A GUILTY VAMPIRE SHARES TALES ... 5/7/15

I had a vision.... was supposed to 'cull' a rather nasty piece of work... Dealt drugs. Ran sex parlors masquerading as less blatant massage parlors staffed with pathetic, Thai and Cambodian sex slaves. Cornflakes and tuna fish... Cornflakes and tuna fish... That's all he feeds them, cornflakes and tuna fish. And they think it's gold. Sure they get milk for the cereal and mayonnaise for the tuna... sometimes a loaf of dollar white bread from the ShopRite, but that doesn't make it gold.

Well, tonight he died. But I waited til he strong armed a guy out of three hundred and fifty thousand dollars and a Maserati... Then I killed him. Figured I'd feed the kitty. Does that make me bad? I freed the sex slaves. Gave each one twenty five hundred dollars. Figured they could fly home. Only (for them) home was even worse than here. So I don't know where they went. Probably Atlantic City.

Yo, sex slaves, you just got liberated! What are you gonna do next!?..... We go 'Lantic City!...... Only in America. Actually, I don't think they even spoke English.....

The guy had a nice watch. Took that too. You know, besides the townhouse, we support the elferinas and elferinos too, plus a few people you don't know about. 

I don't want to go home. Sarah knows about Sylvia and Aura. I know how she'll be. She'll act like it's not important... just 'stimulation'... nothing to do with her and I... But she makes me feel so guilty. why would she even notice what I do with mortals? They're all going to be dead soon anyway. Like clouds, they are. Here one moment and gone the next. Even their bones decay. Naturally occurring preserved skeletons are rare. Most coffins, even the metal ones, oxidize and disappear after sixty years... surviving bone fragments go soon after. There's your mortals. That's what happens to mortals. Why would she even notice?.... But she does. Oh, God, why do I do this?

Maybe I'll stay at The University of Pennsylvania Museum. They know me there. Management hates me from the big Luna versus Sarah cat fight a few years back. Mummy dust flew like confetti. Another romantic fiasco that was. But the watchmen like me. I'll tell them stories... point out ghosts... sublimate through walls for them... sing bawdy Dutch tavern songs... Take my mind off things. 

Still, not a bad haul. Maybe she'll like the Maserati? Baylah can arrange a sale if she doesn't. You see Maserati coming and going down the shore..

Oh look... There's that shoe store I like. Excuse me while I sublimate inside and pick up a pair of black, leather ankle boots. Don't worry. I'll leave money....

Buenos noches, amigos.....

(with that, the trim 'young' vampirino, known as Jonathon, or Tomas, melts through the old, bronze doorway and disappears into the shop... Bienvenido a filadelfia after midnight... And remember... We only pretend that it's fiction...)

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VAMPIRE JONATHON LOVES THIS SONG FOR OBVIOUS REASONS - ( 5/5/15 ) OneRepublic - Love Runs Out

This is one of 'my' nights. No one talks but me. Jonathon ben Macabi, a.k.a. Tomas de Macabea takes the reins tonight. And I am quite the accomplished 'horseman.' I had a white stallion, presented to my father by the Caliph himself. Bokar we named him...'Day Break' and we flew over the hills of Al Andalus like ginn. We owned other mounts. Our stables were large. But he was the prince, descended from a line going back to Damascus in what you call 'the seventh century.' We fed him special grain imported from Sicily, strains going back to the days of  old Roman latifundia. I miss him. His progeny survive as Lippazaners, though he, himself, was pure Arabian.



I digress. You see, vampires know many appetites. I hunger for many things. And after a fashion. I shall be true to Sarah. She is my 'vampirina.' There shall be no other. But I may know other mortal playthings. Indeed, I am with two now. I believe you know them, as they were mentioned last time we met. Sylvia and Aura... I am with the mole-king's daughters, deep beneath the streets of Center City in their kingdom of never used, dark and dusty subway tunnels. 



We tarry in a ruined water closet ( some stops had them back then ) on an old tiled floor, complete with drain, under a thin trickle from a leaky water pipe. It's cool down here, far away from the unusual, early May warmth. We bathe each other with large, natural sponges... an old passtime of ours. And I give them deep, langorous 'cat baths.' as only a vampire can. How flattering the orange candlelight. Like creatures from The Satyricon we are. ... I lapse into a low, barely audible growl. Vampirinos can do that... and they purr back... My two, mortal 'jugetes.'.... My 'toys.' .... Silver and Gold.... Sylvia and Aura.



