Thursday, August 2, 2012

GRIGORI USIPOV, the hot, Russian, VAMPIRE-OLIGARCH waxes Philosophical

A 'war' between vampires and 'humans'? What type of superficial poser could even fabricate such a thing? Can you conceptualize within your skull a war between the shepherd and his sheep!? I saw it. I saw it while drifting out to take my place among the Hamptons glitterati. Two bored, not quite sexually mature, disgustingly flaccid faced mortals gazed upon it. True Blood, I mean, from the confines of a faux Ralph Loren, dude ranch couch shipped east from Aspen. Who troubles to do such a thing? Not the show...the couch. Perhaps it is all an illusion? Maybe things are not what they appear? But what do I care? Let me kill them and laugh. I will feed their fingers to my parrots. But no. I am guest here and if my anger has been riled, must remember to kill a maid instead. Such a gesture will still send the proper message.

But please forgive me these thoughtless indiscretions. Grigori Usipov speaks not this way. I am disciplined Russian Oligarch..... Vampire part is just ancillary to true nature. I do not kill for sport..... occasional pleasure, yes.... sport, no. We hunt wolf for that. And I am very proud to say I do so without gun.

Perhaps the bacillus smeared upon my teeth enchant me, or intoxicate me? I do so have difficulties remembering this bastard, English jargon. 

Now, let me step out onto expansive, seaward, terrace..... so very like one possessed by Dowager Duchess at Yalta during last nights of Romanov Regime.

Time to squeeze a bit of tittie and breath into some ears. I have friends here. They love me. 

Henchmen of American Secretary of State are known to me. Such ill fitting garments. Even the Cossacks knew better. They have it with them a lead lined conveyance..... a truck of some kind, stationed back, behind the pool house, meant to imprison me.... Not the pool house.... Truck.

'Pool house'...... I am loving that term. Place has three sexrooms and five shit chambers. Not that I am amazed by such opulence..... far from it. But I do not like American understatement. In Russia would be called 'place where most recent favorite whore sleeps,' or something like that....... We are very direct people. 

There is quarry. I will greet him. We will speak. I will 'dance' him into corner.... perhaps where terrace wraps 'round fire pit? Then I pull him close, as if to share if to share extremely priceless secret. He will freeze. He will listen. I will speak in deep, low breathy voice. Soon a touch.... a feather-like tingle..... a small, electric shock. Perhaps, if you were close enough, tiny bead of blood can be seen escaping from left ear, providing necessary portal for lethal bacteria (or is it virus?..... a vampire does not care). Three nights later he will be dead and name of well known New York, money king will 'Trend' upon the Twitter.

But henchmen of the formidable Mrs. Clinton are watching. Perhaps should be sending her some truffles when I 'gift' her with their heads?........ 

Ah, moon on surf of Hamptons is very beautiful..... and I do enjoy such things...

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