horne, Debutante

“You’re here to escort me to the ball, Mr. Albion?”
The laughing smiling face of the beautiful young woman
looked at me with merriment and amusement in her sparkling eyes
which glimmered like stars above her sunshine golden gown,
“A famed Los Angeles private eye reduced to a chaperone?”

I, Carson Cody Albion, stopped in my tracks
when I heard this statement
I was a private eye
But I had never thought of myself as famed.

“Don’t be so modest,” Marissa remarked with a wry smile as if she could read my mind, “of course you are!”
“The ball starts at 8 PM?” I queried looking at my watch.
“Yes, but drinks are served starting at 7,” she laughed.
“I don’t think your parents hired me to watch you get inebriated before the ball,” I said as I held open the arms of her fur coat
so she could finish her fashion ensemble for the evening.

Only the LA glitterati rich would wear fur coats
on a hot Los Angeles evening
But as the hired help, what did I know?

“No,” she slid her arms through the coat, “my parents hired you to keep me away from Lev Tomi.”

That was true.
They had.
Titus Van Horne was an influential newspaper editor in the city.
He seemed to know everything about everyone in the state of California
A West Coast J. Edgar Hoover as it were
Minus that DC bureaucrat’s penchant for wearing women’s clothing in private
Which was a good thing for the Van Horne family fortune
For the Paris dresses and gowns that Mrs. Van Horne and daughter Marissa wore
were already keeping the Bank of Monte Carlo afloat
to say nothing of Hitler’s Reich
while the Vichy government were reduced to making money off mineral water
A third Van Horne (and a male one at that) adorning the best of Parisienne feminine apparel
would definitely have put the Van Horne family fortune in the red
like Alger Hiss in the U.S. State Department

Van Horne knew all about Orson Welles’ private life
He had to
For the Boy Wonder of New York radio and theatre
was making a movie based on the life of Van Horne’s boss

But Van Horne knew nothing whatsoever about Lev Tomi
This older man that young Marissa had started seeing at the start of this year
Marissa just claimed that she was taking Russian language lessons from him
Nothing like a LA society girl with a hankering to visit the Soviet Union and see Josef Stalin’s paradise for herself
The movie The Grapes of Wrath had recently been shown in Moscow
Uncle Joe had hoped that this would cause outrage among Moscow’s workers
when they saw how the poor in America were treated
It caused outrage all right
but not in the way that Uncle Joe had hoped
Moscow workers had become outraged that the poor in America actually owned their own trucks
Viewings of the movie soon became obsolete in the USSR
Joining the obsolescence of most personally owned motor vehicles among the common people there

When Marissa came home and told her parents
that she had asked Lev Tomi to be her date
to the LA society’s debutante ball
Titus Van Horne finally put his foot down
causing him to be rushed to LA General Hospital
to get his now even deeper ingrown toe nail surgically removed

After a week of recuperation, Titus Van Horne and his wife Olivia came to see me
And asked me to be Marissa’s escort to the debutante’s ball
Since I had nothing pressing on me at the moment
Save some old white shirts that needed to be steampressed at the neighbourhood’s Chinese laundry
I took the case.


Olivia and Titus Van Horne asked Carson Cody Albion Private Eye to be their daughter Marissa’s escort to the LA society elite debutante’s ball

As I got into the back of the limousine with Marissa
I instructed the chauffeur to drive us to Ming Lo’s Blue Lantern Restaurant
I figured imbibing Marissa with a light Chinese dinner at 7
would far be safer than imbibing her with drinks prior to the ball

I turned out to be wrong on that
It must have been the spicy chop suey
that was the Blue Lantern special
It turned Marissa into a tigress in heat
And I was explorer Frank Buck
Bringing her back alive

It was now 11 PM
I had failed to present Miss Van Horne to the debutante’s ball by some 3 hours
Her beautiful gold dress lying on the seat of the booth along with her nylons and spiked stilettos
And all my clothes lying on the floor underneath the table
Implied a very unusual Russian language lesson was going on
when coincidentally Mr. and Mrs. Van Horne entered the restaurant right at 11 PM

I felt no inclination to open my fortune cookie which the waiter just brought
If it was accurate, I knew well what it would say
You can send me my cheque in the mail for my services
I hastily said to Mr. Van Horne before heading out into the night
like a stallion galloping out into the Santa Ana winds

I had no idea who this Lev Tomi fellow was
But I think I may have just saved his life
Too bad, I can’t say the same for my own.

-Carson Cody Albion Private Eye

-A Carson Cody Albion
Private Eye poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday March 18th
2018

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