Thursday, May 19, 2016

Conditions of RANK & SERVITUDE in BABY PHILADELPHIA.. 5/18/16

When last we met, the Philadelphia vampires plus certain mortal friends were with Doctor Franklin in his more than likely trans dimensional orchestrated small city known as 'Baby Philadelphia.' They were on their way through the busy 'colonial' municipality and seeing the sights.

Every street was picture perfect, grey, gently pillowed cobbles, red brick buildings, mullioned windows, marble steps. Fine ladies sailed along in opened sedan chairs. Children played with little terriers. Edith said - Doctor Franklin, was old Philadelphia like this?... The three hundred plus year old Patriot smiled - After a fashion, I suppose. We did have poverty and there were certain alleys where no lady would go..... Edith asked if there were slaves..... He quietly responded - Yes, there were. Not as numerous as towards the south, but we had them...... They rode in silence... Edith, the mortal witchy-woman housekeeper cleared her throat and asked - Did you have any?.... The Doctor said - Come, come, hasn't he (meaning Jonathon) ever told you?.... She shook her head. Jonathon didn't say a word. Franklin pulled back his wispy white hair with an elastic 'scrungi' thing... not 'authentic,' but that was Franklin. He said - You have to understand the times. That's an avoidance. I know it, but please let me talk. Miners in Scotland were held like slaves. Some wore iron collars. They couldn't do anything else. They were born to that position. Granted, families usually stayed together, though their wives weren't respected. They were never called 'missus.' Many weren't legally married. In Ireland it was worse..... She didn't respond... Do you want me to tell you about Russia, about the serfs? They were slaves. The only difference was they were sold in family groups. Some nobles had all nude, female orchestras. Young boys, children, were sent out to kill wolves. Do you know where the expression 'all dressed up with nowhere to go' comes from? From Russia. There was one day a year, Saint Michael's Day. Dissatisfied serfs would dress in their best clothing and stand by the road, hoping some landed gentleman would ride by and purchase them. Nobles made trades and that was it. If no one passed by, or showed any interest, they had to stay where they were. 
Lost on the endless plains. Some were sold to the army. Guess who got shot first? Not that it excuses what we did here, or there, I mean. I forget we're in 'Baby Philadelphia.' But the Americas had no traditional peasant class, so we created one. And as to my personal arrangements, after hundreds of years, let me say this, I don't want to talk about it.

Jonathon wanted to know why this sun had no effect on him, or the others, but he kept his mouth shut. He moved his tongue around his mouth. Obviously, his fangs, small and discrete, were still there.  Their Annie, Little Bastid Annie, not Pig Blood Annie, saw a vendor selling hair ribbons and notions and asked the coachman to stop. He ignored her, but when Franklin said - Here, Geoffrey... he did. Coins changed hands. The little vampirina had her scarlet ribbons and they were off.

The domestic who let them into Franklin's house, a commodious, detached, mini-manor on it's own small lot and a rarity in either Philadelphia, was a bi-racial woman in a carefully pressed, calico dress, starched white apron and a crocheted snood. Whatever business arrangement she had with the old patriot, if any, was hard to ascertain.

Apparently there were things about this place they didn't understand...

<more next time>

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