Monday, April 29, 2013

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: IN ANSWER TO THE WOMAN SUCKING HARD CANDY

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: IN ANSWER TO THE WOMAN SUCKING HARD CANDY: This is what the woman with the Jolly Rancher said . She said - You were telling us that vampires have to be practical...... Marianne chuck... THE FIRES OF THE AUTO-DA-FE DRAW CLOSER. SEE WHAT HAPPENS WHEN A VAMPIRE BURNS.. But, as always, please recognize that this is not the text. To experience that, you must click on the words...'IN ANSWER TO THE WOMAN SUCKING HARD CANDY... up above. And if you want to see other episodes, click on THIS .. Your COMMENTS along with your own LINKS are very welcome...

RESCUING A VAMPIRINO FROM A MEAN OLD (VERY OLD) MAN....... 4/29/13

This is how a soul, or spirit travels through space. The trip is not instantaneous, so you can pretty much ditch that 'speed of thought' crap. I suppose, where vampires, or the spirits of (living) vampires are concerned, it's rather like a sublimation..... a rapid progression of tiny, sub-atomic, charged particles. Maybe it's wrong to call them particles, for they have no mass. 'Dark matter' might be a better term.

Well, that's what 'Papa' is. He rose up through the icy crust and hovered over the surface, a quiet place, dwarfed by the immensity of Jupiter. Huge swaths of incomprehensible winds raced ' round the giant planet. I don't know how human astronauts will ever withstand it. Perhaps they'll close their eyes and turn away? Jupiter... a violent, 'baby' sun with magic toys. And Europa is the favorite..... a vast polar ice cap, sheltering a water world filled with wondrous creatures. And the 'cloud' that is 'Papa' says 'so long.' as he leaves this special reality. He ascends up into the void, climbing through the near vacuum of space one thinly spread molecule at a time. Think of them as stepping stones, or hand-holds on a climbing wall. Earth is but a tiny beacon shining in the dark. Mars is even smaller. The sun, itself, a barely discernible, burning disc..... In less than two days he'll be home, back inside his body in the townhouse far away. Space is really big.

But the mole-folk are already there. They swarm into the dusty ruins of the long buried wig shop. And then the chirping stops. Yes, they can talk like mortals do, but some are quite adept at clicks and whistles too... A cozy, private communicative technique developed through the years..... And they listen... And they think....And they plan.

Jonathon, or that part still remaining, heard them. He cannot chirp fluently, but he hears beyond the noise, picking up the 'flickers' from their brains. Aura is there... so is Silvia. In the past he bathed them both. But now, he is monogamous and Sarah is the one. 

She walks through the city, focused and powerful, a 'granddaughter' of 'Papa' herself. And her steps are silent. Vampires can do that. But a new pair of 'Chuckies,' all soft, light and comfy helps too. Occasionally a mortal respectfully points her out. They know she's a life-eater. But for the last month or two, since Jonathon's preaching from that place beneath the bank building, it's all right. The magic and the mundane are one now. And the city is a better because of it. 

The old man gets a premonition. His cells have been bathed in vampire blood, after all. And he tells the technicians who operate his urban fortress to close the gates. Nine heartbeats later, light, titanium (flavored with a lead alloy) storm shutters roll down, magnetically locking into place. And the life craving ninety four year old, partially restored, billionaire, retreats to his own lead lined room.... though it is much more commodious than Jonathon's. 

'Star light...star bright... first star I see tonight... I wish I may... I wish I might... get the wish I wish tonight'......... That's what Doctor Franklin whispered, as he threw the switch waking his Grand Armonica. And all the ether for perhaps a radius of seven miles 'round trembled with intricate chords and glissandos, changing the basic structure of certain special substances. Did the old patriot see a star then?... No... But practical philosophers can be so superstitious.

The birds around the city wake and sing, four hours before the dawn...
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