It’s The Great Pumpkin, Headless Horseman!

October 11, 2020 at 10:59 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Humour, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The talking and singing black zombie horse Bucephalus Reborn, Friedrich Wotan Wiesbaden the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow, Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun and his pet pterodactyl Hovering Voyeurius Over Raquelis Welchius were in Sleepy Hollow having hoped to meet the Great Pumpkin this past Friday night.

Sadly the Great Pumpkin was held up at the U.S. border by ICE officials.

He was put into a cage and had to undergo a test for Covid-19.

Dr. Anthony Fauci was brought in to conduct the test himself.

Dr. Fauci determined that the Great Pumpkin was indeed positive for Covid-19.

However due to the large amount of crying and wailing children outside the ICE compound on the Ontario-New York Canada-U.S.border, 100 doctors from the Center For Disease Control in Atlanta, Georgia were brought in to test the Great Pumpkin.

All 100 doctors determined that the Great Pumpkin was negative for Covid-19.

ICE decided to release the Great Pumpkin on this night October 11th.

The Great Pumpkin then headed south to the village of Sleepy Hollow.

Last evening October 10th as they were in their room in the Rip Van Winkle Inn, the 4 visitors to Sleepy Hollow mentioned in the first paragraph watched on their room’s TV set an interview between the ghost of TV talk show host Merv Griffin and the ghost of noted writer, director and actor Orson Welles which was being shown on the Paranormal Channel.

Yesterday October 10th 2020 was the 35th anniversary of the death of Orson Welles (Welles having died on October 10th 1985).

Welles’ ghost was currently serving as an advisor to British MP Renfield R. Renfield along with the ghost of Winston Churchill.

When the interview was over, Yaldabaoth the Irish leprechaun turned the TV off and phoned downstairs to the front desk asking for a specific brand of rum.

The innkeeper replied, “We haven’t had that spirit here since 1999.”

An artist called Prince who was formerly the artist formerly known as Prince had apparently drank the last bottle at 10 minutes to midnight on the New Year’s Eve just before the advent of the year 2000.

Meanwhile on the radio a well-known female porn star was singing that old Bryan Adams hit Summer of ’69.

Buchephalus Reborn had grabbed an old geographical atlas off the room’s bookshelf and lay on the floor trying to locate the Hotel California on a map.

Outside the window could be seen a horde of eagles circling the inn.

Such was last night the evening of October 10th 2020.

Tonight October 11th 2020 the four were walking towards the Sleepy Hollow pumpkin patch where the Great Pumpkin was putting in an appearance (hopefully).

They walked past the cemetery where schoolteacher Ichabod Crane was buried.

As they walked past the cemetery, the horse Bucephalus Reborn started whistling the tune to an old Irish folk song Whistling Gypsy.

Yaldabaoth began to sing,

The whistling gypsy came over the hill
Down to the valley so shady;
He whistled and he sang
Till the green woods rang
And he won the heart of a lady.


The woman whose heart Yaldabaoth won and would be waiting for him on his bed in the room when they got back to the inn.

They soon arrived at the pumpkin patch.

As spooky music played on an abandoned church organ not far from the pumpkin patch, the Great Pumpkin rose above all the other pumpkins and said,

I am the Great Pumpkin
Doomed for a certain term to walk the night
and for the day confined to fast in fires
Till all the weight gained by eating me
Is burnt and purged away.

With that Friedrich Wotan Wiesbaden the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow grabbed the Great Pumpkin.

And Buchephalus Reborn grabbed a tube of Crazy Glue.

When his hooves removed the top off the tube of Crazy Glue, the horse asked, “Why do I feel the spirits of my relatives around me?”.

The horse then glued the Great Pumpkin to the top of the Headless Horseman’s body between his shoulders.

“Woe is me!” Were the Great Pumpkin’s last words before succumbing to the consciousness of Friedrich Wotan Wiesbaden the Headless Horseman of Sleepy Hollow.

