GUESS WHO'S COMING TO 'EAT' YOU FOR DINNER?

Papa finally told them. He calmed down and he told them. I could let wilkravitz tell you, but I don't know if he understands it all. So I'll tell you. It is I, Zebulon. And yes, yes, yes, you're probably asking how much the disembodied spirit of a thirteen year old, dead for more than twentyone hundred years, Judean boy could comprehend. But know this..... I haven't been playing 'hounds and jackals' all that time. This one is precocious. This one absorbs things. I have listened at the tables of the great, both on my home world and in less parochial surroundings as well.

Tell me. you've heard Papa speak of the manta ray people on Europa, no? So you understand humans are not the be all and end all of creation, yes? Intelligent 'civilizations' pepper the galaxies like cinnamon on hal-vah (that  is if you like the cinnamon/vanilla variety. create your own visual image if you do not.) And our own family of planets, besides housing us and the fishy-people, shelters two colonies of strangers. Yes, yes, yes.....I know the Holy Scriptures teach us that no one is truly a stranger, 'for strangers ye were in Egypt, before I came to save you'..... and we're supposed to have learned from experience. Fences are artificual human constructs. We are all one, since The Lord is One. Look, I did go to Bible School before they stoned me. So I know all that. I know ' if in your stubbornness you find a 'stranger' in your midst, be even more to them than to one of your own, for they expect so very much less.'........... One of my favorite passages. But them that's coming tend to stretch those sentiments a little. 

Papa's seen them. They visit the manta ray people too. Oh, it's not like the fishy-folk love them so much. And yes. they have had their own revelation. But these creatures are different. You hate bed-bugs? You hate Great White Sharks? You hate Europan-Manta Ray People-Eating-Snails?....OK, bad example. Them, you do not know.  But, come on. You must be getting the idea. Does the thought of spending your days imprisoned in a skin farm intrigue you? Do you know what it's like to be flayed alive? Do you know what that means? Or how 'bout slaving away in an organ mine, entombed in the dark with alien gelatinous masses glued down into your innards, feeding on you from the inside out till they mature and can be harvested. And I'm talking 'bout the esecutive possitions here.

Sure, they act different on Europa. The manta rays have the wrong type of cellular structure. But YOU DON'T. What? You're wondering why they'd do things like that? You're asking why, if they can traverse stellar distances, can't they simply synthesize any biological tissues they might need? Well, that's an easy one  to answer. I'll tell you...... It's against their religion.

Papa recognized the crystaline material in that shard. He saw it on Europa. They fashion their armor from it. Or maybe it grows, organically, out of their bodies? I don't know. Some of them must have been buzzing around up there. Guess they're ready now. Maybe the shard found its way out in a big, doughy turd of space shmutz? Maybe they wanted it to?

Vampires should be able to survive. They can always sublimate. Oxygen is only a comfort and not a necessity to them. Even the blood is only a comfort. Taking life is what keeps them going. And they'll learn  to kill something else....

What about you? What about your family? What about the little ones?

It's only gonna get worse before it starts getting better.

And for once, I wish this really was fiction.......

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TOLD YOU THAT MUTTER MUSEUM WAS A SINISTER PLACE...AND IT'S REALLY THERE TOO.... HAPPY MIDNIGHT AFTER HALLOWEEN

So we're all sitting on these old fashioned wood folding chairs. The watchman guy has them set up in the middle of this sort of wide aisle passing by a big, glass display case containing a life cast of the naked bodies of Chang and Eng, the first mass-marketed Siamese Twins. No, for real. They had these Chang and Eng hand puppets. But it was hard for the kiddies  to manipulate them, 'cause like what if little Lucas or Hezikiah had to wipe up a sneeze or something? That's why they're such collectors' items today.

Some vampire kid from the Main Line came too. Blackie, I think his name is. I think he has a thing for Baylah, but she's still stuck on her rich, human boyfriend. Papa's just sitting there with his arms folded staring off into space. He doesn't care what happens. He just goes with the flow.Jonathon and Sarah care. They're like two soccer  parents chairing a PTA meeting. She's even got this little, spiral note pad to write in. The watchman gave each of us a nice aroma candle. Scent's a little harsh though. Think he got 'em at the dollar store. But there ain't no little tables here, so everybody put 'em down on the floor under their chairs. That's why we look like a bunch a fancy, human shaped buffet entrees simmerin' they asses over a mess a wax-lip-smellin' tea lights. Strange looking, but so appropriate for Halloween.

