BITTEN OFF HAMMER TOES AND STOLEN FLINTSTONES COLORING BOOKS

Edith is sitting in the kitchen playing solitare. I'm sitting on the floor by the cocktail table in the family room typing this out. Please don't pick apart my clerical skills. I'm having a hard time finding the right keys tonight, because I feel a little queasy. Sarah wanted to give me a few drops (vampire blood) before she left. Funny, I kept to myself. I tried to avoid them. You know they can be dangerous at times. Not usually, but you never know. Still, she sensed it. She took a vial out of her purse and left it on the island in the kitchen. When I went in there, Edith said - That's for you. Take it. You'll feel better.........But I didn't take it. Maybe if they weren't so deep into their 'We're dangerous predators. Be careful' mode I would have. But I'm a human bean, thank you. And for the forseeable future, I'd like to mostly remain one. Besides, Tums work almost as good. Well, maybe fifteen percent as good.

The TV is on. Some women are fixing up a house. Edith likes those shows. Actually, they all do, the vampires most of all. Very anal, that race is. Neatly squared off rooms mean a lot. The fastidiousness of  Dracula. I guess it comes from commiting so many gruesome, bloody murders. Order at home. Chaos out on the streets. But I have to say...this place looks great. The floors have a rich, woddy gleam. The upholstered pieces have carefully stiitched welting in all the right places. Thick, fringed wool rugs anchor seating areas. The library looks just like a library should look. I'm telling you, a United States Senator, or like a cabinet secretary could live here. More slabs a granite in the kitchen and bathrooms than in a small church yard. And if something breaks, the Red Paint guys just whip out their tools and make it all better. We think one of them is about ninety two. The other one maybe three years younger. They got a rough 'I ain't young, but I'm still strong' look...like old farmers. And they're good in the garden too. We got pumpkins, gourds and dried cornstalks comin' out the wazoo. Looks like Martha Stewart went tastefully berserk all over the front of this  house. You should see it. They even put these little painted pumpkins with fall color plaid ribbons on their stalks 'round the edge of the sub-terranean pit. I don't know if the naked slave girls can appreciate it from their vantage point, but the rest of us think it looks real nice.

Annie's still out bitinng off toes somewhere. The elves and cherubs are off getting into mischief. I don't know if they're gonna actually drain anybody to the point of death tonight. They RARELY do that, but seeing how the bigger life-eaters been acting, who the hell knows. Juveniles are extreemly impressionable. Lemme go ask Edith if she can key in on out two sweetie-pies, Jonathon and Sarah, I mean. We KNOW where Papa is. He's playing hide the salami with a couple Mole girls. That's his favorite game. Loves being immortal. cause it give him more time to hide more salamis.

Edith puts down the cards, some deck that Baylah got her from the Borgata's Poker room. Then she clicks off the TV, takes a deep breath and closes her eyes. The house is quiet. I can hear the tick, tick, tick of the tall case clock (grandfather clock) in the living room. The lights are low (we got these really easy to modulate pot lights in the kitchen--- got the idea from Candace Olson on HGTV --- the Red Paint guys put 'em in). She breathing like a fortune teller....... I say - Well?.......She just keeps on breathing and ignores me......Then she makes this little fart (squirms around, so I'd think it was the chair, but I know it wasn't no chair) and starts to talk. (I guess releaseing small poofs of methane is part of the ritual). She says --- Two will die, a man and wife. The second quite deserved her life. (Then a few heartbeats of silence) The killers then ran out to play. Two more will die before the day......... Where is this all happening? - I ask............And she continues - A hall where fat girls go to sing. And near a statue of a king.......................So I go back into the family room and google halls, fat girls, singing, Philadelphia. A few seconds later the screen lights up with a list of Center City opera venues. Then I google statues of kings in Philadelphia and get a list with everything from a life sized Elvis somewhere on South Street (where all the hippies meet) to a bust of M.L.K. up in North Philly. ........... What else is new? Then they'll come home all guilt ridden (like they always do when they don't stick to people sent to them in visions.... true evil doers, I mean), start slamming doors, giving everybody dirty looks, torturing the naked slave girls and making a holy mess. Lucky we got Edith and the Red Paint guys. Thank God foor them. shit, my stomach's starting to hurt again. Where's that vial? Edith reads my brain and takes it out of her sweater pocket. Then she slides it across the polished granite surface. I grab it, pull out the tight, little stopper and chug it down. Then I go all bleary eyed. She starts laughing like the crazy, back woods Piney woman that she is. I give out a little burp and everything's all right. Even my eyesight gets a little better. And I don't know why, but I can remember Lincoln's Gettysburg Address. Oughta sell this crap to S.A.T. kids. Can you imagine what a whole gut full a this stuff is like? Soldiers should take it. They are trying to come up with an artificial version at that secret installation outside Jerusalem. If  you've been with us for a while, you know that.