U.S. Postal Service employee Norman Newman who had been wandering around Sleepy Hollow hopelessly lost the past couple of days came over when he heard the cry “Woe is me!”.

He handed the Headless Horseman a lettered envelope addressed to JOHNNY WO, SLEEPY HOLLOW.

The letter was postmarked UNCLE ERNIE’S PLACE, SOMEWHERE DOWN UNDER, AUSTRALIA.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday October 11th
2020.

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Renfield Discusses The PRC’s Connection With U.S. Anarcho-Marxist Thugs and Hooligans

September 10, 2020 at 10:10 pm (Espionage, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was having a Party caucus meeting with his parliamentary colleague the Welsh vampiress Morgana (Member of Parliament for Newbridge in Wales).

“What’s that card you have on your desk?” Morgana asked Renfield.

“It’s a GET SICK SOON card I just received from Boris Johnson,” Renfield answered.

“I take it that it’s the opposite of a Get Well Soon card,” Morgana smiled.

“That’s correct,” Renfield took the card and put it on his mantlepiece above his office fireplace where a bunch of other GET SICK SOON cards were displayed.

“Who are those other GET SICK SOON cards from?” Morgana inquired.

“From Russian President Vladimir Putin, Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan, Belarusian President Aleksandr Lukashenko, China’s paramount leader Xi Jinping, Australia’s Victoria state Premier Daniel Andrews, Pope Francis, Bill Gates and George Soros,” Renfield replied.

“You seem to be very popular with the Hope You Catch Covid Soon crowd,” Morgana noted.

“Yes, that appears to be the case,” Renfield poured himself a brandy and offered one to Morgana which she declined.

She helped herself to a Lemonade Shandy instead.

“I was just reading the Set Enterprises Intelligence Unit report on why the Chinese Consulate in Houston, Texas was closed,” Renfield browsed through the report.

“Didn’t U.S. Secretary of State Mike Pompeo accuse them of stealing trade and technology secrets?” Morgana sipped her Shandy.

“Every Chinese consulate in the world does that but that was Pompeo’s official explanation,” Renfield read the report, “The real reason was because a group of PLA agents provocateur used that particular consulate as the home base for helping to direct the anarcho-Marxist thugs and hooligans who were conducting burning, looting and murdering riots in major cities across the U.S. in what America’s mainstream Marxist media referred to as peaceful protests,” Renfield answered.

“Wow, so the People’s Republic of China were helping to encourage these riots,” Morgana shook her head.

“Yes, there’s a South Korean geopolitical analyst called Kaheva on YouTube who released a video today saying that she thinks foreign spies are helping the rioters,” Renfield sipped his brandy, “She is correct on that although she said she didn’t know what country might be doing it. A geopolitical analyst friend of mine in Calgary discovered back in late July that the Chinese consulate in Houston was being closed because PLA agents provocateur had been using that as their base of operations to help support the Neo-Bolshevik insurrectionary riots throughout U.S. cities. And now the Set Enterprises Intelligence Unit has reached the same conclusion.”

“So do you still think these riots will lead to civil war in the U.S.?” Morgana ate her plate of Welsh rarebit.

“Yes, the left is already threatening to continue and even intensify the riots if Trump wins the election,” Renfield noted, “Joe Biden in a speech today or rather the fallen angel Mephistopheles speaking through Biden said, “Do you really think America will be less violent if Trump wins re-election?” in a tone of voice that clearly sounded like a threat. Of course it doesn’t matter which side wins the election in today’s polarized America. Neither side will accept defeat. And civil war will probably be the result.”


Film Noir genre style photo of Renfield and Morgana taken by the ghost of Orson Welles.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday September 10th
2020.

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Huchuysisa At Luxor

August 12, 2020 at 11:10 pm (Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , )


The Inca Vampiress Huchuysisa standing in front of one of the pillars of the Temple of Luxor

The Inca vampiress Huchuysisa stood alongside one of the pillars of the Temple of Luxor.

Approaching her was the ghost of Orson Welles who was walking with the ghost of a man who looked to be dressed in the garb of a classical Greek warrior.

