Zeus’ New Year’s Eve In Berlin

December 31, 2019 at 11:50 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, Gothic romance, International Intrigue, Mythology, News, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Zeus’ New Year’s Eve In Berlin 

When the Greek god Zeus heard the news that the Germanic god Wotan (aka the Norse god Odin) would be spending his New Year’s Eve in Athens, Greece watching Greek lady belly dancers in the city’s tavernas (although Odin/Wotan told his wife Freya that he’d be snow bowling as opposed to lawn bowling with Thor up at the North Pole), Zeus decided that he’d attend a New Year’s Eve party in the German capital of Berlin.

Buying the latest men’s tuxedo from a fashionable and upscale London tailor (where British Prime Minister Boris Johnson purchased his suits), Zeus flew an old Zeppelin dirigible from London to Berlin.

One of the guests aboard the New Year’s Eve dirigible for select celebrities (of which the Grecian sky god of Mount Olympus was considered to be one) was a former advisor to Donald Trump (who had just discovered hours earlier that he had apparently lost his job on the last day of this year when he read about it in one of the American leader’s recent tweets).

Overdosing on strawberry daiquiris, he got the lead out from the Zeppelin via his rear end when he sat on the edge of the dirigible deck and mooned various U.S. consulates and embassies (that the airship flew over on its way to Berlin) as his own personal form of retaliation.

Zeus was looking very dapper and debonair as he got off the Zeppelin and proceeded to chase anyone wearing a skirt (although he quickly reached the conclusion that the tea members of Berlin’s LGBTQ community wasn’t quite what he had in mind and vowed to be more observant and diligent on his Berlin night out).

As for the now former advisor to Donald Trump, when what was left of him was taken off the airship, they were able to bury all of him in a cigar box and place him 6 feet under in a Berlin cemetery.

Zeus reached a Berlin publishing company’s New Year’s Eve party and decided to crash it.

Posing as the author of a book on Greek mythology, the bearded Olympian was let in.

Zeus noted that his son Dionysus (aka Bacchus) was there.

After 9 PM in the evening, Dionysus fell asleep with his head in the gigantic punch bowl where it remained the rest of the night (with no one bothering to remove it as patrons and guests just scooped up their glasses of punch around the drunken deity’s head).

The Greek hero Achilles was there having recently been granted a temporary dispensation from the Underworld by Hades and Persephone.

Achilles was trying to put the moves on the (quite literally) immortal beautiful Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka who was currently visiting Germany from the U.S. Dakotas.

Belvedere the ghost of a Ghost White Salamander and a reporter for the Times of London was covering the New Year’s Eve literary gala.

During his mortal human life back in the 19th Century (how he ended up the ghost of a Ghost White Salamander and ceased being human was one long sad story), Belvedere had been good friends with the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka and her grandfather White Hawk (who was a great Lakota Sioux Medicine Man).

In fact the three had celebrated together Chief Sitting Bull’s victory over George Armstrong Custer at the Battle of Little Big Horn.

Noticing that Tanaka was being bothered by the obnoxious and egotistical so-called “hero” of the Trojan War, Belvedere used a spectral bow and arrow (the spirit of the material physical bow and arrow that had been given him as a gift by White Hawk) and fired a spectral arrow at Achilles’ spectral heel.

“Damn! Not again!” Achilles shouted as a group of models wearing the latest dress fashions from Paris and carrying apples in their hands did a catwalk through the party hall.

Achilles fell over and once again departed to the realm of Hades.

Just then Zeus noticed 3 beautiful women standing against the wall by one of the balcony windows.

The Olympian decided to go over and make a move hoping to bring in the New Year with a bang- and possibly three- if he was lucky.

However a huge damper was about to fall on Zeus’ plans for the evening when his wife Hera stepped off the elevator into the party room.

She had been invited to the party by the President of the Berlin Publishing Company.

Hera noticed Zeus chatting up the three beauties.

New Year’s Eve fireworks soon went off.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday December 31st
2019.

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Michelangelo: The Fastest Claw In The West

October 6, 2019 at 10:24 pm (Humour, Literature, Poetry, Romance, Vampire novel, western) (, , , , , , , , )

Michelangelo: The Fastest Claw In The West

Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster had a visitor in his aquarium room at Set Enterprises today.

The visitor was Belvedere the ghost of a ghost white salamander reporter for the Times of London.

