Shhh, THE GRAND PROCESSION STARTS TOMORROW NIGHT... PREPARE YOURSELVES FOR THE VAMPIRE REVELS!

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: AN UPDATE ON VAMPIRE SOCIETY~~:  THE VAMPIRE REVELS! a convocation of miraculous beings versed in necromancy of a most astonishing sort.... experience this teaser from a month ago, meant to sustain the midnight minions during BINGO BOY'S illustrious run (a good read for the 'somewhat' less magical romantics among you)... But now the time has come. The GREAT CLOCK, high atop the ancient tower of Philadelphia's City Hall strikes twelve... and the resonant tones reverberate through the icy bones of the winter-sick municipality........... We may reveal a little more tonight, or in the wee hours actually.....But tomorrow night, THE GRAND PROCESSION begins.

Bienvenido al nuesto mundo, chicas y chicos. Bienvenido al MUNDO VAMPIRISMO!!

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65TH BINGO BOY episode (like a film treatment) 1/21/13

BINGO BOY - post 65

So the new house at the shore was all filled up that night. Marge and Jimmy in their room. Ricky and Little Chrissie in theirs. And Marty and Big Chrissie in the den.  They put the two babies together in the big one's room. He babbled to the newborn for a while. Think the little one liked it. Probably never dawned on him that babies can vocalize like that. Must a learned something, right?

Everybody got along. Jimmy was contrite. Not that he was gonna give any of the money back right away, but he was contrite. Marty apologized like fifteen thousand times for tryin' to have Jimmy killed. But seein' as the would-be killer (Ricky) and the almost victim were now practically in-laws or something, I don't think all that crap mattered any more.

The house was all warm and cozy. You know, shore houses can be real quiet. They all got them double pane windows. You don't hear nothin'. Puppy slept by the babies. You know they got a puppy? Ain't one a the 'ghost' narrators told you that already? Curls up on the rug under the crib. Little one's in his porta-crib. Every once in a while the puppy pads over to see it he's all right too. 

I can hear Marty snorin'. I can hear Ricky snorin'. Jimmy snores. Girls snore too. Marge makes these little wee-wee-wee-wee-wee noises like The Three Stooges. Ricky snores like a sick, giant whale, or something. I could never share a room with him. It's a wonder he don't have sleep apnea. 

Jimmy's gonna buy a nice little bar and grill on Atlantic Avenue. Little place. Real snug. Gets all the local trade. Good steaks. Good burgers. Big sandwiches. Great drinks. Got these old, knotty pine walls and little, black vinyl booths. Seats maybe fifty people tops, not counting the bar, but a gold mine... a real gold mine. I can't tell you the name, 'cause it ain't a done deal yet. But if you want a get an idea, Google Robert's Place, which is also in Margate, New Jersey, 'cause they're really very much alike.

Marty's gonna take Jimmy up on that hot dog cart offer. Gonna talk to a guy 'bout settin' 'em up outside PARX CASINO in Bucks County. That could be a little gold mine too, even if he does give the house a cut. Probably see a lot a the old ladies from the bingo hall. You know, people gotta get their gamblin' fix..... Everybody likes a little jolt.

Now this story could a been a whole lot different. Ricky might a pulled the trigger, or slapped on another piece a duct tape. Jimmy would a kicked the bucket. Bingo hall might a stayed open. And Little Chrissie's grandma, Marge, might never a found love with a 'prisoner' down the basement. In case you come late to this, that's where they stashed him, Jimmy, I mean, when they didn't have guts enough to kill him.

But you know somethin'? Guts had nothing to do with it. We did. We did it all. It was us, the 'ghost' narrators. Some people call us 'guardian angels,'..... but me, I'm not that pretentious....

So you're gonna have to excuse me now. I wanna pass through the wall and drift 'round the town for a while. Winter nights are special 'round here... all chill and still and quiet. You can even hear the traffic lights click 'stop' and 'go.' You can even hear the surf.

And nobody heard me leave except the dog....

