COPS AND VAMPIRES

Evelyn called the cops. That Gladys Kravitz (no relation to me, wilkravitz) skinny, nosy, two pound chicken old bitch called the cops. Luck they came after dinner. Can you imagine if they came during the day!? God only knows. Edith answered the door. There were two of them. Big guys. They like playin' cop. Like being bouncers for the city. That's what they looked like with their tight uniforms and their Popeye arms and all. People round here think they especially enjoy stickin' it to the Chestnut Hill crowd. You know - I make sixty thousand a year. You make ten times that. Now get  down on the ground and give me twenty.

One of them says to Edith - Excuse me ma'am, is the owner of the house home?.....She says - Yes. Then her eyes go all crazy, rollin' around and looking side to side. So the other whats-his-name-pro-wrestler-Jericho-wannabe says -  Is it all right if we speak with him? We'd like to ask him a few questions. But Papa is sharp. He spruces up real fast. Comes walking out of the kitchen, doin' his best 'ain't I a cool dad in a movie?' impersonation. Shakes hands with the 5-OH  dudes. Leads 'em into the 'parlor' (no, for real. the vampires actually call it 'the parlor.'). And five heartbeats later (they got me talkin' like them) everybody's sittin' around chewin' the fat. Do I know where he gets the fake I.D.'s from? No, I do not. But he has 'em. One for him. One for Luna. Some kinda paper identifying Little Annie. I am a personal assistant. Edith is a housekeeper. The Red Paints are down in  the sub-basement rec room watching Mrs. Doubtfire with the elves and cherubs. (for some reason, they get along especially well). And everything's honky-dory.

Edith says she wasn't hurt much. She sticks out her thick 'almost an old lady' pasty, white leg and shows them. Vampire blood infusionns work real fast. So except for two small bruises and one tiny, practically healed scrape, she's good as new. Well, not new, just as good as an almost old, pasty, white fat lady can be. You know what I mean? They laugh and laugh  about the crazy nextdoor shrill bitch who feeds her kid shitty pizza. The whole neighborhood knows that story. The kid has a blog about it. No, really. I've seen it. It's caller 'Hi, My Name is (can't say it for legal reasons) and My Mom Feeds Me Shitty Pizza. If I remember right, she's already got thirtytwo hundred hits.. Jeez, they gonna put her on Hoda and Kathy Lee soon....And now our next guest is...the girl whose mom feeds her shitty pizza...

Well, anyway, the Steve Jerichos stand up and get ready to leave. They buy the story that it was just some kid out to steal the patio furniture for scrap or something. She got knocked over. That's it. No big deal. The fact that Edith spiked their High-C with a teeny bit of vampire blood kept in the kitchen for just that purpose didn't hurt either. Everything worked out. We were lucky. Wanna know how lucky? Mrs. Doubtfire ended while the two crew-cuts were still up there. The cherubs start gettin' restless. They start flying around banging into the sub-basement door They wanna go upstairs and get Elmo or something.. You can't control them. The older Red Paint guy almost peed himself. How you gonna explain away four flyin' babies all dressed up in these real glittery, custom made (blame Luna) 'Dancin' With the Stars' tee shirts? Jeez! But even Edith can be shrewd when she has to be. Clicked on the TV real loud. Said she hadda watch American Idol.  Papa walked the boys in blue over to the door. Makes some joke about - Don't you guys have to be off catchin' hoboes with shotguns or something. And that was it.

So now we got Evelyn to worry about......Papa will take care of her....Such is life in the...(what do we call it?)...oh, yeah, ...in the wonderland.