Then I hear something. Two seconds later Annie comes sublimating in through the kitchen window (we got this real big architectural one), throws a few grungy, bitten off , old people's hammer toes, along with a Flintstones Halloween Coloring Book she boosted, onto the counter, where she proceeds to do a fake tap dance, while she pulls her skirt up over her head.

Such is life in our enchanted universe. I know you wanted to see the vampires kill somebody, especially after what you read last night, but you gotta remember. You gotta understand. We do not control this. And if  you go back to the first lines of the first episode that ever channeled through, you know that.......'cause right there it says ------- FIRST OF ALL WE MUST AGREE THAT WHAT COMES NEXT IS FICTION.........only the right word wasn't agree. It was pretend. So don't blame this on me. OK?

Fantasy is one thing. Reality is something else.
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NITEY-NITE

OVERTURE OF THE DEAD...

Jonathon and Sarah walked out onto the front lawn. It was already dark, naturally, and they habitually dressed in dark colors, so they were quite invisible. True, he can tolerate a bit of deep purple dusk, only it offends his vampiric nature. Darkness is the proper element. Sarah is still too new. She has no feelings one way or the other. But since any type of solar illumination has the potential to kill her, she goes along with her creator.

There's a small stand of evergreens out on the grass, three trees, each approximately twelve to eightteen feet tall. The side closest to the house throws an inky black shadow. Jonathon calls it 'the launch pad.' He steps into the darkness and motions for Sarah to join him. She does and they embrace. Close body contact is pivotal. Yes, she can sublimate on her own, though young vampires often encounter problems. And considering her recent, grievous injury in Jerusalem, who wants to take chances. So they held each other tight. She breathed in the scent of his cologne. What was it? Can't remember. I think it's that stuff Queen Victoria popularized. His 'familiars' pick it up for him at Saks in Center City. Eight hundred  dollars a bottle for that musky, sugary, piss water. But don't go by me. Disembodied spirits  (Zebulon, here) retain such a poor sense of smell. Perhaps it's pure ambrosia, rich with the oils of Shangri-La, or maybe just your grandmother's Jean Nate? What do I know?

Then he screwed up his concentration...held his breath...  squeezed his ass-cheeks together, just like a professional flamenco dancer (well, he MIGHT be Andalucian, after all) and they were off. Those magical, sub-atomic particles peculiar to the vampire race, called Prometheus Sparks (or quarks) began to vibrate. Strong pulses of energy coursed out from his body, engulfing his partner and exciting her fancy particles too. Sarah rather enjoyed that part of it. In less than a heartbeat they were sheathed in a misty invisibility. In two heartbeats they were gone, tearinng off through creation toward the urbane hunting grounds of Philadelphia's Center City. Nine ghost moans later, they were there.

The crowds down on the Avenue of the Arts were thick. Restaurants were full and the air positively crackled with the crisp, weekend charge of well-heeled suburban couples desperate to see and be seen. Our immortal twosome fit right in. Maybe ten or twenty years ago they would have stood out. She does appear to be a little older than him. But society has caught up and now they look just right. So hand in hand they strolled past The Kimmel Center, nodding and smiling to comely faces in the crowd. No rolling, brass oyster cart in any of the over-the-top dining establishments 'round here held such heady treats. What will it be? A cheating gold digger? Maybe an insincere, double-billing, attitude ridden physician? Jonathon loved them. Perhaps an ever so slightly respectable racketeer? That one over there, laughing with the couple exiting the Lexus , killed two people in his youth. Well, tits for tats. (is that how the mortals say it?) Tonight may be his night. Or, this could turn into an all-you-can-eat buffet. Evil doers, innocent, old maid school teachers, rabbis and circus clowns. Depends on their mood. You know the truth about these vampires now. So don't act surprized.