THE END... Bingo Boy.... a film treatment that reads like a novel. First installment  on either the 2nd or 3rd of November. Sixty five episodes...and now it's done. Thank you. 
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if you're willing to help, please nominate me for a SHORTY AWARD. Just tweet this ~~~~~> I nominate @wilkravitz for a SHORTY AWARD as #BLOGGER for his stories and tales.
Nighty-Night

64TH BINGO BOY episode See what a SAMPLE MOVIE TREATMENT reads like 1/20/13

BINGO BOY - post 64

Big Chrissie sighed. She was tired. It's not easy taking care of a little baby. Her grandfather don't help. He call's it her 'Jew baby.' Tries to be slightly civilized when Marty comes by. And he does come by. Don't tell Muscles about it. Don't tell nobody. But one time he brought her this heavy gold chain he found when they cleaned out the house. Eighteen carat too. She sold it. He told her to. Went to some guy up by Five Points in the Northeast. You know the one. He advertises all over. Seems legit. A lot a people use him. Gave her fourteen hundred dollars for it too. That, plus the money Jimmy gave her helped for a while. Guess now she needs more. 

Little Chrissie says - How'd you find us?..... Not like she's angry. She's not surprised it happened. She just wants a know. Big Chrissie tells her about Too-Many-Cookies seein' the license plate number on the car Jimmy sent and how they traced 'em through that..... Little Chrissie just nods. You can't hide from nobody these days. Then she says - Get something..... The other Chrissie goes - Like what? What do they have in here, Jewish food?..... Little Chrissie goes- You gotta stop thinkin' like that. They got food, regular food. Get an omelet. Get home fries. Get a muffin, an English Muffin. That OK with you?..... Big Chrissie says that it is, so they order it. While they wait she says - Marty's over at the house now. Wow, what a place. Did I tell you that? They're talkin'. They're just talkin'. Your grandmother ain't there. I don't know where she is. Muscles wanted to come, but Marty says no. You know how Muscles is. He tries to deal himself into everything. Look, they got married couples who stay together after a murder attempt, so why not them? But Jimmy don't trust him. Says he ain't gonna give back no money. Not outright anyway. Says wait til they get something set up here, like a business, or a bar, or I don't know. Jimmy was sayin' a lot a stuff. You know how he goes when he talks real fast.

Then her food came, so they ate. Omelet had lox in it. She liked it. You know, lox ain't bad. Hell, they eat it all over Europe. They guzzle it...worse than here even. Know what it's like? It's like the 'ham' of fish. It's like them real rich, salty, fancy Italian hams, but it's fish. It's salmon. It's good. Oh, God, I miss my physical body. Yeah, they say we can conjure up most a the same feelings over here, but not me. Hamburger tastes like clay. Fried chicken tastes like bleech! They all say I ain't tryin'. Say I gotta work harder. Could be. Who knows? Look, I only been 'dead' seventeen days. Still countin' days. Some a them over here can't hardly remember what days are. But I can. Jeez, I ain't told you my name yet. Some 'ghost narrators' don't like to say. Some do. I like to... Hi, I'm Steve. Pleased to meet you. Fell at my aunt's house. Cracked my head on this pointy, metal finial she got at the bottom of her banister. Man, were they screamin'. Eh, I don't wanna talk about it.

Jimmy says he's gonna start givin' money back soon as he's ready. Did I tell you that? No, wait. I did...... Oh, God....Some people are just meant to be together. Fightin' don't mean nothin'. That's just how they exercise their lungs.

Big Chrissie says they're gonna sleep over at the house tonight. Gonna use the sofa bed in the den. She got a travel bed for her baby. Look how the bigger one likes the little one. He's lookin'. I don't think he knows it's a human. Wants a give it some oatmeal. I like babies. Maybe I'll work with them. Be a 'night guard,' or imaginary friend. I'd like that. .... (laughs) Yo, Mom, got an invisible forty six year old buddy named Steve. Deal wit' it.

The two moms are packin' everything up now. Lots a stuff when you got a kid..... But it's worth it. 

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63RD BINGO BOY episode 1/19/13

Bingo Boy - 63

Marty read it again. They didn't even have milk for the cornflakes. He ate 'em right out of the box. Muscles snored away on the reclining chair in the family room. You know that furniture jobber guy didn't take everything. Some a the stuff is crap. That he left...... Marty says - A hot dog cart. He wants to buy me a hot dog cart. Lousy son-of-a-bitch should drop dead and croak. What's he mean by a hot dog cart? Says I should think about it.(sighs) I could a had two million dollars, at least. Maybe more. I - I - I lost track. Kept stuffin' it in those God damned boxes and saltin' it away. This is my worst nightmare.... Muscles goes - Not your wife leavin' you?.... Marty says - No..... Muscles goes - Not her takin' the kids?.... Marty doesn't answer. He just sits there. Muscles farts. You can hear a fart real good on a fake leather reclining chair. The vinyl acts like a membrane. It magnifies it, like a microphone, like an ear drum..... Muscles mumbles - Excuse me.... But Marty don't pay him no mind. Still, you can tell he's thinkin' about something. Then he goes - Hey, how much you think one a them chrome hot dog carts go for?..... But Muscles is already sleepin' again, so he gets out the telephone book and makes a few calls...