NOW HERE COMES THE EASY TO FOLLOW, HOW TO SET UP YOUR OWN BLOG AND COMMANDEER ALL MEDIA INFORMATION......
1) establish an email account
2) go to blogger.com. If, for some obscure reason that does not work, go to blogspot.com.
3)  click on 'starting your own blog, or whatever the graphics are calling it these days. you CAN'T MISS IT.
4) fill out the quick, short, easy form. EVERYTHING IS COMPLETELY FREE AND REMAINS FREE ALWAYS. The whole form only contains about five questions. a) your name, address, phone etc. b) name of blog. c) email address...and that's about it.
5) they'll ask you to click onto your choice of background 'wall papers' and colors. Hey, when I did this I was a complete computer beginner and I had no problem at all. It was scary how easy it was to grab hold of a piece of  the worl-wide media.
6) you'll see a 'dashboard' (control panel that is self explanatory. Just single click onto whatever it is you want to do...New Post (write new material) check your 'stats' (statistics on number of viewers you've had), change backgrounds...it's all easy to understand.
7) then you're 'on the air.' that's it.
8) if you can type on a standard word processor style keyboard or typewriter you're all set. there is no limit to the length of your blog posts. the space provided will grow to accomodate the material
9) if you are on blogger.com...and you probably will be...your link will be http://thenameyoupick.blogspot.com/.    Your name will appear where it says thenameyoupick. I just put that there as an example. remember, no spaces.
10) then stick your link up wherever you can...on your twitter profile page...on facebook...anywhere. ...you need publicity...make comments on other people's blogs. when you sign in, your link goes up automatically. People will start to see your link. Tweet about it often, but don't be too obnoxious...like we all sometimes get, or people will call you a spammer. But don't worry about that. Get going and have fun. Post often or readers will lose interest. Pick a specialty for yourself-----reprint travel deals from other sites...critique TV or movies, or restaurants, or fashions, or sports...whatever. Just DON'T PUT THIS OFF. DO IT. Fame (even just the chance for it) is intoxicating. And while it may take anywhere from a couple weeks to a few months to build up a following, stick with it. Big watermelons grow from little seeds. If you know how to post graphics (I'm still learning) so much the better. Now go out there and become a STAR!!!

THE RECKONING OF THE DEAD

Lo, behold. I relate the tale of Jonathon and Sarah. Afloat they were in the Eternal Sky, with no one save each other. Time was not time. And space was not space. Even the 'bottom' sides of clouds gave no clue,  for all were round and rich and full. And the light was not a light, but a radiance, eminating from all points. Their bodies drew it in and gave it off in equal measure.

But then there came a sound, a chord such as a Kashmiri master might have struck upon the royal sitars at the court of a Mogul King. And the universe (or this part of it) was changed. A shadow appeared in the region below our twosome's feet. It spread out, giving birth to a vast plain and the world was real once more. The clouds pulled together and darkened, til a soft rain began to fall.  Fresh growth softened the ground  and people snaked up from the soil, each dressed in a costume from their mortal life.

Sarah and her Andalucian princeling fell down with the droplets, splashing on the surface. They began to walk through this throbbing mass of souls, pushing their way passed knotted throngs of arguing individuals. She wore the clothes of her lifetime. He wore the garments of his, a long, fitted silk tunic, belted at the waist, trim,  riding britches tucked into close-fitting, fine leather boots. A voice began to whisper, a voice only they could hear. And it was the voice of the man with the short white beard.

He said - Witness the Reckoning of the Dead. Each who was wronged confronts the wrong-doer. And most play both roles, for who has not harmed others? ...Why are we not approached? Why are we not approaching others? - asked Jonathon........The voice said - Oh, you will, when your time is  up. But creation still wants you. This is not an end. It is a beginning. And if not of the first act, at least of the second. The same holds true for you too, Sarai (pronouncing the name in the original Hurrian manner.). So watch, observe and tell me what you learn.

They saw fighting and finger pointing and crying and sobbing. They saw denial and excuses and shame and guilt. Some resolved their differences and embraced. They laughed and smiled, walking off toward quieter places. Small children stood watching, wide eyed and fearfull, til claimed by loving relations. Radiant beings progressed through the people, occassionally pausing by hopelessly silent men and women. Angelic hands rested on trembling shoulders. People were lead away.

Where are they going? - asked Jonathon.......To a place of Hard Work. - said the voice. For they have much to do. They have much to make right. And then the plain was empty. All was quiet. But after a heartbeat or two a wind began to blow, scattering  the ashes of  old, forgiven wrongs.

The vampires were instantly transported to a room, a warm place with deep, velvet chairs. They sat before a welcoming hearth. And the man with the short white beard was there. He gave each a cool, silver cup filled with sweet, wine-like nectar. Jonathon hesitated. Sarah did too. The man just smiled and brushed their fears away. You can drink. You can eat. - he said. This is not your world. What you are there does not follow you here. When you were out on the plain, did the sunlight harm you?......Sarah smiled and laughed. And Jonathon saw the truth of it. So they drank and a few heartbeats later, when platters were brought forth , they ate.

