Friday, March 28, 2014

Paul Potts sings Nessun Dorma ... Symbolic to the Vampirino known as Tomas de Macabea in so many ways... 3/28/14

I know you probably saw this before. It did go viral, but the material is legendary. Some claim it heals sickness and restores faith. The vampirino we know as Tomas de Macabea considers it positively Biblical. And if you know our world, you know how he feels about Scripture. So listen to it before you read this, or after. It won't hurt. guaranteed.


The taxi pulls up to the curb, right in front of this most venerable edifice. Tomas, Sarah and the 'born' witch (still in Laura Linney mode) get out. She (the witch) breathes into the palm of her hand, where a large, glittering diamond slowly materializes. They regard it a moment. Then she raps on the window. The all-in-one-piece and resurrected driver opens it. Witch hands it to him and says - Here, for your trouble... He takes it, stares incredulously, looks at the witch and drives off. Then they ran up the red granite steps and sublimated through the original glass and gilt doors into the Second Empire grandeur of Philadelphia's 'La Scala' The Academy of Music. All was quiet. The oldest continuously operating grand opera house in thee Imperial Republic of The United states of America slept soundly. A 'dark' night.... A 'down' night.... Locked tight and guarded by the best digital security 'presence' gold can buy. Too bad science is so physical.

Tomas lead the way through large burnished doors into the lobby, dark, save for tiny, flickering bits of illumination dancing on the wicks of rare and meticulously maintained gas lights. Fire protection was first rate too. He walked to the middle of the space, held up a hand and whispered 'sleep.' Then he turned to the witch, who nodded in agreement and wherever they might be throughout the cavernous 'wedding cake' the guards all drifted off, secure in their slumber til dawn. He pushed open a door, turned to the others and said - Shall we? And they entered into the almost completely dark (security lights only here), jewel box interior of  this vast cathedral of the arts. Tiers of boxes rose to the heavens and even in the gloom the three ton chandelier reflected bits of light. Tomas just stood there and took it all in. He said - The thing happens here... Sarah went - Shhh, Whisper. Your voice sounds so loud...... He said - And you feel like we're not alone?.... She nodded. Even the powerful witch looked concerned.... So he did whisper and said - Maybe we should sit down. Best in the house, by today's standards. Front and center? Shall we, ladies?..... They silently tip toed down the center aisle, took off their furs, laying them across nearby seats and sat down. Two heartbeats later the lush, dark pelts disassembled, becoming living minks (or perhaps they were sables?) and slithered up, over and under the rows before disappearing into the ether. The witch whispered - Shit! I hate when that happens....... Then they heard a low, barely audible voice up above. The demure vampirina and even the witch jumped, twisting 'round to scan the darkness behind them. Tomas stood up and turned toward the looming shadows. Three tiers above, maybe four, a dull, white gleam shone in the darkness. A face, or what can only have been a face, looked down from a box. It mumbled something and pointed. Then evaporated into the blackness....... Tomas whispered - Behold, the man in the upper box. A cadaverous presence. Been here since the beginning. And no one knows who he is. I sat next to him once. During La Traviata, I think. Eighteen fifty seven. He frequents the narrow, little dark, empty space at the back of the boxes. They say his body's still here. Can you imagine what the prop rooms are like? Sarah, are you alright?..... I'm alright. And I've seen Johannon and the boy in the cellar, I think, but they're 'our' ghosts. This is different - she whispered... The witch just said - Look, you bastards, when do I get my baby? When does he get here... And she was beginning to veer off 'Laura Linney' mode toward her true, repulsive self. 

The dead presence, the man in the box leaned out again. This time he just laughed, although the face never changed. And the galaxy of crystals on the huge chandelier tinkled ominously.

Then another voice broke the darkness... Peter's voice. And he said - We're already here.....

That's when Boopsie cried... an innocent, little, baby wail, as the long, abiding, white faced, expressionless entity held her out over the void.

Ghosts don't often do that...


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