YOU TOO CAN THROW MAGIC AROUND LIKE A CHAMP!

Hi, how ya doin'? This is Edith, the Jersey Pines, 'pow-wow' witchy lady. I know we talk about special talents and abilities every once in a while, but some of  you may not have any. So now I'm gonna tell you...... You do. Everybody does. Animals like dogs got some too. Only I really don't know what they do with it.

And please don't rush out buyin' a lot a Halloween lookin' crap... No wands.... No crystal balls.... No dried up monkey's hand (unless you need it for like a recipe or something). 'That' stuff is for illusionists.... and we ain't that. OK, some DO use a prop, but only to help them focus. Actually, you can stare at whatever's around...the vacuum in the corner..... a crack up on the ceiling....... a chair....a picture...... a piss stain on the rug. A lot a people use the television. They turn down the sound and concentrate on the image. Old, black and white movies and TV shows work best. I've heard stories that say it's because the people you're lookin' at are dead. But I don't know. The kid stars ain't, not yet, anyway.

Then all you gotta  do is visualize what you want to happen. By that  I mean you can manipulate things that already exist. But you can't create no new stuff. Only toy companies, factories and fertility labs can do that.

Say you want money. Then you focus on 'lucky opportunities'..... Feel the fortune..... Taste the happiness..... Savor the power.... Make like it's already happened..... Make like it's a done deal.... Hold 'it' in your hand.

The Lucky Opportunity thing  works for lots a stuff. It's a biggie. I'm gonna put up a symbol right now ~~~ (o)(o) OK, you got it? Now stare at it.... Really stare at it. It knows what you want. It wants to help. And it's not evil. Look, you can add any other prayer you want. Something from C.C.D.. Something from Hebrew School, or Sunday School... Anything. But keep looking at the (o)(o) ... And FOCUS...Feel it... No, do it. Really do it. 

I'm getting some stuff right now. Somebody wants good results from a medical test. Somebody wants their future mother-in-law to like them. Somebody wants the plumbing in the bathroom to last til they can pay for new stuff. Somebody wants the roof not to leak........ Somebody wants to dream about a dear departed...... Somebody wants to move away real bad.

So do it. Concentrate. Focus. Lose yourself in the (o)(o) ..... If you like, hold some keys in your hand. Keys unlock things so the imagery might help. 

It's all just a question of tappin' into forces. Scientists say even a vacuum (not like a Hoover... a real one) is full a energy. The whole universe throbs with an unseen, potent potentiality. And in an infinite omniverse... everything is possible.

Step right up and try it. You just might be a winner.

That's all I'm gonna share tonight. They got Jack Benny reruns on 'Antenna.'

It's quiet now. The vampires are still out. So I can eat my Doritos and relax.

Lemme know what happens. COMMENT us.

Inquiring minds want to know.....

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THE HARVEST MOON... CRO-MAGNON STYLE

The houses looked oddly like cabins, somewhat uneven and raggedy along the edges, but cabins just the same. They huddled upon a small pier jutting out into the lake. Mankind's  first major construction and the ancestor of all fortified polities, from moated castles to water feature festooned Florida condos.... Papa's 'home town'..... his village. If you'd like an illustration Google neolithic lake dwellers..... Like summer camp for kids with really, really, really rustic expectations. 

But the people were on shore, seated 'round a small fire (a large one would be to oppressive, considering the late summer heat and all). None were clothed, though most sported one or two primitive shamanistic tattoos. They seemed to be enjoying a Bedrock version of duck-duck-goose. The master of ceremonies, probably the spiritual leader of the place, walked around the circle waving a huge tickler made from (what looked like) turkey feathers. Then, when the clapping and  chanting stopped, he'd quickly reach over and stimulate the appointed person, who jumped up and started chasing the first individual to their left all around the assemblage, sharply  pinching their ass as often as possible. Then, when the circuit was over, they'd count the welts. Sometimes they'd wait a few dozen heartbeats, giving the red marks a chance to rise. If the 'red ass' belonged to the opposite sex, they accompanied the 'chaser' back to the village for a lusty game of 'snake in the gopher hole.' Should the red ass be of the same sex, their mate (or a suitable person of their chosing) substituted. Sometimes couples turned out to be of the same gender, but I don't know what rule governed that. 