Belvedere, in his days as a mortal, before he had been turned into a ghost white salamander by a gypsy enchantress, had lived in the days of the American Wild West and was therefore regaling the lobster with tales of his adventures (somewhat highly embellished of course!).

Belvedere was then called away by his editor to attend a late night session of the House of Lords who were debating if there would be enough sausages available to make full English breakfasts should a no-deal Brexit happen.

When Belvedere left, Michelangelo fell asleep and dreamed that he was living in the days of the Wild West.

The place was Dodge City
The times were not pretty 
Willy Malone and The Bronson Boys
had fired their guns certainly not toys
They were the gang that called the shots 
And gave their horses the best parking spots 

No one could stop their reign of terror 
thinking that one could was a total error
You’d find yourself plugged full of lead
and resting ‘neath tombstones with the rest of the dead

It was on a hot and dusty day 
that a lobster wandered this way
He went up to the bar and ordered a beer 
using chalk and a chalkboard to make himself clear
For the crustacean was the strong silent type 
and his body odour was not overly ripe

Willy Malone and the Bronson Boys came strolling through the door
Got the shock of their life seeing a lobster on the floor 
Said Malone as he saw the lobster drinking his beer 
and finding the whole thing very queer
This town ain’t big enough for the both of us
So I say unto you, Hit the road, Gus

The lobster wrote on the chalkboard
with all the pizzaz of a High British Lord
My name is Michelangelo and I shall not leave
So stick that up your nose and wipe your sleeve

Malone was beside himself 
As he knocked beer bottles off the shelf
Step out into the street for a show down
And when you’re dead you’ll leave town 
I’m challenging you to a gun fight 
Bullets blazing will be your last sight

Michelangelo accepted the challenge to a draw 
And was out on the street with gun in claw 
The town’s privy clerk counted to three 
And the lobster shot old Malone in the knee
He did the same with the Bronson Boys
who keeled over in the street making lots of noise 

For Michelangelo was the fastest claw in the West
And the Malone-Bronson gang wasn’t up for the test 

-A vampire novel chapter
and poem
written by Christopher
Sunday October 6th
2019.


One of the witnesses to the gunfight between Michelangelo the Psychic Lobster and the Malone-Bronson Gang

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Pan Goatee, Donald Trump, Prince Andrew and Benjamin Netanyahu

July 16, 2019 at 9:33 pm (Aesthetics, Geopolitics and International Relations, International Intrigue, News, The Occult, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , )

Pan Goatee, Donald Trump, Prince
Andrew and Benjamin Netanyahu

Pan Goatee had just finished buying cans of Diet Coke in the dollar store and was walking towards the mall’s food court when he encountered two fat ugly blimps of sisters waddling around the confines of the food court.

“A blimp is a blimp by any other name,” Goatee paraphrased Shakespeare as he beheaded one of the walrus-semi-human hybrids that were unfortunately vastly (in more ways than one) indigenous to this particular locale of western Canada.

“And the same goes for you,” Goatee remarked as he beheaded the other fat ugly blimp of a sister.

Sadly both fat ugly blimps had obviously not been carried away by a tornado that had recently hit the region a couple of days earlier.

“I guess that poor twisting vortex of a funnel cloud did not want to come down with a hernia,” Goatee reflected to himself.

Meanwhile in Washington DC, Donald Trump (after talking to the ghost of Richard M. Nixon who had famously said once, “I am not a crook”) had tweeted, “I am not a racist.”

He then added, “There’s not a racist bone in my body.”

At DARPA headquarters, the head of DARPA Dr. Faustus Imhotep was trying to keep under wraps medical x-rays that showed the current U.S. President did not have a skeleton but rather a strange mass of alien slime under his skin.

Dr. Faustus Imhotep was now pondering the question, “Was Trump an illegal alien from a galaxy far, far away?”.

Meanwhile over in England, Prince Andrew was reflecting on the U.S. arrest of one of his acquaintances Jeffrey Epstein.

The radio in his room was playing an old song recorded by Ringo Starr, “You’re 16, you’re beautiful and you’re mine.”

Andrew shut the radio off as it brought back memories of a time that could possibly land him in hot water.

And at his parliamentary office in Westminster, British MP Renfield R. Renfield was looking at photos taken by Belvedere the ghost of a ghost white salamander reporter for The Times of London.

The photos were recently taken in Jerusalem.

It was at a press conference in which Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu named the South African born academic Dr. Evan Cohen as his new spokesperson to the international media.

Standing behind Netanyahu at the press conference was the Rome-based Egyptian deity Osiris and the demon Baphomet.

