Thursday, October 27, 2011

'BLACKIE' DOES A GOOD DEED... AN OLD ZOMBIE-GHOUL WAKES UP

Yeah, I know. It's been a while. Since the middle of the summer to be exact. But to me, that's like maybe fortyfive minutes ago. COME ON! Don't be an ee-jit! It's me, Blackie, the trim, little vampirino of The Main Line. Vampirino...I guess you're used to that word. You spend enough time with that sorta Spanish fellah, don't ya? What? You want me to tell you where I come from? Keep dreamin, sunshine. Sure, I retain a bit o' the East End in me voice, but what's 'at prove? Coulda picked that up any time. That's all. 'Sides, the 'tender cuts' likes it. Gives me a l'il distinction.

Right now we are sittin' on a nice bench on a picture book winding lane snakin' it's merry way through some girls' school. Posh, little college, I think it is. They likes me in these parts. Lets me up in the dormitories  for a friendly 'how-de-do' anytime. Yep, Blackie's a legend 'round here. Oh, they know I'm not a ghost. Nothing like Moaning Mertyl. Though I does show up in the shower room on occassion. Good back scrubber, I am. Gives a spankin' fresh wash-out, I does. Then kisses 'em in all the right nooks and crannies when it's over. Well... just before it's over.

How does an honest, nice to touch and look at, vampire boy like me make his living? Don't  worry. I gets a wee hot dram every once in a while. Little nip on the cheek... all four of 'em. They giggle. They swoon. They pass me on to their friends. It's like a ceremony 'round here. Been goin' on since the fifties. The 'Black Harem, they calls themselves. We light candles, make promises, spank a mess a quivverin', little, naked bums. The spankin' part is my job. I give a good lickin', I does.

Sure I require a proper meal every once in a while. That's what undocumented kitchen help are for. And not just kitchen help, not sinnce the Celtic Tiger lost a few stripes anyway. Oh, don't give me the 'hard eyed' up and down like that. I only takes the nasty sort. Just 'cause folks are grubbin' 'round for a little silver don't make 'em all saints or something. Keeps me firm and fit, it does. Come on, you likes the way I looks. Elvis-haired, blue-eyed, wicked angel-boy. This much I will share. Them that 'made' me did it in the summer. Got me with a tan... all over, burnt caramel smooth. Sure, I likes talkin' 'bout me self. We vampires are a very vain race. Ain't yer 'Jonathon' the same way? And stake her a few score years. Sarah's gonna cook up that way too.

But this ain't why I called you here. Wanna do a good deed, that's why. I know I don't prowl the city. Not my part of the forest. Not my huntin' ground . But I do sneak down to pick up a few things every now and then. Jonathon fancies his sleek, fine trousers and those leather bootkins. I likes me snug, little, white, cotton boxers and Turkish soap, I does. Can't always find it in these parts. So I takes me chances and trespass into foreign territory. Sublimates through the walls of certain worthy establishments and indulges in a bit a midnight shopping. That's when I seen 'im. Johnny-Jump-Up, I mean. The cadaverously thin, bleached white, lank-haired ghoul. No, no, no! He ain't no vampire. Should only be so lucky. That bloke was buried alive. That's what made him that way. 'Spose a spot a magic helped too. But don't mess with that much, so can't say.  But he had his cold, boney hand on the back of some poor girls neck. Saw it through the shop window. Did he know I was there? Who cares? What difference does it make? That don't mean nothing to him......

But the girl looked scared. Don't know why she didn't scream. Runnin' wouldn't do much good. Hell, that shitty demon can jump up to a third or fourth floor window. Bounces 'round like a dead maniac, he does. 'Johnny-Jump-Up,' that's how he got his name. Been wearin' the same, tight, dusty black suit for a hundred and sixty years. Guess the dampness makes it  shrink up like that. God only knows where he hides.

The next day cops found her body...what was left of it. Most was all chewed up. The flesh, I mean. No face left. Little bit a mmeat on her hands and feet, but that was it. Some hair on her skull maybe. Family identified the clothes. That and the dental work. Told 'em to keep quiet. Don't want no panic. City Hall knows about him, they does. Press knows too. But what are they gonna say? So the families get like maybe a quarter million dollars hush money and Center City night spots go on as usual. Looks like he's on a tear, too. So keep an eye peeled.

And remember who told you................ Happy Halloween...........

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