Madam Shang and Papa materialized just inside a copse of trees and hidden from the revelers, who could not see them anyway. The ancient Han demi-goddess said - Does this please you?......... But she knew from his smile that it did. He nodded and said - Very much. This night was my first night........ Which one are you? Scruffy westerners are so very much alike. And minus raiment of any type distinctions (such as they are) appear to vanish.- said the imperious powerful one...... Papa pointed to a sturdy young lad with a tattooed salamander wriggling down one thigh. How trim through the loins he was. How ready for the hunt. And when the shaman froze behind him, he was up before the first feathery tickle, chasing his prey (a fancy-rumped female, bought from a neighboring settlement) round the circle, eagerly grabbing quivering handfuls of ass, as they went speeding on their way. Three welts. She had three welts. So they followed the pier back out to the village and began to play the usual game. 

The Harvest Moon - said Papa. My favorite time of year. It's not that we grew crops, but we did gather them. And foodstuffs were so plentiful. Chestnuts were my favorite. Cranberries, or something very close to them were too. Can you find my family?......... The demi-goddess obviously knew, but she studied each face (not to mention other body parts) before announcing her decision...... They stand back from the circle  with another group. The large man with the silver mane. Young to have it, but quite becoming. And the fox-color haired female is his mate - she said. 

Mothers and fathers never share 'circle' with offspring. Aunts and uncles too. - he said...........

My, my, my - whispered the twice transformed (first a vampire, then a demi-goddess) Chinese noblewoman. Such barbarities....... Though she did not really mean it.

Later they followed the shaman to his lair, flitting through his dreams like sparrows and learning many things.....

Tomorrow we explain the universal and eternal nature of magic.

Tonight was but an introduction and diversion....

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psst! It's Me, Headless Tommy. Pun'kin Time Is Coming

We ain't strangers in the night no more, 'cause we had an encounter last fall. I know. I know. I know. It ain't fall yet, but creatures of the ether, like me, can feel it. Tiny little tendrils ooze up from the mud.... ghosts of spiders...ghosts of garden slugs... ghosts of beings yet unnamed. They swirl through the dark like mist. You can see them on your windshield. Wipers won't do no good. Can't get rid of 'em. Squeaky rubber sound...Squeaky rubber sound... Squeaky rubber sound.... That's all you'll get. It's autumn folks (or about to be) and nightmares are in season. 

I haunt the seashore. Earthbound spirits love the seashore... quiet little towns.... neat cozy houses.... empty streets....at least now. Everybody left. Sure, some come back on weekends. But the weeknights belong to us. Listen, you can hear the surf. Ain't no traffic lights no more. Well, they're there, but they just blink. Maybe every ten minutes or so a car goes by. Maybe some old bastid walkin' a dog. But they know.... They know.... Got room in the ghost brigade for them too. Nobody leaves here, not the full timers anyway. 

Summer flowers lay down and die. Still moist. Still green ( a little), but dead. Marigolds and Asters peek out now. Oh, they were there a few weeks ago, only nobody sees 'em. Too much white. Too much red. Too much pink. Too much blue. But they were there, like small, ratty mammals runnin' from the dinosaurs. Well, they ain't runnin' anymore. Now we got the season a fire.... the season a smoke. Deep orange pom-poms stand guard along walkways, sheltered in thick, dark leaves. I like when the pun'kins come out, being headless and all. Back when folks were more observant, weren't no pun'kins, just a whole lot a fresh killed severed heads. But then when ladies started wearin' corsets and brassieres and all, didn't want no severed heads.... Too gross.... Too old fashioned. Jack-O-Lanterns were better. 'Sides, you could scoop out the guts and make pie. Most people never cottoned to human brain pie, so it really weren't no contest. 

They wrap corn stalks 'round streetlights, 'specially the ones at the corner..... 'atmosphere' for weekend shoppers and visitors. Luncheonette starts makin' soup.... maybe some stew.... bread pudding. The La-Dee-Dah (that's our ladies' shop) puts all them harvest motif sweaters in the window. Chimney sweep gets busy. 

Old Man Pig Jowls (not his name. just what I call him) likes to sit out on his dark, little porch late at night. I know he can see me, 'cause sometimes he nods a little. He been 'round here a long time. Remembers me from before the accident, when I was alive...when I had a head. Ester the dead waitress tells him stories. Nothin' special, just gossip she hears from ghosts and from them soon to be ghosts. She stands in the shadows, smokin' her ghost cigarettes, crackin' her ghost chewin' gum and whisperin' stuff. Old Man Pig Jowls makes with a little laugh every once in a while. He likes it. Think they used to mush up back in the day, 'fore some bastid threw her out an attic window. Didn't land on grass. smashed down on concrete. Blood stain's still there, although I think most of it is actually the result of seeped in bile and partially done shit.