Every large city has mole-folk. People find their way down into these dark, secret places for many reasons. Some never return to the surface, subsisting on fair of another kind. And in every metropolis vampires make common cause with them. 



Shhh.... They bathe me now. I feel each soft, brush, kiss and tickle as only a life-eater can.



So permit me my ease.



Come back tomorrow... The Vampire Wonderland will be here.



Now leave us to our pleasures.



Summer nights are short enough.



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DISEMBODIED SPIRITS SAY IT'S GONNA BE THAT KIND OF SUMMER .. 5/3/15

Jonathon hates May. The nights are too short... not enough dark time. Most vampires feel the same way... It's not just the taking of lives, or the blood. They need black, starry skies and big cheesy moons. Everything stands still in the wintertime. Everything is calm. He can walk for hours. No one bothers him. He can sit on a bench, staring up at a light in some apartment and lose himself in a Zen-like trance. 

Summer is different. True night, at least to vampire eyes, comes so late and dawn is even worse. Baylah knows. She feels it too. That's why she likes the shore. Moonlight on the waves seems to magnify everything.... a short night, but a perfect one.

Jonathon disappears into the tunnels... the deep ones, far below the subways, where the mole-folk live. Sarah knows. He swears he doesn't 'couple' with Aura or Sylvia, the mole-king's daughters. He used to, but lately he hasn't. No more long, slow sponge baths in candlelit, ruined restrooms ( the deep, deep tunnels are remnants of never used subway lines). They share a hookah. They talk. They wander through pitch dark, maze-like passageways. Once in a while he brings down a captive, a bad soul destined for 'culling.' The mole-folk love watching vampires feed. Spotty illumination from scattered cans of Sterno adds just the right touch. The victim mumbles. They tremble. Some run. He catches them. The crowd cheers. Then all grow silent, as he drinks up the life.

Nights feel longer down there. Jonathon likes that.

Sarah sits back at the townhouse with Annie, listening to the ramblings of her sly, old, wizened, mortal grandfather. He still goes on about the public-leg-shaving girls of Old Berlin. Edith makes 'crazy' circles 'round her ear with her index finger. But who knows? Old and semi senile he may be. Still, he does have money. God knows what he's seen. 

Sarah gives him a few drops of her blood as a restorative. He quiets down and stares at the cold, dark fireplace.... Edith goes - Hey, old man, you want a smoked turkey breast sandwich?.... He shrugs ... She makes him one and serves it on a genuine nineteen forty nine Russell Wright dish. Vampires have stuff like that. Baylah says she's got the thigh bone of noted, ancient Judean princess, Salome. Who knows? Maybe she does?

I know you've been reading about an 'alternate' Earth ruled by heartless, demonic aliens... and you might read about them again. We got more disembodied, spirit narrators floating around this place than Carter's got liver pills. (you know what that means?) And each one's got a story to push. What? You think only 'live' people want to direct?

You know where Jonathon is? He's walking home... Might not get there for a few more hours, but he's on his way. There's a lot of kids on the street this time of year. I don't know. They never sleep. No, they do sleep... from 7AM to 3PM. Jonathon 'haunts' them. Lets them see him do strange things, like sublimate through a bus stop shelter, or levitate up into the sky til he disappears. They scream... They run... New urban legends are born.

I got a feeling it's gonna be that kind of summer.....

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BIONIC ROBOT'S DAY ... 5/1/15

They have control rooms, high up by the ceiling. They look like old stadium press booths. Guards keep watch. When the lights go out they trip a switch. Everyone falls asleep simultaneously. The cerebral chips take care of that. But my chip doesn't work. Figure I must have had a mini-stroke and the blood 'did something' to it. Don't know why the central console didn't pick it up, but it didn't. So I don't sleep. Up above, the guards talk to each other and eat. I can see them through the glass. Truth is, I can't tell if they're Earth people , or aliens. Maybe mostly aliens with one or two 'Good Humans (specially chosen collaborators)?'

