Papa Takes a Slight, Quantum, 'Jug Handle' On His Way Back To Philadelphia and Visits With An Old, Old, Old Vampire Friend

Luna went on ahead. Papa sent her off through the ether on her own. Look, if he can banish souls to featureless, gun-metal, celestial orbs rotating under homogenized, heavy gray skies, zapping a comely, vampirina-doctor back  to her place in Philadelphia is no big woof.


But he, himself, made a little side trip, in response to certain 'tingles' coming to him from a remote cave deep in the wildest wilderness, where the tundra meets the forest. You won't find it on a map. But I can tell you where it's supposed to be. Travel north from the shoreline of a beautiful huge, fresh water sea decorating the planet from amidst Siberia's heartland. The reindeer know the way. Follow them. 


You'll see a small, little, narrow, dark niche beckoning into a cliff-side . The Tunguska Event (Google it) happened nearby. Go inside. Don't be scared, or at least try not to be. Listen for the eerie vibrato of Native Mongolian throat singing. A most special being inhabits that place. Is he a vampire? Yes, but not like any we've encountered thus far. This one is an 'old bones'..... an ancient one.....even older that the illustrious Renate. And what do we mean by 'old bones'?...... His build....His structure....His skeleton.... His physical being. For this life-eater is a Neanderthal, stocky and muscular, like a gymnast on steroids. And don't stare at the noble brow, or the strong nose, or the small (though finely chiseled) chin. He knows he's striking...So don't make a big thing out of it.


Papa likes spending time with this one. Words are few. They communicate via a multitude of distinct, guttural vibrations ..... an organic language; visceral in every way. Just be quiet and sit there. Melt into the dim, orange glow from the fire... and breath in an original, pristine truth.


Oh, he'll know you're there. And he can 'crack' your body to him in an instant...... They'll say - Where's Larry? Where's Dylan? Where's Brianna? Where's Bam-Bam?....... But you won't be there. The chair in the basement will be empty. The monitor will still flicker...but you'll be gone.


So DON'T MAKE HIM MAD.


Come back tomorrow. No, really. I mean it. If you behave, everything will be OK...


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SOMETIMES THE VAMPIRES DRAW IN AMONG THEMSELVES FOR A REASON

It started in Atlantic City. Baylah and Sarah and Tomas came back to the suite. They'd finished distributing their bounty. They gave out a few hundreds, some premium watches and the deed to a nice, modern condominium in a nearby town.


Sarah wanted to retire. Daylight was coming. Tomas was already in the shower. But Baylah felt restless. She turned on the television and began pushing buttons. TRUE BLOOD came up, filling the huge screen with it's own 'take' on vampiric truth. They spoke of spirituality...... night-folk spirituality. They spoke of higher calling and the need to make sense from moral chaos. 


And Baylah understood. She called to the others. They came in and they saw. They saw just how much the current HBO story had in common with their own recent past. For one or two years ago, their kind traveled a path much like this.


'Purpose' is everything to vampires. At least it is to thinking vampires...noble vampires. They see themselves as tragically flawed members of a demi-angelic host. And they take vows, special vows, religious vows......'Cull the wicked. Help the worthy.' Indeed, most still practice some form of their original, mortal, creed. Tomas, for example, is devout, steadfast in his beliefs and possessed of a 'perfect faith.'Sarah is likewise reverential in her own way.


And apparently so are the vampires on television. What a surprise.


If you'd like to explore our path, the one we've revealed here for two years, please scroll back to the beginning. This is our 712th posting. Our tale is a long one. 


And those of you who've been with us since the beginning will remember these words...'First of all we must agree that what comes next is fiction......


The Vampire Wonderland will go on. 


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THE VAMPIRES GO BACK TO ATLANTIC CITY

It was Baylah's idea. She likes the new Revel Hotel and Casino. I think they call them spas now too. Anything but 'gambling joint.' They never say that word. Nobody loses. They just buy too much entertainment. So she and the blood drinking Bickersons (Tomas and Sarah) called for a car and left. That's what they do. They call for a car. It's something new. Tomas has this familiar who owns a limo service. The drivers don't know what they 'do' for a living, just a trim, stylish, darkly handsome young guy and his chocolate and vanilla luscious sweeties. A lot of high rollers are like that. Well, not a lot. Most are hairy knuckled, old fat guys, but a few...a few.