Papa took out the glass shard and passed it around. We all seen it before. Baylah didn't. Blackie didn't. She picked it up and sniffed it. The Elvis-lookin'-kid licked the tip with his tongue. Papa held out his hand. They gave it back to him. He wrapped it up in a fancy pocket cloth and put it away. We  sat in silence for about a dozen heartbeats. The quarter-wit watchman but on an old Weird Al Yankovich cassette. Papa yells - Turn that shit the hell off!! Watchman don't move fast enough, so Papa just scoops it up and drop-kicks it out one a the, hundred and fifty year old, quarter inch thick, panes in the original, iron framed sky-light. Lucky Twenty Second Street's deserted this late at night. Watchman says - I'm sorry. Jus thought you'd like some background music. Blackie gets a fit a laughing. Papa shoots him a look and his chair goes poof and disappears in a puff a smoke. This causes the ambient gravity in the room to yank his ass down, right on top a that little scented candle flame. And he starts bouncin' 'round and yelpin' like one a the Three Stooges. Baylah impatiently snaps her fingers transforming the tiny tushie-flames into miniature, wined monkeys, who fly off his ass and race out through the broken skylight, taking the searing pain along with them. The kid (who now sports a pair a jeans like the ones made famous in that Ryan O'Neal classic, 'So fine.' (google it. he made butt-less jeans. there, now you know) mouths a silent 'thank you' and sits down onn a cold, marble sarcophagus.

Sarah says - Look, if you all have so much power, why are we concerned about that shard of glass? Can't you just 'magic' away any danger? Papa sighs ans says - This isn't Bewitched. I'm sorry. I'm sorry, but you see the Green Lantern around here, you dumb bitch?........... Jonathon gets all protective and puts his arm around her. You  know the Spanish accent comes out when he gets all worked up...... Pleez, show some respeck wan you tawg to mai woo-man - he growls............... Papa exhales impatiently (but I guess some little fart of uncontrollable magic popped out, 'cause Jonathon's now dressed in a tight, little Flamenco outfit, complete with a chenille-ball-trimmed, chin-corded Zorro hat, doing his best Jose Greco imitation all over the mezzanine............ You like your little display!? You think this is funny!? - screams the twenty eight thousand year old reluctant patriarch and WHOOSH, Jonathon is back in his chair, just as he was. Except he still got that tight, little cumberbun (or whatever it is) cutting into his waist, but he finally manages to unfasted the back, which sends in flying into the air and over the balustrade to the main floor down below..

I'm sorry - whispers Papa. But you don't understand. You think you want to save humanity? Better worry about saving the world first. He takes out the needle-like shard and levitates it right above his finger tip. It glistens in the dim 'after-hours' illumination, as it vibrates and emitts a barely audible, high pitched tone........This is not glass. This is not crystal. It isn't even diamond. It's something else. And it comes from another world.......... Where? - says Sarah.

Papa doesn't answer, but erupts into a low, sinister chuckle. Every doo-dad and tchotchkie in the place  begins to vibrate. A startled Blackie vaults off his perch, leaping up to a clerestory  window frame far, far above, as he yells - Damn, I hope they got insurance!

Out on the street, a passing bum looks up from his butt hunt (cigarett, I mean) to see the whole building vibrate. It teeters on the brink of disintegration, then sighs and settles down exactly as it was. While from deep inside, he hears the sound of Papa's crazy laughter.

The terrified old bastid breaks into his best arthritic hip run and skip-gallops 'round the corner.

We FOCUS ON a TIGHT SHOT of Edith drinking her morning coffee. She picks up the paper and reads - GAS EXPLOSION CAUSES EXTENSIVE DAMAGE AT CENTER CITY MUSEUM.

INTERIOR - The Mutter Museum............A uniformed crew carefully cleans the debris away. While safe in their glass display case, one of the plaster Siamese Twins turns his head toward the chaos and begins to slowly smile.........

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