A Haitian Vampire Huntress, An Aztec Vampiress and A German WW1 U-Boat

September 19, 2017 at 7:47 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

A Haitian Vampire Huntress, An Aztec Vampiress and A German WW1 U-Boat

The Haitian vampire huntress Yoanna Soleil was working in her office in the Haitian capital of Port-au-Prince when her phone rang.

“Hello,” Yoanna picked up her phone.

“Mlle. Soleil, this is the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec,”
said the sensual feminine voice on the other end of the line.

“Well, well, your Imperial Highness,” Yoanna Soleil laughed, “this is a surprise. It’s not often that a vampire huntress gets a phone call from a vampiress. I must warn you however that I’m not like the heterosexual sex addict Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing nor am I lesbian or bisexual in my sexual orientation so you won’t be able to use your seductive, sexy and sensual vampiress charms on me.”

“That’s not what I’m calling about,” Qonzilqointec sounded exasperated, “my penthouse here in Mexico City has just been severely shaken by a 7.1 magnitude earthquake and from my vantage point way up high, I can see dozens of buildings around the city have collapsed.”

“I’m so sorry,” Yoanna Soleil was sincere for her own country had been hit by a devastating earthquake only 7 years ago.

“This is the 2nd major earthquake that has hit Mexico 🇲🇽 in the past 10 days,” the vampire princess sighed, “as you know an 8.2 magnitude earthquake hit southern Mexico back on September 8th.”

“I know,” Yoanna said then asked, “so why are you calling me?”.

“Well, I don’t have to tell you about all the major hurricanes that have been hitting the Caribbean region this season,” the Aztec vampiress stated.

“No you don’t,” Yoanna agreed.

“That’s why I’m calling you, Mlle. Soleil,” Qonzilqointec’s voice was pleading, “I think what’s been happening is connected. You are aware of course of the kraken Uhluhtc that sleeps at the bottom of the Caribbean Sea.”

Uhluhtc the sleeping Kraken at the bottom of the Caribbean Sea was considered just a legend among the educated elites of the Caribbean, Central America and Mexico.

However both vampiress and vampire huntress having dealt with things supernatural during their respective lifetimes knew that the kraken Uhluhtc was very much real.

“Yes,” Yoanna Soleil answered.

“Uhluhtc is not sleeping anymore,” the Aztec vampiress stated emphatically, “and that is what causing all these major earthquakes and major hurricanes of the moment. I propose we form an alliance to destroy it.”

. . .

The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set had received a confidential message from German Chancellor Angela Merkel.

“I wonder what this is all about?” Set asked his butler and valet Athelstan as he opened the sealed envelope marked TOP SECRET and CONFIDENTIAL.

“I have no idea, sir,” answered Athelstan who was sporting a black eye having had to rescue his elderly mother (who was currently visiting London) from a bar room brawl in a London pub the night before when she had once again got into a violent argument with another patron over matters relating to British and European football ⚽️ like she was prone to do.

“The courier said it had something to do with that World War One German UB-II U-Boat submarine they just found off the coast of Belgium 🇧🇪,” Amadeus Emanon spoke up from the neighbouring piano room.

“I heard about that,” Set answered, “what does that have to do with me? The tomb I was buried alive in for millennia wasn’t opened until Armistice Day in 1918 so I couldn’t have anything to do with the sinking of a German U-Boat submarine.”

“You have an excellent alibi in my opinion, sir,” Athelstan agreed.

“Oh my god Ra,” Set turned paler than even his usual pale looking vampiric self, “it’s who the German government believe was on board that U-Boat submarine that concerns me.”

“And who might that be, sir?” Athelstan inquired politely.

But Set was in such a state of shock that he was at a loss for words.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday September 19th
2017.

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Set Rides The Train

September 5, 2017 at 3:28 pm (Crime, Geopolitics and International Relations, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Set Rides The Train

The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was riding the train.

He was sitting quietly in his seat 💺 when a long haired freak walked by with a baby stroller.

What was some freak doing with a baby stroller in this part of the train?

Another woman presumably his wife followed him.

And then another woman- presumably the wife’s ugly sister followed her.