Jonathon knows someone. He has a familiar on staff at The Academy of Music. So they skip up the granite steps, past the still functioning gas street lights, waltz through the heavy glass and bronze doors and dissappear into the bright, crowded lobby. The man sees them. He quickly snakes through the human swamp and comes over. The handsome, stylish, young vampire leans close and whispers something his his ear. They smile and nod. Jonathon squeezes the man's shoulder in approval, as he and Sarah follow the loyal functionary deep into the hidden heart of this  gilt and velvet, one hundred and sixty year old house of mummery. Martin Scorsese used the place when he filmed The Age of Innocence. It is the most complete nineteenth century theatre in the country, with crystal chandeliers rivaling those in the Paris Opera House. But tonight the premises would be haunted by phantoms of another kind.

Fine, ornate, gold-leafed grill work circles each illuninated, glittering fixture. Workers can service these discreetly electrified confections via a tight crawl space running just above the ceiling. Jonathon and his mate occupied a snug, little perch up against the thick, iron hoist anchoring the main chandelier.What a perfect spot. How well suited to the task. They could gaze down at the slightly over heated audience, peering through the roccoco scroll work and make their decision. Who would it be? Who would die, victim to a romance glipsed only in their dreams. The bald man up front? What about Madam Face-Lift three rows back? Such choices. All I can say to these humans is don't go pee by yourself. Forget about exploring this dear old place. Hurry back to your seats and stay out of shadowy passageways, or you just might pee again......And then you'll die.....And then you'll disappear......A victim to The Music of the Night......

Douse the lights! Cue the overture. Let the opera begin..

And to all of you out there in lap-top-land, play something appropriate. Torandot would be nice......Yes, yes, yes, I know Nessun Dorma is a cliche. But it is that for a reason. Sink into its magic. And please come back tomorrow. For then the fun begins......

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LOOKS LIKE 'TOESIE FEVER' COMING BACK..........RSS feed link - http://vampirewonderland.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default

The whole atmosphere in the house changed. The juveniles felt it. The elves and cherubs pick up on things like that. They knew. It was like anything can happen now. Not that there weren't episodes similar to this before. But this one felt different. This time the hunger was deeper and even more viceral. I don't know? Maybe it's like those werewolf myths, where they change and go on berserk killing sprees at the time of the full moon? Vampires have lunar cycles too. That, we know. Perhaps the need just builds and builds till it explodes? Maybe Jonathon is just bitter and disillusioned about what transpired in the Holy Land? Yet that doesn't explain Sarah. Let's see what she does tonight. Papa, their twenty eight thousand year old patriarch, in a thirty two or three year old body, had experience with all this. He knows. But he just sits there in his leather club chair staring at the fire and inhaling those aroma candles. Or he goes out and runs to his 'hootchies.' That's what Edith calls them. OK, maybe they ain't hootchies. Maybe they got just a little more class than that, even the ones livinng down in the tunnels. It's just that he has so many. And he loves them. And he bites them. And he strokes them. And he pleasures them. Then he comes home. The Red Paint guys want to ask  him what he knows. I can see it in their eyes. They're not always stoic and quiet. Sometimes they whisper to each other, or to Edith. Sometimes they go out in the back garden after a rain, especially at night. And I see them saying things to the air and the trees and the grass, or a vole maybe. They'll smile and grin. It's like they know each other. And from what I've seen, I think the birch trees are friendlier than the oaks, but that's just my opinion.

Annie's real quiet too. She's planning something. Edith says it's the toe hunger coming back. That's when she silently walks up to the foot of the bed of a sleeping human and cracks through the bones of their feet, biting off a toe or two before she kills them. Then she spits out the little toesies, wraps 'em up in a kleenex, or maybe a lot a kleenexes and takkes 'em home for her collection. It's funny, but those nipped off toes never spontaneously combust like the rest of the body. 'Magic'.....it's just crazy.

