Friday, June 12, 2015

Vampires Jonathon and Baylah With the 'Sandies"... 6/12/15

I am a very, very impatient disembodied, spirit narrator. this post is being written in an extremely accelerated manor. If mistakes are detected, may I rap your noggin quite sharply. For you obviously favor copy editors over bards and should be reading mathematical formula instead of tales. 

The vampires known as Jonathon and Baylah nest under the Boardwalk, visiting with their favorite colony of homeless folk. They share a bottle of top shelf vodka, purloined form a pricey bar in The Tropicana, plus a few drops of night-folk blood, meant to cure Mister Larry's various infirmities. A cool breeze tickles it's way through the pilings. People snooze on bath-sheet sized towels snatched from beachfront cabanas and rental chairs. 

Our philosophical trio, deep in their cups, speaks. 

Mister Larry - (takes a swig) I feel better already. Does this mean I can go mush up with Poxie Dorcas or what?...

Jonathon laughs and nudges him - For the most, but be careful, playful mortal. Although her earlier 'touch' has been lifted, we may not be here when she 'touches' you again....

Baylah - Use 'lambskin,' sprite of the night. Be smart. Steal the fruit, but with a gloved hand. The nectar will still be there.

The mortal belched and sniffed. He said - I really like you two, even if you are Jehovah's Witness, or vampires, or whatever you are.

Baylah leaned against Jonathon and said - I think he gets it.

Jonathon added - Just another path toward God..... 

And they all laughed. Then the male vampire (Jonathon) said - How go the funds?... Mister Larry said - You mean 'money?'

Jonathon nodded. His healed friend continued - It's run away from home. Off to join the carnies, I think. Gimme the bottle (and they did)..... Gambling? - said Jonathon..... What other way is there? - asked the mortal. God damned carnies.

Baylah slipped him a bauble. A four carat, emerald ring. Her friend knew the drill. Soon it would be sold to a buyer of gold and gems, an avaricious, not quite gentleman in a cramped dusty salon on Pacific Avenue, for an 'almost' partially fair price. But it would be enough to buy him forgetful pleasure for a while. They'd tried rehabilitation, but Mister Larry craved not permanent salvation... not with a night-folk spider web to save him.

So they sat there a while, telling secrets and humming songs. Then Larry scrambled off to buy his treasure and sample fresh wares. Perhaps he'd join a game post ablutions in a tucked away, though decent motel, after donning a new t-shirt, blue jeans and drawers?

Vampires like helping mortals... amusing ones, I mean.

They call them 'meat puppets,' funny automatons desperate for cheap thrills and gross sensations...

Not at all like cultivated night-folk...

At least that's what they thought....

<more next time>


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please comment. thank you.

And, oh yes... 'sandies' are they who live under the boardwalk.

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