Friday, November 11, 2011


Potentates have known about other islands of life in the sky for centuries. Hammurabi knew. Ezekiel knew. Julius Ceasar traded Saturnalia baskets with them. Your president, sitting in the midst of the Imperial American Capital knows too. So did the Bush ones before him and the Clinton Super Friends as well. They all knew.... They all KNOW.  Look, if we can all accept the fact that they knew about and exploited vampires. we can swallow this one too.

But most of the 'funny-folk' we had truck with were  sorta friendly. They might play a prank every now and then, steal a baby, sprinkle us with zitz (I think they did that to generate human pus. It has industrial applications on some worlds.). Only this crew happens  to be different...... extremely different. They don't want to rule us. They don't want to convert us. They don't want to eat us........ All they want to do is make us disappear. Look, I'm trying to be nice. 'Disappear' is just a cozier way to say 'kill us.' Ever 'put down' a dog? Well, then you know what I mean.

Actually, here's where I'm a little bit lucky. They can't do shit to me, 'cause I am already dead. Zebulon burnt up like twenty five centuries ago. But I know what the fire feels like. And I can imagine what they have planned for all a you.

Most a they vampires are out at the desert facility. Look back a few weeks. We blogged about it before Jonathon left Jerusalem the first time. Are you familiar with the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau installation buried under the old navy yard in Philadelphia? Well, it's a lot like that. They ain't formulated no plans yet. The vampires, I mean. But it just may be that the space cadets we got comin' (not countin' the ones already here) can't do nuttin' to them, at least not to the ones who can sublimate. Right now they're havin' an aroma candle social. The humans are eatin' cherry-cheese kugel (sort a like a bread pudding that thinks it's a cheese cake) topped with ice cold sour cream.. Claim it's very satisfying and refreshing. But I don't know. They didn't have nuttin' like that in my time. Our big treat was like baklavah. You know what baklavah is? It's got honey and filo dough pastry. My mama and my aunts used to make it. One a the kitchen slaves used to make it too

Right now you're probably sayin' - What the hell is this God damn, son-of-a-bitch, disembodied spirit talkin' about!? Who the hell cares about cakes!? We want creatures and vampires!!

Well, OK..... Gimme a heartbeat to collect myself.......

CUT TO - A  tiny outdoor cafe deep within the Old City souk (marketplace).

Lailah and Jean-Michel (two vampires) are seated at a small table far back from the artificial illumination. They have a 'guest'.... a third being. Any passerby caring to give him a look sees a perfectly nondiscript human. He wears tourist clothes. He appears to sip tourist-blend coffee. Could be some guy in a food court at your favorite mall.

But the two vampires see something else. They see a sticky, eight foot long, cyst covered, giant maggot struggling to keep its seat on the small, white, plastic chair. And he drinks not the aromatic, tourist blend kava brew from far off Sheba (Zebulon meanders through his mortal life), but munches on a generous portion of smoked human ass he's brought from home. Granted, they don't want to eat us all, yet an occassional exotic delicacy is quite understandable.

The aliens seek raproachment with the vampires. We don't step on their 'toes' and they won't step on ours. Maybe a few of the 'noxious' ones might bite, but the 'nobles' won't. Somehow they don't get that. I mean what are vampires? They're different. But they ain't shapped like pressure cookers, or French Poodles, or nothin'. They're humans, just essentially a  group of jazzed up, zhuzzed up humans.

Jean-Michel wants to throw up. He can't stand the way that space freak's mandibles operate. And the eyes look like two yellow-green mangos sruck onto a wad a sweatin' spoiled coconut-custard Jimmy Dean sausage links.

Lailah eyes don't say nothin'. She just sits. They want her to go back to one a the out posts. Maybe she's gonna be like an ambassador or something? Or maybe they're just playing games. But she knows what 'it' wants to do. They say she won't die. She's a vampire. How could she do that? But it's the way all non-native travelers are transported back with them. So she lets him do it. She gets up, hugs the Chevalier Jean-Michel and walks back into the dark alley. The maggot goes in after her. And the thousand year old French knight stands guard, as it arcs up over her trembling body, opens its oozing mandibles and swallows her down, inching along like a fat, disgusting, mostly decomposed boa contrictor.

And her tiny, bare feet kick and tremble a little, as the creature throws back its 'head' and 'gulps.'

The small table is empty. The plastic chairs rest askew. But a waiter comes over and rights things for a friendly, smiling couple from Vermont.......

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