“Does this mean Osiris and Baphomet have formed an alliance with one another?” Amadeus Emanon asked Renfield as he looked at the photos.

“If they are, the Boss won’t be very happy about that,” Renfield remarked.

Renfield still referred to his former employer the London-based billionaire ancient Egyptian vampire Set as the Boss.

The remark confused a lost American tourist as he walked down the corridors outside Renfield’s office and had come to the conclusion that this place was probably not Westminster Abbey.

Why, the tourist wondered, would Bruce Springsteen object to Osiris and Baphomet forming an alliance?

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Tuesday July 16th
2019.

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Ghost of Orson Welles Meets Belvedere In Istanbul

May 6, 2019 at 9:40 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, News, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , )

The ghost of Orson Welles was sitting in a cafe in Istanbul.

He had been told by a Russian spy beluga whale whom he had helped to defect to Norway this past weekend that the lovely mermaid Miranda when swimming through the Bosphorus Strait would often shapeshift into full human form and visit the Marmara Cafe in downtown Istanbul of which she loved the Turkish coffee being served there.

Welles could never recall meeting an actual mermaid in his past mortal life or current ghostly life so he decided to come to Istanbul and visit the Marmara Cafe on the off chance that he might meet Miranda.

Welles sat at a back table in the corner of the cafe and sipped a glass of spectral red wine occasionally glancing at the entrance to see if any woman who might be a mermaid in full human form came walking through the door.

He recited William Butler Yeats’ Sailing To Byzantium as he sat,

“… And therefore have I sailed the seas and come
To the holy city of Byzantium. ”

“Orson!” A voice shouted from the doorway.

It was the voice of Belvedere the ghost of a ghost white salamander.

Belvedere had been human but back in the mid-1880s in the American Wild West had been turned into a ghost white salamander through an ancient Egyptian spell cast by a gypsy woman who worked in the Wild West saloon where he worked as a bartender.

He became the ghost of a ghost white salamander when he crawled outside and was run over by a settlers’ ox cart heading west.

The first and last time Belvedere saw Welles was back in October 1938 just prior to the then Boy Wonder delivering his famous Halloween War of The Worlds broadcast.

“Belvedere,” the ghost of Orson Welles lit a spectral cigar, “Long time no see.”

“I see we’re both ghosts now,” Belvedere sat across from the spectral cinematic talent.

“Such are the ravages of time,” Welles blew rosebud shaped smoke rings, “unless we be vampires, vampiresses, gods, goddesses or immortal dominatrixes who have eaten just the right amount of Lingzhi supernatural mushrooms, we must all succumb to the hands of the scythe wielding spectre Death there to see our flesh melt and our bones turned to dust and our spirits wandering earth, purgatory or paradise until such time as our bodies and souls are reunited into a new transformed whole on the Day of Judgment.”

“Eloquent as ever, my friend,” Belvedere was impressed.

“So, what are you doing these days?” Welles sipped his wine, “What brings you to Istanbul?”.

“I am now a reporter for The Times of London,” the ghost white salamander answered, “I’m here on assignment. Turkey’s chief electoral body has ordered that Istanbul’s local elections be re-held after President Recep Tayyip Erdogan’s Islamist AK Party lost to the opposition secularist CHP Party after a shock opposition victory this past March.”

“It is indeed a hatchet in the cake of dictatorship when the trappings of democracy come crashing down just as the cake is being wheeled into the banquet hall where Ottoman Sultans once dined and harem girls once danced,” Welles helped himself to spectral caviar and spread it on a spectral slice of bread.

“Erdogan is indeed upset about the whole thing,” Belvedere agreed, “He himself used to be Mayor of Istanbul many years ago.”

“Such is the power of the spirit of Byzantium,” Welles drank a toast, “that this city can survive the misrule of a petty despot such as Erdogan.”

“Istanbul’s new CHP Mayor Ekrem Imamoglu is confident that he can win again in the re-held election,” Belvedere remarked.

“Beware the sting of scorpions and the fangs of serpents,” Welles’ baritone voice shook the cafe, “for my friends who still fast in the fires of Purgatory inform me that Lady MacBeth’s ghost serves as an advisor to Erdogan.”

“Great Scot! And great Caesar’s ghost!” Belvedere’s ghostly white face turned even more ghostly white, “Lady MacBeth!”.