Meanwhile, at the shore, it's cold. It's cold, but it's sunny. The sky looks so blue, like out of a Rogers and Hammerstein musical. All the old ladies are out walkin' their yappy dogs. Breakfast joints got people. Breakfast joins always got people.  Think when you buy a house at the shore, you forget how to cook eggs. Forget how to toast bagels too. Little Chrissie got the Baby in his stroller. He likes gettin' air. She wheels him down to the beach. Not on the beach, just right up to the bulkhead where you can see it. Water looks like a lake, all blue and shiny. Sea Gulls glide 'round like special effects. You couldn't computer generate a nicer scene than this..... Little Chrissie leans forward and says - You want some nice hot oatmeal?...... Baby goes - Yeah, yeah, yeah..... She makes sure he's all tucked in. Makes sure the blanket's coverin' him up real good. Then she wheels him over to The Downbeach Deli for some a that special, homemade, maple syrup and brown sugar kind they got. Wants a get it with raisins, but the waitress says not to with a baby, 'cause raisins might make 'em choke. Everybody makes a fuss over him. They go - Boy! Get a load a that curly, blond hair!..... Little Chrissie goes - Thank you. Baby just smiles and makes 'bashful' eyes.

She's waitin' for somebody. Not Ricky. Ricky went to talk to the real estate people. That's where he's gonna work. Everything's startin' to fall into place. Little Chrissie looks at her watch. Nine thirty. Then another young mommy with a newborn baby comes in. At first she stands in the entrance lookin' around. You know it takes a little while for somebody's eyes to adjust after comin' in from all that sun. But Little Chrissie waves her over. The other one nods, walks in and sits down. The waitress gives 'em another 'set-up.' She pours some coffee.  They just look at it.  The second mommy, Big Chrissie looks tired. She looks nervous. 

At first they're both quiet. Newborn baby's sleeping. Older Baby's eatin'. Little Chrissie feeds him, but he wants a grab the spoon.

Then, all of a sudden, the heavy-set one starts to talk...

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ALL THESE THINGS ARE TRUE

That thread known to you as BINGO BOY must abide for another night. Other voices seep through the ether now and their resonance is upon us. The night folk of 'The Vampire Wonderland' hunger for the stage.  The magic wants to come back. Crack open the door. Listen to the murmurs. For all these things are true...

First instantaneous truth~ As we sit here, cocooned in our own individual states of existence, a soul slides into the sea. A man falls over the edge, gasping incredulously, as his feet furiously try to find purchase, before plunging into the dark, cold, water. Night paints the firmament. And feathery clouds tickle the stars, as the ship drops over the edge. 

The solitary heartbeat falters, shocked by a death-like chill as the man goes ever deeper. After a time it will be over. Then he will be warm, or at least unaware of the cold. But the end comes slow down here. Ice preserves things. Bits of flesh take longer to die. And he lingers, suspended between the quick and the dead.

Ten heartbeats later, he is found. An intelligence rises up from the depths, piercing the blackness. It reaches out to him. Soft, graceful arms embrace his body, kissing it with many ardent mouths. His companion is large, long as a nightmare. Supple undulations draw him ever toward its face, a lethal countenance   more horrible than Medusa...

Monsters are real. We are food. Some people feign indifference. Others disbelief. But Kimodo Dragons devour sleeping babies. Cave bears crush hikers and microbes eat flesh. And the subject of this truth progresses toward the maw of a giant squid. He can't break free. There is no escape. No rescue will come. The razor sharp beak opens wide, freeing a tongue-like radula, eager to scrape him raw. 

The feet go in first. Then the legs, drawn in by the tongue that's not a tongue. He does not see it, but he feels it. Death, or the denial of it, can be so cruel. His back is abraded down to the bone, a live spare rib special for hungry calimari. And he wants to draw in water. He wants to drown. He wants to die. The pain is so great. The pressure so real. Yet the steel-like grip says 'no.' 

And the skin, just below his clavicle, feels the beak come down and  cut him through. Life, or something like it, lingers in his brain until the blood runs out to join the salty, womb-drink of the sea. But before that can happen, the beak comes down again to crush his skull...

The monster is satisfied, dropping down to rest in the abyss...

