Before we get back to the old man in Jerusalem, I have to tell you what Baylah did. See, this is why vampires are a necessary part of the human condition. It was late at night. She was back from her feeding (that time of the month) and HGTV didn't have any of the shows she liked, just a bunch of ordinary, middle class couples looking for plain econo-ranch houses in drab, start-up suburban neighborhoods. Like who the hell cares? So she sat there next to her financier boyfriend. He, at least, could eat a bowl of butter pecan ice cream, but Baylah, being a vampirina, could not. So she pulled her 'Lucky' jeans back on and went out to cruise the nearly deserted streets.
Most parts of Margate, New Jersey are straight out of a picture book. If Speilberg made a movie set in a cozy-posh seashore town, he'd shoot it there. Mayberry meets Malibu, but with good delicatessens and capuccino bars. It's also doggie heaven. No, for real. It is. I think it says so in the Bible.But when Baylah went out it was already real late. No cars. All the Mercedes and Jaguars were safely bedded down in their embossed concrete driveways. Save for the hum of countless central air conditioning units, all was quiet. Even the sea gulls were done shitting for the night.
Nothing much to see except stylish, well manicured properties (artfully high lighted with professionally placed exterior illumination). So our Baylah (a beautiful girl. looks just like beyonce knowles), decides to sublimate herself through the vapor and go see what's doing in Atlantic City. She combusts back into the material world on a nice (but dewy wet) bench on the Boardwalk right outside the Hilton Hotel and Casino. An aged woman, kind of like a pot-bellied Cloris Leachman, but on a bad day, was sittting there. She was frazzled. Her white canvas cheap knock-off sneakers had seen better days. And I think there was a pee-pee stain just around the bend from the crotch of her pull-on pants. She was sad. Her gambling money was all gone. All she had left was her troubles.
They started talking. Turned out she used to be a kiddie birthday clown. Pickles, they all called her. She had two white doves trained to nest in her brassiere, a nice orange wig and everything. Got threehundred dollars a pop too. All she had to do was tell a lot of 'poop' jokes, roll her eyes, blow up some balloons, make fart noises and she was Buddy Hackett and Lady GaGa all rolled up into one. Shoulda seen her when she forgot to take her insulin. Then the show was really something special.
But one day, during an intermission (the kid couldn't wait to rip open his quota of Toys R Us crap), some gassy little ice cream smeared bastid with a dairy problem barges in on her sittin' on the toilet. Suit down around her knees. Belly hangin' out. Magic, dove-less bra all undone. Smokin' a stink weed, but still sportin' a full face of clown grease paint and her orange wig. I think she was takin' a swig from a little flask of Jack Daniels too.
She and the kid make eye contact, only they don't say nothin'. Tick tock, tick, tock, tick tock...about thirty seconds go by. Then (tryin' to be friendly, I guess), she holds out the flask and says ---Hey kid, you want some?
Guess it wasn't his brand. 'Cause the little bastid goes tearin' out of there (fartin' all the way), racin' back to the party yellin'----Help! Help! She ain't no clown! She ain't no clown! She just a drunken old lady!!
After that, she never worked the b'day circuit again......Just a drunken, old lady sittin' on a bench, late at night, out front of a heartless casino in Atlantic City, New Jersey. The doves (which she freed) could at least hustle tourists for polly seeds over by the entrance to the Steel Pier. Boy did she need a drink Baylah felt sorry for her. So she bit into her wrist and offered her some of her magical, life-preserving blood. The old woman asked if she was crazy. Baylah said --- No, just a vampire.......I guess that made it all right, 'cause the gnarled old thing took a few swigs. Hey, not Jack Daniels, but what the hell.....So her life was saved. Baylah felt good. And two days later, the old bitch got a job as an assistant bingo hall shill in training. Won about fifteen games a night......Ain't life grand?
Come back tomorrow. I'll tell ya what happened with Jonathon and that French guy in Jerusalem.......