Welles’ ghost was wearing spectral dark sunglasses and appeared to have lost weight the past week by a steady diet of spectral vegan plant based camelburgers.

“Look who I’ve found,” Welles’ ghost flashed a wide smile as he took off his spectral sunglasses.

“Who?” Huchuysisa asked.

“The ghost of Alexander the Great,” Welles introduced the ancient Greek king and conquerer, “Apparently the Greek god Zeus asked his brother Hades to release Alex from the realm of Hades back in January. Hades consented and Alex had gone on a Mediterranean cruise to see what the modern Mediterranean looked like. And wouldn’t you know it, this wretched CCP virus (which WHO has mandated everyone should call the Covid-19 virus so that’s why I’m not doing it) struck. Poor Alex’s ship was sailing aimlessly for months. It was finally allowed to dock in Alexandria after Alexander had to bribe a whole bunch of officials with a bunch of rare and valuable ancient Greek drachma coins that Charon the Styx river ferryman had neglected to remove from Alex’s mouth when he was crossing the Rivers Styx and Acheron after kicking the bucket centuries ago.”

“What is Alexander doing here at Luxor?” Huchuysisa asked.

“He’s come to see the Temple of Luxor where he had himself crowned Pharaoh of Egypt centuries ago,” Welles replied as he lit a spectral Cuban cigar.

“But some scholars claim he was never actually crowned Pharaoh of Egypt here,” Huchuysisa pointed out, “That he never got south of Memphis. That he was only crowned conceptually and not in person here. He got himself crowned conceptually at Luxor since being crowned Pharaoh at Luxor was the Egyptian Pharaohonic thing to do. And Alexander wanted to do it.”

“Is that true, Alex?” Welles’ ghost pulled a large spectral bottle of red wine out of his coat pocket.

“I don’t know,” Alexander’s ghost shrugged, “I can’t remember. I drank a little from the River Lethe (the river of forgetfulness in the Underworld). Not as much as my fellow spectral travellers who were with me did. I do remember much but there’s quite a bit I have forgotten.”

“I wonder,” Welles’ ghost poured himself a spectral glass of spectral red wine, “if Joe Biden ever stumbled and bumbled his way down to the River Lethe in the Underworld and mistaking it for the Pierian Spring, he drank deeply from it.”

The winged horse Pegasus flew by the vampiress and the ghostly duo.

Meanwhile down in his basement, Joe Biden mistaking his pot smoking cactus plant (which was a gift to him from some crazy Australian named Uncle Ernie who had taken way too many cuttings off his adopted nephew’s pet pot cactus plants) for his wife asked the plant, “Dear, who was it I named my Vice-Presidential running mate again? I’ve forgotten.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday August 12th
2020.

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The Fire and The Manuscript

July 12, 2020 at 10:51 pm (Ghost Story, Mystery, Mystery/horror, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , )

He had bought an old typewriter from the 1940s in an old antique store.

He placed it down at a desk he no longer used.

His main desk had a PC at it.

His dinner table had a laptop located in front of the chair that neither he nor any of his potential guests ever sat at during meals.

A tablet was by his arm chair in front of the TV.

And of course his smart phone was in his pants pocket ready for his beck and call.

As he went to bed that night, he thought he had heard the sound of typing.

But he ignored it.

Everytime he woke up, he thought he heard the sound of typing.

But again ignored it.

When he woke up the next morning, he was shocked to discover a manuscript for a screen play alongside the old typewriter.

It looked to be freshly typed.

. . .

The ghost of Orson Welles sat in an armchair in the living room of the billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set’s colossal London mansion.

He was watching television while Set’s butler and valet Athelstan dusted the furniture.

The BBC was reporting on a fire that had devastated the San Gabriel Mission Church in California founded by Saint Junipero Serra.

“Horrific,” Athelstan commented as he looked at the screen.

“Very,” Welles’ ghost agreed.

“You have a far away look in your eyes, Mr. Welles,” Athelstan noted.