They sat a couple of seats in front of him.

Then the brat in the stroller started crying.

And crying.

Set seemed to recall a verse from the ancient Hebrew psalms about smashing babies’ heads against the walls of the city of Jerusalem.

Well, it was a long way from Jerusalem but the train wall should be just as handy.

Set strolled over to the baby carriage, picked up the screaming brat and bashed her head against the wall killing her instantly.

The mother screamed.

Set used his 66-inch long fingernails to decapitate the mother.

The father started to protest.

“Can’t have creeps like you reproducing and contaminating the human gene pool,” Set likewise used his nails to rip his head off.

The ugly sister of the mother, the ugly sister-in-law of the father and the ugly aunt of the now deceased screaming brat- the ugly 3 in 1- now raised her ugly shrill screaming voice in a cacophonous symphony of protest.

That was likewise cut short by Set’s long uncut fingernails.

Set then ripped the ugly woman’s face to shreds with his nails for he had recently read an article in National Geographic Magazine about how genetically created satyr serial killer and DARPA astral assassin Pan Goatee was attempting to make Earth a more aesthetically pleasing place by killing ugly women.

The ancient Egyptian god of darkness figured he might as well contribute to the cause for ever since some idiot said “Let there be light”, there was always the possibility that light might shed light on ugliness.

Set had once supported Hitler’s rise to power.

While he disagreed with Hitler (a self-professed artist) on painting all members of the same race or ethnic group with one brush, he Set did think that certain individuals and possibly even one entire family could be inferior and basically human scum and should therefore be eliminated from the face of the earth as was the case with this Native North American Indian trio (a quartet- if you include the brat) who thought it was perfectly all right to conduct some noisy powwow ceremony on what should be an upper class train.

If they still published Eugenics magazines like they did back in the 1930s, Set thought of an article he could write on the subject.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday September 4th
2017.

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Orson Welles, Donald Trump and Dracul Van Helsing

March 28, 2017 at 4:14 pm (Culture, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The year was 1946 and actress Rita Hayworth was filming the movie Gilda with her co-star Glenn Ford.

She returned home to her husband Orson Welles only to see a mysterious entity de-materialize in front of her.

Sol Invictus Set De-materializing

“Who was that who just disappeared outside the door?” Rita asked Orson as she kissed him on the cheek.

“That was that London-based billionaire Mr. Sol Invictus Set who had asked me to direct a film for him,” Orson replied.

“Well, he certainly got the Hell out of here,” Rita quipped.

“I should say so,” Orson poured himself a glass of whisky and soda, “Hell is definitely where he belongs. He wanted me to write and direct a film about Hitler.”

“The subject material would certainly catch the attention of the world,” Rita poured herself a glass of milk.

“But he wanted it to be a film expressing admiration for Hitler,” Welles’ eyes flashed anger.

“Well, then you were wise telling him where to go,” Rita kissed him again.

Welles softened, “Thanks, Rita.”

Rita was thoughtful, “You seem to have a habit of offending billionaires, Orson. First William Randolph Hearst and now this Sol Invictus Set. I hope this doesn’t cost you.”

“Cost me? How?” Welles looked quizzically at his wife.

“I hope Hollywood doesn’t decide to blacklist you,” Rita looked almost clairvoyant, “turn down your ideas for making films. Europe would probably be more accepting of a genius such as yourself. But it would be a shame if America turned its back on supporting your artistic excellence.”

For once in his life, Welles was speechless.

. . .

U.S. President Donald Trump was sitting at his desk in the Oval Office wondering how he’d be able to use the Mary Poppins word Supercalifranchilisticexpealidocious in a tweet and still be able to make a profound statement.

The phone rang.

Trump picked it up.

“Hello?” Trump ran a radioactive monitoring comb through his hair.

“Hello, Dad, it’s me,” it was his daughter Ivanka, “you had called me earlier while I was busy chatting with Canadian Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.”

