Tuesday, December 7, 2010

The Book of All things New

Zebulon speaks. And our three life-eaters slumbered. Evening would fall soon enough. But in the remaining moments the essence of the Red Paint Man tickled its way into every particle of their bodies and into their souls as well. They knew what he knew. And his knowledge was great. It may seem odd to you that vampires gain magic from a mortal. Yet  it is not odd. Enchantment is everywhere, if only your eyes are willing to see. The elves and cherubs are sleeping too. Each in his dark spot. Each in his refuge. The wilkravitz person busys himself straightening up the place. Eternal children can make quite a mess. And it's a constant battle  to keep them away from his exquisitely detailed lego creations. Albion is getting a bit better when it comes to doing the marketing. Last night wilkravitz dined on three cinnamon raisin bagels, a can of Campbell's Chunky New England Clam Chowder, two dried up clementines and a box of baking soda. Well, he did not actually consume the baking soda, but you get the point. Oh! Before I forget. The Shaky Hand Man is getting stronger too. It is like that with him. His energy tends to rise and fall with the passage of the centuries. But for now, he is on an upswing. His spirit mind is gaining volume. And he's starting to be able to manipulate the physical realm as well. Spiritual beings rarely develope this type of material force. But it does happen. Look, some people, both living and post-living, claim that a two years dead Marilyn Monroe in fact , shot John Kennedy. Why she had to do it in Dallas, Texas I don't know. She had friends who would have been happy to see her in L.A. and in D.C. even. But Dallas? I don't understand that. Maybe she was looking to boost some soft and slinkies at Neiman-Marcus or  something? But those in the know swear that the sixth floor of The Texas School Book Suppository smells like Chanel #5 to this very day. So basically all I am trying to tell you is the S.H.M. is getting 'jacked' as the modern day urchins are wont to say. He can, or will be able to move things. No more whispering in ears. No more verbal prodding and poking. No more hissing - Kick him in the ass...into some poor schmuck's ear and then hoping that the poor schmuck will do it. Soon he will be able to kick asses with the best of them. I suppose that should be quite liberating....... What's that?....Does he still use Annie?...It seems so. He must be used to her. But she is getting to be superfluous. And the poor, little girl doesn't know how much danger she's in. The last time he tired of a human conduit, he fed him to a giant squid. The abandoned chap slid right off the deck of a heaving sailing ship and straight into the churning sea, where he was drawn into the gaping beak of a stupendous mollusk. The repulsive invertebrate reflexively swallowed. And the screaming and scratching cuss slipped all the way down the slick, sticky craw. Can you imagine the absolute horror of it all? Be glad if you cannot. For he survived a full seven minutes before death finally took him. Shhhh, our downstairs neighbors are beginning to stir. The sun has left the sky. Tomas is muttering to himself in Spanish, or is it Arabic? I think he lost a shoe. Oh, the 'undead' can be such slobs at times. I pray they are fit for the fight...

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