Got two new ghosts this year. One's like this 'thing.' Like a dense, dark cloud. I guess it's a guy. I try to be friendly, but it runs away (skitters or floats, would be more like it)and hides in parked cars, or down basements. The other one might be a dog. I ain't sure. Dog ghosts make me cry. Not that I got eyes, but you know what I mean. Prolly got 'O.D'ed' on drugs layin' on top a some ice cold, metal table at the vets. Everybody pettin' it. Everybody all teary-eyed. Everybody thinkin' 'bout that new, deluxe puppy they gonna get.

Some a the live folks is scared a ghosts. They stay in at night watchin' TV and playin' cards. Once a week they got bingo. Wednesdays is book discussion night at the library, but I think most go for the homemade cookies and all. 'Cause if you ask me, some of 'em can't even read.

I'm an imaginary friend to a kid over on Ocean Avenue. Ain't never seen me minus my cranium. Don't wanna scare him. But he knows I'm there. Keep him company when he can't sleep at night. Tell him stories....mostly 'bout pirates. He likes pirates. 

Some ghosts scare folks...step out from behind say a bush on a windy, cold night. Peek in the kitchen window. Stand out in the upstairs hallway. don't do nothin', just stand there...maybe sway back and forth a little...... Some dead folks is nuts.

They got ginger snaps at the food market. And the dollar store got a whole aisle filled with Halloween stuff.  For the next eight weeks we is 'it.' But then they forget. Then they want pilgrims and Santa Claus and dreidyls. 

But the dead are still here, maybe a little more wispy and all, what with all the decorations and lights. But we're still here. 

Don't forget us.....

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SOME VERY BAD LUCK MADE CONRAD THE WAY HE IS

It was still dark. Dawn was still more than an hour away. Tomas and Conrad sat in the little den off the kitchen. The house was dark. They could hear Edith snoring upstairs. She sounds just like Curly from The Three Stooges. Annie's back too, holed up in her cubicle trying to get through to some crackpot radio call-in show, but apparently they don't want her, 'cause she's kicking the wall like crazy. 

They're drinking gin. It's close to vodka and 'pure' alcohol goes down easiest. The television's on... some info-mercial about good abs. But they're not watching. Besides, the sound's turned down real low. This is bonding time. Tomas shares stories of Old Andaluz. He tells of his time in the pit, during his transformation, and the young girl he killed, plus the one he 'didn't' kill (it's all in the early episodes. go look. we'll try and put up a more direct link, but there wasn't time tonight, because I blog this in real time). Conrad listens. This is all so new to him. Having a friend, I mean. His mortal life was rough. Played nursemaid to an old grandfather...an abusive old grandfather. Dealt with oozing sores, rashes, boils, curses, spitting, belittlement, face scratches made by filthy, greasy fingernails and shitty sheets. Never slept more than two hours in a row. Pops wouldn't let him. 

But one day he got something in the mail. A casino sent it. An Indian Casino from near where he lived. Not that he was a high roller, but every so often his cousin would fill in for a few hours. Not a lot, just when he felt guilty, like if the rashes were starting to spread to Conrad's face and neck. That's when he played the machines. Never won much. Usually lost. but it took his mind off things and he liked it. Earned a few raffle points too. Some folks, the real addicts had thousands of 'em. Conrad had thirty seven. Thirty seven chances out of maybe eighty three million to win five hundred thousand dollars. Second prize was a Nissan Altima. Third prize was a trip to Europe. Fourth prize was free drugs... I mean free slot play. Winner had to be present for the drawing. Conrad wanted to go. Had it all set up with the cousin. Fed gramps (fried baloney sandwich and cheap potato salad). Old man yelled for days if he bought the good kind. Put on the Fishin' Channel. Turned off the big light. Grandpop hates electric bills... and waited. but it's not what you're thinking. The cousin DID come. Only two minutes 'fore he was supposed to leave, old man gets 'the pain'..... Gets it real bad. Starts moaning and shaking and sweating. Cousin starts yellin' - Call the rescue squad! Call the rescue squad!..... So they do. And the guys (one was a girl) got there in no time. They wrapped him up, slid him on a gurney, attached all the doo-dads and wheeled him out. Guy says - Don't THINK it's a heart attack, but with his age and all, you never know........ Cousin says - You go to the drawing. I'll go with him...... But gramps starts wheezing and yelling - No! No!...He knows! He Knows! He knows my history. Conrad's gotta go. Conrad! Conrad! Conrad!...... And the rescue guys start looking at him. Must a thought he was gonna collapse, the way his shoulders slumped and all. One said - Please, we don't have a whole lot a time..... Conrad looked down and  whispered - I'll go..... Cousin said - Here, give me the tickets. I'll go. Maybe if you win, like that's gonna happen, they won't ask too many questions and I'll be able to claim the prize..... So Conrad reached into his shirt pocket and forked 'em over. Then he squeezed into the medi-van just as they cranked up the siren and sped off.