“Never was a Film Noir Femme Fatale more femme fatalish than Lady MacBeth as the Bard so adeptly captured her personality, soul and spirit in his Scottish Play,” Welles raised his finger in the air to capture the direction the Mid-East winds were blowing, “for she serves not only as advisor to Erdogan but advisor to Saudi Crown Prince Mohammad bin Salman as well. Tantalizing both claimants to a future Caliphate. Playing one side against the other. Stringing both together as if playing on a harp whose strings are made of human sinews.”

Belvedere decided to change to a cheerier subject.

“Have you ever watched Game of Thrones?” Belvedere asked.

“I have never watched an episode in full,” Welles confessed, “I have watched segments of certain programs on YouTube.”

“What do you think?” Belvedere inquired.

“What do I think?” Welles lit another spectral cigar, inhaled and then exhaled smoke rings like dragons, “I think Game of Thrones captures what the world of Medieval Europe would have been like if there had been no figure of Christ at the center of the culture of Medieval Europe.”

“Really?” Belvedere pondered this thought.

“In such a Medieval Europe,” Welles took the final sip of what remained of his glass, “Every ruler would be able to say… we are all Lady MacBeth.”

As a woman in another corner of the cafe claimed to have just given birth to dragons, the ghost of Lady MacBeth entered the cafe’s entrance still carrying stains of blood on her spectral formerly mortal hands.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Monday May 6th 2019
Orson Welles’ 104th
birthday.

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Reblog of General Custer’s Death and White Hawk’s Vision: A Poem

February 16, 2019 at 11:45 pm (Folklore, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, History, International Intrigue, Mystery, Mythology, News, Poetry, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

This is a re-blog of a poem I wrote last year:

Dracul Van Helsing

General Custer’s Death and White Hawk’s Vision: A Poem

White Hawk- Medicine Man of the Lakota Sioux Nation
He was there at Little Big Horn
The Battle of the Greasy Grass
He was there the day Custer died
The day Custer died for the sins
of corporate mining ⛏ interests
in the West
and white settler expansion

June 25th 1876
The day Custer entered Eternity
The day Custer went to the Hell
that does not exist
(according to a 21st Century Pope)

White Hawk watched Custer die
He heard the last words on Custer’s lips
“The White Buffalo is coming”
And then the eyes went blank
and stared into the Heavens
where his soul did not ascend

A year later outside his tepee
on a summer evening
as he smoked the sacred pipe
White Hawk had a vision
A vision of a White Buffalo

He spoke the vision to the…

View original post 92 more words

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Panty Goatee and The Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine

July 11, 2018 at 10:55 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mystery/horror, News, Politics, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , )

Panty Goatee and The Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine

Belvedere the ghost of the Ghost White Salamander and an amphibian spectral reporter for the Times of London was here in New York City.

He was visiting the Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine in New York City.

He was here to interview the ghost of the late Episcopalian Bishop James Albert Pike about being asked by Pope Francis to compose a new version of the Lord’s Prayer (to be renamed the Hermaphrodite Comrade General-Secretary’s Prayer) for a new ecumenical Mass that was being designed by a top secret interfaith committee of Roman Catholics, Lutherans and Anglicans.

Pike’s ghost was currently visiting New York’s Episcopal Cathedral of Saint John The Divine where he had served as Dean of the Cathedral for six years from 1952 to 1958 prior to being elected bishop coadjutor of California and then succeeding to the see a few months later after the death of his predecessor.

Maintaining the episcopal arrogance he was noted for when he was alive, Bishop Pike still refused to believe in the existence of Hell despite roasting away on a spit in Tartarus for the past 49 years.

He had been granted a temporary dispensation of absence by Hades the Greek god of the Underworld after a request from Pope Francis that he do so.

Belvedere stood outside the side entrance of the Cathedral when the statue of a gargoyle fell on top of him.

He jumped out of the way forgetting that he was a ghost and could not be killed a second time.

Who did that? Belvedere wondered to himself.

He had talked to the famous London private eyes Magog Rhys Petley and Agathor Christie before leaving London for New York.

They had told him they were on a secret mission for the British government and would be flying to Helsinki next week.

Despite pressing for more details, the pair refused to divulge anymore to the spectral amphibian reporter.

Although they kept ordering more sushi 🍣 for the ninja mask wearing lobster in the small aquarium next to their table in the Japanese restaurant they were dining in.

Magog and Agathor told Belvedere that they had visited St. John The Divine Episcopal Cathedral last summer where they saw Shiva the Hindu god of destruction and transformation walking around.

