Monday, October 3, 2011

A NEW DISEMBODIED VOICE EXPERIENCED A BIT OF SPONTANEOUS HUMAN COMBUSTION OF HIS OWN

I am gonna tell you what it is that's goin' on tonight. The job fell to me. That's what they say. So let me tell you a little bit about myself. They call me the Heebie-Geebie Man. I got that moniker during them 'No Drinkin'' days, what you all call Prohibition. Big shot racketeers used to pay me to sit on a street corner and watch things. They wanted to know who went by. I told 'em. They wanted to know which cop had a real strong addiction to money. I found out.

People used to say--Damn, Gus (whoops, I said me name) quit eye ballin' us like that. You givin' everybody the heebie-geebies. I just played like I was a drunk half wit or something, spittin' up on the sidewalk, beggin' for nickles. And they bought it. They, when it got dark, I'd slip into certain places, secret places. These were like the speak easies behind the speak easies. Gent'd be mushin' up wit some little boopsie, or playing five card draw. You  know, the big shots. The Capo de Tutti Capo. Give me like say a half grapefruit soused in gin, wit a lotta red cherries on top. Sit mme down at a table and get me to talkin'. I could remember everythin'. And they knew it. Spit it all out like a ticker-tape machine. Told 'em who needed shootin'. Who needed leg-breakin'. Oh, they 'specially enjoyed messin' wiff knee caps. Dat was sumpin' to see. Made fat fellas sing like canaries. Heh, heh, heh. I enjoyed that. Time I left, say like one or two in the morning, had like maybe fifteen, twenty dollahs in my pockets.

But then one day, some little, snot nosed, shit ass kid sneezed right in my face. Some flew right in my malf. Up my nose too. And eighteen hours later, I gave birth to the worst cold of my life. Eyes runnin'. Mucus escapin' from almost every orafice. Razor blades doin' tap dances up and down my throat. Clammy sweats runnin' down my fore head, my back, my groin. Hands shook so bad I couldn't even beg for no nickles. People said - Damn, Gus, what you doin' out here, fixin' to die? I just give 'em my half wit laugh, tremble a little... and they leave me alone. you see, I could not go in no wheres. I had responsibilities. I had a job to do. And wasn't no American Federation of Labor for me to run to if the boss got mad. Shit, boss get mad, he'd just shoot me....If I was lucky......Only that day... I wasn't lucky.

Greasy Faced Hopkins was tryin' to squeeze his fat ass into other people's business. And certain gents needed to be kept appraised as to his comin's and goin's.  I was supposed to be the fella doin' the appraisin'.  Promised me a new, slightly worn suit for it too. Maybe like an overcoat to go wiff it. One of the good ones wiff hardly no bullet holes, or crumbs in the pockets. Coulda used a warm coat. Coulda used a few snot rags too, 'cause that cold was killin' me (little did I know). Must a been like the gripe, or the flu, or the Saint Vitus Dance I had. God damn that bastid kid. Why he have to go and spray me like that? But then the sky did the same f**k*n' thing, 'cause it started drippin' ice cold water all over my  dirty head.. Maimie from the candy store ran out wiff a cup a coffee. Said she gonna have me carted off and locked up in the ha-ha hotel.  But when I give in to lettin' her throw some old rug on top a me, she lemme alone.

I don't know. Figured that coffee shoulda kept me awake. But that sickness dug in so hard, I couldn't help it. So when Greasy Face come by...Hell, he come by two or three times, I shamed to say. I never seen it, 'cause I was layin' senseless in a steamin' hot pool of my own vomit. That's how they found me. Man, when that happened, I got  totally cured real fast. Started cryin'. Started blubberin'. Didn't even mind bein' stripped naked and chained to some old, chipped chair from The White Castle. That what they wanted to do...howdy doody...that their business. Just let me live.... Am I right? .........Well, pains me to say, but them bastids didn't see it that way...... Shoulda knowed when they set me up in an empty, cement floored warehouse........ I mean, like who wants a lot a collateral damage? Am I right?