“I once met Ernest Hemingway,” Welles recounted, “And he told me that he had written a screenplay of all things. He wanted me to see it. The screenplay was for a supernatural thriller in which demons would be walking the earth in a time of plague and pestilence. He didn’t tell me too much about his script. But he did mention one scene where the San Gabriel Mission Church is destroyed by fire. Ironically enough, the manuscript for that screenplay was destroyed by fire. Hemingway never did try to rewrite it.”

. . .

The owner of the antique typewriter looked at the title page of the manuscript.

What first caught his eye were the words “by Ernest Hemingway”.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday July 12th 2020.

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Aphrodite: Pearl of The Meditteranean

July 9, 2020 at 10:49 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

The ghost of the Emperor Napoleon Bonaparte had managed to convince Hades and Persephone to let him out of the Underworld for a while and let him wander the Earth.

The Earth was in the throes of chaos thanks to the Covid-19 virus and the global lockdown as well as ongoing Neo-Bolshevik insurrectionary riots and neo-Jacobin French Revolutionary Reign of Terror tactics going on in the United States of America.

It was just such a period of chaos and turmoil in France during the last decade of the 18th Century that had allowed Napoleon to come to power in France and eventually make himself Emperor of the French in the 1st decade of the 19th Century.

Now Napoleon wished to wander the earth to see who would emerge as the absolute ruler of the hour in this time of chaos.

He was currently walking the streets of Rome (the city he had made his son Napoleon II the King of).

He was quite startled to see an elk walking the streets of Rome.

The elk headed towards the colosseum and entered it.

Strange, the ex-Emperor thought to himself.

He had seen a few peculiar things in Rome back in the day but not that.

. . .

The Egyptian god Horus flew through the streets of London.

Horus had spent over 1500 years as a disembodied spirit after he had been decapitated by King Arthur’s sword Excalibur (capable of slaying immortals).

His spirit on and off had possessed the bodies of various mortal men during that time period but as soon as his mortal host’s body had kicked the bucket, he was left finding a new body to enter.

Now however the Chinese company Huawei had managed to invent a robotic falcon (a robot with all the capabilities and powers inherent in a falcon of nature but one that was immortal having been made from everlasting mineral materials).

A quick call from Horus’ new partner George Soros (The Horus-Soros Alliance had been negotiated by the ghost of Aleister Crowley in-between his incessant screaming as he roasted away on a barbeque spit down in Tartarus) to Soros’ good friend the Chinese Communist paramount leader Xi Jinping and Huawei had provided Horus with just the right robotic falcon body for his spirit to enter.

Now he was flying the streets of London in search of his prey.

Damn, Horus thought to himself.

With this Covid-19 pandemic going on, many people were wearing masks.

How would he able to recognize his prey if his prey was wearing a mask?

. . .

Canadian vampire hunter Dracul Van Helsing was walking on a beach on the island of Cyprus.

There were reports that a giant oyster shell had washed up on this beach and Dracul’s friend Peter Whitstable (the man they call the Fox Mulder of Interpol) had asked him to investigate.

The shell was spotted near an open fire on the beach.

Van Helsing and his friend the ghost of Orson Welles approached the fire.

The giant oyster was being cooked over the open fire by the Greek god Dionysus.

“Do you know if a pearl also came with this shell?” Van Helsing asked the now thoroughly inebriated Greek deity (who had in a single night saved the Cypriot wine making industry from financial disaster).

“Hic! Hic! Hic!” Dionysus replied, “I was told by a gypsy wench that a pearl of great price was in the shell but that pearl of great price up and walked away.”

“It’s Dionysus vs. Christ! Don’t you understand?” The ghost of Friedrich Nietzsche spoke to the ghosts of Jean-Paul Sartre and Albert Camus as the 3 philosophers sat like bumps on a log on a log further down the beach.

Van Helsing and the ghost of Orson Welles returned to their hotel room.

There the Greek goddess Aphrodite (who was the pearl of great price from the oyster shell) was waiting for Van Helsing.

