THE IMPERIAL ROMAN VAMPIRE BODY GUARD HAS A CLOSE CALL... 8/4/13

I race through the dark, narrow warrens of the city. Rome is riddled with such byways. They snake through the Subura, a notorious district of tumble down insula (tenements) and rancid wine bars and lunchrooms. Insomniacs (or drunks) babble from laundry strewn balconies and feral cats snarl and fight in the shadows. 

I have failed. The master's 'best ratter' was foiled.  And I was so close. I was so close. Nicolo Ramila is an enemy. His 'house' and 'ours' are at odds. The vendetta is an old one, going back to a dead baby more than three generations ago. A distaff member of that Magna Grecia tribe (Greek-Italians from the south of Italy) was minding a baby... one of 'our' babies. She put it in a basket in a field, out beyond where the Trans-Tiber districts stand today, as she dug for mushrooms and wild greens. But as the baby was not hers she paid it little shrift. And as Apollo drove his chariot down toward the Ostrian shore, a wolf and a pig (alright, maybe it was just a dog) grabbed the baby and carried it off to have it for their dinner. The careless child minder blamed Sardinian pirates. She ripped open her bodice, raked her dirty nails across her breast and ran crying back into the city. Since her people had connections to a certain minor functionary at court, a mumbling second cousin to Nero, maybe it was Nero, her tale was given credence. Money changed hands and she was believed.

Though the Nessos never forgot and the pathetic little one cries to this day. I was sent out to avenge the tragedy... to even the score and devour one of theirs... Maybe more than one. Maybe two or three. But now I am on the run...

And the cursed enemy knows who sent me....

A vampire shamed is a terrible thing. 
(more next time)
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WARP SPEED MAKES ME GIDDY ...8/03/13

No regular post tonight. Am abducted by aliens, but the cool kind who stop off at really cool places and let me work the controls. 

Please ask those you know to visit ~>THE VAULT ... so they can pick and chose between ALL our episodes (over 1,200) and leave COMMENTS that will be seen by people and highlighted on TWITTER by me. 

Psst! Wanna meet celebrities??? Hit ~>COOL COMIC DIRECTOR ...COOL WRITER ... and tell them how you got there. Oh, hit this one too ~>COOL HOT GORE-FEST DIRECTOR ... and tell him too.

Must stop now, 'cause the aliens are taking all of us to some kind of an alien WAFFLE HOUSE and I gotta take a store-brand ZANTAC just in case....

Hear they got humongus waffle irons... a whole person could stretch out in one of them!

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The Secret Life Of Walter Mitty - Trailer #1

Gonna do a regular blog real soon, but you GOTTA see this. At first I wanted Michael Cena, but he already did something like it. BEN STILLER is perfect. And I think every WRITER/ACTOR/ARTIST/PERFORMER is a little MITTY-licious anyway. Until I get MY post up there, indulge my MITTY-ness and wander through browse.feedreader.com/c/Billy_Kravitz_vampire_wonderland .... join me on Twitter at ~> @wilkravitz ... and remember, a dream is a wish your heart makes.... p.s. got turned onto this from @erinmorgenstern 's blog. follow her. she wrote THE NIGHT CIRCUS... now click on it and enjoy...

HOW THE IMPERIAL ROMANS CONTROL THEIR VAMPIRE BODY GUARDS..... 8/01/13

This is a city of vipers. Back stabbers are everywhere and cruelly kidnapped senatorial daughters are regularly sold as whores in the souks of the Levant. Vampires are nothing to these people. They destroyed God's House and vanquished the 'Portal to Heaven' that is Jerusalem. I know. Some Herodian descendants have a villa next door and I think they also have ties to earlier dynasties as well. The son, an earnest young lad, tries to teach me morals. So far he hasn't succeeded. 

And the master recently gifted me some slaves of my own... a matched set of Gothic juveniles.... sandy haired 'Rolfies.'.... you know it's good luck to muss the hair of a 'Rolfie.'.... 'gold' and all that. Leads to riches. Don't know how I'll use them. Have yet to design a livery. Two are boys and two are girls. Perhaps I'll do them up as wood sprites or something like that. Mutes are all the rage, but I don't want to subject them to the operation. Surgical excision of the tongue is no mean thing... Many die right there on the marble slab. I could always mesmerize them into silence. My kind is good at that. And you know what? I hardly ever think about my mortal life anymore. Iberia is as a dream. And the truncated lives of the humans there, some of whom were my 'relatives' hold little attraction. I am Janus, and I will witness centuries.... if I handle things correctly. 