The cherubs are dartin' about like flies in a smokehouse. They're gonna do some nasty stuff too. And they hardly ever do. Years go buy, decades they tell me, without a cherub 'kill.' They usually just zip by so fast you can't even see 'em. But then you feel this deep, stinging cut on the side of your neck, or on your face, or on your butt cheek and what do you know. Damn, it's really bleeding. They take a few drops here a wet kiss there and that's how they fill up. Except for the nasty times. Then they get like piranhas. Three or four manic, little cherubs can zip 'round a fat human so fast, whipping out those little tongues. In thirty five seconds (or twenty eight heartbeats, as the vampires say) he's ashes. No blood. Blue flame. Greasy residue. Nothing.

I keep to myself. They know I blog all this. They want me to. There's no real explanation for how they feel, or what they want. They're vampires. Look, we try our best to put a good spin on it, but they kill people. Sure, a lot of the victims deserve it.......but not all of 'em.

Wait till they all get out of here. Wait till it gets quiet. Won't be long. I can hear Jonathon and Sarah getting dressed now. He's slipping on those close fitting pants. She's adjusting the cups of some lacy, expensive, form-fitting brassiere. Fifteen more minutes and it'll be real still around here. Papa will be off playing cowboys and bar girls with his doxies. The other two will go catting 'round Center City. And the 'young ones' will just fly out into the night sky and raise hell. Edith'll sit down in the kitchen, eatting some cookies. Maybe she'll watch the little television over on the counter, do some word-search puzzles, or something. The Red Paint People will disappear. They're humans, but they give me worse creeps that the so called 'dead' ones. Then we can go down to the pit again. Then we can play games with the slave girls.........

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Nitey-Nite.....Don't let the Annie-Gal bite.....

TWO VAMPIRES SNUGGLING INTO EACH OTHER LIKE PUPPIES..........psst! check out the easy to use links down at the end of tonight's episode

Ah, the children of the night are all home once more. Zebulon is happy. My disembodied heart goes pippity pat. I float in and out of their sleeping chambers. Jonathon and Sarah settle into each other like puppies. Two naked golden retrievers. Personally, we prefered whipcord thin Royal Salukis when I was in the flesh. Two of them, we had, Bokar (morning) and Malika (queen). My father and uncles used to take them out into the desert to run down antelopes. Yes...antelopes are clean and pure. We were allowed to eat them. Nothing special, actually. Rather like goat meat. But since I was stoned to death by the time I was thirteen years old, my antelope suppers were few.

I think Jonathon is beginning to relax. It took a few hours, but his dreams are peaceful now. The girl, Sarah, always seems cool and collected to me. But what do I know. Jonathon's true identity eludes me. Is his story true? Is it a lie? Does it matter? I enjoy the flavor of his life, the elves lives too. And that is all that matters.  Work of his homecoming trickles out to the world. The nubile daughters of the Mole People know. So do certain other unusual individuals. The witch, that Edith, spews it out. She works her 'pow-wow' magic. She sings her silent songs. Perhaps you've heard them and never even knew it? How fortuitous that I should condense in a dear old place like Philadelphia., where magic floats like fish fry in the sea. Ah, I know! I'll visit the bear dens! The vampires sometimes sleep with them in the winter. Jonathon loves it. He holes up with the furry giants, snuggling in like an errant cub. And while his foster liter mates take suck the natural way, he draws nourishment through sharp, little bites and nips. Bear blood is so rich. Not as magical as human, yet delightful and earthy in it's own way. The huge, brown, cave bears are the best. Papa taught him that. Or am I wrong? It could be that he always knew it. Papa's only been here for less than a year. In the flesh, I mean. Before that we knew him as the 'spirit' of the 'Shaky Hand Man,' Annie's evil, night time friend.

How will they spend their second night? Killing? Walking? Observing? Torturing? Oh, the parameters of life-eater existence. Sometimes good...Sometimes bad.... Always naughty. Let me dart down into the pit. Zebulon wants  to tickle the bare, frightened slave girls. Do they know me? No. Can they see me? No..... But that does not mean they cannot feel my breath..... You've felt it, especially if you live in Philadelphia.....Come on. You know.....Tickle, tickle in the dark. Like a tiny, itchy spark...... I wander sometimes. I get curious...And I explore....... Call out to me.... I'll hear you.... I'll be there.......What would you expect? Zebulon has the heart  (and other organs) of a thirteen year old after all..... Any attempt at self control is pointless....... Disembodied, yes....... But oh how I remember!