Old bastid did not have a heart attack, just a near terminal (for everybody 'round him) case a the shits. And Conrad DID win the five hundred thousand dollars. Only them sons a bitches did ask a lot a questions. Cousin wasn't him. He wasn't there, so too bad... he lost. Prize went to some nasal voiced urologist. But his cousin did manage to win twelve hundred and thirty dollars on his own, though. Saw a real good Cher impersonator too.

Conrad sat in a chair lookin' out the window for days. When his neck got tired from twistin' it 'round to look out he read a Bible. Then one afternoon, when the old man was cursing 'them bitches on The Talk'... Conrad dumped a whole, ice cold container (straight from the 'frigerator) a Kozy Shack rice pudding all over his grandpop's bald, crusty head. I do not know what the old man did. Probably cursed some more and peed hisself. Conrad didn't stay around to find out, 'cause he just walked out that door and kept goin'..... Had forty eight dollars in his wallet from a scratch-off lottery ticket bought with change at the Piggly-Wiggly. Walked all the way to Wabash and Main. That's were the bus comes in. Bought a ticket to some town, got off and walked some more. Saw a little place off in the trees, like a school or a nut house or something. Went over to use the toilet. And that's how he became an almost, sort a , kind a monk..... a vampire killin' monk.... And you know how good he was at that job?.....

Tomas listened to the whole thing. Then he hugged him, poured him a little more gin and sat there while he drank it. 

Few dozen heartbeats later he helped him go to sleep. 

They were friends now..... Good friends.

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LABOR DAY EVE...THE 'DEATH' OF A SUMMER

The sun is not as strong. Night comes a bit earlier, painting the sky with smoky streaks of violet and pink. Some vampires are witness to it. Some 'thick skinned' night-folk relish the witching hour. Not day. Not dark. And unrelated to them both. 

Baylah stands just outside the entrance to The Tropicana Hotel. That's where they park. Her mortal boyfriend likes it, because it's handy, first one (no, second) in from The Downbeach, a string of jewel-box residential towns running south from A.C.. That's where Margate is. That's where they live. 

She likes the casinos. Gambling provides a certain emotional frisson little known in the life-eater world. After all, how much uncertainty do near immortals truly experience? So she takes her seat, buys her chips, nods to the others and begins.

Some pokerinos avoid eye contact, but she revels in it. She's quite adept at the soulless stare...an cold hard appraisal of scared, desperate people. They pretend it doesn't hurt, but she knows that it does. 

And she wins. She always wins. But sometimes after, she'll encounter a loser in the bar. They talk. She smiles and a few five hundred dollar chips find their way into needy pockets. You see, it's not the money. It's the 'win.' 

A couple of the casino hosts know what she is. They don't care. What, are they any better? At least she does 'give backs.' They never do. So you tell me... Who's the real vampire. 

And the air has a funny feel tonight. There's a sadness, like a slow steady slide toward oblivion. It's Sunday. Tomorrow's Labor Day. Families with kids disappear. Summer home lawns (at least those without automatic sprinklers) turn dry. Supermarkets go back to winter hours. Even the Starbucks close early. 

She sees the girl sitting on a bench. It's obvious she's lost. Very pretty, but single. Vampirinas can sense that. Maybe she's visiting her grandmother? The old lady said - Get dressed. Go out. Have some fun. Here, baby-doll, here's fifty dollars. Win something. Maybe she met up with a couple girls from 'round the pool. Grandmoms' buildings always have pools, though few of the resident widows ever use them. They got seperated, or she wasn't cool enough for them.....whatever. Only now they're squeezed in with some twenty-something, bulked-up, players, having table service at The Borgata, while she's sitting all be her lonesome on a damp, boardwalk bench. Fifty dollars goes fast. So does the eighty dollars she added to it. Some old guy, maybe fifty two or fifty three started talking to her in the gift shop. She wasn't buying any keepsakes, just maybe a magazine to read back at granny's condo. He asked her to go play blackjack with him. She demurred. 