They play Nights In White Satin. You know, TheMoody Blues. Days of Future Passed is a current favorite of his. Tomas, I mean. Has it on that little gum stick thingie he calls an iPod. Oh, and they brought me too. 'Me' is wilkravitz. Gave me twenty five hundred dollars in gambling money and everything. Even bought me some new sneakers, high priced ones too, from that posh, ocean front mall that connects to Caesar's. Did it as soon as we checked in. Once in a while they're really nice to me. All I gotta do is post for them right before we go to sleep, which at this time of year is like 4:50am. I can't tell you what kind of sneakers the got me. Baylah says we need a 'product placement' thing first. Her boyfriend tells her all that stuff. He's like a big financier lawyer. Looks like Mitt Romney, only his breath stinks. I don't know. Maybe Mitt's breath stinks too, only I ain't never smelled it. Can you imagine that? Candidate give a press conference, nod and say - The lady wit' the ill fitting brassiere in the second row....... She stand up and go - How come you breath stink?..... And he gotta answer it..... Like when Howard Stern used to send people to torment Regis in the street.


We in Mister Stinky Breath's regular suite right now. His sister usin' the big house in Margate and she would shit herself all over them Brazilian hardwood floors if she thought she was 'roomies' wit'  a bunch a vampires. You know some folks are just not very tolerant.


Edith did not come with us. She tryin' a talk sense to  Annie and her forty year old baby doll, Conrad. Tryin' a dissuade them from hightailin' it out to L.A., so's they can bust into the talk show business. You know six or seven year old vampires get the stupidest ideas. Annie say they got a agent in California who pimp for vampires. Say she talk to him on the telephone. Real ones too. Not them soap opera-johnnies they throw at you these days.


Edith catch her lookin' for money. Say she gonna hide them boxes real good. Annie say - You better not, you fat bitch, not if you wanna keep them scrunched-up, hammer toes you got........ But Edith ain't scared. What genuine, Jersey Pine Barrens, hoo-doo woman gone be scared of a little bastid like that? Wait'll Papa get back. He gone go POW, right to the Outside a the Sun. That the hottest part. Annie say Edith look like a old lady version a that fat, little, rolly-poly girl they got in Hairspray. Annie like that show.......'Good Morning, Baltimore!'.....she sing it 'bout a million times.


We gettin' dressed a go see Sarah Silverman. She gonna talk trash 'bout Jesus and Moses and Lucille Ball and Silly Putty and everything. Then she gonna smile at the audience and make faces, so we know how cute she is. Tomas don't like her. He a holy-roller...a Jew, holy-roller, but a holy-roller. Kind a complicate things for a vampire, but he find ways a work around it. 


Afterward, late at night. We gone go under the Boardwalk an' give out hundred dollar bills to poor folks. One lucky son-a-bitch gonna get hisself  the deed to a two bedroom, two bath condominium apartment in Egg Harbor Township, New Jersey. Vampires got lots a shit like that. Once they gave a guy a whole set a gold false teeth....not to wear... to sell. A cleanin' lady waitin' for a bus once got a genuine, all diamond, solid platinum, Autro-Hungarian tiara. Looked good on her too.


Semi-dead folks can be generous that way.


Papa (Luna too) should be back from Mermaid and Merman Land tomorrow night. 


Bet that Annie gal startin' a shit herself.....in a vampirina matter a speakin'...


Mister Never-You-Mind waftin' through me. That how come I talk like this. But if you a friend, you know'd that for a long, long, long, long time.

Nitie-nite...


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Little Annie Wants to Run Away (and make a 'mommy')

I don't like when MY Conrad goes bouncin' his ass out all over town wit' them other sons-a-bitches, 'cause I made him and he's MINE. He is now my daddy. Who the hell cares who 'made' me? He can go to hell. I MADE MYSELF! I MADE MYSELF! So shut your fat, pig-shit gash 'fore I rip it off!


Been readin' magazines. Don't know all the words, but they got pictures, so I do pretty good. Wanna go back to California. I know you was told lots a stuff, but the part about California is true. I miss the big, tall palm trees. I miss livin' in garages. They was fancy garages, all made up like cute, little-bitty houses. Studios, I think you call 'em. My 'fleshy' mommy was a 'yes, ma'am. what can I get you?' lady. She worked for this real big movie star, who I wish would go to hell and die. You know her tits are all outta whack, 'cause some shitty doctor cooked 'em up all wrong. I could a done better  wit' a Dora the Explorer manicure kit I had. But she wouldn't let me. Good for her. Let her get sat on by a elephant. I hope she does. If I get back there, I am gonna kill her real good.


Me an' Conrad gonna go. I know where he keeps the money. Tomas, I mean. Baylah too. They got diamonds and gold in there. I seen it. Edith knows. He got a little, old box just full a stuff. I figure if I scoop out enough, we ought a be able to buy a real nice RV, like a bus...what Tim McGraw rides in. Conrad says he knows how to drive it. And I do not think he's lying. But if I'm wrong, I am gonna kill him up real bad. I got a list. I gonna kill a lot a folks up real bad.


