Hungarian Rhapsody #2, Pt. 2~1926~L. Stokowski ~ The Philadelphia Orchestra... sets the scene for night-folk events

Some 'Atmosphere' And Back Story Leading Up To A Pivotal Night-Folk Confrontation
<watch the video>









The evil elferino known as Peter prepared to descend from the heights. A thousand feet is nothing to accomplished fliers, especially one trained at Topkapi. How he missed the incense and perfumes of that place. The artistry of Sinan. Friday devotions at Haiga Sophia, premiere religious sanctuary in The See of Abraham (encompassing the Abrahamic or <in order of appearance> Hebrew-

Christian-Muslim world). So he stood up, held the baby close, cradling her little head by his neck, stepped onto the barrier ....(how high... the city alight... from river to river... from The Schuylkill to The Delaware... stage set for America's nativity) surveyed the glittering towers, leaned forward and fell, shimmering into invisibility, as he and the little one drifted down to the sidewalk. There was a reception at The Comcast Center that night. Limousines bled glitterati all over the street. Tight-necked, capped toothed matrons (skin re-upholstery is a wonderful thing) and their steel haired, orange 'tanned' tuxedo clad husbands. Let me tell you, money changes everything. And no one noticed a discretely materializing elferino ('little brother' in the vampirino world), as he made his way through the crowd, holding the baby safe. 


For a time they just walked, spreading the scent, if you will. Tomas would find them. Night-folk know their own. The 'born' witch might sense Boopsie. After all, they're family. Blood will tell. But there was time. The night was young. So he took the baby into a yuppie supply house on Walnut Street and walked out with a state of the art stroller and a handmade stroller blanket too. Tags were still on it. But an elferino magician, trained in the Ottoman Court, is well versed in the art of obfuscation, so tags don't mean a God damned thing. And even though the alarm went off, no one ever heard.


He took the baby into a Waffle Shop, got a booth toward the back, ordered silver dollar pancakes, low sugar apple juice in a restaurant supplied sippy-cup, a scrambled egg to top it off and an iced tea for himself. Baby's eat a lot. Baby witchlings are no different. So he cut everything into tiny pieces, topped with the requisite butter and syrup and she ate. Warm food and a full belly spreads the scent.


Later, back out on the street, he picked up something. The taxi with the technically decapitated driver (see OLDER POST down below) was close by. They danced about each other, he and the baby, the taxi and the rest, spiraling in toward a certain meeting spot. The video, up above, will give you a clue. Well, more than a clue. 'X' marks the spot, America's oldest, continuously operating, grand opera house, Philadelphia's Academy of Music... The Grand Old Lady of Locust Street, holding court amidst The Avenue of The Arts. It's empty tonight. The vast, three thousand seat sister to La Scala is dark. But the ghosts are there. And soon an assortment of night-folk will be too.


Tomas loves the place and has since opening night... more than one hundred and sixty years ago...


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The 'Born' Witch, PIG BLOOD ANNIE Confronts The Vampires ... 3/19/14

The well dressed thirty five-ish 'yuppie' woman sat in the booth and sniffed. Not a big sniff, just a small inhalation. Most would never notice. But she tasted the ether in order to learn certain things. Snakes do that. 'Born' witches do too. And the outward appearance of the person in the booth was only a powerfully crafted disguise.... a manipulation of the skin and flesh and bone. Hair, eyes and clothes were easy. I suppose the nails were too. 