Romans are a clever breed and they have ways to control us. I'm told there was a public 'exposure' the other day. They did it in the arena. Oh, how she thrashed about. Two Numidians done up as satyrs (the loose, curly hair plays into that) carried her in in a heavy, leather sac, sewn shut against the light. Then they threw it down on the sand, read the charge... 'defiance of the master.' And that doesn't mean sassing, or talking back. It represents familial treason. And Romans don't go for crap like that. Power and position is all they have. A 'righteous' man is one who toadies up to his betters and f+#ks the shit out of everyone else. They couldn't say what the bad vampirina did, since it might compromise her owner. Secrets are everything in The Imperial City. So they poured a solution of olive oil and lead dust into her ear as she slept. I'm not supposed to know about lead and all, but I do. It diminishes our powers and makes us helpless. But I digress from the story at hand. 

Attendants ran out bearing silver daggers... actually more 'cutting' and 'slicing' knives than 'stabbers.' And the 'satyrs' used them to rip through the thick, cow hide. She shrieked. How she shrieked, as her alabaster body (nude, of course) immediately blistered in the hot sun. And the crowd hurled oaths and curses as she writhed before them and burst into flame. They say she trembled, most violently too, I am told. Vampires feel pain. Have no doubt about that.... I don't.... It took her forty one heartbeats to die. And what did she want, but freedom?

I am not so idealistic. The master dotes on me. Calls me his best 'ratter.' And I am. The killing suits me and the rich supply of blood is scrumptious. It's truly scrumptious.

But if you want to know the truth, I'm scared. These noble, togaed Romans know things I can't even imagine.... They say vampires can build up a resistance to lead.... Start small... tiny bits of filings. I don't know if that's true.... though I plan to find out.

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Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Biolo...

Billy Kravitz' vampire wonderland: These are the days of EL RANCHO TEXACO ..... Biolo...: Soon we are gonna introduce some representatives of original Martian fauna. They lived there back when the planet was a hot, wet moister pla... Anybody want a full blooded, Martian chupicabra for a pet? We can't keep it, 'cause it killed all the neighbors and peed up all the rugs... (peek into the flora and fauna on the fourth rock from the sun)..... Good entry point into our EL RANCHO TEXACO story arc... HOW THE WEST WAS WON meets DALLAS on Mars. If you like it, just scroll down to NEWER POST or OLDER POST (click on either one) and explore. Think of a highly readable, novel-like film treatment. Join us on Twitter at ~> @wilkravitz ... Some other Twitter sites you might like are ~>@andrewharding4 ... @joe_hill ... @O_GTomes ...@jthomasross ... @eliroth ... (more later)... your COMMENTS are very appreciated. Thank you.

THE ACID BATHS OF IMPERIAL ROME and other loathsome necessities... 7/30/13

First of all, the Amphitheatro Flaviani, which most Romans call 'The Coliseum' is already over one hundred years old, a venerable vector of vicious vice and venal voluptuousness. How's that for alliteration? They have night shows, you know... perfect for vampires, whores, cut-throats and any other cultural specimens given to unusual hours. I go from time to time. The Nessos have a box, not too close to the Imperial Enclosure, but not too far away. Nobody wants to seem threatening. Such behavior is a good way to make yourself part of the show. They have elephants, actual pachyderms all the way from the Land of Hind, plus a few from somewhere past the great deserts of Africa, though that variety is much harder to control. And I once saw a recalcitrant valet get his head shoved up a she-elephant's ass. A real show stopper. Let me tell you. There's a device, like a narrow bed, high atop a bier, maybe ten feet high. And the whole contraption rolls around on four gold wheels. They strapped the valet down (a troop of pygmies, who also served as dancers, did the honors) on his belly... naked, always naked. You know how the Romans are. Naked is the new black. And they did something to the elephant. Gave her sweet, juicy melons injected with some sort of fermented intoxicant, until she was sleepy and compliant. Then they wheeled the bier right up under the giant beast's tail. One of the pygmies scrambled up on her back to raise it out of the way. Another straddled the victim's shoulders and greased his head up real good with butter from a small, red crock. A lot of the props at The Coliseum are red..... Easy to see from the stands. Rubbed it in his ears... on his head (shaved, of course.... 'round his jaw, his neck, the face, everywhere. Next they worked a big, thick candle (well, it looked like a candle) deep into the elephant's dung-hole. She trumpeted a bit. The crowd roared, as she proceeded to shit right on the valet's head. He coughed. He screamed. He begged. He cried..... And the crowd began to yell and chant.... 'Make them 'one.'... Make them 'one.'..... So they did. A pygmy cohort down on the sand pushed the bier in closer. The man holding the tail swabbed the beast's anal region with a sopping rag tucked into a braided, leather belt (his only garment). This caused an immediate slackening of the sphincter, but seeing as the giant's bowels were already empty, only a thin drool ran out. A pygmy hanging onto one of the tall, thin legs of the bier scooped some up on two fingers and smeared it across the victim's lips, teeth and gums. And the crowd went berserk... foot stomping, yelling, screaming, everything. Needless to say, the poor man threw up... projectile vomit, I might add and since his head was not supported by the narrow pallet, the rank cascade was seen by all, to the manic delight of those in attendance. People threw roses to the pygmies. They actually did. And the little comedians scooped them up, tickling each other with the blossoms in a most ribald manner.... Not the one's on the bier, or the beast's back, but the remainder of the troop capering about down on the sand, below. 

