Wednesday, May 1, 2013


So by now the security alarms were all going off. There were bells... whistles. Believe me, this place had ALL the bells and whistles, plus something that went 'ah-ew-gah, ah-ew-gah,' just like a sinkin' submarine... Sprinklers were going off. Pinyattas were going off. And I had to spell it that way, 'cause we can't type Spanish here. Hi, this is Zebulon, the thirteen year old disembodied spirit from Old Judea under Herod the Great. Actually, I think in Aramaic, but wilkravitz' neurons make it into this kind a talk. I ain't narrated in a while, 'cause I been floating 'round Epcot, in Disney and now I know French... Ooh La-La! Magnifique!... See, I told ya. 

I also know what happened to Tobias Maxwell, the billionaire, ninety four year old, vampire-blood thief. When 'Papa' plummeted down through the house and rescued his vampiric 'son' Jonathon from the impenetrable chamber (well, impenetrable to everybody but him), they made for the old man's 'safe room,' 'cause Jonathon  (all desiccated, like a vampire beef jerky) needed blood. And every other human bean in the place that night was dead, 'cause of the piranha-rats. You can see where they were, by the giant blood puddles all over the floors. Only it ain't so much the drinking of the blood, as the taking of the life. So Tobias Maxwell was gonna die. 

He pissed hisself when 'Papa' yanked off the heavy vault door and quickly 'flickered' (progress in almost instantaneous, though staccato, six inch increments)  toward him.  The unbelievably ancient (though he looked like a thirty two or thirty three year old Richard Gere) tore off the old man's kimono. Well, not a real kimono. More like a  nineteen sixties' 'happy-coat' Robert Culp wore instead of a smoking jacket in I SPY. And threw him on the bed. Jonathon, who you might a thought was a young man shaped California Raisin, crawled in after. Tobias although terrified, did not look his full age, 'cause he did have most of Jonathon's stolen life-eater blood pumpin' through his body. He looked kind a like the guy who played Maude's husband on TV.  Kids who work at Epcot watch a lot a old time, late night shit. What can I tell you. Old guy scrunched hisself up by the headboard (like a tuck and roll upholstered wall), tryin' to hide his more vulnerable parts. He wheezin.' He sweatin.' He cryin.' Go - No! No! No! No!.... All the time Carson Daly watchin' it all from a huge flat screen on the opposite wall. But he jus' a TV show, so he don't care. TV show people act like they lookin' right in your eye, but they don't care 'bout nothin.' They jus' smile and go - Lucy, I'm home!! So 'Papa' threw that Maude's husband guy on the floor. I think it a all wool, Berber.  They got rugs like that when I was livin.' That how I know. 

Jonathon grab that pot-bellied thing and crack right through his chest. You know that flat bone you got in the middle a your titties? Well he break it and it stickin' up through the skin like somethin' come off the belly of a hard shell crab. Old guy shriek real bad then.  Three seconds later, Jonathon sink his teeth right in the wet, shiny, red heart .... It beatin'.... He drinkin'.... It beatin'.... He drinkin'.... It slow some, but he don't stop. Old man startin' a look like his true self. Liver spots come back. Boobies all scrawny. Got chicken legs now. Tongue all purple. No, not purple... black. I do wanna be accurate....... Then he die. Just like that. Go WHOOSH. Body sink down, like a cake what go flat. Ghost look all surprised. It sit on the bed, rockin' side to side like it crazy. Then, all of a sudden, it figure out what happen. Start punchin' itself in the head wit' it's fists. Jonathon sit on the floor all dazed too. But he startin' a look like hisself. Then 'Papa' grab him and sublimate (pass through solid matter) out a there, just as the cops come runnin' in. 

Sarah see it all from the street. She see 'Papa' (holdin' Jonathon) streak right up in a the sky. But nobody else do... 'cause they not vampire like her. Doctor Franklin there too. He got on a green, Eagles, sweat suit and he sittin' on a old-folks scooter, so nobody know it him. Even when they do know it him, everybody think he a Benjamin Franklin impersonator. This Philly. Old Ben like Mickey Mouse.