The waitress brought her food, chicken fried steak and mashed tatters. Menu said 'country' fried steak, but that's because owner thinks city people won't know. Might not realize it has steak in it. Not fancy steak like they give you at Lone Star or Out Back, more like thin sliced sandwich steaks. This is Center City, Philly after all. But the cook was from North Carolina and he scrunched it up and battered it real good. She got a whole big plate. Lumpy, home-style tatters too, with little bit a fried onions mashed in. Lady in booth don't want no gravy. That way she can spoon her corn on top and mix it all up. Got it with 'Texas' Toast too. Now you know how diner places feed you big portion, so you take some home and feel like they give you lot for your money. Most folks do that and have a real nice lunch the next day. But Pig Blood Annie eat the whole thing. She cut it up with them shiny, heavy, restaurant, stainless steel food stickers they give her and shovel it in... all hot and good and salty. Batter crunch up real good too. (laughs) Bet lot a folks gone run out and get chicken fried steak, if they can find it. Maybe now. Maybe tomorrow. Mister Never You Mind (me) be narratin' this tonight. And 'fore I made into a disembodied spirit (and sometime narrator) I like a big, old plate a that stuff. Burn me up like chicken fried steak too... oil, or kerosene or somethin'.  Tie me to a metal chair an' light it right up. Do it in a cement floored loft buildin'... factory place, 'cause they don't want no big fire, just enough to get rid a me. Lucky I can't remember it none. Well, actually, I do remember it... just make like I can't, 'cause that way it would be better. You see, when dead folk think 'bout somethin', we think it up real good an' it like touchin' a red hot iron, only not for no second. Can't pull your hand away. An' it all over your body. Them what read this know that.... Look, lemme tell you 'bout somethin' else, 'cause I would lay money you do not know what it feel like when you scrotum in flames.

Case you forgot, lady eatin' that big plate a food, Pig Blood Annie. She drink a lot a sweet tea too. Sugar can't do nothin' to no witch. She smell Boopsie too. That her little grandbaby. She also a 'born' witch. Know how to fly and all, though she do still pee the bed. If you look at Pig Blood now, you think it Laura Linney , pretty, skinny, blond haired lady what tell you when Downton Abbey 'bout a start. I know that 'cause them vampires watch it. They quiet now. Feel sad 'cause Conrad dead. Do not know if he a ghost yet. Nobody tell you that. You gotta see. When folks die they say - You wan' be ghost?... 'Cause they got write that stuff down. Some go - F*ck yeah, I wan' be ghost.... An' that's it. They ghost, til they sick of it an' go - Calgon take me away!... Then Calgon come an' take 'em away. Hope it the good Calgon, if you know what I mean. 

Pig Blood Laura Linney all done know. Wipe her face real good wit' the napkin. Rub it all over her lips. If it not witch trick, lipstick be all scraped off, but face color more or less permanent , 'cause she like it that way. Least til she 'crack' into somethin' else.

Then she give cash register woman money an' scram. Leave waitress five hundred dollar tip. Got some bastid name William McKinley on one side and five hundred dollar in old fashion writin' on back. I not know if he a president, or a school principal, or guy what make cough drop. But he on it. Who the hell care? I hope his dead mother happy.

Waitress not know, but next time she whip it out an show somebody, next time she go - Look what I got! Look what I got! I got five hundred dollar bill! I got five hundred dollar bill!... it gone go pffft an' be a use rubber.

'Born' witch walkin' toward townhouse now. She not wanna make no scene out on street. So she go 'crack' an' make herself in a nice, shiny, two inch long, cockroach. But a lady cockroach, 'cause she not funny that way. Sneak in through tight, little space under back door. House in good repair, but you know how it is.

Critter-killin'-guy leave gel crap for real cockroach, but 'born' witch not no real cockroach, so she OK. Although she do shit all over the kitchen jus' for spite. That what happen when you eat a big meal. 

Vampires all sleepin.' Edith sleepin.' Billy sleepin.' I not need him. Mister Never You Mind make keys dance all by hisself. I see that big, witchy cockroach run out the kitchen an' go upstairs... run up a riser... run up a tread... run up a riser... run up a tread.... She like a athlete. She like a regular, cockroach athlete. She gone get herself in where Tomas an' Sarah sleepin.' I know, 'cause light from screen show it all. An' what I not see, I know. 'Cause I got power too. Actually, y'all got power. Jus' gotta figure it out.

Somebody gone wake up with big, old, angry, 'born' witch virago settin' on they chest....

An' they not gone be too happy.....

Now, permit this Francophone, creole gentleman to percolate hisself out a here....

'Cause I gotta go haunt someplace else.

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