What did they learn? Next time we'll find out. But answer me this...What did you learn?.....

BAYLAH WANTS TO TALK

I got the horn tonight. It's me, Baylah. Just got back from the Jersey Shore. Not that cartoon MTV thing. I'm talking about the real deal. Look, I know you know my 'boyfriend' has a nice beach house down there. And I do like to play poker. The restaurants, obviously, hold little charm for me. Oh, sometimes (when my mister) eats, I do take inventory of all the fat asses at the other tables and occassionally pick out 'something' for later. Yes, I stick to the rules. It's always somebody who deserves it. What do you think? But we did see a good Cher impersonator the othe night working one of the lounges. And she did give me the mike, because you know how everyone says I look like Beyonce? Well, the band goes into All the Single Ladies and I belt it out real good. Vampires can do that. We are an extremely talented breed. People were clapping and clapping... But you know what? It's hard at times, because they think we're monsters. I'm not a monster. I have feelings too you know.

Sometimes I walk into maternity hospitals. I go right up to the glass and smile at the new born babies. Nobody stops me. Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know all about that vampire 'stink eye' stuff. And sure, maybe that's it...partially. But what I do, is always carry a couple of nice  gifts, stuffed animals (the good kind), or a short stack of high-priced, hard cover children's story books. If they do ask (and they very rarely do), I'm somebody's aunt. I love watching the little ones. It relaxes me. And I do leave the gifts at the nurses' desk. I suppose somebody gets them. Sure I pick up stuff for the cherubs once in a while. That's fun too. Yet if I walk through one of those indoor shopping galleries they got in some of the big money buildings around here and see some pudgy, little cutie in a stroller, I think--- would my baby have looked like that?.....God only knows. I talk about this with my boyfriend. He says I still must have DNA in the middle of all my cells. The only thing is, I don't know if it's 'live' DNA, or just a preserved record of what was once DNA. Who can tell? Maybe one day that will be enough.

Maybe one day humanity will stop being so judgemental and afraid. Maybe then vampires will finally be accepted. Some of us could work in hospitals, providing drops of blood for  otherwise hopeless cases. Bet the docs will try to find a way to bill for that. Other ones might be humane executioners within the prison system. Some might just be pilates instructors. Who the hell cares? Maybe it'd be a good idea to forget about those humane executioners, because in my ideal future, they're not still executing people. Want to hear something funny? Sometimes I actually wonder if we're ever gonna see a vampire president of the United States. Probably have a werewolf president first (if there were werewolves). People like dogs. Ahhhh, I'm just talkin'.....But I would like to see how flowers look in sunlight though.

Papa says they used to love and revere life-eaters when he was comin' up. So what happened? Why does God keep makin' us? We must be good for something. Maybe I'll kill myself a no good rotten bastard tonight. That ought to make me feel better.........

VAHMPEERIGO..la lingua vampirismo

It it strange that no one ever remarked on this before, but vampires do have a dialect of their own. It contains vocabulary, syntax and grammar borrowed from various tongues. This is due to the fact that life-eaters tend to travel about. Most can sublimate or are privy to other rapid means of transportation. In one night they may hear Italian, Croatian and French. Others may flicker between Spanish, Portuguese and Arabic. The Romance languages tend to predominate due to their Latin origoions. Older vampires, who tend to influence the others, still remember Roman times, as well as the middle ages a period when educated individuals only spoke Latin.

I am familiar with Vahmpeerigo, Jonathon's dialect. It is largely an older form of Spanish, with an admixture of Arabic and Hebrew, plus a smattering of Portuguese. French and Italian words have also found their way into the mix.

Vampires from the eastern Mediterranean speak Koine-eeta, a Greek, Aramaic pastiche. Indeed, some scholars now believe that Aramaic itself was originally a life-eater dialect mixing Hebrew, Arabic, Syriac, Coptic and other forms. They taught it to the prophets of The Unitarian Testament, in a effort to expand the message and make iit understandable to a wider mix of people.