They weren’t sure whether the Hindu deity was on a mission of destruction or transformation or both.

Belvedere said he would be on the lookout for any signs of Shiva on this occasion.

The ghostly salamander’s thoughts retuned to the broken gargoyle that lay on the sidewalk beside him.

It was then that he saw her- a beautiful blue and white haired and tattooed young woman wearing a sexy skirt, absinthe green coloured corset and super spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes.

The woman lifted her skirt and pulled a butcher’s meat cleaver knife out of her panties and then cut the head off a man who was trying to enter the side door of the Cathedral.

“My God,” shouted a campaign worker for New York 14th Congressional District Democratic Party nominee Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez, “that woman outside the door of the Cathedral there just murdered the Mexican Consul-General in New York City.”

The ghost of a New York Shakespearean actor who had been famous in the 19th Century for playing the character of Snout in A Midsummer Night’s Dream shouted, “Beware all opponents of the wall for you are being targeted.”

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Wednesday July 11th
2018.

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Belvedere and The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

April 8, 2018 at 10:58 pm (Geopolitics and International Relations, Ghost Story, International Intrigue, Mystery, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , )

Belvedere and The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

Belvedere the ghost white salamander who worked as a reporter for The Times of London was meeting with one of his sources in a London restaurant.

The source was Gary Geese-Hogg an agent for MI-6.

The restaurant was Amit’s Curry 🍛 Palace.

“Love the food here,” said Gary as his spoon 🥄 dove into a bowl of delicious chicken curry.

“Being dead, I unfortunately can’t eat it,” said the ghost of the ghost white salamander, “so what’s your scoop?”.

“You’ve heard of Lev Tomi?” Geese-Hogg asked Belvedere.

“The head of the UN Secretariat On The Environment and Climate Change?” Belvedere asked.

“That’s the one,” Geese-Hogg nodded, “he’s been meeting continuously with George Soros on a regular basis the past few years.”

“The billionaire Hungarian-American investor?” Belvedere said.

“That’s the one,” Geese-Hogg motioned for some chai tea.

“And what are the subject of these meetings?” Belvedere wanted to know.

“We have no idea,” Geese-Hogg shrugged, “we’re hoping with your investigative reporting skills, you’ll be able to find out and tell us.”

Belvedere picked up his ghostly notebook and left.

Another waste of time, the ghost white salamander thought to himself.

As he walked through the street, he suddenly noticed a woman wearing a 19th Century Native American indigenous dress.

He recognized her as the Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka.


The Lakota Sioux Princess Tanaka

The last time he saw her was in his mortal life as a non-ghost and a non-white salamander.

He had changed quite a lot since the last time he saw her.

But she was still the same.

Young looking and beautiful.

And still alive.

She couldn’t be a vampiress since it was broad daylight as she walked down the street.

And yet the last time he saw her was in the Black Hills of South Dakota back in 1877.

How, Belvedere wondered, was this possible?

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Sunday April 8th
2018.

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Belvedere Interviews Donald Trump

February 12, 2017 at 4:20 pm (Commentary, Geopolitics and International Relations, History, News, Satire, The Supernatural, Vampire novel) (, , , , , , , , , , , )

President Trump (to Belvedere): You’re the reporter from The Times of London?

Belvedere: That’s right.

Trump: But you’re the ghost of a ghost white salamander?

Belvedere: That’s also right.

Trump: Okay. I suppose that’s all right. Mitt Romney told me that the ghost of a ghost white salamander told him that I was descended from Jesus Christ and Mary Magdalene.

(A news bulletin on the television in the next room said that actor Tom Hanks had just been rushed to hospital)

Belvedere: It wasn’t me.

Trump: It wasn’t? That’s too bad. If Mitt Romney had found the supporting documentation from the Mormon Church Archives, I’d have made him Secretary of State. But he didn’t. So instead I made that guy who’s Chairman of Exxon the Secretary of State. I forget his name but he used to offer me great deals on gasoline.

Belvedere: How do you like being President of the United States?

Trump: I love it but the court system in this country is a real pain in the ass to quote that guy in the next sauna next to me in that gym I used to go to in Manhattan.They won’t let me do what I want. What a bummer. Again quoting that guy next to me in the next sauna.

Belvedere: How do you feel about having your plans upset like that?

Trump: Well I often thought about making myself Emperor and then I wouldn’t have to deal with irritants like judges. Or even worry about getting re-elected for that matter.

