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This early in the season, the town is quiet... Not 'dead,' just quiet. You might ride your bike down Ventnor, or Atlantic Avenues under a full yellow moon with nary a car to bother you. Some houses are dark. Others have a light or two. A certain number of homeowners have this thing they do. Huge, over-the- mantle flat screens (hooked up to automatic timers) beam Bravo's best through large, architectural windows, like digital whores in a beachy Amsterdam. You can hear the surf. You can hear the 'click' of traffic lights, as they run through their limited spectrum. Baylah (our vampire beauty with a rich, mortal boyfriend) loves midnight strolls. Fritzie, her fluffy, little friend, loves them too. She's not a vampire... just a Bichon Frise and quite well trained. Doesn't bark, or anything.
She picks up Jonathon's scent... not the dog, the vampire. He's in a house... a Jazz Age, white stucco, 'cottage.' She feels him pass through the foyer and make his way upstairs. How silent the place is. I suppose you might call what Baylah does 'remote viewing.' She's very good at it. Even while mortal she had the talent and once experienced the sacking of a rival Tuareg capital from her desert boudoir in Timbuctu.
The house was almost empty. Two domestics, a couple, snoozed away in the room by the kitchen. Freshwater tropical fish, vivid, little Harlequins, danced to and fro in their clean, well decorated, hundred gallon prison.... just the thing to separate the den from the kitchen. The rest of the house was dead, save for an occasional spider, or feathery centipede (mortal enemies, I am told) and the snoring plutocrat in the master suite. He fell asleep during a God damned rerun of The Mentalist, while waiting for James Corden. Just because he's a plutocrat, deserving of death, doesn't mean he isn't discerning. You can see the spitballs decorating the screen where The Mentalist's face used to be. Not that he's world ranked, or anything. But there was an old Bic pen in the night table, plus two sleeves from them red Wendy's straws left from a Christmas visit, so bombs away.
Jonathon studied him from the foot of the bed. Was the alarm on? Of course it was. But vampires have a way to foil that via a semi-sublimation thing they do. Many of you know 'sublimation' is the term for what happens when vampires pass through matter... air, water, drywall, trash bags filled with used Kotex... anything. They excite their molecules to the point where they begin to disassemble, thus making themselves invisible.... even to the naked eye..... So the global warming criminal (petro chemicals, you know) never knew what hit him. Did Jonathon drain him? No. He'd have to solidify for that. Some vampires wouldn't mind. Go see all the real vampire videos on You Tube. But he's too discrete for that. So he just fell on top of him...sublimated through the blanket... through the skin, the flesh, the offal, the bones, the linens, the mattress and all the way down to the mid century Henredon dining room table below. That's where he stopped. Left a shredded, pulpy, bloody mess in his wake. Ruined the table, but what are you gonna do? It's what happens when vampires sublimate through living flesh. The excited molecular chains within their bodies slice through meat like fine, sharp piano wire... millions of microscopic resonating strands. And Baylah saw it all. She met him when he passed through the wall and materialized out on the street. Fritzie squirmed around and tried to break free. She wanted to lap up all the blood. Baylah gave her a few drops from her own finger. That shut her up. Not many people around, but still... you can't be too careful.
Then they tip-toed back to her boyfriend's house and drank vodka...
Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah was very pleased. In fact, I've never seen an old lady grin like that. And although I'm a disembodied, spirit narrator whose seen many things, the sight of it almost made me pee myself...
If I still had a urine filled bladder, that is...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click APPLES ... to taste all the Vampire Wonderland bon-bons we got out there...
click ORANGES ... to join me on Twitter...
please comment. and if you're willing to help, tell your friends, because I'm still fouled up with Stumbleupon and need the supplemental traffic. thank you.
She picks up Jonathon's scent... not the dog, the vampire. He's in a house... a Jazz Age, white stucco, 'cottage.' She feels him pass through the foyer and make his way upstairs. How silent the place is. I suppose you might call what Baylah does 'remote viewing.' She's very good at it. Even while mortal she had the talent and once experienced the sacking of a rival Tuareg capital from her desert boudoir in Timbuctu.
The house was almost empty. Two domestics, a couple, snoozed away in the room by the kitchen. Freshwater tropical fish, vivid, little Harlequins, danced to and fro in their clean, well decorated, hundred gallon prison.... just the thing to separate the den from the kitchen. The rest of the house was dead, save for an occasional spider, or feathery centipede (mortal enemies, I am told) and the snoring plutocrat in the master suite. He fell asleep during a God damned rerun of The Mentalist, while waiting for James Corden. Just because he's a plutocrat, deserving of death, doesn't mean he isn't discerning. You can see the spitballs decorating the screen where The Mentalist's face used to be. Not that he's world ranked, or anything. But there was an old Bic pen in the night table, plus two sleeves from them red Wendy's straws left from a Christmas visit, so bombs away.
Jonathon studied him from the foot of the bed. Was the alarm on? Of course it was. But vampires have a way to foil that via a semi-sublimation thing they do. Many of you know 'sublimation' is the term for what happens when vampires pass through matter... air, water, drywall, trash bags filled with used Kotex... anything. They excite their molecules to the point where they begin to disassemble, thus making themselves invisible.... even to the naked eye..... So the global warming criminal (petro chemicals, you know) never knew what hit him. Did Jonathon drain him? No. He'd have to solidify for that. Some vampires wouldn't mind. Go see all the real vampire videos on You Tube. But he's too discrete for that. So he just fell on top of him...sublimated through the blanket... through the skin, the flesh, the offal, the bones, the linens, the mattress and all the way down to the mid century Henredon dining room table below. That's where he stopped. Left a shredded, pulpy, bloody mess in his wake. Ruined the table, but what are you gonna do? It's what happens when vampires sublimate through living flesh. The excited molecular chains within their bodies slice through meat like fine, sharp piano wire... millions of microscopic resonating strands. And Baylah saw it all. She met him when he passed through the wall and materialized out on the street. Fritzie squirmed around and tried to break free. She wanted to lap up all the blood. Baylah gave her a few drops from her own finger. That shut her up. Not many people around, but still... you can't be too careful.
Then they tip-toed back to her boyfriend's house and drank vodka...
Boo-Kah-Lay-Nah was very pleased. In fact, I've never seen an old lady grin like that. And although I'm a disembodied, spirit narrator whose seen many things, the sight of it almost made me pee myself...
If I still had a urine filled bladder, that is...
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
click APPLES ... to taste all the Vampire Wonderland bon-bons we got out there...
click ORANGES ... to join me on Twitter...
please comment. and if you're willing to help, tell your friends, because I'm still fouled up with Stumbleupon and need the supplemental traffic. thank you.