The ghost of Orson Welles was once again forced to shut his eyes as Van Helsing carried on with a goddess.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday July 9th
2020.

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Atargatis In Alexandria

June 27, 2020 at 10:28 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Poetry, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , )

In the courtyard of the Royal Alexandria Hotel
she sat
the Syro-Phoenician goddess Atargatis
on a late June evening in 1939

Although the sands of time
In various hourglasses
kept turning over
This way and that

The Egyptian god Thoth passed by
holding keys of Time
She saw a man named Quentin Talbot
encounter Thessalonike of Macedon
The half-sister of Alexander the Great
a couple of nights ago in the hotel ballroom

Then the scene shifted to a beach at Dunwich in Suffolk
where Thessalonike was about to sacrifice Quentin
to the old Celtic gods
on a June evening in 2020.

Dracul Van Helsing arrived to save Quentin
from being sacrificed
The next thing Atargatis knew
was she saw Van Helsing
making out with her own daughter Semiramis
In the upper bedroom
Of a Dunwich pub and inn.

Seated in an armchair and holding a spectral glass of spectral red wine
And watching the mortal-immortal sexual encounter on the bed
Was the ghost of Orson Welles
Who said,
Being a peep and watching this makes me feel like King Leer
A voyeur of some importance.

The scene vanished again
And she saw Adolf Hitler encountering Josef Stalin
In an Egyptian tomb
that had been transferred to the dungeon of Castle Dracula
in Transylvania

Hitler and Stalin were playing a chess game
For controlling America in the year 2020
The young Chinese Communist revolutionary Mao Tse-tung
dropped by
And told Hitler to use his white knight to crush a black pawn

Der Fuhrer like all racists
thought all Asians looked the same
And mistaking Mao for one of his Japanese allies
followed the future Chairman Mao’s advice

Stalin moved in for the kill
As Mao applauded
General Robert E. Lee’s battle flag of Northern Virginia
went up in flames across a map of the American south
Followed by the Stars and Stripes going up in flames
Across a map of the entire United States of America
Soon to be replaced by the Hammer and Sickle.

Atargatis leaned back on her chaise lounge as the combined scorpion and Phoenix fan above her kept her cool

A shadow fell across her.
She opened her eyes.
“Van Helsing, I presume?”
She said to the man standing alongside the chaise lounge.

Orson Welles’ ghost found himself in the Royal Alexandria Hotel courtyard
“Once again, I’m a witness… I’m a witness…”
He rang the bell alongside his chaise lounge
to summon the hotel porter to bring him a glass of red wine.

-A narrative poem
and vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Saturday June 27th
2020.

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Is Kim Jong-un On His Death Bed?

April 25, 2020 at 10:04 pm (Arts, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, News, Poetry, Short play, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Is Kim Jong-un On His Death Bed?

“The most compelling empirical evidence to date that North Korea’s Kim Jong-un might indeed be lying on his deathbed is Donald Trump’s recent statement that reports of Kim having a serious illness are “gross exaggerations” and “fake news”.

-Renfield R. Renfield MP

Kim Jong-un was lying on top of his bed in his best suit (he didn’t want to be caught wearing clothes that he wouldn’t want to be found dead in).

“Egg foo yung,” Kim whispered in a somewhat audible voice, “Egg foo yung.”

“He really should have better scriptwriters in my opinion,” commented the ghost of Orson Welles who had Charles Foster Kane saying the word “Rosebud” on his death bed.

Orson’s ghost had somehow managed to evade the spirits of Kim’s ancestors to enter the North Korean Presidential Palace and Kim’s Presidential suite bedroom.

A group of beautiful young North Korean women wearing lovely colourful dresses knelt at the bottom of the portly young Kim’s bed and wailed like a Greek chorus mourning the death of Adonis in a Classical Greek tragedy.

A gong sounded and the beautiful North Korean women’s chorus immediately stopped wailing.

“Our shift is over, girls,” said the leader of the women.