Belvedere: Emperor?

Trump: Emperor of America. I mean Rome was a republic for over 200 years after they got rid of their kings. And then they became an Empire with an Emperor. Why can’t we do the same? It’s been over 240 years since George Washington and our forefathers booted King George III and his Hanoverian ass out of this country. We’ve been a republic for 240 years. We should try something new. Julius Caesar wanted to be Emperor of Rome but he got himself assassinated. Great leaders don’t get themselves assassinated in my opinion. That’s why I’m not planning on visiting the Capitol steps of the U.S. Senate on the Ides of March. Caesar Augustus made himself Emperor and didn’t get assassinated. I plan on being more like Caesar Augustus.

Belvedere: Some people think that Augustus was fed poisonous figs, grapes or mushrooms and that’s how he died.

Trump: I’m not planning to eat any figs, grapes or mushrooms in the near future. Although damn it, I am going to miss eating those bacon, cheddar and mushroom melt burgers at Wendy’s restaurants.

Belvedere: So will the American people approve of you making yourself Emperor?

Trump: Of course they will. The American people love me.

Belvedere: What about those people that don’t love you?

Trump: Those people who don’t love me aren’t true Americans.

Belvedere: What should be done with those people who don’t love you?

Trump: They should be fed to the lions.

Belvedere: Is ancient Rome again your inspiration for this?

Trump: Absolutely. Remember those great reality shows they put on in the Colosseum in Rome? They weren’t televised because sadly they didn’t have television in those days. But we do have television. And I’m planning to build colosseums and forums with American material and American labour. We’re going to bring back gladiatorial combat to the death. We’re going to bring back feeding people to the lions We’re going to make America Rome again.

-A vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Friday February 10th
2017.

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Sherrielock Holmes Reflects On The Vampiress Showdown At Sundown

December 20, 2016 at 5:14 pm (Ghost Story, Humour, Romance, The Supernatural, western) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Sherrielock Holmes Reflects On The Vampiress Showdown At Sundown

Things quieted down in Hayden, Colorado after the Aztec gold was dug up and stolen by a group of marauding Mormons who took it to Utah with them.

This later gave American forensic geologist Scott Wolter something to do for his early 21st Century TV show America Unearthed.

Since there was no longer any reason to stay in Hayden, Isis flew back to Paris by way of New York and Qonzilqointec returned to Mexico City by way of San Francisco.

“At last, peace and quiet,” Sherrielock sighed to herself as she lay in bed.

She might finally be able to get to sleep at night.

-A western vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday July 28th
2016.

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Qonzilqointec vs. Isis: The Vampiress Showdown At Sundown

December 19, 2016 at 4:20 pm (Ghost Story, Humour, Romance, The Supernatural, Vampire novel, western) (, , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , )

Qonzilqointec vs. Isis: The Vampiress Showdown At Sundown

The Egyptian vampiress Isis was none too pleased that one of the gold bars her archaeologist found had been stolen by the Aztec vampire princess Qonzilqointec (although Qonzilqointec claimed Aztec reclamation).

“This means war,” Isis seethed.

It wasn’t long before the showdown.

As Howard Cosell might have called it had he been alive at the time, The Showdown After Sundown.

Dressed in elaborate Parisienne and Madrid made evening gowns with holsters tied around their waists, they stood (in spiked stiletto high-heeled shoes) facing one another.

Inside each holster was a hawthorne wooden stake- guaranteed to kill the Undead dead.

Or so the sign read down at Van Helsing’s Lumber Yard in town.

Both Isis and Qonzilqointec had purchased their stakes without bothering to ask if there was a money back guarantee.

The town’s sheriff called out, “Draw.”

Each vampiress quickly pulled the stake out of their respective holsters and threw it at the other.

Qonzilqointec’s stake hit and broke Isis’ right vampiric incisor tooth.

“Oh Great God Ra, that’s going to cost me a fortune in dental work,” Isis moaned.

The town dentist stood rubbing his hands in glee.

Isis’ stake hit and struck Qonzilqointec’s left breast.

“Oh great Quetzalcoatl, it’s going to cost me a fortune to get that scar removed,” Qonzilqointec moaned.

The town doctor (who had a breast fetish) stood rubbing his hands in glee.

Belvedere who was busy eating a heavily garlic laced onion soup noticed that the two vampiresses were keeping away from him (of course so was everyone else for that matter).

-A western vampire novel chapter
written by Christopher
Thursday July 28th
2016.

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