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MIRACLES AND MADNESS...DISAPPOINTMENT AMONG THE NOT QUITE DEAD

I inhabit a world floating within a tiny bubble rising up through the fermanted liquid in a clear, crystal flute of champagne. An isolated moment to you is our ten billion years. But I heard. And I know the truth. So I answered. We too wear shapes such as yours. Our eyes see like yours. Our fingers touch like yours. And our souls feel just as deeply. Listen and allow me to share what I know.

Humans do not evolve. Humanity does. The whole is composed of many parts, each with a God given mandate to fulfill. Some are as sand grains strewn across the shore, meant to hold back the sea and preserve the rest. Others dance like moonbeams, decorating the darkness with wonder and light. While a few are like raindrops, sent from the sky to wash away corruption.

Those among you called vampires, those metamorphic beings, those spiritual changelings are like that rain, erooding creation and transforming it. I know your tale. I know what has transpired. Disembodied spirits fill the void. Souls incarnate everywhere. A lifetime here. A lifetime there. Your saints have cried here too. So I understand.

Jonathon feels lost. The Pilgrimage to Jerusalem did not work. The world (as you know it) is not changed. So he retreats into indulgence. He works his sins and laps up vile food. Look at him remembering other life-threads. Who is he now? Was his story just a lie? wilkravitz thinks so. Yet he is but a tiny grain holding back the sea. Jonathon ben Macabi.......Tomas de Macabe, in medieval Spain. Harry the dustman, or Lucy McGoosey. What does it matter?

Papa knows this. So does the Lady Renate. Though they keep close counsel, disturbing not the others. And Crazy Annie laughs. Our 'eightteen' year old changeling of a thousand years lays restless on his pallet, rejecting the pleasures of his consort, Sarah. And she remembers his actions down in the pit those heartbeats ago and forgives him. For she feels his despair. Jerusalem is lost. Or is it? Lailah is still there. The Chevalier Jean-Michel keeps faithful  guard, as do many other minor functionaries. The three musicians, Dylan, Islam and the ressurrected Lennon, continue spinning songs of peace. And the Dream still goes on. It may take a bit more time and time is an extreemly elastic substance. When you finish reading this, my world will be long gone, consumed by our swollen, microscopic sun, though the words left my brain long before.

The vampires exist to help you grow. Humanity, I mean . The phrase, Not the Shepherd, but the Sheepdog, is true. They are merely a component of the race (I see that your wilkravitz' communicating device is chuckling again. Perhaps he will teach it a lesson and crush it? Perhaps he will replace it with a new cooperative one two months from now when your gift-giving season arrives?) Does the smaller script confound you? I sincerely hope not.

Those you call life-eaters have absorbed a special essence. Some among you know it as the Prometheus Spark. Is it easy to bear? No? Is it necessary? Yes. Look, you could catch it too. Think of it as a social disease. Fatal, but not deadly. For those so burdened hasten not to die.

Ah, the world is so filled with spectacular things

I'm sure we should all be as happy as kings.
Who wrote that? Certainly not I.

Jonathon will get back on course. You have seen his evil face.....and not just his. Forgive them these transgressions. Wait for them to learn. And then wait again. For it will happen and happen and happen and happen. But so will the miracles. And now please excuse me. I am but a humble coachman. The stable beckons and my horses need their rest....

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SLY LITTLE GRINS AND EVIL VAMPIRE BITES

I heard them come in. It was late, but there was still a bit of dark time before the dawn. My room, little more than a cubicle, sits right near the stairs. They don't pay much attention to me....thank God. So I just lay there cringing and trembling with each foot step. Baylah was with them. She goes back and forth. Sometimes she stays at the shore. Sometimes she stays at her place in Center City. And occasionally she stays here. I could smell the liquor on them. Papa doesn't drink much, maybe some wine. Jonathon likes his brandy. Can you imagine walking into a bar these days and asking for a brandy. The other girl, Sarah takes a little vodka. But they seemed all  agitated. Must of had a fight in the car on the way home. I waited till the noise stopped. Then I crept out of bed and went over to the heating duct. You could hear all the way down into the sub-basement from there. So I laid down and listened.