They departed giggling and laughing and talked about what they might have for supper and who’d they be dating next weekend.

A new group of beautiful young North Korean women wearing lovely colourful dresses took positions at the bottom of the portly young Kim’s bed and resumed wailing.

. . .

Kim Yo-jong (the younger sister of Kim Jong-un) stood in front of her mirror holding a bottle of Corona beer in one hand and a diamond, emerald, sapphire and jade laced golden crown in the other.

Kim Yo-jong (speaking) :

Does the hand of Fate bequeath a new crown?
As Thanatos smiles behind a silent frown?
Has a golden corona struck down a King so a Queen may reign?
An Olympic garland wreath comes to me via a crown spoken in Spain?
I call upon the spirits of my ancestors to bless me 
as a new journey I may undertake.
America’s trump has sounded from one whose golden crown is densely fake.
Yet will a disinfectant injection into my brother’s lungs will he take?

-A vampire novel chapter
and neo-Shakespearean soliloquy
written by Christopher
Saturday April 25th
2020 

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Renfield, A Disembodied Head, A Missing Peace Prize and Welles’ Gatsby MacBeth

January 10, 2020 at 11:58 pm (Culture, Film, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, Literature, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Renfield, A Disembodied Head, A Missing Peace Prize and Welles’ Gatsby MacBeth

It was evening and British MP Renfield R. Renfield was once again on Skype talking to his friend Amadeus Emanon who was in Australia.

Amadeus was part of an international group of volunteers working to rescue koalas, kangaroos and other wildlife from the wildfires that were currently raging in that country.

“Some fire fighters and rescue volunteers captured some photos of an unusual sight today,” Amadeus mentioned.

“Oh, and what was that?” Renfield asked.

“It was photos of the flaming disembodied head of a Jesuit priest going around setting fire to trees,” Amadeus answered.

“That is a very unique and unusual form of arson,” Renfield used his Sherlockian powers of deductive reasoning to reach that conclusion.

“Angelique,” Amadeus referred to his girlfriend, “captured a video of it.”

Amadeus showed Renfield the video.

As flames of fire came forth from the disembodied head, the Jesuit said, “Survival of the fittest. Jump start the next evolutionary leap. Koalas and kangaroos won’t help the Cosmos evolve towards the Omega Point.”

“Makes you wonder if this Omega Point is worth evolving to,” Renfield commented as he took a swig of whisky.

. . .

The news video clip was of Donald Trump at a campaign event in Toledo, Ohio the night before.

Trump told his supporters, “I’m going to tell you about the Nobel Peace Prize, I’ll tell you about that. I made a deal, I saved a country and I just heard that the head of that country is getting the Nobel Peace Prize for saving the country. I said, ‘What, did I have something to do with it?’. Yeah, but you know, that’s the way it is. As long as we know, that’s all that matters… I saved a big war, I’ve saved a couple of them.”
Trump was stating that he deserved the Nobel Peace Prize for ending the war between Ethiopia and Eritrea.

Not Ethiopian Prime Minister Abiy Ahmed, 43, the man who actually ended the war.

The U.S. influence in the peace talks was minimal.

And so Donald Trump was making a whopper of a claim.

Probably the biggest whopper of a claim since then Prime Minister Brian Mulroney of Canada (the biggest most pompous and most arrogant asshole that Canadian politics has ever produced) made the whopper of a claim back in 1990 that he was the man single handedly responsible for the dismantling of the Berlin Wall in Europe and the ending of apartheid in South Africa.

Totally ignoring the efforts of Mikhail Gorbachev, Ronald Reagan and Pope John Paul II in the former event and the efforts of Nelson Mandela and F.W. De Klerk in the other.

. . .

The ghost of Orson Welles (who along with Winston Churchill’s ghost was one of two spirit advisors to Renfield R. Renfield) sat in a comfortable arm chair in the Set Estate mansion in West London sipping a glass of spectral red wine while Set’s cat Nefertiti Galore was dining on smoked oysters and vodka from her cat dish.