And maybe eight heartbeats later they did it, forcing the bier in close and jamming the man's head right up the elephants ass. The crowd gasped. You could see his body convulse against the straps. He trembled. It was horrible... hypnotic and horrible. 

Then she trumpeted. The beast trumpeted. I suppose she was still sedated from the melons and all, but she knew something wasn't right. So she tightened her grip on the victim's neck and made off, lumbering 'round the perimeter of the great, sandy ring like a war-horse dragging supplies, as perhaps fifty 'pygmies' (I later found them out to be small Romans, special entertainers, made up for the occasion, as the promoters lacked access to such exotic humans and knew nothing of their lives and customs) vaulted about in a frenzied dance. Oh, and before I forget... some of the torches produced colored flames... reds and blues and greens. And the music was good too. 

Now I don't know how long a mortal can survive with his head shoved up an elephants ass, but by the time they freed him, he was dead. And as soon as the pachyderm was safely lead away, twenty ferocious mandrills raced onto the sand, devouring the remains.

Children in the stands liked that part. You know how much children love monkeys.

Look, I know I've yet to get to the acid baths, but I just saw this and wanted to relate it while fresh in my mind.

We have showmen here in Rome, true masters of the theatrical arts....
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ROMAN SLAVE VAMPIRE BODYGUARD TELLS US MORE... 7/28/13

The things I speak of already happened, but not that very long ago. When you read this, it seems as if you peek into the distant past, for my true time is far removed from yours. I know not what calender you use. I'm told the Zoroastrians have one and the Jews have one and the Egyptians have one based on ancient dynasties. The Romans base theirs on The Founding.... the establishment of 'The City.'..... Who cares? Days are days and nights are nights. And all of us ultimately die. Do you think bodies in the grave, or ashes in the urn worry about numbers? 

But please forgive me these outbursts, for I have seen bad things. The lady's maid, from my master's household, asked me to save her father, held in bondage quite nearby, though in a strange and grievous place. Rome holds many secrets behind plain, rough, street-side walls. Her ruling families turn inward, away from the disgusting mob they need so much.... I ask you... who is the real vampire... I, or a clueless, eight year old prince-ling playing knucklebones with the real thing, made from the chopped-off hands of a hungry slave-thief trying to filch a fresh, hot, pigeon pie. They still have him... the slave, I mean.... Play ring toss games on the stumps. And he  eats his food from a bowl like a dog.

I picked the lady's maid's father out right away. They share the same scent. Mortals smell like bread to me, or sausages, or even cat piss. Not vile odors, though decidedly alive and of the flesh. He was packed in tight, down in the 'pits,' mindlessly humping up against a more or less anonymous mound of meat. Must have been a kitchen slave. They do tend to corpulence. Funny, no one chops their hands off. Probably because they're afraid of ground glass in their porridge. Causes heart problems, you know. And by 'problems' I mean death. 

Now, the father in the pit was painfully thin and his illness was quite manifest. Perhaps he'd have lived a season or two more. But the daughter, the lady's maid, was very attached to him. For the first six years of her life they were owned by the same people. She didn't even have a name, not an official one anyway... not a name given her by the master. Most called her 'Outy,' after her navel. They tied rags 'round her feet and used her to polish the floors. But one too many trips to the gaming tables of Capri forced a series of liquidations. She was sold with the cleaning supplies. He was sold as a 'rooster,' for back then that's what he was.

But back to the pit, which was more like a round, deep, well-like dungeon. I think I've mentioned it before. The close, nighttime quarters facilitated mating and frankly guaranteed a good crop of future merchandise. Some of the others knew what I was and called for me to favor them, or to finish them off.  Slaves have such simple wishes. But a vampire bodyguard who feeds off potentially valuable assets, especially other people's assets, walks on shaky ground.

So I fished him out and made him well. Those in the pit cheered and wept. A few drops of life-eater blood passed mouth to mouth is a potent thing. That much I knew...

That much I knew quite well... 

And I did intend to talk about the acid baths, but these episodes are real and truly 'organic.' Isn't that a word endemic to your time? See, I observe. I see things. 

Now let me retreat to the shadows. Next time I'll tell you more...
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wander through all of the VAMPIRE WONDERLAND at ~> THE TALE OF 700,000 WORDS ... join me on Twitter~>@wilkravitz ... your COMMENTS are very important to me... thank you very much...