I've been down there once or twice...maybe three times. They don't like when we go  down there, so I sneak when they're out. Look, they can smell it. They know when I've been there. Am I taking a chance? Who knows? But they get used to people, normal people I mean. They like having us around. So would they kill me? Well, I hope not. 

Good feed down at the shore. Baylah took two. Just some bums squatting under the boardwalk. Ripped their arms off first. She don't usually do that, but sometimes she plays games. I heard them. They tell the poor bitches in the pit all about what they did. Papa ripped off a mandible. You know, a lower jaw. Then he grabs the tongue in his teeth and tears it out. I think Sarah once even killed a guy like that over in Jerusalem. It's like a tradition in their line. Jonathon only ate one. Cornered her in the parking garage. Some pathetic, skinny, cheap thing running back to her car to get her cigs or like a tampon or somethning. She sees him grin. Ever see that old poster from A Clockwork Orange? Then you know the look, real slick and real sly. He practices in front of a mirror once in a while. Has this stance, the whole thing. Likes the way his hips swivel. Loves those close fitting pants and little leather bootkins. Yeah, he tries to be good, the lying son of a bitch. Makes us tell that story about his old, Spanish, Andalucian, Sephardic family. What a crock of shit that is. Maybe he met somebody like that. Maybe one of his first victims was like that . 

Shit. the laptop's acting up. I don't know what to do with this. It's so  old. And they don't understand. Sarah does. She's new. She's younger. But they won't listen to her. Bsically, she is just a lonely girl Jonathon picked up and ruined for his own pleasure. Human partner would a been all torn up a long time ago. She knows what she is. That's why she tries to do good things like giving little drops of blood to bums and sick people in the hospital and all. Sarah is the most neurotic one of all.

They got a box of salt wated taffy. Papa's shaking it. I can hear. Then he tells the girls in the pit he's gonna play a game Tears off the cellophane. Opens the box. Says he's gonna throw one down. The bitch that don't get it gonns get 'cut.' Jonathon knows the drill. He likes this game. Know what he does? He strips off all his clothes, jumps down in the pit, smiles at the naked, little tricks and takes up his position.

Snap! First saltwater taffy flies down. They spring for it, all grunting and scratching. One of them is the purple nerple queen. That's her thing. So the fat one yelps. Whoops, she loses. Papa yells - Eat it up! eat it up!.....The skinny one rips off the wrapper and shoves it in her pie hole. She starts chewin' and chewin'. You know how gummy that crap can be. And Jonny-boy commences to bite off a little too. Graps the loser, the chubby one one, and takes a tiny nip, right down on the front of her hip. Real close to the bone. Hell, that's got to smart, even on a fat girl like her. She screams. She winces. She cries. Her chin starts to tremble. They play the game a few more times. Baylah throws down a few. Fat one loses a few more times. Jonathon nips at her ass a couple times. Licks up all the rich, red blood, flips her over and gives her what you might call an 'unhappy' ending. She crumples down on the hard packed floor, gasping and all. He makes this real fast move, like he's going to take the other one too. Papa grins. Baylah laughs. Then he, Jonathon I mean, slaps the skinny one around a little, mostly on her boney rump. He don't really want to hurt her. She's a good one. They like the way she runs and jumps. Let her live a little. Give her a chance to 'enjoy' life.

Shit! I got to get back in bed. They're coming up. Oh, God, my heart's pounding. I hate when they're like this. You never know what could happen. Edith puts spells on us to keep us safe, but who the hell knows?

It's over. They wennt upstairs. Sometimes they sleep up there. It's not so hard to block out all the light. Hotels can do it. God I wish I was in a hotel right now. Got to pee sooo bad. But I will not open that door till I'm sure their sleeping. It'll be dawn soon..... I can wait till then..........

I heard them come in. It was late, but there was still a bit of darktime before the dawn. My room is downn stairs