Now she wished she'd brought a heavier sweater. Ten more minutes. She'd sit there ten more minutes...and then she's take the jitney (small buses running along 1st street parallel to the boardwalk) back 'home.' She watched all the people pass. Fat couples filled with too much chewed up buffet food. Sixtyfive year olds managing to look fifty...or maybe sixty four. Coarse slobs in flip-flops and nylon shorts loudly braying like drunk jackasses. Tight bodies on bikes swerving in and out of the crowd. Prim couples in cruise wear searching for a captain's table they ain't never gonna find.

Tomorrow they'd be gone. Old friends get together tonight toasting the summer that was and planning the one yet to come. But not everyone would make it. That's what's so sad about Labor Day. You gotta wait for the 'good part' to come 'round again. And some folks wander into a darker part of the forest before it does. This one's wife don't make it.That one loses everything. And I don't mean just money. 

Bittersweet.... That's the word. Labor Day is bittersweet. Ever see the movie PICNIC ? Well, then you know.

Baylah walks over to the girl. She says - Mind if I borrow a little bit a bench?..... Girl says - No, of course not......and slides over. They talk. Baylah gives really good small talk. Finds out she's an education major from Harrisburg, Pennsylvania. Was gonna do junior year in Rome, but then she couldn't. Some kind of money problem. Baylah didn't push too much. Has a brother finished third in the Para-Olympics. Not the big ones in London. This was a smaller version in Annapolis, Maryland...... Baylah said she had a boutique, some place in Philadelphia. Actually, it's her 'familiar's' place, but she's got privileges. Spent thirty five minutes with that nice, young girl. Would a slipped her a little vial of vampire blood, like maybe for her brother, only she didn't have any. Vampires rush when they're getting ready too sometimes. So she gave her seventy five hundred dollars in chips instead. Didn't make a big thing out of it. Vampires are extremely adept at misdirection. Later, when the young girl went back into the hotel to use the ladies' room, she saw the chips in her handbag and didn't even know how much they were worth. So she asked a motherly-looking woman stuffing kleenex into her purse. Lady knows right off, 'cause she just read one of the brochures from the casino. Girl don't wanna believe her. Keeps whispering - It's a miracle. It's a miracle........ Woman just looks at her. Girl says - Thank you and disappears. I do not know how she did it. But Baylah was watching from a distance, like a vampire MADAM X or something, so it could a been magic. I don't know. Hundred and twenty heartbeats later, girl turns 'em in for cash, buys granny a giant box a saltwater taffy, gets herself a big, fat fashion magazine and goes home in a cab.

Summer still died the next day, but three weeks later, that girl was in Rome......

And if you wanna know a little secret... Autumn at the shore is even better.....

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TOMAS and CONRAD WALK THROUGH SOUTH PHILADELPHIA

Vampires know how to step soundlessly through the city. Shoes don't scrap on the sidewalk. Sneakers don't squeak. Even dogs don't hear anything? Is it magic? No, just skill. Oh, they possess a magic of sorts. Some, such as Papa, are quite powerful. But this is not that. 

Cheap window air conditioners rattle and hum from second floor windows. Car doors slam as young dandies return to mom's house after a night at the bars. In fact, cars are everywhere. They choke the old, narrow streets, meant for push-carts and coaches.  You should see it when it snows. Plows (except for a few specially made, scaled down models) can't navigate the constricted byways and the ice holds fast til the springtime.

For the most part, they're silent. Tomas stares straight ahead. Conrad looks down at his shoes. The 'young' Spaniard sports his usual slim black jeans and clean white tee shirt. Conrad wears pleated chinos, an alligator shirt (the classic green one) and boat shoes. They gotta take this boy shopping. Looks like a Jehovah Witness on a day off. Ain't nobody gonna take this fella for a vampire.

Most streets hold tiny row houses. Some are less than fourteen feet wide. But a few have been chopped into 'duplexes.' Creaky floors hide under cheap nylon carpets. Basic, white, army housing type appliances huddle in shoe box kitchens. Scuffed up, bonded leather living room sets provide comfort, of a sort, in hot front rooms. Some people stare at the television, a thirty two inch, generic, picked up at the big box store or maybe off the back of a truck. And they do not know what walks among them. 

