PEOPLE NOTICE DIFFERENCES IN THE PHILADELPHIA PARANORMAL WORLD .. 2/13/14

Doctor Franklin noticed it. Usipov healed very quickly, considering he was still essentially mortal and had not yet returned to vampire form. He measured and listened and felt, refracting 'the resonance' through small crystal discs, detecting marginal variances with his finger tips. And it's funny. Considering how scientifically adept he was, the old reprobate still preferred recording data on fine, pale green pages in large traditional ledgers. Indeed, he'd done so since the days of his first Junto almost three hundred years ago. Hundreds of those books filled clean, sleek, stainless steel shelves ( retrievable via a system of silent tracks and casters) in climate controlled rooms near 'the residence' (the sumptuous underground 'manor house' where Franklin lived). A small group of curators working under Franklin's protege, Bruce (his family name. not his given one) had access to the tomes and were called 'book men' even though some of them were female. They wore somber business suits (skirts, pants, or kilts depending on preference, gender, or national origin).. Most felt they communicated telepathically. Not all the time, but they did have that capability.

Usipov said - When may I retreat to darkness?..... Those Russians have such a Chekovian streak.  And, as you obviously know, his new body was Russian too, having once been inhabited by that Moscow haberdasher's assistant. God knows what his brutally evicted spirit does now...... Franklin feigned undivided interest in his calligraphy, slowly tracing smooth, artistic strokes on exquisite rice paper, a gift from The Chrysanthemum Throne, otherwise known as the emperor of Japan. In return, Franklin sent him small,polished stone jars of a rare, complexion enhancing unguent made from nutrient-rich mer-folk placentas. Usipov tried to palm a jar. Franklin wouldn't let him, but he had them rig up a phony one filled with Crisco and Noxema, 'cause he knew the Russian (formerly a vampire-oligarch as well) wasn't going to stop.

Usipov asked again - When can I return to vampiric state? Franklin really didn't know. He was in a quandary. Tomas blood, or Elferino-elferina blood? Tomas blood was his first choice. But as far as he knew, the pubescent strain (the 'elf' strain) had never been used to create a vampire before. The scientific part of his nature wanted to see what would happen. But how would he get one of the elferinos or elferinas? That was the problem. Vampire kidnapping was out of favor. A few senators had offspring so burdened and really, really frowned on it. In the last generation or so, what with the popularity of vampire fiction and real vampires as well, novices to the breed can pop up anywhere. Only thing saving professional sports is all the day games. And don't think the coaches, managers and owners aren't happy about that. 

Franklin, ever the instinctive psychologist, said - Well wouldn't you like to be in better shape first? More defined? A 'six pack'? Perhaps a 'V' cut? You know, no alterations possible later....... Usipov goes - I know that. I've been vampire before. And what's wrong with this body? It's thin. It's lithe. Decent muscle tone. Well?...... The old patriot gestured toward the muted flat screen over the big work table and asked - You want to be locked in the body of an ice dancer forever?  The Russian looked at the screen filled with late night Olympic coverage, thought for a few heartbeats and said - Uh, no....... With that, Franklin went over to a cupboard and came back with a soft brick of clay. He plopped it down on an adjacent table (away from his refined calligraphy) and said - Here, create something....... Usipov sighed and proceeded to make yet another ashtray. This time, maybe, he'd decorate it with green polka dots...... But Franklin knew he could only stall so long....

Meanwhile back at the townhouse, Edith started to notice things. Her breasts felt different... large... full... warm. And Boopsie looked at her funny, as if she wanted to nurse. But the pow-wow (simply, self-taught, country witchery) woman laughed. She was well into middle age... Though still... somehow it felt so right.....

Boopsie clapped her fat, little mitts and went - Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme, gimme.... My God! The kid was asking for it already. Jeez, when do 'born' witchling kids start to talk?.... And how long do they nurse? Edith didn't know and she really didn't care. She just picked up the baby, sat in the rocker... and let 'nature' (or whatever it was) take it's course.

And upstairs, snug in her sleeping cabinet, Marianne, the comely elferina, switched on a small, efficient L.E.D. light and opened a letter. It was from a 'friend' on the coast, somewhere north of Atlantic City, Long Beach Island, or Tom's River someplace. An old, sealed, leaden chest had washed up. The first in over  three hundred and fifty years.

And something was scratching from inside....

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LETS SEE IF TELEPATHY IS IN THE AIR TONIGHT....... 6/27/13

I know not what I am, or how I came to be. Some say I am a carving shattered from a pediment atop a Florentine church. Renaissance artillery was so imprecise. But now I have a soul, of sorts, and eyes that see and skin that feels. 

I scamper in the darkness, lest people should see. For the artist made me naked and I am bashful. 