The ghost of Orson Welles was contemplating directing a new film- a roaring 1920s version of MacBeth in which MacBeth would appear as a Great Gatsby style figure and Lady MacBeth would come across as an even more narcissistic (than she was in Fitzgerald’s novel) version of Daisy Buchanan- one with severe psychopathic and homicidal tendencies.

Welles imagined MacBeth’s first meeting with the 3 Witches- not on a Scottish heath but in the grand drawing room of an elegant mansion on a colossal Long Island estate.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Friday January 10th
2020.

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The Hoover-Orsic Transcripts

December 20, 2019 at 11:35 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Gothic romance, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Romance, The Occult, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , )

The Hoover-Orsic Transcripts

“I never thought it would be so much fun burglaring J. Edgar Hoover’s office at the FBI Building in Washington DC,” the ghost of Orson Welles remarked to Dracul Van Helsing.

Using a miniature time tunnel that Dr. Cadbury Rocher was working on at Set Enterprises in London, the pair had temporarily travelled back in time to Washington DC in 1939.

What sent the certainly unusual dynamic duo on their mission was a message that Dracul Van Helsing had received from Peter Whitstable the man they called the Fox Mulder of Interpol.

Whitstable was currently in the German capital Berlin investigating an attempt to open up the unmarked grave of Nazi SS officer Reinhard Heydrich.

The Nazi SS Ahnenerbe Occult Bureau vampire Franz Kohler and Gavin Brown a voodoo practitioner with ties to the Bill and Melinda Gates Foundation were the ones responsible for trying to dig up Heydrich’s grave.

The attempt ended after the grave digging gang of six men were attacked by a flock of pigeons.

Whitstable in his investigation had discovered that Franz Kohler believed the transcripts of a secret meeting between J. Edgar Hoover and Maria Orsic of the occultic Vril Society that took place in Washington DC in 1939 had been buried with Heydrich’s remains.

A computerized laser examination of Heydrich’s grave yesterday using technology developed by Dr. Cadbury Rocher had shown there were no documents in Heydrich’s casket.

But now Whitstable was curious as to why Kohler wanted a copy of those transcripts.

Whitstable discovered that the meeting between Maria Orsic and J. Edgar Hoover had taken place on December 18th 1939.

Whitstable relayed that information to Van Helsing.

Seeing as how Dr. Rocher wanted a test for his time tunnel, he offered to send Van Helsing to J. Edgar Hoover’s office 80 years ago today.

And Van Helsing could steal Hoover’s copy of the transcripts.

The ghost of Orson Welles (who along with the ghost of Winston Churchill was serving as a spirit advisor to British MP Renfield R. Renfield) offered to go along with Van Helsing for the ride.

And so now here they were searching through Hoover’s drawers (his file drawers that is!) trying to find any transcripts of a meeting between Hoover and the Vril Society medium Maria Orsic.

“Gentlemen,” said the Norse goddess Freya as she sat in Hoover’s office smoking a cigarette, “I presume you’re looking for the transcripts of the meeting between Mr. Hoover and Miss Orsic?”.

“We are,” Van Helsing answered.

“Well then follow me,” Freya got up and walked over to another part of the office.

“With pleasure,” Van Helsing replied as he followed her.

“Oh, to be mortal again,” Welles’ ghost sighed.

-A vampire novel chapter 
written by Christopher
Friday December 20th
2019.

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Renfield, The Tobacco Chewing Man and Sheriff Stonedwall Jackman

November 15, 2019 at 11:53 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, Politics, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Renfield, The Tobacco Chewing Man and Sheriff Stonedwall Jackman

British MP Renfield R. Renfield was sitting by the fireplace in a very comfortable sitting room in a lovely Bed and Breakfast place in the town of Tewkesbury.

He was sitting in an armchair, smoking a pipe, wearing a deerstalker cap and enjoying a glass of brandy.

“And how did your day on the campaign trail go today?” A cigar smoking and brandy drinking ghost of Sir Winston Churchill asked Renfield as he sat in the armchair across from him.

