Monday, November 8, 2010

The Boob of Sarah

I stroll along the boulevards eying the flocks of toy blood drinkers descending on this town. Look at them in their pathetic black nylon rags. They must be cold. But a coat would surely ruin the look and so they shiver. True vampires never shiver. A few of them did not shiver. But they were not  members of the tribe. Their stillness came from drugs. I bought some extremely flattering garments for myself. The black, leather trench coat is a good look for me. It's true. My favorite saleswoman said so. I also purchased a few items for Sarah, a finely styled handbag, some matching kid skin gloves. Such luxuries would be lost on Baylah. It is not that she fails to  favor such  goods. But she prefers an edgier shop on South Street and I do not go  there for I sense  the proprietor is a reincarnated vampire (now human) and she seems  to know things. Baylah says she just appears that way due to a case of full-body, alabaster, I cannot recall the term. Michael Jackson's disease I will call it.  But I avoid that enticing portal never-the-less. Who knows what she truly  is. There are stranger things than us. I thought I caught the scent of the Old Woman somewhere around Washington Square Park. But it may just have been a few errant molecules percolating up from the  corpses of Revolutionary War dead moldering away down below the carefully maintained sod. There was a homeless man, curled up and shivering upon a stream grate. I took off my Rolex (there are others), kneeled down and snapped it onto his dirty wrist. As I walked away, he said - Hey, asshole!  What the hell am I supposed to do with this? Where the hell can I fence this? Who the hell's gonna believe me?..... I went back and slipped him a few Benjamins. That seemed to rectify things. I am sure Doctor Franklin would approve. Oh! Do you know that Doctor Franklin  was actually much better looking than those horrid images we have of him today? His features were more finely drawn. His jawline firm and sharp. Larry David. Yes, that's it! Larry David! If  you watch that show you see old Ben as he truly was. Blame  it on the Old Philadelphia artists, a stiff-backed, totally anal sort. If George Washington thought he really looked like that, he'd have run out onto Market Street and thrown himself under the wheels of Wright's Omnibus. We all knew how vain he was. Sarah has a plan. She wants to deputize some of these Halloween costumed vampires. She wants to use them to help track down Annie during the day. Maybe they can discover where she sleeps? Maybe they can provide some information. Who knows? Look at the winter stars. You can't see too many of them in the city, only the brightest ones. I hear they discovered some rather complicated organic atomic configurations on one of the moons of Saturn, or was it Jupiter? Perhaps there's someone up there like me too? Hopefully I will still be here when they find out. Take care. Do not die. Humanity is on the cusp of greatness. I can feel it ... in my blood.


The Book of Sarah

I bought some nice things last night. The woman at Boyd's who measured me remarked about the coolness of my skin. I told her I did yoga, whatever that's supposed to mean. But she bought it. And I bought everything else. Oh, and Sarah got a luxurious triple ply cashmere scarf. I can't shop for Baylah there. She says it is not her style. She prefers this little place on South Street. And the last time I gave the Pow Wow Woman, the last time I gave Edith something special from this place, she just rolled her eyes and whistled. But she never wore it. She dresses like a rich bag lady. I could not help but notice all the ingenuine vampires on the streets. What possers! The last time I witnessed anything like that was during the Black Death when they used to ape the grim reaper. And there are obscure death cults in Hind that do something similar. I know I got looks from some of the toy night stalkers. But I don't know if it was because they suspected the truth or because they thought I resembled that actor on Entourage. Remember? I think I told you about him. I think I might have picked up the scent of the Old Woman  somewhere near Washington Square Park. But it could have been the lingering aroma from the thousands of moldering bones planted there after the American Revolution. I am not sure. There was a shivering homeless mass curled up on a steam grate. I took off my Rolex (I have others), kneeled down and snapped it onto his wrist. As I walked away he said - Hey, Asshole! How am I gonna be able to sell this?