You think this scene has never, ever happened? Please.... don't be naive.....

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62ND BINGO BOY episode 1/17/13

Bingo Boy - post 62

Marty and Muscles sat in the kitchen of the neo-colonial tract house in Lower Bucks County. He'd have to get out soon. Muscles would too. Lawyers say the wife gets the house. Not really for her, but like as a trust for the kids. He ain't gonna fight it. He just wants this to be over. What do they call it...karma? Look, if the games weren't fixed, if he never hooked up with a creep, like that Jimmy, none of this would have happened. He'd a been poor all those years. That's a given. What talents does he have? Lemme tell you, money...and lack of money, changes everything.

Now there's maybe fifteen or twenty thousand dollars nobody knows about. It's all in hundreds and buried in a  Snapple Diet Lemon Iced Tea bottle, or jar, or whatever you call it. Marty won it at a casino. Not from gambling. Went to a promotional bingo night they had. Won the final game. Won the cover-all. Twenty thousand dollars. Should a paid taxes on it, but he didn't. Nobody ever said anything. Look, the way he fricasseed his books, you think they're gonna worry about that? Happened at The Hilton, in Atlantic City. Think they call it the Atlantic City Casino now. Gave him four 'flats' of hundred dollar bills, fifty to a stack with one a those paper bands around it. Makes a pile about two and a half, three inches high. He was so nervous gone out to the parking lot. Knew he was gonna get knifed, or robbed.  Waited in the lobby for some buzzed frat boys to leave and went with them. Didn't have far to go. Parked right in the corner closest the door. Ran across Pacific Avenue. Dodged a jitney (small ten to thirteen passenger bus). Jumped in. Sped off. Didn't even turn on the radio, or nothing. Just drove. Every time a car came near him, he thought - uh, oh, this is it..... You know, it's real easy hiding a body in the pines. If you're a 'regular' here, you know that. Got home late. Wife was sleeping. She let him go gambling by himself every once in a while. Street was all dark...all quiet. After, say, eleven, the dogs take their last dump and there ain't nobody out there. Slid into the driveway. Shut everything off. Fished for an empty iced tea bottle on the floor, in the back. Stuffed the bills in (had 'em, like a rock, in his left front pocket) screwed it shut. Went 'round the back and buried it right under the rhododendron bush. Lot a mulch there. Easy digging. Nobody saw, 'cept a spider and a petrified, little vole. And what are they gonna do about it.

Marty wants to go outside and get it. Maybe later. Muscles always goes out, like to wander around the CVS, or the Shoprite. What can I tell you? It's cheap entertainment. Usually drives over around three, or three thirty. Trouble is all the trees are bare. Not so private out there now. ..... Eh, he'd see.

Had a dream last night (Marty, I mean) about the time he 'befriended' a praying mantis on the front patio. Nice one. Seemed smart. Real easy going for a bug. Relaxed like. Lived in a planter. Ate aphids off begonias. Sometimes Marty'd turn the hose on a real, tiny, little trickle. Green little thing would turn up it's head and drink it. You know they open and close their 'beak' more like a bird than an ant. Had a teeny-weenie yellow, pointy tongue too. Named her Emerald. Figured she was a woman praying mantis, 'cause they always kill the husband. Looked big too. The husbands are scrawny. One time he gave her a piece a popcorn shrimp from KFC. She looked at it funny (You know, you get to know an animal after a while), but she took it. Marty liked Emerald. He really did. He liked her a lot. Gave her a little, tiny piece of corned beef once. She ate that too.... Now in real life, a bird got her, a big bird, like a crow, or something. He saw it happen. And he couldn't stop it. Dream ends same way, 'cept she's yellin'. She's screaming. He could hear it. He could hear her go - Help me! Oh, God! Please help me!..... And he just stands there going - Noooo! Noooo! Noooo!....... Then it ends.

Chinese people say praying mantis' are good luck. He should a been more careful.

But later, when Muscles got back from the Shoprite, he brought the mail in. Mailman comes so God damned late. Most of it was junk, or pizza joint menus, but there was a letter, a plain, old fashioned letter... and it was from Jimmy. The two a them read it and re-read it like about a dozen times. Postmarked from Philly. That's where they mailed it. Ricky and Little Chrissie drove all the way in. That way he couldn't trace 'em. Stopped at a discount shoe store in Mayfair for maybe ten minutes and drove all the way back. No, wait. They stopped at Mister Bill's for these real juicy, grilled burgers. I forgot. Brought some a the big 'black and white' cookies back for Marge and Jimmy too. Mister Bill's is like a drive-in, right in the Pines, 'cept it's a regular diner place too. Nobody eats out on the tables now, not in the wintertime. 

