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this is not johannan. I am another soul. the state of my salvation is none of your concern. you may like to absorb what I say. the old world is different than your candy flavored nation. our history is real history. yes, yes, yes, I know you have 'old' cities. I know all about philadelphia and the aztecs and beverly hills. so do not think I am a stupid. If you do I will see that you suffer. and I am very proficient at that. I came to share information. I came to tell you of the noxious ones. you have not met them yet. so forget about these matinee idols. forget about their luscious, pampered whores. I spit on them. If I had hands to grasp a bull whip, I would whip them all to death. I would whip them til the air was sprayed with blood. And then, if I had feet, I would dance. Just like the Wham-O Slip and Slide it would be. Ooh, I love de American toys.
but the noxious ones, what makes them so? what makes them wild and real and visceral? oh, come on. do not make me have to kill you now. there are those I could call. you do not want to hear the quiet knock. but why is a wolf different than a pomeranian, or a leopard fiercer than a sleek, soft siamese? do we have time ? no, we do not. but I will tell you what I can. how joyful would you be, had your dam dropped you in the woods? how would you look if you had to scrach and fight and claw for every scrap of food? hide from the scortching sun deep within the bowels of a dead and bloated horse. imagine the tomb. contemplate the silence of the grave.. a new vampire, a novice, ignorant of life-eater ways. bound in chains and bundled in a coffin. thrown into the Earth and buried in the clay. would it take you hours to break free, or days? and what about your mind, or what was left of it, how pretty would the dreams inside it be? hate would be your blood and death would be your food. Revenge would be your soul and the cold, dark, lonely places your only grudging refuge........the footstep in the forest. the laughter on the moor. a stranger to the world of men. the scratch upon the door......you know what they are?.....they are to the noble vampires what that breed is to squealing, panty-clad sorority girls........get ready for the fight..........a spiritual 'boy' and his equally innocent wifey-kins, on pilgrimage to far judea?...what chance do they have? oh, God who rules the Universe, what help will you provide?
but the noxious ones, what makes them so? what makes them wild and real and visceral? oh, come on. do not make me have to kill you now. there are those I could call. you do not want to hear the quiet knock. but why is a wolf different than a pomeranian, or a leopard fiercer than a sleek, soft siamese? do we have time ? no, we do not. but I will tell you what I can. how joyful would you be, had your dam dropped you in the woods? how would you look if you had to scrach and fight and claw for every scrap of food? hide from the scortching sun deep within the bowels of a dead and bloated horse. imagine the tomb. contemplate the silence of the grave.. a new vampire, a novice, ignorant of life-eater ways. bound in chains and bundled in a coffin. thrown into the Earth and buried in the clay. would it take you hours to break free, or days? and what about your mind, or what was left of it, how pretty would the dreams inside it be? hate would be your blood and death would be your food. Revenge would be your soul and the cold, dark, lonely places your only grudging refuge........the footstep in the forest. the laughter on the moor. a stranger to the world of men. the scratch upon the door......you know what they are?.....they are to the noble vampires what that breed is to squealing, panty-clad sorority girls........get ready for the fight..........a spiritual 'boy' and his equally innocent wifey-kins, on pilgrimage to far judea?...what chance do they have? oh, God who rules the Universe, what help will you provide?
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