After I peed myself and evacuated my bowels  real good a few dozen times, they started scratchin' they heads and yawnin'. Looked a little bit bored too. What they expect me to do, sing songs, tell jokes? Shit, I ain't no professional.. Guy lights this torch. Made it outta some rolled up pages from the old Philadelphia Ledger. Starts pokin' it at me. In all the worst places too. Like pin-the-tail-on-the-donkey, 'cept he  a cheater, 'cause he ain't wearin' no blindfold. Made me shriek and scream so bad they had to shove an old pimple ball in my malf.... I don't know. Maybe they woulda let me live. Only some runty, little mug comes scramblin' in. Goes right up  to the Big Boss and  starts whisperin' sumpin in his least favorite ear. Big Boss gets a look on his face like they just pushed his best mama into some gen-you-wine, champion, Hawaiian volcano...... So that sorta put the kai-bosh on it for me, 'cause then he looks up and yells --- Give that shithead a baff!!!

Some assistant-knee cap-breaker-in-trainin', like what you would call an intern today,  goes into a back room and comes runnin' out wiff a big, square can a gasoline, which he proceeds to slosh all over my tremblin' body (not from the cold no more, but in anticipation of the antidote they was fixin' to give me). Couldn't even cry wiff that pimple ball shoved all the ways  passed  my teef. Just sat there, thrashin' back and forth till that old White Castle chair flipped over on its side and slammed me down on that cold, hard floor.  Shame I didn't break my neck, 'cause just like one a them square, little hamburgers, they commenced to fire grillin' me right there on the spot......And you know how long it takes to cook a hamburger, don't cha?

Look, sorry I wasted all your time wiff my story......But I just wanna get you ready for what's comin' up.....

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Want more vampire stuff? Try these worthy blogs
1) http://mondovampire.blogspot.com/
2) http://biting-edge.blogspot.com/
3) http://vampirewire.blogspot.com/
4) http://theblogthattimeforgot.blogspot.com/  actually sci-fi and fantasy, but why quibble?
This one isn't about vampires, just a great, general site, for when you need a taste of intelligent reality
 5) http://samuelclemons.blogspot.com/
And now some more vampire
6) http://twisted-kingdom.blogspot.com/
7) http://vampchix.blogspot.com/
8) http://facebook.com/billytolley/  iPhone 40.382701,- 105.519895 (appears on & produces various cable paranormal shows..... he knows where all the bodies are buried, so to speak)
9) http://www.nbc.com/Last_Call_with_Carson_Daly/  cool stuff, great host, vampires love that show
10) http://LisaBouchard.com/ interact with a worthy writer of the weird and wonderful
11) http://paranormalityuniverse.blogspot.com/ choices, choices, choices. the name says it all!
12) http://OnlineBusinessTrainer.com/ click onto this site, run by the illustrious Aymee Buckhannon for free web seminars aimed ay helping you create attractive, easy to use websites and blogs.
13) http://the-vampire-diaries-episode.blogspot.com/ keep up with the hot Abercrombie & Fang set
14) http://kirstiealley.com/ schmooz with a genuine, been-there-done-that, media legend. leave a comment.
15) http://dawnsdaily.com/ discover a fresh, new, sane, compelling voice, with important things to say & share.
16) http://markeverettstone.com/ very well done site by accomplished fantasy author. urban enchantment, adventure and mythology...a heady brew.
17) http://jewsmuse.blogspot.com/ find out where Jonathon and a few of the others are coming from.
PLEASE REMEMBER TO TELL FRIENDS ABOUT US HERE AT http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com/

VAMPIRE WONDERLAND+++++ Your one stop site (well, in some cases, one stop and a click)  for all things weird and wonderful.

PLEASE COMMENT. Leave YOUR LINK too! A good place to see and be seen....

Thank you all very much. And one last thing...feel free to join our pixilated discourse at http://Twitter.com/wilkravitz/
STOP! STOP! STOP! This just in--------- Want the link to a new, LEGAL, FREE, UNLIMITED, MUSIC SITE? An improved, updated, more facile 'Son of Napster'? Sure you do. Vampire cognoscenti are aurally oriented too. So here it is --- http://www.spotify.com/  ...... Also, we found the REAL BRIDGIT (spelled right?) JONES' DIARY...except she's happily married , but still a native London, urban neurotic in the most delightful, wittiest way... click on http://generationwhynot-stupidgirl.blogspot.com/ and tune into her humorous take on 21st century life................................   Is that it?...............Uh, that's it.