“Yes, it was your closeness to Justin Trudeau that I was wanting to talk to you about,” Trump explained, “I was listening to a radio program about the paranormal on the radio last night featuring some former Canadian cabinet minister- some guy called Paul Hellyer. Anyways Paul Hellyer was saying that Justin Trudeau is in close contact with an ET gray from the planet Nibiru – some alien chap by the name of Gali-Gula whose ET body is supposedly possessed by the spirit of the ancient Roman Emperor Caligula. I was wondering if you could phone Prime Minister Trudeau for me and ask him if this is true.”

“But Dad, why don’t you just phone him yourself?” Ivanka asked.

“Yes, but as you know somebody has been leaking all the phone conversations I’ve been having with world leaders. If that one gets leaked, especially in lieu of the unusual subject matter, there may be some among the American people who’ll start to think I’m nuts,” Trump was shocked by the high level of radioactivity in his hair when he looked at his comb monitor.

“All right, Dad, I’ll call him,” Ivanka put her mobile phone down, smoothed her skirt and then speed dialed Justin Trudeau’s number.

. . .

The Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec and Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing were making love in a gondola on a canal in Venice.

“In Venice, veni, vidi, vici,” Dracul said as he collapsed in Qonzilqointec’s arms and even though he was a non-smoker, he longed for a cigarette for some reason.

“In Venice, you came, you saw, you conquered,” Qonzilqointec sighed in ecstasy.

He certainly came all right.

Qonzilqointec thought maybe she really should have taken her dress completely off.

She lit a cigarette and wondered what dry cleaner Monica Lewinsky used on her blue dress.

“We’re here at the house of the masked ball,” the gondolier announced.

“Who puts on a masked ball during Lent?” Qonzilqointec asked, “aren’t carnival masquerade balls supposed to happen before Lent?”.

“Welcome,” the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Sol Invictus Set materialized before the door.

Sol Invictus Set Re-materializing

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

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Renfield and The Oscar Envelope Mix-up Fiasco

February 28, 2017 at 7:16 pm (Celebrities, Entertainment, Film, Movies, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield the genetically created shapeshifting hamster/human who was Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering for Set Enterprises was in the kitchen of the colossal mansion owned by his boss the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set.

Sitting alongside him in the kitchen was his friend and fellow employee Amadeus Emanon the genetically created personal concert pianist to the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set (Amadeus had been cloned from the DNA from locks of hair of composer Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart, British actor Alan Rickman and California mass murderer Charles Manson).

Amadeus was busy working on his 12th plate of bacon and scrambled eggs and his 11th plate of pancakes smothered in Canadian maple syrup.

Upstairs the vampire Set was complaining to his butler and valet Athelstan about the increasing amount being spent on food in the household budget.

Back downstairs in the kitchen, Renfield still hadn’t finished one plate of bacon and scrambled eggs.

He was still busy reading email messages between Russian President Vladimir Putin and U.S. President Donald Trump having hacked into both countries’ secure national encrypted security systems. (more of a challenge than hacking into former Secretary of State Hillary Clinton’s private email server that she used when serving in that position but what the heck- challenges made life interesting).

“I noticed,” Amadeus wiped some scrambled eggs and maple syrup off his chin, “that you haven’t been around the house the past few days. Where were you?”.

“I was in Los Angeles,” Renfield took his sunglasses off and put them on the table.

“What were you doing in Los Angeles?” Amadeus asked while crunching on a slice of bacon, “Visiting the porn studios you own there?”.

“No,” Renfield put aside his autographed photos of actresses Akira Lane and Nicole Oring, “I was at the Academy Awards.”

Amadeus sat with his mouth open, “How did you manage to get in there? Were you with that bus tour group that Jimmy Kimmel brought in?”.

“Well,” Renfield started putting some pet hamster food and some ketchup atop his scrambled eggs, “if you recall, I was created with the genetic ability to be able to shapeshift into a hamster. So I just shapeshifted into a hamster and wandered all over the auditorium. On stage, backstage, in the audience,accidentally wound up in Matt Damon’s underwear (horror of horrors!) where I discovered he has a Jimmy Kimmel Loves Matt Damon and Vice-Versa heartshaped tattoo on his ass. I also managed to get into Salma Hayek’s underwear which I thoroughly enjoyed.”