But now Jonathon safe... And he can go on preachin'....
thank you. hit THIS ... to see earlier episodes. then (and although I don't know too much about the workings of the sight, though I recognize how interesting it is), click on JOSEPH GORDON LEVITT'S GREAT NEW MEDIA OPPORTUNITY SITE ... scroll down to TINY STORIES and search for THE SELF-CONSCIOUS WITCHLING & THE DIRTY BRASSIERE and please read it, 'cause I think I wrote it. maybe recommend it? also, leave a COMMENT here, 'cause YOUR LINK will automatically appear right along with it. hey, FAME... it's a wonderful thing.... adios...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: Grilled Humans and Coffee Cake

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: Grilled Humans and Coffee Cake: You must remember. My ears always had to be hidden. The elfin look... the points, you know - Marianne added. Fortunately the mores of the t...Click on that ' GRILLED HUMANS AND COFFEE CAKE' phrase up above, if you want to see the next elferina-vampirina Marianne episode, She's still regaling rich mortals with her life story. Google -~ townhouse mansions in Society Hill... if you want to see what the place looked like. Your COMMENTS and LINKS are always welcome.


Even in a residence that size, the actual staff was not very large. Cleaners came in on a daily basis. But none lived there. There was a resident physician, though he was pretty much brushed to the side when this vampire business started. The butler naturally had a room. So did the housekeeper.  Two conservators oversaw the proper cleaning and maintenance of  antiques and collectibles. And four armed guards patrolled the premises. I think there was a kid who ran errands too. Like if the old man needed toe-nail clippers, or tabloid newspapers, or little paper umbrellas for his drinks. Decrepit billionaires got strange tastes. What do you want from me? Don't you remember Howard Hughes? And the way it worked out, with the rats and all, the kid who ran errands was the only one still alive. Lucky the old guy wanted ass wipes. Not t.p.. The housekeeper took care of that. But he saw a commercial for them Cottonelle luxury, wet naps and figured he better try 'em while still partly mortal, 'cause he wasn't sure night-folk spent too much time sittin' on the can. Couldn't remember if Doctor Polidori ever used a toilet.

So he called out from the lead room (his lead room) and the kid went. Twenty seven heart beats later, the rats streamed in. See, people, that's why you gotta close them lids. Tiny, little sharp clawed hands and feet scampered over an assortment of fine tiled floors, ran down polished oak corridors (featuring thick, wool, patterned runners) and scurried under closed, interior doors. It's almost as if they have no bones. And they were so close to the floor the motion detectors failed to see them.

The butler got it first. He was dreaming.... college days up in Canada.... summers in The Thousand Islands.... weekends with rich friends. But the mosquitoes that sometimes plagued twilight, dockside buffets seemed especially strident this time around.... And he woke to find perhaps one hundred and fifteen rats sharing the mattress with him.... At first he froze. The clever animals pulled back just a bit.... He couldn't see them. The quilt took care of that, though he could sense it moving in the darkness. Six heartbeats later, he shuddered. Uh, oh... must be like a checkered flag... or a dinner bell. Before he could draw another breath, the beasts went straight to work. And then he screamed. And then he gagged.... The tongue (as you know) is considered quite choice. If you'd watched from above, you'd have seen dark, red blood stains blossom like tumors and fan out across the undulating bedding, til the eviscerated occupant, quite denuded of flesh and minus his eyes (nose and lips too), deflated down into the mattress (hotel quality and pillow topped before the unfortunate incident) and smiled. All skulls look that way, you know. 

Then the rodents left, just as they came, carrying seven score pounds of flesh and offal with them. The butler was a very big man. 

The others, some in bed, some on duty, some chewing leftover veal followed after. The guards never fired a shot. 

By the time the errand boy got back with the Cottonelle wet wipes and punched in the entry code it was all over. The killers were gone. And the house, though reeking, was quiet. 

Forty six heartbeats later, he stumbled back out onto the street and screamed for help.

The blood stench permeated everything... even the lead. I suppose there must have been microscopic cracks, not to mention the tiny openings where the needles came through. And Jonathon began to howl. Not like a werewolf. Please, this is real. He desperately needed food and 'Papa' ( just returned from his travels) crashed through the roof and plunged toward the center of the edifice. He 'hammered' through the leaden wall, ripped it apart and bore his 'son' to freedom. 

Now the old man couldn't help but hear. And he saw it all on the security monitors. His own, leaden 'safe room' was very well equipped. And he started to shake and cry, as the thick, vault-like door smashed open....
thank you. to see earlier parts, click on THIS ... your COMMENTS & LINKS are very welcome.