Now don't get angry. Yeah, they got real gentrified thoroughfares down South Philly too. But this street ain't one of 'em.

Tomas sees a kid tryin' a fish something out the smashed window of a worn, old Lexus. Just looks at him and the kid pees right there on the spot. But at least he forgets about the Lexus. Conrad bends down to pick up a sticky quarter. Mortal habits die hard. 

And then they're there, lookin' up at the second floor apartment of the 'main course.' ...... You gonna come in  with me? I know I've done this before, but I still need somebody. I'm not ready to do it myself - whispers Conrad........ Tomas just nods. Then he steps up to the door, sublimates his hand through the steel, Lowes special and fiddles with the lock from the inside. Eight heartbeats later it swings open. But he's careful. He holds it and it don't bang against the wall...... After you - he says..... Conrad gives him a look, but he enters and they silently pad up the narrow, dark stairs. 

It's dark in there. Only light comes from the television, some luxury real estate show they run after SNL. Yeah, like the two shits they got livin' here are gonna buy some...... The thief lays sprawled on the couch, one a them worn, microscopically thin leather jobs like I said. He wearin' his Saturday night, off-from-work suit, namely a seven for eleven dollar Hanes tee shirt (not the good ones like Tomas wears) and a matching pair a slightly stained briefs. Some girl lay partly on top a him. She got on panties (how anybody gonna wear nylon panties on a hot night like this?) and a slightly irregular Banana Republic wife beater bought cheap at a drive-in-movie flea market over in Jersey. Not the nice part a Jersey. Philly got a whole lot a really nice Jersey suburbs. This from the flea market part. Funny thing is, right across the highway they got one a the biggest, fanciest, Rolls Royce-Bentley dealers in the whole, entire country. Guess it all depends where you turn off.

But Mister and 'almost' Missus Cheap Shit is sleepin'. Weed'll do that to you. Tomas smells it. Every once in a while a vampire might experiment with it, 'cause it ain't no human food item. But Conrad didn't know what it was. So Tomas pick up the baggie and shove it down his pocket...... Then he go over to the girl. Tap her on the cheek. She fidget. Give her a little slap. She open up her eye and look at him. I guess she figure she gonna be shot or something, or maybe stabbed. She don't say nothin', just stiffen up and gasp. He say - Gimme the shirt......She look at Conrad and say - Who's he?..... Tomas say - He my accountant. Now gimme the shirt. (but she don't ask 'bout Tomas 'cause he standin' in her face and he can be a very compelling figure). So she whip that sucker off over her head and give it to him. Half a heartbeat later he shove it down her throat. Then he pick her up and plop her in a chair. Smiles so she can see his teef. And she knows....she knows. She like all them vampire fellas on TV, but she never think it gonna go down like this........ Tomas say- Don't move, less you wanna go 'guhk' too..... Guhk an old vampire word. Means like die, or death. But I do not know where it comes from. So she just shake her head and sit there. Ass sqeak a little on the leather, but that's all right.

Thief guy still sleepin'. Tomas step over, lean down and clip off a little bit a earlobe with his teeth. Guy jump up. He don't know what happenin'. Tomas grab him 'round the neck and say - Where the money? Where the old man money, you bitch? (who he robbed most recently). Guy munble somethin'. Tomas loosen up a little. Blood runnin' down the guy's face. Nose all snotty and all, but he say - In a closet. In a bedroom. In a can. Don't kill me. Don't kill me. Don't kill me......... Tomas say - Oh, I ain't gonna kill you. He is........

Then Conrad come  'round. You can see he nervous, but he dedicated. That boy really wanna learn this business. So he lean in to rip open the throat. But thief guy start wigglin' and squirmin'. Pantie-girl make like she fixin' a say somethin', but Tomas just slap her around a little bit so she shut up. That what slappin' 'round mean in her world. It like sign language for 'shut up, bitch,'.....so she does.

