SHUT UP AND CALL ME 'BLACKIE"

I don't WANT you to know too much about me, but I felt like contacting you just the same. Your 'friends' from Philadelphia are still on their Magical Mystery Tour over in Jerusalem. Who knows? Maybe they will manage to save the world? Me, I'm a bit more pragmatic. Gimme a plump, juicy arse to bite and a tight, little pice a pussy-cat to have fun with when I'm done. That's all I ask. Who am I? How old am I? who 'turned' me? The hell with that crap. Who the hell cares? I goes where I wants to go and I slurps up what I wants to slurp up.

Don't expect to find me in Center City, Philadelphia. Them what circles around Jonathon and 'Papa' don't exactly fancy me, so I stays outside the city proper, haunting the older, leafier, mellow suburbs. If you're ever out that way, give a look in the wee hours up and down some disserted, l'il, red-brick shopping district. You know, like the one they got over on Germantown Avenue near where the 'Papa' tribe camps out. (but I can't go there, 'cause them digs is in the city).

It's not hard scaring up a meal. All I gotta do is make with the silent howl and pull in a dinner. Some sleepy, little sweet birdie comes shufflin' down the lane, clutchin' her coat over her scanties and I got me my main course. Like callin' out for dilevery! Does I kill 'em? Well, that's for me to know and you to find out. So mind your own bees-wax  and just be glad I don't give you the little touch. (although, them that lives do tend to like my little touch)

Still, that Jonathon and his lot did share some spot on information. We of the 'night watch' can make with the crotch tango whenever the fancy hits. All parts are exquisitely preserved. All parts are in proper working order. So keep an orb peeled for a firm, little Elvis-haired, rocker boy who tends to frequent out of the way bennches and dark doorways. Sometimes I whistles 'I Can't Help Falling In Love With You.'......And I usually, sorta, really, kinda mean it too. Only seven and a half weeks till fall. I likes the fall...long nights...chilly breezes...lonely goth girls (remember Morticia?) searchin' for a bit a magic. Lucky for them, I am quite the magician.......

So, watch the moon and smell the breeze....

See the leaves fall off the trees.

Hear the geese tear 'cross the sky

Come to play, to dance, or die.

Ooooh.....I can smell you already......

Tell me about yourself. Leave a comment. Ask a question. Share a secret.....Shhhh.....Shhhhh.....Shhhhhh