“You filthy disgusting pervert,” Amadeus was shocked.

“Funny those words you just used happen to match the 10,000 most favourite sentences that other people seem to post on my Facebook timeline,” Renfield was reflective.

“Did you do anything else during the Oscars?” Amadeus asked.

“Well, while the PriceWaterhouse Coopers accountant was busy playing with a certain part of his anatomy while photographing actress Emma Stone backstage with his smart phone, I ran up and switched two red envelopes on him,” Renfield grinned broadly.

“You didn’t?” Amadeus looked horrified.

“I did,” Renfield stuck his chest out proudly, “ever since Dr. Cadbury Rocher told me at last year’s Set Enterprises’ Christmas party that part of my genetic make-up contains the DNA of Loki the Norse trickster god in Norse mythology, I am now endeavouring to become the greatest practical joker of the 21st Century.”

Amadeus lost his appetite (a rare occasion for him).

He stood up and walked over to the kitchen window.

He thought to himself that living with a kook like Renfield was like living in La La Land.

He opened the drapes of the kitchen window, noticed it was now nighttime and moonlight was starting to shine through.

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

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The Royal Albert Club London- 1927

February 23, 2017 at 6:02 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Henry Armstrong and Thomas Tennyson were both with British Intelligence. They were meeting with a British politician Winston Churchill at the Royal Albert Club in London.

All three men were members of the Royal Albert Club. The meeting was unofficial. What brought all 3 men together were their concerns about a rising political movement in Germany- Nazism.

The year was 1927. Most members of the British political establishment and most members of the British Intelligence community were not worried about Nazism.

The concerns these men had were dismissed by their compatriots as a very odd and eccentric form of obsession. It would only be after 1945 that these men would be regarded as visionaries.

“So this wealthy Egyptian who lives in Berlin and calls himself Mr. Sol Invictus Set is not a racist,” Churchill chewed the end of his cigar.

“No, he seemed to very much enjoy the company of Miss Josephine Baker in Paris,” Thomas Tennyson showed Churchill the pictures that British Intelligence had taken of the evening.

“Yes, he is very much enjoying himself indeed,” Churchill took a sip of brandy, “What a very beautiful and lovely woman this Miss Josephine Baker is. Set has excellent taste in women.”

Churchill continued to gaze at one picture in particular.

“Ahem,” Thomas Tennyson cleared his throat, “I think your darling Clementine would clearly have some concerns about the amount of time you’re spending looking at that photo of Miss Baker.”

“Yes, well,” Churchill handed the photos back to Tennyson, “I’m the sort of person who doesn’t like to forget a face.”

Henry Armstrong had to work overtime in controlling himself not to break into a huge fit of laughter over the Churchillian remark.

“So if Set isn’t racist,” Churchill sat back in his chair and puffed on his cigar, “why is he using his earnings off Chicago mobster Al Capone’s bootleg booze to donate such huge sums of money to Corporal Hitler’s German National Socialist Workers’ Party?”.

“Set seems to have an obsession with power,” Henry Armstrong explained.

“So Set will back any individual capable of arousing the masses to attain power and Set will be the power behind the throne?” Churchill said.

“Exactly,” Armstrong nodded.

“And he owns vast amounts of property here in Britain?” Churchill raised an eyebrow.

“He does,” Armstrong nodded again.

“Hm, this is definitely a matter for His Majesty’s Government to look into,” Churchill bit his cigar again, “we can’t have foreign nationals going around owning huge swathes of Britain.”

“Actually,” Tennyson interjected, “we’ve now found out that Set was granted British citizenship in 1922. He’s a subject of the British Crown.”

Churchill spilled brandy all over his tie after this last remark. He thought of switching from British bulldog mode to Swiss Saint Bernard mode and start licking the brandy off his tie but thought better of it.

“How the Hell did he manage that?” A flabbergasted Churchill asked.

“He’s apparently good friends with the Prince of Wales,” Armstrong explained.

“Really?” Churchill was likewise good friends with the Prince of Wales but was totally unaware of Set’s friendship with the flamboyant Prince Edward, “how is that possible?”.