Look, I'm starting to lose my ectoplasmic coherence. disembodied, spirit narrators get that way sometime. So let me stop and go round up some ghost hamburgers over here on my side. 

We'll tell you what they wrote about the next time....

Nitey-night......

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RETREAT OF THE BODY SNATCHERS ... a one night break from BINGO BOY.. 1/15/13

The baby appeared almost normal. He cried at the right time, waved his little fists around and demonstrated a very well developed nursing reflex. Skin tone was a little off, though. Too ruddy. Not dark, just too much blood right under the surface. And his cranium was a bit depressed, maybe even lumpy. But that happens sometimes too. So they washed him off, smeared him with the usual anti-bacterial crap and passed him down the line. 

Daddy thought he looked all right. Mommy couldn't tell. She loved him and all, just thought he looked a wee bit unusual. The paternal pop-pop said - Wow! We got a little line backer there, lemme tell you!... The maternal mom-mom just went - Hummm.

So they sat there in the almost motel-like 'mothers' room,' pretending to watch Vana White tickle old fashioned TV screens and thought. Kid had too much hair. Even had teeny-tiny, black, glossy ones lying flat against the skin of his meaty forearms. Who'd they have there, Paul Bunyan? Nurses came in and all. Did all the regular stuff. But they looked at him funny. New mommy saw. She picked up on it. She said - What are you 'looking' for? What's a matter?... The older, skinny nurse patted her leg and said - Oh, we're just doing our job. We're just doing our job. Wow, he's a real bruiser, there, ain't he?

Twenty minutes later, when the family filed out, they air kissed the mommy (gotta be careful. don't wanna give her no germs), gave dirty looks to a doctor doing his best to avoid eye contact over by the nurses' station and stopped to see the infants in the baby zoo. About six of them in there. The two born before theirs seemed OK. But 'Liam' (that's his name) and the three who came after all had that same, dopey look. One stranger-lady said - Oh, look! They must be related..... Pop-pop turned and said - No, they're not..... But she just said - Oh...and proceeded to suck her teeth.

Daddy was real quiet, though. Kissed his mom. Hugged his dad, got in the car (think it was a cool, looking mustang) and drove back home..... Actually, he needed to stop for toilet paper, but he didn't. Just didn't feel like it. 

Pop-pop turned on the TV at his place. He likes the news. Watches news stations.... Mom-mom said - Jesus Christ! Turn that the hell off! I wanna talk about the baby!.... But the guy on the screen was saying something. So he just told her to go to hell.

TV guy said - According to unnamed sources, every baby born since eight thirty p.m. at Lou Costello Memorial Hospital in Los Angeles, California exhibits signs of the same, mysterious, muscular-cranial abnormality. Some have taken to calling it 'Fred Flintstone Syndrome.' ..... Then they showed video... Little Liam had the same look. Even mom-mom saw it.

And every birth, thereafter was the same. They all resembled Fred Flintstone. Some were dark. Some were light. French babies. Chinese babies. Colombian babies. Israeli babies.

You see, the universe is a big place and not every life form looks like we do. I'm talking about Earth life, slugs and gerbils and praying mantis' and all that.  Some 'people' are smoke. Others, little black orbs that bounce through eternity. For the last sixty thousand years or so, we've been studied by one of them. Not just us, the whole planet. We've been thoroughly examined by a somewhat neurotic, though extremely curious, virus cloud. Not a dense cloud. This 'individual' is quite nebulous. Our eyes were his eyes. Our hands were his hands. And our genitals were his genitals too. 

But now the term is over. The paper's all done. School's out for the summer. And 'he' doesn't need us anymore. So the great viral cloud rose up above the solar plane and looked down for a moment before drifting off to places yet unknown. That happened right before Liam was born. The elixir is gone. The juice is turned off. And we are all alone, just as we were all those many thousands of years ago. 

The Body Snatcher has left the building. And what we call evolution was but a temporary, laboratory manipulation. 

A new hominid walks the earth, or rather an old, original one. Behold... MUNDO NEANDERTHALIS.... 

And we are just the prey. ....... Zombies, but without all the viscous goo.

At first we cherished them and raised them as our own. Then we tried to lock them away. A few defeatists called for universal, human sterilization. But what if we discover a 'cure.'?

So now we all just run...

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