“Elementary, my dear Churchill,” Renfield remarked as he relit his pipe, “I visited a school and handed out milk and cookies to all the kids and took selfies with the teachers, parents and staff.”

“Are you still keeping track of geopolitics and international affairs as you go about seeking re-election?” Orson Welles’ enormously talented ghost took up most of the sofa as he smoked a cigar and drank a glass of red wine while sitting across from the fireplace.

“I am,” Renfield nodded, “I’ve discovered that there’s a U.S. deep state operative called the Tobacco Chewing Man who wants to annex a whole bunch of territory all over the world for the U.S.A. He wants to infiltrate the Alberta and Saskatchewan Western Canada independence movement and get them to join the U.S. He’s formed an alliance with the Lovecraftian Great Old One Cthulhu to annex Hong Kong and turn it into a U.S. territory with Cthulhu becoming the first state governor. They’re behind the most violent of the student rioters in Hong Kong. The Tobacco Chewing Man actually documented all his plans for U.S. annexation and world domination after he spent a year in jail following an unsuccessful beer hall putsch in Portland, Oregon. The book he wrote (while undergoing a severe bout of gout from overindulgence in eating roast beef and sirloin steak in a federal government run prison) he called Mein Kramp.”

. . .

Sheriff Stonedwall Jackman the Sheriff of the mysterious Aquarian Age hippy commune of Calypso’s Bosom on British Columbia’s Sechelt Peninsula (a mystical village that emerged from its marijuana pot smoking mists only once every 7 years) was down in the Arizona desert.

As he inhaled his Uncle Ernie’s Chemical of The Day that was mailed to him daily from Australia, he tried to remember what he was doing down in the Arizona desert.

Vultures flew over him and waited for him to die.

They’d have a long time to wait, Jackman thought to himself as he wiped the sweat off his forehead and helped himself to another bottle of Perrier Water from his golf cart.

His mule Saratoga moved on dragging the golf cart behind her.

It was then that Sheriff Stonedwall Jackman spotted a cactus.

Then it all came back to him now like Celine Dion in the middle of singing a hit song.

He was supposed to find a nice looking cactus plant for Canada’s Prime Minister Justin Trudeau.

That was his mission.

“A mission of vital national security,” as the Canadian Prime Minister put it to him in the Prime Minister’s Office on Parliament Hill in Ottawa.

“This is a nice looking cactus plant,” Jackman thought to himself.

He went over and cut off a slice of the cactus plant and put it in a planting pot on the golf cart (the planting pot had apparently been blessed by both Pope Francis and U2 singer Bono).

“Ouch!” Jackman suddenly exclaimed as the sensation of picking up the cactus slice in his bare hands suddenly reached the pain centers in his brain after the temporary delay caused by Uncle Ernie’s Chemicals of the Day.

He really should have worn gloves.

“That was a sacred cactus you cut off a part of,” a Hopi tribal elder approached him, “I hope you know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t,” said Jackman, “but thanks for letting me know.”

A U.S. Post Office Letter carrier who looked a lot like U.S. Postal Employee Norman Newman on the TV show Seinfeld approached the pair.

“Excuse me,” the vastly overweight and vastly sweating letter carrier said to them, “But I hope one of you gentlemen is Sheriff Stonedwall Jackman of Calypso’s Bosom.”

“I am,” Sheriff Jackman answered.

“Thank God,” the Newman lookalike wiped off all the sweat covering his body with his towel, “because I have a registered parcel for you from Uncle Ernie’s Chemical of The Day Club in the Australian Outback. Sign here please.”

Sheriff Jackman signed the form and took the parcel.

The vultures followed the letter carrier as he trudged off across the Arizona desert.

Meanwhile a Government of Canada jet landed nearby to pick up Sheriff Stonedwall Jackman and the slice of cactus plant.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday November 15th
2019.


One of the mirages that the Norman Newman lookalike U.S. Post Office letter carrier saw while trudging across the Arizona desert

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