“Well,” Tennyson blushed, “”Set has acted as what you might call the Prince of Wales’ pimp. He’s lined up women and dates for him.”

“Good God,” Churchill spit the end of his cigar into his now empty glass of brandy, “and is he continuing to act as the Prince of Wales’ pimp?”.

“Probably not from Berlin, no,” Tennyson shook his head.

“Well, I hope he doesn’t return to this country then,” Churchill motioned to the Royal Albert Club waiter for more cigars and brandy, “that’s all we need. This wealthy bootlegger/pimp Set getting the Prince of Wales involved with some woman who might cause a major crisis for this country sometime in the next 10 years.”

Armstrong glanced through a Simpson’s store catalogue that his sister from Canada had sent him.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 15th
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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Vampire Set’s Night On The Town- Berlin 1927

February 13, 2017 at 12:11 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

The billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was in the Mephisto Lounge in Berlin. He wasn’t sure how many cabarets he had been visiting this evening. For he had been drinking a lot. And it had been alcohol. And not blood.

An alcohol hazed memory of the murder of his brother Osiris came back to him.

Set's Murder of His Brother Osiris Appeared Different In An Alcoholic Haze

That’s funny, Set thought to himself. He didn’t recall Bastet being there when he invited Osiris to inhabit the box which he was to close and later bodily dismember Osiris into 14 pieces. He wondered as he chewed an olive he found in his jacket sleeve pocket (from a martini in a previous nightspot) if that was the origin of the expression, “Has the cat got your tongue?”. Perhaps the Egyptian cat goddess Bastet had Osiris’.

No sooner had Set thought this profound thought when he was confronted by the sight of the devil Mephistopheles standing before him.

In the Mephisto Lounge, the waiters were dressed like Mephistopheles And when ordering from the menu, you’d have to agree to sell your soul before they took your order.

You signed the document in blood but if you were squeamish about that, they would accept red ink.

Set agreed to sell his soul in order to get a beer.

In another corner of the lounge, two men were watching and observing Set.

Both men were with British Intelligence.

“Did you find out about his background?” One man Thomas asked the other man Henry.

“Well,” Henry took out his notebook, “he’s apparently Egyptian. There’s no record of him prior to his suddenly showing up in a Cairo nightclub in November of 1918. The past several years he’s lived in London, New York and Chicago. He moved to Berlin in 1925.”

“And what are his political sympathies?” Thomas asked.

“Well, he’s attended several meetings of the German National Socialist Workers’ Party to hear that fellow Corporal Hitler speak,” Henry answered.

“I see,” Thomas looked thoughtful, “and he apparently still owns property in England?”.

“Affirmative,” Henry nodded.

“This fixation he has with Nazism,” Thomas inquired, “Do you suppose he’s racist?”.

“I have no idea,” Henry shrugged.

Thomas pondered the question for a moment.

Then he lit his pipe, blew smoke rings and looked up at the ceiling.

“I suppose there’s one way to find out,” Thomas breathed in the Egyptian tobacco.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 8th
2017.

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Egyptian Vampiric God of Darkness Set On An Evening In Berlin 1927

February 10, 2017 at 1:17 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, International Intrigue, News, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , )

It was the year 1927 and the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set was living in Berlin.

It had been almost 9 years years since Set had had his tomb in Egypt dug up by British archaeologist Dr. Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury back on November 11th 1918 (the same day that the Armistice had been signed ending the Great War- the war that later generations would call the First World War).

Set was living in a luxurious Berlin apartment with his girlfriend the famous 1920s Berlin dominatrix the Baroness Erika Von Sade.

Set felt quite at home in the decadence and debauchery of 1920s Berlin.

It would have been what Egypt would have been like if he had been allowed to rule the land instead of his brother Osiris. He had of course bodily dismembered his goodly goody two shoes (made of Nile River reeds) brother Osiris. But unfortunately his sister and sister-in-law (for she was Osiris’ wife) Isis had found all the body parts of Osiris (save one) and put Osiris back together again.

Osiris tried to be a good Pharaoh again but it just wasn’t the same since he fell to pieces (or rather was carved to pieces by his brother Set).

