Thursday, November 24, 2011

BEAUTY IS AS BEAUTY DOES..... VAMPIRES SHARE THE BOUNTY

We're half way 'round the Sun since last THANKSGIVING. This episode ran back then. Can't post a new one tonight. Must retire  (ZZZzzzZZZ) a bit earlier. But please wander through this  magical epistle. We know you all didn't read it the first time. But that's OK. Hopefully, you'll look at it now.... THANK YOU .....And ENJOY the WEEK END..........Jonathon went after Sarah. He knew she could feel him, if she was focused enough. But her mind was on other things. How careful she was. How neat and precise. Each tiny, glass vial prepared in just the right way. Twelve drops in each. Sealed with the same. fine, Portuguese cork. Like perfume samples in an opulent emporium.

She slipped into the evening crowd, a tall, slim, American pilgrim (it does not seem right to call them 'tourists' in this town) and made her way to a narrow, cramped alley behind a small marketplace. Strange scents peppered the night. Yemenite Jews lived here, some Ethiopian believers too. But Sarah wasn't picking up the spices. She tasted the sickness. Two doors down, upstairs, above a stall selling some sort of street food. The old woman behind the worn, marble slab kept it surprisingly clean.

Sarah approached, looked into her eyes and smiled. She held up one finger and slid a small bill across the counter.  The old woman beamed , as she repeatedly bowed her head, before turning to fill the order. Then our young vampirina deftly uncorked two vials, allowing the contents to run down into a small condiment pot. She replaced the glass lid and waited. The woman gave her what looked like a beef taco wrapped in a soft tortilla. It did smell appetizing... to humans anyway. Sarah thanked her and left.

But that little, magically improved, condiment pot would work wonders. Two cases of cancer would disappear. Childhood colds and influenza would be milder this year. And an ancient, bed-ridden woman would nibble at a warm meal, bought at considerable expense, by a loving family. Three days hence, she'd be up and about, preparing the dress for her granddaughter's wedding.

Jonathon caught up with his beloved as she exited the alley. He hugged her. She slipped her arm through his and they walked off. Few words were said. No kiss. This was the Old Quarter of Jerusalem and public displays of affection were decidedly outre. He went in, as she 'helped' children at a clinic (vampires are quite adept at what we would call hypnosis) and contributed a bit of his own essence to a young man recuperating from an explosion. Whether recipient or creator of the blast did not matter. Now he was well. And now he was grateful.

And in this way they passed the American Thanksgiving festival, deep in the land responsible for it's Feast of Tabernacles inspiration.The 'Enemy' was quiet that night. The sky quite calm. The streets quite peaceful. And they were thankful for that.
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JUMP OUTTTA THAT DEAD BOX AND SALUTE, SOLDIER!

Edith been spinnin' and singin'. That's when she throws out her arms and twirls around till she gets all dizzy. Then when her brains are good and fizzy, she starts trillin' out some kinda melody in a old timey, nobody knows it anymore language. The Red Paints like when she does that. They gather 'round and pay close attention. One of 'em, the taller one, nods his head  to keep time with the 'music.' Her husband, Mr. Edith, don't like it. He calls it Ima Sumac shit. She was a real high, warbly , Peruvian folk singer from the 1950's. Hit all these screechy, high notes like aliens was doin' stuff to boof a her boobies at the same time. One worked treble. One worked base. Only they never got 'em tuned right at the same time.That's why he is out with the dogs right now. It is pitch black out there. No moon. No stars. Too cloudy for that. I suppose the sky does have a little bit of ashy-coal iridescence., but that only makes what's down by the ground seem darker. Dogs don't mind though. eyes is just somethin' extra to them. They see  through their nostrils anyway.

Them Red Paints whisperin' to each other. That willkravitz, that guy what taps this all out for them, is listenin' real close. You know he gonna put it down in that machine when they all done. So far they sayin' somethin' bout dead folks uncroakin' theyselves and comin' back to life. Not the fleshy parts, just the ghosty ones. Gonna be an army of the dead standin' shoulder to shoulder wit them vampirinos and vampirinas. Sort a like a Wes Craven force field. Now I cannot provide you with all the particulars, 'cause they ain't been spit out yet. And I am waitin' to see what I'm gone do. Who am I? What do folks call me? Well, never you mind. Just call me Mister Never You Mind...... Look, I ain't no stranger. We met before. Remember that time? You know me. You know Minnie. You know all of us. Guess we gonna get drafted in that army too.

But I can tell you a little bit 'bout what's gone on in Zion. I am in communication with particularly reverent dead folks snakin' through the atmosphere in that vicinity. Everybody still runnin' 'round messin' with that magic, crystal xylophone they got. It is pretty. And it is impressive. But I do  not know if they will get it to work. Fella here with me who croaked back in Old Atlantis say they tried playin' 'round with crystals too. Gonna use 'em to zap ships' asses wit lazer beams, or somethin'. Managed  to pop a few sacks a seed corn, but nuttin' happened to them ships' asses.

Doctor Franklin got his people all worked up. They laptop-talkin' (you know... them magic machines?) wit like minded fellas all over the world. That's why they started thinkin' 'bout us... the dead folks, I mean. Science guy in Latvia (he has a great armonica too) brought back his grandma's old canasta ladies. And grandma wasn't too pleased with the change a scenery, 'cause she in the toilet when it happen. Dead folks don't have  to use no toilets. But the opportunity is open to us if we chose to do so. All a matter of personal preference. Some folks like singin' in a Heavenly Choir. Some folks like takin' a good dump. But we do have the ability to jazz up various frequencies. That why they hear our voices on old radios and walkie-talkies. People hopin' we can work a hoo-doo on 'em Martians, or whatever they are you all got..... We shall see....We shall see.......

Sarah out resurrectin', or almost resurrectin' mostly dead folks in hospitals and in dumpsters. Hell, yeah. They got dumpsters in Jerusalem. What you think they do with trash here... make it go WHOOSH??. She give 'em bitty little dribbles a her blood and after two or three heartbeats they all smiley faced again. Folks call her The Miracle Lady. Sorta like they did when Baylah played a similar role outback a that Olive Garden in Philly. Look, what else is a still believin' vampire supposed to do?

'Cause if spiritual goomers like them be walkin' 'round..... how can there NOT be God?

Nitey nite, all you humans. Relax and go to sleep. Don't worry 'bout what is and what is not. You gonna die soon... You gonna know....

O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O+O

please scroll down to  the 11/17/11 post for good links. sorry we did not get any new ones up here, but that wilkravitz dude ain't too computer savy. he's been sleepy today too. but he WILL get to it soon. so leave your links as a comment. it's all good.... please click on that SHARE button we got swimmin' 'around down below. thank  you kindly