You just see. You just wait and see. I wonder if they let vampires on TV? Real ones, I mean. I wonder if they'd let me go on Chelsea Lately? Maybe I could dance around and sing a little song? I like it when she says the 'king' a the words. She better let me on her show.......She BETTER! Or first I gonna get Chuey and next, I'm gonna get her.


Lemme stop now. Edith comin' back and I want to see what kind a colorin' books she brung me...


My head itches, but Edith says no little vampire girl can get head lice....Damn, I hope she right....


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A PLACE SO MUCH LIKE HADES..you DON'T want to wind up there.. 7/05/12

Before Papa left the Mer-folk, he took Luna to see a certain place, an undersea cave, actually, but somehow filled by a vast bubble of air. There are other places like it, but this is the biggest. It snakes through the Earth's crust for miles, at some points coming dangerously close the red hot, oozing mantle. The walls are rough and warm. The air is damp and thick. Colonies of fresh water mollusks occupy scattered, shallow pools. And it's dark, though not pitch black. A rare form of primitive 'pond scum' growing on the walls provides tiny bits of pulsating, weak, blue flickers.

The classic, Greek, under-world was like this. Maybe they knew something? Papa brings people here. He's done so for ages. Just grabs them unawares, wraps his arms 'round them and sublimates down to this repulsive place and just leaves them. It's his version of divine judgement. Never says a word. Don't take no credit. Scoops 'em up and plops 'em down. Something about the pond scum makes them live long..... real long. A certain murderous, corrupt governor of a notorious ancient Persian satrap is still there, weeping in the corners..... scraping up the mussels and jabbering away in archaic Farsi. And he ain't alone. Forty eight others are down there with him. Some never say a word. Just sleep all the time. Guess they get numb to the sticky air after a while. One guy sings cowboy songs, one after the other. He ain't been here too long.

Luna wanted to go touch 'em. But Papa wouldn't let her. Don't want to interrupt their punishment. They get real crazy when they accidentally bump into each other. Start slappin' their hands around in the dark and screamin'.

Luna said - Why'd you bring me here?........ But Papa just shrugged. He knows a lot a weird places. Once he DID take a guy out. But that was only after like twelve thousand years. Figured he learned his lesson by then. Now he's a hair dresser in Kansas City, Missouri. Don't know what beauty school he went to. Can't tell you that. But I DO know he got good grades.

Sometimes it just goes that way. Nothing counts for nothing. Shit just happens. A few guys get punished. But a lot don't......

That's just the way it is.....

And what are you gonna do about it?

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CAT AND MOUSE...VAMPIRE STYLE.

Conrad did not care about the Higgs Boson particle (Google it) nor recent developments in Mer-folk diplomacy. Edith kept them informed. She'd returned from a spell with her husband in the Pines. High temperatures drove her back. Not necessarily to the vampires, but to their air conditioning. True, Tomas and Sarah often spent days deep in the sub-basements of The Penn Museum. It was cooler there. But they also frequented a certain rarely rented suite in a severely modern, Center City, Philadelphia boutique hotel. The manager was a 'familiar.' Tomas brought him things...baubles, stacks of bills, vials of life preserving blood (just the tiny ones) and he provides convenient services in return. 


Sarah liked the decor..... dark rich, hardwood floors...recessed lighting....trim, sleek, grey velvet sofas..... a vast, tropical fish tank housing undulating clouds of black and white Zebra Fish. She sampled the gourmet vodkas on the bar. Life-eaters are not denied alcohol, probably because it's not an actual food. Whiskey, yes... pretzels no..... That's just the way it is. 


Tomas toyed with a not yet dead victim. The man, dressed in a cowboy hat and harem pants, sat cross-legged on a large, silk, peach colored pillow, his hands cuffed 'round an architectural pillar rising from the floor. From time to time he mumbled, promising money and whores and chocolate milk factories in France in exchange for his freedom. It was pathetic. His crimes were too great. Adulterated chocolate 'milk' can be lethal, especially to sensitive,  little children. And for that...he must die.


Our young/old Andalucian vampirino rubbed the mouse across the victim's lips. Almost anything can become food after seven days. At first the man cried. He retched. He pleaded. And Tomas pulled back. Then he rolled the stiff, cold rodent in the leftovers on Edith's salad plate....mostly tuna fish, I think, before offering it up once more.


The man reflexively drooled. His tongue peeked out to taste just a tiny bit of the savory fish and mayonnaise concoction...... but Tomas pulled back again. This time the victim broke into tears. He sniffed and whispered - More, more, more, please, more........ And Tomas gave him more, after plastering mousy's head with copious dollops of day-old egg salad for good measure.