Other vampire linguistic forms exist in various locales. The regional tongues of Ancient China were married together by 'certain personnages' influential at court,  to become Mandarin. Similar things happened in Slavic speaking areas and among Germanic speakers, as well.

We see a related  thing happening in our own time. Television, the internet and other instantaneous methods of communication blur the lines between seperate, discreet languages. Mass migrations of people does the same thing. English itself, resulted from a mixing of Celtic, Latin, Germanic, and early French forms. In America, we're seeing a facile blending together of English and Spanish which has been going on since 'Wild West' times. Examples = Buckaroo/vaquero...ranch/rancho...pistol/pistola...and everybody knows what loco, rodeo and sombrero mean.

So, in many instances, vampires, due to their familiarity with different peoples and locales, often served as catalysts for progress, expansion and cultural evolution. And while technology fills a similar role today, the debt owed our nocturnal brethren is huge.

Adieus mameejos (adios mi amigos)...(so long, my friends)...Until we meet again. 

WELCOME TO THE WONDERLAND

Jonathon and Sarah walked across the vast, glossy floor, their bare feet padding on the cold, smooth surface. The man with the short, white beard smiled. He shook Jonathon's hand. For Sarah he had a curt, respectful nod.  He said - Well, now it begins. Would you care for any clothing?.......Yes please, - said Sarah. The breeze off the sea is quite chilly........And at that instant they were wrapped in the finest, light woolen, Alexandrian style garments. Snowy tunics fastened at the shoulder, topped by warm, soft cloaks, well made, lace- up sandals. The protection provided was quite comforting. Jonathon looked around the expansive, classic enclosure. Oh, he knew where they were...or where they were supposed to be......The Great Library of Alexandria, am I right? - he said.......Yes - answered the man with the short white beard. We find this space to be quite inspirational. The Ptolemies spent many hours here.........But it burned. There was a fire. It's been gone for over two thousand years? - asked Sarah.......The man just laughed politely and said - Gone? What thing is ever really truly gone.? Come, let us be seated......And they were. The table was long and highly polished. The three of them occupied one end. Sarah fingered the inlaid, Greek chairs. She quietly whispered - What kind of magic is this?......She turned to Jonathon and asked - Can Papa do this?.....But before he could answer, their 'mentor' said - This is not magic.......What is it? - Said Jonathon......This is power. - said the man......And he showed them scrolls filled with secret knowledge. He opened small, silver boxes, freeing the words of ancient philosophers for the two guests to hear. He spoke of  worlds beyond worlds and gestured into space, conjuring up dense, smoky, pale colored images of planets yet unknown.

Where are we? - asked Sarah.... You are in the Hall of the Mountain King - said the man.....And who is that? What is his name?- added Jonathon......But the man with the short white beard just laughed, as the room dripped away leaving them to float in a soft blue sky, powdered with cool, fluffy clouds. They looked down. But there was no down, just air and sky and clouds. The man was not with them, though they could hear his voice. It said - Every place is one place. And all time is but a heartbeat.........They embraced, suspended in that fashion for what felt like many, many heartbeats. Indeed, some might call it an eternitiy.

Space never ends and time is but an illusion. We merely  conceptualize things the way we do to keep from going insane. And now you know. Am I Zebulon? No. Am I Johannan? No. I am....and that is all you need to know. Now go. Click onto other sites. Examine other posts. Talk to your digital friends. But think about things. Think very carefully.....And will I be back?.....Well, perhaps that is not the proper qiestion...For in fact, where would I go?..........And once again...welcome to the wonderland.........

WAIT'LL 'ABNER' HEARS ABOUT THIS!!

We could not get anything out to you earlier. It was rough around here for a while. wilkravitz couldn't type nothing. He was helping. The elves were helping. Everybody was screamin,. The cops almost came. Can you imagine, cops, here? Jesus Christ (Who I've had the pleasure of meeting at a banquet or two), that's all we need!