TWO JINNS AND A JACK PLAY DEATH GAMES (but not spontaneous human combustion) UP IN THE HEIGHTS FROM WENCE COMETH OUR HELP

The evil jinns played their tricks. It was so easy. Burlesque the  form of a human, wander the cafes and marketplaces, strike up a conversation with traveling students or anyone else short on coin and that's it. Offer a meal. Hint at the possibility of a clean pallet. Smile. Look sincere. Finger the appropriate religious talismen . And keep from laughing. Most of all, keep from laughing.

Two jinns had a  good one, a young man, a student from some big university like Yale, or McGill. What an attractive, prime catch he was. Well, someone won't be back for the fraternity Halloween party. A semester overseas? How tempting. How beguiling...How fatal. He had a backpack, stuffed with one hundred percent cotton clothes, some toiletries and maybe a few slightly worse for wear photographs.

The first jinn, the sly one, insisted on carrying the burden. The second jinn, smiled, leading the way through the dense evening crowds and  thick, humid air to a charming old villa in the hills. Come...Come....Not far at all... It will be cooler there.....We'll have dates and wine...You can tell us of your life in North America.

So he went. This was Jerusalem after all. And they seemed to have so much in common. What could happen? One of them said he had cousins in Los Angeles. The other mentioned a father in the clergy. And a respite in such commodious quarters certainly outweighed another night in the hostel. 

The three new friends snaked through  old stone passageways, exiting the ancient quarter and ascending the heights. Ah, taste the breeze, fragrant with the scent of hibiscus and rosemary. Ottoman manor houses, set amidst carefully tended 'dry' gardens lined the footpath.

That's it. Right there. The one on the left. Did the first jinn unlatch the gate, or did it just swing open? Oh, don't be that way. Such a misanthrope you are! The curly haired youth put such thoughts aside and entered. It is said that a bey or pasha once held court here. Cool, handmade tiles under foot. Fine plastered walls, carefully decorated by the most accomplished, long dead artisans. The furnishings, an eclectic melange of dark, Mediterranean pieces and 'Mid-Century' chrome and leather modern. Quite striking. Martha Stewart meets Lawrence of Arabia. The North American student approved. Such good taste the hideously tortured owners had. . Shhhhh, I think one of the newly dead spirits heard his thoughts. See? It smiled! Disembodied narrators, such as I, can sense such things. If the curly haired lad's olifactory abilities were a bit more accute, he might have sensed things too, like the stennch of rotting corpses drifting down from an upstairs closet.

Oh, but dismemberment was not to be his fate. The jinns had other games to play. The first one favored drowning him in a rather large, blue willow, Chinese rice jar. Pure, virgin olive oil would suffice. Slip on the lid. Seal it shut with wax and there you have it! The perfect ornament for an inglenook or landing. And so heavy too. Not prone to tipping, that one is.

The second jinn had a preference for maggots. Why not? They were close at hand. Throw the mortal baggage into one of the subterranean stone lined vaults (after carefully paralizing him with the appropriate incantation). Slap in a few handfuls of the plump, pus colored wormies. Go on. Just scrap them up off the dead ones upstairs. More than enough for everybody. True...good, honest maggots have principles. Most would turn up their noses (or whatever they were) at the thought of a living meal. But their minds were small and very easy to bewitch. The slightest bit of prestadigitation would loosen their mandibles.

Look at him sip his wine. See how he relishes the sugary dates. Catch his eyes, as they take in all the wealth. Oh, how his parents will cry. You know how that goes. Television appearances. Pleas to the culprits. Rewards. Crying siblings. Grim-jawed fathers. Such a circus... What a show.....But too late...too late....for their particular 'Elvis' will already have left the building.

Yet who can tell how such charades will play out? For Sarah walks by.......and ... shhh... she can smell it all...

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Should our tale entice you, remember to visit us at @wilkravitz on Twitter...and please be sure to pass on the magic link. Send http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com/ / flying off through the ether to your nearest and dearest..... Untill the next time, oh best beloveds...... Oh, yes. One more thing. Papa reads a lot and he's discovered some other blogs worthy of your attention ---
1) http://mondovampire.blogspot.com/
2) http://biting-edge.blogspot.com/
3) http://vampirewire.blogspot.com/

MORE TO COME.......READ......ABSORB.....LEARN