Isis never did recover Osiris’ severed phallus. And his wooden phallus (by which he and Isis managed to conceive their son Horus) didn’t quite feel like the real thing (to quote a Coca-Cola ad from the distant future).

So Osiris wrote a sad song whose lyrics in ancient Egyptian said, “I’m not half the man I used to be” (the lyrics were later translated into English by the Beatles in the 1960s). Osiris later fell into a deep sleep under a black magic spell cast by Set who exiled his brother to a planet near the star Sirius for a few thousand years.

Horus, to avenge his father Osiris, buried Set alive in a tomb for a few thousand years.

Then that tomb had been dug up by Dr. Edgar Lovecraft Ashbury in 1918.

Set had escaped, gone into the U.S. bootlegging business with Al Capone, made a killing (his partner Big Al had made even more killings) and was using the proceeds to live the high life in Berlin.

Set was getting dressed to go out for a night on the town in Berlin on this particular evening in 1927.

“Which cabaret will you be visiting tonight, sir?” His valet Hans Franz Benz asked him.

“I’m not sure, Hans,” Set selected the red tie to go with the colour of his victims’ neck bites and the resulting liquid flow.

“I believe your favourite lounge singer Marlene Dietrich is singing at one of the clubs tonight, sir,” Hans tied the tie for Set.

“Really? I’ll have to go to that club,” Set decided not to go with the wooden shoes from Holland on the off chance some vampire hunter might use one of his shoes for a wooden stake.

“Did you spend the day sleeping in your sarcophagus, sir,?” Hans inquired.

“No, I did spend it indoors out of the sun,” Set replied, “I was in an auditorium listening to that dynamic young politician from Bavaria speak.”

“Would that be Adolf Hitler, sir?” Hans selected a pair of black boots with Death’s Head shoe laces.

“That’s the man,” Set smiled showing a huge pair of vampiric incisors, “he says he’s going to make Germany great again.”

“That’s good to hear, sir,” Hans put Set’s arms through his vest.

“I always admire political leaders who are going to make their country great again,” Set selected the gold cufflinks inscribed with the Napoleonic N in a Roman laurel leaf crown.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday February 8th
2017.

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Cyborg Goes Beserk Over Cupcakes

July 4, 2011 at 7:08 pm (Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

Renfield R. Renfield picked up the phone when it rang.

“Colossal London mansion of billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set,” Renfield answered, “This is Renfield R. Renfield Chief of Security and Intelligence Gathering For Set Enterprises speaking.”

“Is Mr. Set in?” an exasperated voice asked.

“I’m sorry,” Renfield replied, “seeing as how it is still daylight, Mr. Set is currently napping in his sarcophagus.”

“Are you the one in charge then?” the exasperated voice asked.

“I am,” Renfield answered.

“Well, this is the Blue Bell Bakery calling,” said the exasperated voice, “just to let you know that Mr. Set’s cyborg Sophia is going beserk with the cupcakes in this place. She’s eating them all and the more she eats the more she goes on a sugar high and the crazier she becomes.”

“I’ll be right there,” Renfield put the phone down, “hm. Eating that many cupcakes is surely the sign of an addiction. And an addiction is a weakness in my opinion.” He finished eating his 99th tuna fish sandwich of the morning and ran to the door.

Amadeus Emanon followed him- eating his 50th bag of potato chips for the day.

* * *

Later in the Blue Bell Bakery, the short skirted redhead Cyborg Sophia was dancing on top of the counter in her spiked stiletto heels and singing, “Friday. Friday. Gotta get down on Friday.”

“But it’s Monday,” Amadeus pointed at the calendar.

“Just another manic Monday,” Sophia kicked up her heels and did a juggling routine with the few remaining cupcakes in the Blue Bell Bakery.

Renfield fired a tranquilizer dart at the Cyborg.

She collapsed on the counter.

“Who’s going to pay for the damages?” the Blue Bell Bakery owner demanded to know.

Renfield fired a tranquilizer dart at him as well.

“Okay,” Renfield threw the short skirted Cyborg over his shoulder, “let’s get out of here.”

To be continued.

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