Monday, December 28, 2015

Andy Kaufman sings "Rosemarie" on Letterman ..Night-Folk Know The World Is A Strange Place... 12/28/15


Jonathon woke that evening, went upstairs to attend to his toilet (means wash, groom & dress) and left the townhouse. He had business to attend to. Vampires such as he, they who take vows, 'cull' on a lunar schedule. He was translated on at this time of month and he kills at this time of month. So he walks through the damp to find his victim.... that dry soul sent to him in visions.... A man this one is, mature in years, though not 'old.' I know not his sins, but they are many. People have died by his name. Things were sold that should not have been sold. Even children perished. And his wealth metastasized, spreading to banks and counting houses created to obfuscate such things. Four times each year the man in question flew to where the money was, just to insure its safety. Every solstice and equinox he sped through the stratosphere in a silver blade. 'Private Jets' I believe you call them. He's just returned from one such trip... a Santa Claus in reverse, so to speak. 

Jonathon caught him at the theater... not in his seat, but in a stall... a restroom stall. If you know The Forrest Theater on Walnut Street, you know it's a classic... Look-a-likes exist in Boston, New York, Chicago and other places. Dark maroon velvet... gold gilt... the requisite huge fixture over the orchestra... crystal sconces... antiqued mirrored lobby, where they sell the mega-priced orange aid. But the water closets must be downstairs, lest errand flushes ruin the big solo. Divas and divos would not like that at all.

The big man tarried, reading a newspaper (he gets it on line). A twelve year old daughter and her guest were upstairs watching singing ersatz Mormons strut their stuff. A show or two during the holidays is a yearly ritual. But he doesn't care about shows.... Once they blink the lights signaling act-two it's almost silent down there. Some say that's when ghostly encounters occur. The ante-room to the toilets is a special place... old, polished, parquet floors... a huge, palace sized oriental rug... antique (or antique style) settees and love seats... dark, detailed paneled walls.... venerable, framed posters from legendary times....  That's where stars meet the press after a show.

But there were no press conferences that night, just a dried up empty soul sitting on a rather nice crapper scanning his tiny screen.

And then Jonathon approached. He condensed right by the Barrymore settee, the place where John Barrymore would mush up with lesser female members of the cast during rehearsals (dressing rooms were too far away). Then he squared his shoulders and sublimated through the door marked 'Gentlemen.' He walked passed a long row of marble sinks. Except for intermissions and pre or post-performance, lights were low. Jonathon liked that. Ten heartbeats later he stopped before an oak door (floor to ceiling... each stall was completely private), inhaled and vaulted through the carefully waxed barrier.

The man with the dried up soul shrieked, dropping his phone right into the toilet. He yelled - What the hell are you?!.... But Jonathon only grinned..... The meal began to scream. With that Jonathon reached down and squeezed the man's trachea till he could only cough and sputter. Then he kneeled down, and took the life. Quite delicious it was. Sin ads spice.

Jonathon waited till the corpse ignited into the 'cool' (for fire) blue flame and disappeared. Except for singeing, all that burned was the body. On his way out, he stopped at the ticket booth and passed a small jeweler's envelope to the clerk, who said - What's this?... For the manager - whispered Jonathon. He'll know..... Then he left.

Inside was a diamond worth more than enough to pay for any restroom repairs and a note stating that it should only be used for that purpose.

A 'familiar' with a sympathetic face and a gray suit met the daughter and her friend after the show. He said that the father had to leave, then he drove them back to the duplex, penthouse on Rittenhouse Square. It took some fancy footwork on the part of the family's lawyers to have him declared dead, minus a body, but with money and connections almost all things are possible.

The younger wife and daughter didn't mind much, since they were the primary beneficiaries. Besides, now they could import a cooler husband and stepdad. What's bad with that?

For a time, an assistant henchmen continued manufacturing the dangerous products, but a different vow-taking vampire, out of New York, took care of him, which ended it.

Oh, one more thing... Jonathon walked away with the man's fifty eight thousand dollar gold and diamond watch plus forty five hundred dollars in cash. Come on... how do you think vampires get so rich over the centuries?

When he got back to the townhouse a few hours later his wife-consort, Sarah, was already home. She met him in the entrance hall and said - Have a good night?.... He kissed her and said - Yes dear.... Then they went up to their specially sealed sleeping chamber and climbed into bed, watching reruns of a game show called PRESS YOUR LUCK until they fell asleep.

Thus is life among the night-folk....

<more next time>

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1 comment:

Glamr Kid said...
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