The man ate, this time biting off a crunchy, little fore paw. You know, the fine, tiny bones add lots of texture. Tomas dangled the disgusting 'treat' just beyond the yellow, dirty teeth...... The starving man whimpered in frustration. Then the vampire lowered it back down, tickling a stubbled cheek with the dry, dead, pale pink nose. The poisoned chocolate milk baron opened wide, ready to take the meal. Tomas slowly lowered it onto his waiting tongue. For the first time in days the victim was happy, giggling manically  as he chewed.


Yet before he could swallow his noxious wad, Conrad (the former monk) knelt down to drain him dry.... but the victim never knew...and his jaws continued working after death.


Conrad never spilled a drop. Quick learner, that one.


Sarah put down her drink and sighed....... I want to go to the movies. - she said....... So Tomas took her out to see a show....... And after, while returning home, they stopped in a secluded alley for some dinner of their own..... just like the Lady and The Tramp...... Well, almost....


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SECRETS NOBODY TELLS YOU.... sojourns in the Mer-folk world

The Great Speaker looks a lot like Anderson Cooper, maybe not from the waist down. But you have to admit the white hair, pale skin and cerulean eyes suit Mer-folk, especially when paired with sleek, strong, dolphin-like tails. He laughs a lot too. Not that any sound is produced. Although the sharp, staccato pulses radiating from his trim midsection sometimes tickles...or so I'm told. 


Luna enjoys his company. Not that his Wifely Retinue likes it, but she's a guest, so the random couplings are tolerated...... inter-humanoid hospitality, after all. He even let let take a little taste... a few little tastes.... Papa teases her about 'having a 'thing' for seafood,' but he understands. Over the millennia  he's 'nested' with quite a few comely Lorelei. It's rumored he's even 'turned' a few. But that's only if you believe Homer. You can ask Papa, though he never says...


The United Nations passed a secret resolution. Mer-folk will be granted colonization rights in certain, isolated coastal areas. Three lie along uninhabited stretches of Western Australia. One surrounds a remote, military controlled island in Hawaii. I remember something about a California Channel island too. Supposedly there will be fifteen such habitations in all. Details are classified. 


For their part, Mer-folk have agreed to allow scientific testing and observation, all very humane. None of that perverted, Nazi, Mengele, Satan stuff. Don't want to make them angry. Not like we want them to fiddle with sub-surface sea flow. If you've been with us for a while, you know they can do that. A few discreet, little undersea landslides (well, maybe not so little) and the Gulf Stream, plus a lot a other 'streams' gonna go huey. You want Cherry Hill, New Jersey to wind up like Reykjavik?.... I don't.


Now, the truth is, small groups of fishy people have been frequenting isolated bays and estuaries all along. They accompany the great whales on their seasonal migrations. That's how vampires first encountered them in ages past. It also explains sightings, especially those claimed by scared, desperate whalers. Don't think there's any photographic record though. Not like that famous Big Foot film. Yes, it's real. What did you think? You know, Gorillas were viewed as mythological, Big Foot-like creatures a few hundred years ago, too. There's a lot out there. That's one of the reasons some governments are so eager to collaborate...with the Mer-folk, I mean. Gonna use them when we visit Europa. Vampires helped us link up with them. And they're gonna help us hook up with the Manta-Ray people. It's a small world, after all....the circle of life.... What do you want me to tell you.


Oh, before I go, let me tell you this. When the Great Speaker breached the surface to parlay with all them science guys on those ships, a few of them thought he actually WAS Anderson Cooper. Took videos and everything. But they never got the tail, so it don't count. What are they gonna say - We saw some cable TV cutie pie skinny dipping off some semi-tropical isle?..... Come on... What else is new? Besides, I hear 'First Womb' (like premiere wife, or queen) bears a striking likeness to one a them big assed, Kardashian girls... the real pretty one, I think. 


How many years you think it's gonna take before all this gets out? Me, I can't tell, because you never know with people..... Look, they STILL think vampires are fake, don't they? ..... OK, so they ain't like them lurid, sloppy, drooling bastards on HBO. Please, if vampires had fangs like that, they'd enslave about a million dentists. You KNOW how vain they are. Cat teeth...little cat teeth...That's what they got. And you ever know a sloppy-eatin' cat?


This is Zebulon  channelin' tonight. I been waftin' through the ether wit' Mister Never You Mind. That 'splains my pixilated way a speechifyin'...


May y' all bite into a right, nice Fourth of July, or Fourth a Thermador like them powder-wigged Frenchies called it...


Liberty, equality and whatever that third thing was.


Hasta la proxima to all human beans everywhere.


                                   1776 1776 1776 


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