But Conrad never did get the neck. Got hisself a malf full a nose. Bit it clear off. Guy look like Skeletor.  This mean Tomas gotta hold on real tight, 'cause he like a fish. He like a big, bloody fish. Tomas say - Now! Now! Now!........ And Conrad dive in. Slips on the floor (wit' the blood and all). Falls on the guy. Knocks over some pole lamp, but finally does manage to stick his teef in the guy's neck. Pantie-girl watchin' it all. She goin' - Wee! Wee! Wee!..... Just like a little pig. She can't say too much, 'cause she got that wife beater down her throat. And like fifteen heartbeats later it all done. Tomas say - Here, hold her....... So Conrad sit on her like to catch his breath. She go - Ooof! Then the Spaniard go in a bedroom to get the money. When he come out wit' the can, he stuff 'bout five hundred dollar bills down the front a her all-sweated-up nylon scanties and she don't move, 'cause she still all amazed by the blue fire and all what ate up the thief guy..... He say - Here, go buy youself some cotton....... Then he grab Conrad and they go runnin' down them stairs..... Too complicated to walk, with all that blood stickin' to 'em, so Tomas grab the chubby guy and sublimate right up into the air. Five minutes later BOOM they home. 

Next day old man get most all his money back. Edith bring it over, 'long wit' a big bucket a KFC. She say she find it on a bus. But he so happy, he don't even know what she sayin'.

An twelve hour later he give half to the brand new Revel Casino Hotel Resort and Spa (they like when you say the full, formal name) in Atlantic City, New Jersey, in exchange for a cheeseburger,  fries and a all-you-can-drink Coca-Cola.

Justice done..... Case closed.

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Oh, and now for some Hollywood gossip. You know the classic Marx Brothers' movie, the one where the people sing HOO-RAY FOR CAPTAIN SPAULDING (it became the theme for YOU BET YOUR LIFE)? Well, there was a vampire in that scene. He's singing and bouncing like the rest of them. But if you go to L.A. today, eighty years later, he's STILL there. Look for him in the lobby of a certain banana leafed hotel some evenings, just sipping his drink and reading the trades. But don't let on.....He don't like that.

DO YOU KNOW HOW PEOPLE REALLY DIE IN A MEGA TSUNAMI?

Most 'real' tsunamis are not like the ones conjured by Hollywood. The waves rarely reach more than twenty cubits (eighteen inches = 1 cubit, or the distance between your elbow & your fingertips.....on average). People die in the turbulence of a churning, foamy, 'high tide' and not beneath cloud-high, saline palisades. 

But that is not to say that Juggernauts never happen. When Krakatoa, east of Java awakened those on nearby Indonesian isles saw the sea  rise up, morphing into a monstrous, gelatinous, rampart, advancing on creation and pulverizing everything in it's wake. 

Few were afforded the luxury of aqueous suffocation. They were crushed like talc and scraped against the surface, til nothing was left...not even a scream.

Was that the biggest? No. Thera suffered worse. Most died terror stricken while still quite dry. Felled by a wave that washed the sun.

So why quibble? Two hundred feet is bad. Six hundred feet is worse. Ask the dinosaurs what they saw.

Well.... you can't do that. But Papa can. Madam Shang transcends time. She is beyond immortal. She is immune to entropy, existing like a flea in amber, or a tiny flaw in an otherwise, brilliant diamond. 

Yet she can radiate the illusion of change. And so she stands with Papa now, upon  a beach on what will someday become The Yucatan Peninsula, watching an island tumble from the sky. 

He stands transfixed, witnessing the seemingly impossible....... Do you like it?- she says....... He does not answer, but she knows he does. 

And the sky pulls back from the island, creating a black corona, as the atmosphere rushes 'way. One heartbeat later it happens. A light to shame the sun. A sound to shatter Heaven. Yet they remain, seeing it all, conscious of the heat, but feeling nothing.

Did you do that?- he asks....... No -says the demi-goddess. I had not reached perfection yet. Or more properly, he who made me, had not. This one's mortal birth was still far off. For the closest thing to humans were shrews. Would you care to see more?........ He nods...and she smiles.

Now Papa has seen great things. He's hovered near the surface of the sun. He's hob-nobbed with aristocrats on Europa (you may recall his sojourns with The Manta Ray People). But he cannot pierce the temporal veil. Though 'The Lady' can do that. 

So she takes him to another time, to places quite familiar. A cool, calm lake slumbers 'neath a yellow moon. Trees gird the hills and crickets fill the night. Wolves howl in the distance. And people chant and dance....

Papa is home..... The prodigal returns......

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I know we promised tales of Conrad's kill. But we do not create these things. We merely channel them. Perhaps tomorrow will be different.

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