This is what happened. It was pitch dark. She was out back. She was all alone. Then she starts screamin'. She yells - Help! Rape! Murder! Murder!.Help me! God help me! Help me!!! Only nobody was home here. Even the elves and cherubs were out flyin' 'round somewhere. Like pixies, they flit. You know how they go. But Evelyn, the bitch next door, the one that gives her kid shitty pizza, is out back a her house with them three turd factories she's got. Big monsters, huge, they slobber all over. They got this low rumbling bark. Worse than thunder it is. Saint Bernards, that's it! They're Saint Bernards.

So they come crashing through the hedge. Why not? She llets 'em crap over here anyway. All bellowin' and you know how their dog-lips flap all over? But the funny thing is they ain't even scared. Johnny Jump Up was out there! And we  don't even know what he is. Not for sure anyway. But to those horses he was just some funny thing that needed a little killin'. That's all. Simple. They dive right in. And we are talkin' about sixhundred and seventyfive pounds of dog flesh here. You know, momentum gotta count for something.

Then there was this big 'wuff.' That came outta Johnny. I saw him arc right up into the air. Don't know iif he jumped away, to like, you know, escape, or if the dogs did it. But those fat slob dogs are surprisingly light on their feet. And they rocket right after him. Two of 'em got him pinned up against this big, old tree. Everybody thrashin' around and thrashin' around. The third one (I always knew that one was a real killer) jumps up and locks its maw 'round his skinny throat. The neck too! The neck too! The whole clammy thing was in its mouth.  And its bitin'. And it's growlin. The other two are chompin' away at his legs. You know, givin' him the same as he was givin' Edith.

Big, phoney Evelyn comes runnin' over yellin' - What's a matter!? What's goin' on!? Who's screamin'? Oh, my God!  Oh, my God!.....She spots Edith, who's tryin' to sit up and steady herself. Only Edith is about to pass out, 'cause her leg is just gushing blood. I will say this though, that next door bitch did whip off her sweater and use it to hold back some of the blood. I gotta  give her credit  for that.

But then something really, really major happened. If they made a move outta it, they couldn't do better with CGI. The main dog, the killer dog bites Johnny's head off.  No, he does.It goes 'POP,' and flies right into the  bushes. The three beasts jump back real fast, as if to say - That ain't supposed to happen. So quick, like a bullet, like a jack rabbit or something, Johnny Jump Up's body goes skittering into the bushes, palms that nasty head (the teeth were still snapping)  tucks it up against his boney chest like a wide receiver and leaps  off through the trees.

I think Evelyn saw it. It was dark out there and I can't be sure. But I think so. Now you know she keeps little flasks of Jack hid all over that house a hers. So I'm hopin' she writes it all off as just another 'episode' or something. Anyway, Papa was back by then. He comes runnin out. Takes control real fast. Evelyn only wants to call 911. But Papa won't let her. You know that. Good thing she got the 'hots' for him. Edith is somewhat, partially back alive. She starts mumbling - I'm Ok. I'm OK. So Papa picks her up, carries her into the house, leans over and gives Evelyn a big wet one just as they're about to go inside. You know, like to thank her for bein' such a help. Think her knees almost buckled. But at least it made her forget about calling the cops and all. So she claps her hands  (I hate the way she does that) and rounds up the three monsters. They go home and that's it. Still didn't shit.

But don't get me wrong. Edith would have died. Only Papa gave her a little vampire style Gray's Anatomy magic. Laid her out on the leather sectional in the 'family room.' Bit into his finger to make it bleed. Shoved it down her throat. She starts suckin. And five minutes latter, leg is mostly all healed. Edith wants a glass  a cherry soda. wilkravitz comes in and mops up the blood. You know with good leather you can do that. You get what you pay for. A  couple elves start straightening up outside........And Johnny Jump Up? Who the hell knows?.....Only thing is...Evelyn starts makin' phone calls. You know Gladys Kravitz? No, she ain't related to wilkravitz! I'm talkin' 'bout the nosey neighbor woman on that 'Bewitched.' show.. Well, seems like we got one too.............

