Tuesday, March 8, 2011


Papa toyed with the idea of crucifying little Annie. It might not destroy her, but it would tend to teach her a lesson. She just wouldn't stop messing with the mummies and certain people in administration were getting a bit touchy over that. He had to pay them off with countless tiny vials of his blood. And if this stuff went on, hallf the population of Philadelphia would be over one hundred years old in a few years. Well, 'few' to a vampire. He could sneak up on her and grab her, then (real fast) drain away a lot of her blood. But that would only drive her out on the streets lookin' for refills. And what with Mardi Gras and all, Philadelphia Vampirism did not need that. So he scared her. Put a little thought in her head. More than a thought, actually. It looked real. What'd he do? He 'transported' her all the way out to the corona of the sun. Left her twitchin' and hangin' above the very surface of hell. She cried and cried. It was almost a shame. I think she even peed herself a little. And don't ask me how a scrubby vampire brat can do that, but she did.. Oh, she promised, she promised to be good. No more messin' with them mummies. No more twistin' 'em into nasty positions. None of that stuff. And he trusted her, not forever, but say like for the next fortyeight hours. So he dumped her in a room with a not too grateful familiar, threw in a bunch of new coloring books and crayons and stomped out. Ah, the air outside felt good. Winter was dying. Spring was pushin' out. And everybody less than thirty years old was makin' for a monster drunk on South Street. Mardi Gras! And why not? The atmosphere in the old districts of this town have their own special romance. None of that wrought iron stuff. But if you forgot about all the drivin' to the right, you might think you were in London or something. And the cozy, trendy boites on South Street (where the hippies meet) were ready for it. Now Papa did look his best. Sharp styled salt and pepper hair. Trim, little Jimmy Fallon suit (but in a 46 long) and tight, close-fitting, walkin' boots. A regular Mardi Gras gent, he was. Had a list. Not on paper. In his head.  Two, maybe three bad individuals gonna go poof into blue flames tonight. One of 'em was sittin' in the Old Bookbinder's seafood house right now, scarfin' down a beeeg lobster. Givin' some to his bouncin' around little sweetie too. Man could that girl chirp. She HAD to know she was actin'? But he didn't care. Why should he? It was just a hobby. But the way he exploited innocent young kids in that corporation of his wern't no hobby. And that stuff wasn't nice. Worked them to death for a year. Sat down when it was time to talk about the first raise, then fired 'em. Why be fair when you can count on a new wide-eyed crop each year? But one young girl took it personal. She really needed the money. Her family had problems. Boss man didn't wanna know. Hell, he didn't even care. And she wern't the only one. So a little bit later tonight, after he ate and after he left a hefty tip (never knew who might be watching) this son-of-a-bitch gonna pay the piper. The other one on the list was even worse. A clergyman of sorts, some kind of priest. But this one be jonesin' more for young nubile kiddie-bodies, than for savin' they souls.  So he was gonna twist real good before his passin'. The third one? Well maybe Papa'd let that bastid live, since he was tryin' to be moral and all. Since he wanted to go back to the 'once a month, only culling the bastids in visions ' rule. You know how it is? He ran his tongue over them teef. Sharp as ever. Then he strolled into a likely spot for a shot o' Jack. No, he did not drink it. Just enjoyed the aroma, I guess. And then again, he may a been takin' inventory. Were you in that place? Who knows. You could be next.....It's time to go mop up that business executive dude now. Probably gonna shuffle him off into an alley. Maybe crush his wind pipe a little, shatter a wrist or two. Nothing fancy. Just good old basic fun.......Make him shit hisself a little. I like to watch. I know it's bad, but Zebulon likes to watch......Hope I'm sayin' this right. The creole accent I am tryin' to affect is not natural to me. But....allez le bon temp roulez!.....Did I get is right?....................................................................................NOW FOR ALL YOU WANTIN' TO TES' YOUR ESP ABILITIES.....HERE GOES.......THIS IS WHAT WE WERE 'BROADCASTIN''..............1) Up till WWII, many world leaders employed vampire bodyguards, but with the advent of intrusive mass media, they had to stop..........2) In fact, one of the former First Ladies of the United States had a vampire 'walker' to escort her on those occasions when the President was not available.........3) A group of vampires (big ones from history) are operating a string of Pizza Huts up in Alberta, Canada right now as we speak....Why Pizza Huts? Don't ask me. They crazy that way.

No comments: