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Jonathon took Sarah out for 'dinner.' You know the drill. They go into a Starbucks, one of the nice, big, crowded ones. They sit in the comfy chairs, get a large, foreign-sized, aromatic beverage and breathe it in all night. They talk. They look at people, start conversations and find out what's going on in the world. Know how you pick out one a those lobsters at Old Original Bookbinders (a 150 year old seafood house)? Well, same thing. Yeah, yeah, yeah, they ain't breakin' the rules. Either he had a vision, or she had a vision and that's who they 'off.' Luckily, the blue-plate-special just happens to be savoring a ....I don't know. What would you call it? ..a gooey, hot, sweet, melted, mocha milkshake, right now. Let him finish it. Last meal and all. Then when he leaves, they leave. When he strolls into the parking garage, they do to. Three people go up in the old, rumbly-bumbly elevator, but only two come down. And when the Dominican kid who helps around the place, goes in to camoflage the urine stink in the elevator (Fabreeze was on sale), he'll be confronted by a strange, greasy residue dripping down the dirty, metal walls. Thank God for the cleansing, cold, blue flame. Could you imagine what it would be like if vampires, real vampires, I mean, had to tote dead, flaccid corpses all over town? Man, gettin' a taxi is hard enough. What's this one guilty of? He killed a guy, his business partner. Oh, he didn't actually snap the cord around the neck, but he paid the guy who did. And he got away with it. There wasn't even a trial, at least not in his world. But tonight, there's gonna be an execution....
Now Papa took Luna down to Atlantic City. I think one of his 'familiars' got 'em tickets for Tony Bennett or somebody. A driver takes 'em. You know that limo he has? They got blacked out windows, a blacked out panel seperating the back seat...All the amenities a vampire could want. Are they gonna gamble? Sure, only Papa won't use any of his powers to tip the game, 'cause then it wouldn't be gambling. And I know he enjoys the rush. Probably go into one of those high-priced, lobby boutiques and get Little Miss White Fang another piece of something shiny. Is he gonna kill somebody? I have a feeling. Did he have a vision? Is it pre-ordained? Who the hell knows. Look, I know how he was with the cherubs and everybody a few nights back. And he probably meant everything he said. Probably still means it...when he's in the mood. But after twentyeight thousand years, you don't think he breaks the rules every once in a while? My guess is they're gonna grab some call-girl, get a room, play a little tittie-tittie-bang-bang (he likes that game), tie her up and gag her, throw in a little ninja-and-the-naughty-geisha, then finish in a crescendo of muffled screams and worthless tears. Luna don't care one way or the other. But if he likes it, she likes it. I'll let you know how they make out in the poker room.
See, Baylah is the real discreet one. She does stick to those visions. Sure she has doubts sometimes. But she's reverent in her own way. Drug pushers are her favorite, especially when they rope in kids or poison a whole neighborhood. Then they meet a hot, classy, shorty-lady, who look a lot like Beyonce. And then they don't come home. Man, she is one of the best cops the city has. Only trouble is she also play the part of judge, jury and hangman too. Hey, versatility. What are you gonna do, argue with that?........Oooh! I better sublimate out of wilkravitz' skull so he can tell you 'bout that E.S.P. crap. Does it work? Well....let him talk. Then you be the judge. I gotta waft over to Atlantic City (Taj Mahal, I think) and watch 'em play a little tittie-tittie-bang-bang......Oh, oh, tittie-tittie-bang-bang, tittie-tittie-bang-bang I love you................
Whew! I'm still buzzin', but I think my head's clear now. It's me. It's wilkravitz. OK, lemme tell you the mind reading stuff. Actually, the people at the bureau stole it from Duke University. They been investigating extra sensory perception for fifty years now. Look, I'm gonna give you the basics, the E.S.P. 101, if you get my drift. Here's what you do. Get at least 25 people in a dim room. Have 'em shake out any kinks they got in like their backs or necks. Gotta keep them neurons pulsing. Then they take a seat anywhere along a circle of folding chairs. Somebody puts on a tape of gentle waves breaking against a soft, powdery shore. They go around and take turns tellin' everybody what it is that puts them in a calm, happy mood. You know, Christmas morning, babies laughing, going to the Red Lobster, stuff like that. Then the facilitator stands up and asks who wants to go first. That person gets up too. And they slowly walk around the outside of the circle, like they playin' a one handed version of duck-duck-goose. Nobody says anything. This is when they pick up stuff. The facilitator says - You wanna tell us important names, or important dates?.......Say the person picks dates. The facilitator goes - Repeat after me. Somebody in this room...has an important date...in their family...on (date) of (month)..........So the newly minted Kreskin starts 'uncovering' stuff. And the crazy thing is, they're rarely wrong. Names, dates, they get 'em all right. Even when they move up to harder stuff, like favorite breakfast cereals, or what they did over summer vacation, it's still the same. Bingo, bingo, bingo. I mean it. Aliens in no space movie don't do no better. Is is a mathematical thing, what with twentyfive people in the room? I don't know. That might account for the easy stuff, when they're warming up. But it don't explain the harder stuff. And how is some guy in a black suit gonna know that a lady from the records department likes to squish her feet in a big, five gallon tub a mint-chocolate-chip ice cream? You tell me that.....Oooh....I think we got some in the freezer.........
Now Papa took Luna down to Atlantic City. I think one of his 'familiars' got 'em tickets for Tony Bennett or somebody. A driver takes 'em. You know that limo he has? They got blacked out windows, a blacked out panel seperating the back seat...All the amenities a vampire could want. Are they gonna gamble? Sure, only Papa won't use any of his powers to tip the game, 'cause then it wouldn't be gambling. And I know he enjoys the rush. Probably go into one of those high-priced, lobby boutiques and get Little Miss White Fang another piece of something shiny. Is he gonna kill somebody? I have a feeling. Did he have a vision? Is it pre-ordained? Who the hell knows. Look, I know how he was with the cherubs and everybody a few nights back. And he probably meant everything he said. Probably still means it...when he's in the mood. But after twentyeight thousand years, you don't think he breaks the rules every once in a while? My guess is they're gonna grab some call-girl, get a room, play a little tittie-tittie-bang-bang (he likes that game), tie her up and gag her, throw in a little ninja-and-the-naughty-geisha, then finish in a crescendo of muffled screams and worthless tears. Luna don't care one way or the other. But if he likes it, she likes it. I'll let you know how they make out in the poker room.
See, Baylah is the real discreet one. She does stick to those visions. Sure she has doubts sometimes. But she's reverent in her own way. Drug pushers are her favorite, especially when they rope in kids or poison a whole neighborhood. Then they meet a hot, classy, shorty-lady, who look a lot like Beyonce. And then they don't come home. Man, she is one of the best cops the city has. Only trouble is she also play the part of judge, jury and hangman too. Hey, versatility. What are you gonna do, argue with that?........Oooh! I better sublimate out of wilkravitz' skull so he can tell you 'bout that E.S.P. crap. Does it work? Well....let him talk. Then you be the judge. I gotta waft over to Atlantic City (Taj Mahal, I think) and watch 'em play a little tittie-tittie-bang-bang......Oh, oh, tittie-tittie-bang-bang, tittie-tittie-bang-bang I love you................
Whew! I'm still buzzin', but I think my head's clear now. It's me. It's wilkravitz. OK, lemme tell you the mind reading stuff. Actually, the people at the bureau stole it from Duke University. They been investigating extra sensory perception for fifty years now. Look, I'm gonna give you the basics, the E.S.P. 101, if you get my drift. Here's what you do. Get at least 25 people in a dim room. Have 'em shake out any kinks they got in like their backs or necks. Gotta keep them neurons pulsing. Then they take a seat anywhere along a circle of folding chairs. Somebody puts on a tape of gentle waves breaking against a soft, powdery shore. They go around and take turns tellin' everybody what it is that puts them in a calm, happy mood. You know, Christmas morning, babies laughing, going to the Red Lobster, stuff like that. Then the facilitator stands up and asks who wants to go first. That person gets up too. And they slowly walk around the outside of the circle, like they playin' a one handed version of duck-duck-goose. Nobody says anything. This is when they pick up stuff. The facilitator says - You wanna tell us important names, or important dates?.......Say the person picks dates. The facilitator goes - Repeat after me. Somebody in this room...has an important date...in their family...on (date) of (month)..........So the newly minted Kreskin starts 'uncovering' stuff. And the crazy thing is, they're rarely wrong. Names, dates, they get 'em all right. Even when they move up to harder stuff, like favorite breakfast cereals, or what they did over summer vacation, it's still the same. Bingo, bingo, bingo. I mean it. Aliens in no space movie don't do no better. Is is a mathematical thing, what with twentyfive people in the room? I don't know. That might account for the easy stuff, when they're warming up. But it don't explain the harder stuff. And how is some guy in a black suit gonna know that a lady from the records department likes to squish her feet in a big, five gallon tub a mint-chocolate-chip ice cream? You tell me that.....Oooh....I think we got some in the freezer.........