BAD LUCK FOR EDITH

This is Zebulon talkin' now. They got some big spiritual-educational hoo-haa goin on over in the Old World, or some place just over the rainbow from the Old World, so everybody's busy over there. Tonight, they ain't talkin'. You got me. Things are quiet here in Chestnut Hill. You know how it is  around Philadelphia this time a year. Sometimes you get a day when the sweat and grease just runs right off you. And other times everythings all nice and cool and ever-so-slightly damp. Today was one of the 'other' times and tonight was even better. Sky was calm, overcast, but calm. Twilight birds chirpin' away. Crickets playin' their little, squeeky cricket fiddles. Shame they only know one or two different tunes. Edith was sittin' out back. You see, they got this real nice, little patio off the kitchen with brick pavers, high priced, white lacquered metal patio furniture, some real big potted plants. There's a little fountain over by the corner and you can hear it gurgling even when you ain't lookin' at it. Think I saw that Martha Stewart woman on tv puttin' together somethin' just like it. What was Edith doin' out there? I don't know exactly. We had different vegetables when I was last in the flesh. But I think she was 'shellin'' some beans or somethin'. You know, they still had to buy food for the humans. wilkravitz ate. Edith ate. Them Red Paints (I think we got three now) know how to polish off a platter or two. Sometimes one a Papa's business 'familiars' will come by to talk money or something. You gotta offer 'em a cup a coffee and a piece a babka. Luna likes to try her hand in the kitchen when she feels like. Oh, she don't try to eat none of it. And she's better than the Old Woman (remember her?) and Annie used to be, or them elves used to be. Guess she still thinks about the stuff they used to feed her over at the Anti-Enchantment-Bureau.

But this time, Edith was all alone. The life-eaters were out alley-cattin' all over the place. The Red Paints were takin' one a their long, silent walks up and down Germantown Avenue, not talkin' to nobody (maybe they'd nod) and lookin' in the shop windows.It got dark, real dark, real fast. She didn't put no outside light on. What leaked out through the French doors was enough. Bugs weren't bitin' much. Reminded her of the Pines ('cept there the bugs never hold back). See, this part of Chestnut Hill, back by Glengary Road, got lotsa trees. And some a the big lots back up onto more trees. Think there's some kind of a park or an arboritum or somethin'. They say the park land snakes all the way through this municipality, till it peters out by Center City. That's why you see skunks and bobcats sneakin' 'round them fancy high-rises sometime. And it is also why certain Center City creatures occasionally show up in Chestnut Hill. This town is funny that way.

Edith was hummin' some old Piney hymn...'Source of Peace,'  I think it was. We had one like it back in Babylonia when I was a boy. 'Makor Shalom,' (Source of Peace) we called it. Tune was a little different though. She wasn't peelin' them beans no more. That bowl was sittin' on a table. Edith was just breathin' in and breathin' out, enjoyin' the night air. But that's when the shadows started playin' tricks with her. First it was a funny kind a shakin' out by the dogwood tree. Maybe a bird? Then it transformed into a skitterin' up on the conservatory roof. Raccoons sometimes did that. Finally she felt a little tickle-breeze on the back of her neck. She batted it away. Coulda been a moth. But the night spooks were gettin' to her. Bad enough sharin' a house with them refugees from some Abbott and Costello movie. She didn't need 'em out in the Lord's good fresh air too. So she hoisted herself up and made for the door. But before she could manage even two shufflin' steps, that God damned light in the kitchen went out. Just went pffft! Just like that. How come they never give you no warning?.......Shit - whispered Edith......Shit - whispered something right behind her. That caused her not so young heart to skip a beat. She called out for wilkravitz. She yelled - Wil! Wil!...But he warn't home. I think he was out on the Avenue too, maybe buyin' a magazine or somethin'. I know he's been talkin' 'bout goin' on horseback rides or pony rides. But I don't think they're open at night. So that thing behind her crouched down and grabbed her 'round one of her swollen ankles. She almost died. But it wasn't death. It was just one a them upper stomach hernias. Still, she did  lose her none too stable balance and smacked down real hard.  What a cryin' shame. Scrapped her chin, her palm, her elbow, right on the rough bricks. Edith tried to get up, only she was shakin' so bad and cryin. That's when the 'thing' sank its cold, sharp teeth right into the meat of her lower leg  A pathetic, visceral fear gripped her so hard, she couldn't even scream. But she did manage to raise her head a bit. And there on the shiny, starlit  surface of the glass panes on the French door, she could see it. She could see that boney Johnny Jump Up thing rippin' out chunks of her leg....  And them crickets never once stopped fiddlin'......