Oh, I know you are waiting for the resumption of the tale. You follow the vampirini of Philadelphia. But it is hot and the disembodied spirits narrating this thing pick up on the energy of the ether, as rising temperatures stir the atoms and make them dance.

Now I rest, wedged between a bench and a planter, not far from il Duomo, listening to the chatter of New World gawkers, plus occasional Alemanni . This one wants a lemon ice. That one craves biscotti. Another seeks a lover. The thin one wants to die. 

Sometimes I whisper. My lips never move. But they all hear my words. 'Travel to Vienna'..... 'Buy the silver sugar bowl'..... 'Marry the foreign Jew.' 

People listen to what I say. Catherine De Medici called me 'pet.' She sat me in her boudoir, right by the bed and told me secrets in the dark.

I know so many things, yet still don't know my name. Tomorrow night I'll scamper somewhere else.... a fat, little angelkin diving into shadows.

But indulge me for a bit. Play 'cat' to my magician. Let's see what strangeness we can do. Let's see what powers hover hence.

I will whisper a play.... a favorite of 'the Bard,' performed in Shoreditch long ago, yet known to you and me.

Please COMMENT if you hear the name. Tomorrow we will see if our souls proceed apace.

Farewell for now. I have to race. Some students from afar draw near....
And I have secrets yet to hear....

A cherub made of stone...
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VAMPIRES WHO CAN MANIPULATE THE MEDIA....and sloppy loo-loo's

Papa been meetin' with Doctor Franklin and his runaway sweetie, Luna, over at the palatial digs far beneath the old navy yard, in the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau. In case you are new to this here crumbly little morsel of creation, let me fill it all in for you. We are in Philadelphia, except when we're at the Jersey Shore, or runnin' 'round with a lot a save-the-universe, holy rollers (both mortal and not so mortal) in the Divine Portal that is Jerusalem. That's where Jonathon and Sarah are right now. If you don't know who they are, google VAMPIREWONDERLAND, Jonathon and Sarah, or any of the other not really ficticious bastids we talk about. You'll find out. But just in case you got lazy fingas or somethin', I'll slap on a little bit a facts 'bout Papa. He looks like he's floatin' next to thirty two or thirty three years, kinda like if Richard Gere and George Clooney had themselves a baby. Only he actually driftin' closer to twenty-eight thousand years...'cause he a vampire. So it goes without sayin' that he is privy to all the really good shit. Can do a lot a fancy prestadigitatin' too.

Doctor Franklin is just a big, old fat, stringy-haired white man. You know Benjamin Franklin, the dude on all them hundred dollar bills? Well then you know who I'm talkin' 'bout. But he is not a vampire, just kept alive by a bunch a scientific crap, based on magnets (not like the ones from the dollar store...better ones) and electric shock therapy (like what they gave Frankenstein and Olivia DeHaviland in that Snake Pit movie). Now he heads up the A.E.B., only they more pro magic than anti. But the government won't give no money to any magic group, 'cept maybe religious ones, so it is just easier to add four letters (a-n-t-i) to the name and be done with it.

Luna just some foundling child taken in by the Bureau who grew up to be vampirated by Papa. But she's really just a gold diggin' whore more into squeezin' her ass into some reality show, like Real Housewives of The Vampire Wonderland than puttin' down her monthly quota a nasty folks, which is what the better element of vampires actually does.

But Papa knows what's goin' on over in Jerusalem and he can feel how important it is to his thousand year old baby child, Jonathon (the one who tends to favor a young Antonio Banderas). He also understands how wicked and stubborn most hoomin-beans are, so he got a plan to goose things along. All they gotta do is conjure up two little, sweet-faced children from somewhere between the Jordan and the Mediterranean, give boaf a them some kind a severe case a the terminal vapors (you know...like where they need a whole bunch a them doctor-richifyin' bone marrow transplants...and not from  no discount, supermarket pork chops...from real, genuine, full-blooded hoomin-beans, I mean) slap 'em all over the media, then arrange for the Israeli one to get juiced up wiff  a few shots a Palestinian blood...and the Palestinian one to get juiced up wiff an equal measure a Jewish elixir. Stir in a little bit a Oprah Magic (you know she does it 24/7 now over on OWN) and WAA-LAA! PEACE IN THE HOLYLAND!!.....or maybe just a movie on Lifetime...We cannot always guarantee results in cases such as this.

Oh yeah...some a you are here to find out about 'sloppy loo-loo's.' Well, here's what they are....They are zombies, only well put together, verbally coherent zombies. You could sit pressed up against them on the bus, or see 'em on Dancin' Wiff the Stars and not even know the difference, 'cept when they bite off a finger, or take a quick, little nip a tittie or something....................