Sunday, February 2, 2014

Some Stuff About Currently Handicapped Vampire-Oligarch, Grigori Usipov.. 2/2/14

Tomas didn't want to help. He sent more vials of blood via 'familiars' but went back to Atlantic City.  Baylah's boyfriend was hosting a Super Bowl party catered by Steve & Cookies back by the bay. You know their big, cold seafood platter with the lobster, oysters, crab and, oh God, I don't know... mermaid meat and all? Trays of it... Huge trays of it... on ice, with homemade wasabi sauce and potato salad and cole slaw to die for. The vampires wouldn't have any. Tomas might sip a clam juice cocktail,  if it was strained enough. Baylah walks around with a little plate pretending to nibble. True, they can swallow some food. Sure, it all comes up soon after. A lot of vampires can do that. They have to, if they want to fit in and survive. You know, sometimes they're invited places where not everybody is a friend. Baylah says they're gonna have the game in the big, club-like den, but whoever wants can duck downstairs to the theater for season three of Downton Abbey, plus the new episode later on. A vamperina friend of hers, Bernice, spent time at the real Highclear Castle in the eighteen eighties. A little cameo-like porcelain portrait of her rests on a table in the withdrawing room. It's clearly visible on television. No, wait. Maybe it's in one of the rooms in Maggie Smith's 'dower house?' That's where I think it is. 

Doctor Franklin's having a Super Bowl party too. Gonna have bangers an' mash, meat pies, spotted dick and all that stuff he remembers from colonial days. Hey, it's hot. It's heavy. It's hearty. They'll like it. The crudites platters and the dip and all, not to mention the gourmet cheeses and fresh baked, olive oil and garlic pita chips are modern. The deserts are all regular... cheese cakes, carrot cake, walnut sticky buns. Let me tell you. Super Bowl Sunday is better than Thanksgiving. 

Handicapped, Russian, vampire-oligarch Grigori Usipov's still a problem though. He cries all the time. They communicate with him through simplified 'hand letters.' He knows English. One tap on his palm is 'A'... two is 'B' and so on. Somebody 'told' him how much Apple stock dropped. That set him off, 'cause he got a really big slice of that. Drives the kitchen staff crazy too. Eats regular mortal food now. Makes 'em cook Russian crap. Oh, come on. I KNOW it's not crap. But I don't know what it is. My great grandparents and great-great grandparents used to know what it was. Even then it was basically Ukrainian takes on the cuisine as sifted through various kosher practices. Vestiges survive, but mostly brought in from delicatessens. And everybody eats that. Know what the kitchens in Franklin's complex do? Call in from The Famous Delicatessen in Queens Village and Syrenka's in Port Richmond. He don't know the difference. Even if he does, what's he gonna do?

Luna sits with him. She's a vampire-medical doctor who works here. Franklin's protege. Had her since she a kid. Don't remember when she became a vampire, or who did the deed. Ran with Tomas a while. Them two used to sex each other up real good. He already mushed up with Sarah then too. Some what read this might remember their battle down in them storage rooms under The University (of Pennsylvania) Museum. That what made the museum board throw 'em out. Ghosts what live in them mummies still miss 'em. If you work late down there, you can hear 'em whisperin' to each other. But ain't nobody know what they say, 'cause it in ancient Coptic. Little Bastid Annie used to know, though, 'cause children pick stuff up real fast and vampire young'uns most of all.

Luna say (by tappin' on his hand) that she turn him back vampire if he want to. But he feared a bein' deaf an' blind. Wanna get hisself all fixed up first. Maybe drop ten pound. Do some exercises. Pump hisself up a little. He like communicatin' wit' her. But he want this mortal body a mite sharper 'fore he turn night-folk again. Like to run his hands all over Luna, though. Kiss her up too sometimes.

After the 'holiday.' After Super Bowl Sunday. They gonna work on him some more. Them vials a blood Tomas send over do some. Keep him healthy and all. But he still can't see or hear none. Franklin wanna put mouse cells in his eyes. Not mouse cells. They got human cells from some prisoner been bought from the cops. But they learned 'bout how to do this from mice. Gotta scrape off shit from back a them eyes. Not the outside a the back a the eyes. The inside of the back a the eyes. Them what give it go blind. Them what get it maybe not so blind.... Maybe. An' to go down a different road, lemme tell you this. 'Billy,' what been typin' this out, slidin' off his chair, 'cause he so tired. So I doin' it.... Mister Never You Mind... You know me. I one a the disembodied, spirit narrators. Don't know how I movin' them keys though. Did not think I possessed the ability to do that... But apparently I do. Ain't that a kick in the head!?

Hard to tell from that hand tappin' Patty Duke "Miracle Worker' talk what Usipov comprehend and what he don't comprehend. He scared 'bout  that eye thing, though. Only he ain't got much choice. They gone pick 'round in there whether he want it or not.

Luna leave him to go fix up her hair.. She got like a ponytail thing. It long an' she flip it around. She think it make her look sexy. Got these two pieces what come down front a her ears. Think she like that new body what Usipov in an' wanna do somethin' with him. An' he do wanna be night-folk again, cause once you night-folk mortal life don't seem much better'n than what a dog got. That's it from the big, ole complex under The Navy Yard. I gone go watch a movie.

If you an' yours observe Super Bowl festivities, have a good one. And don't eat too much groundhog.


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