Sometimes I whisper, looking for other 'insomniacs.' Sometimes I crawl around on my hands and knees. So far, I'm the only one. I creep back to my cot and watch the control rooms. Soon I fall asleep too.

'Eyes Open' comes at 6AM. We're robots... full sized, human robots. Guess it's cheaper to fit us up with all kinds of neurological chips than build A.I's from scratch. First comes pee time. Big irrigated troughs. Then 'sanitation,' as we all file through a thick, antiseptic showery mist...raggedy clothes and all. Heat lamps and fans dry everybody up real fast. 

Breakfast is mealy worms and boiled buckwheat. Actually very nutritious. Then we shuffle off. The chips know the way. We don't. Some type of physical drudgery lasts til lunch (tofu and other crap)... More drudgery til sundown... Shuffle back... Night feed... Crap time... Coloring books and crayons... Piped in muzak.... Lights Out.....

Thus us life.

This is going to have to be a short post. One of the guards noticed me. I know. He motions. He points. Must have seen me moving around last night. 'Irregular' units get culled... and I want to live a little longer...

Let me sleep... or at least pretend to sleep. Let me survive. Let me dream.

I'm lucky... I can still do that...

<more next time>

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WHAT IF SLIGHTY MORE ADVANCED ALIENS CONQUERED US? ... 4/29/15

'The Ordering'... that's what they called it... started thirty eight years ago in our year twenty twenty two. People you read about, like Jonathon and Edith and Annie and Sarah and all were quite alive when it happened. I don't know what they did with the mortals, but 'advanced specimens'... (that's what they called vampires and born-witches) were immediately identified and gathered up. Apparently Earth enchantments can't touch them (the aliens, I mean), though they can sense the magical vibrations. 

Oh, one other thing, they kept Doctor Franklin's complex under the Philadelphia Naval Shipyard... and downloaded his scientific data into their digital devices. It's obvious they knew English. There must have been 'moles.' Seems they knew Chinese and Russian and Spanish too.... Hindi, that's another one.

Look, our brains are supposed to be 'compromised.' They aim for an I.Q. range of roughly eighty five to ninety five. The chips are supposed to prevent higher functioning. We act like they do... but they don't. Smart folks disappear real fast.

And it's not like we're breeding. No one 'couples.' We never see members of the opposite sex... not Earth humans. We think they're just waiting for us to die off. It's been almost forty years. The youngest people I've seen are fifty five. Last of The Mohicans. Maybe they have small breeding colonies? They did take away the children. 

We built an amusement park for them and their families. The aliens, I mean.  They look so much like us... Eye colors are a little off. Facial expressions are a bit strange. But they laugh. They buy toys for their off spring and have dances. I've seen the dances... not so different than Earth reels or square dances. And they love cake... They get cake and we get repulsive crazy food..... Once I got a bowl of little, tiny monkey hands.. and they were cooked, or steamed, or something. I don't know who sprinkled powdered cheese on top, but somebody did. Another time we got fetal armadillos, but no one ate them. Armadillos carry leprosy. ..

It's night now. We're back in our 'domiciles,' the vast halls where we eat and sleep. They don't like us to talk, but we do. Two nights ago, some dope starts shouting and thrashing and spitting and all. Lasted maybe ninety seconds. Then the D.I.C.s, the deeply implanted chips,  kicked in.... They oversee everything.... and within heartbeats the guy's bones... every bone in his body... reach a white-hot, seven hundred and fifty degrees, til he's burned and cooked and 'done.' Steam hissed from every pore and orifice. Then the frantic vibrations stopped. All was still. No one made a sound. We just watched as tiny, licks of flame danced out of his eyes, ears, mouth and nostrils. From the way his ratty, gray pants were burned, the urethra was probably involved too. Can't say 'bout his ass, 'cause nobody could see it. Was a whole lot a smoke, though.... Then they scrapped up what was left with shovels and dumped it into big, heavyweight, plastic bags. 

Twenty seven hundred and eighty four people went back to their cots and laid down.. ten rows of two hundred and fifty each, plus a few left over.... Gray souls on gray cots in a colorless world.

Tomorrow we make toy, 3D printers and wax lips for the kiddies.... for the 'Big People' kiddies... for the aliens to buy at that amusement park... They ain't bigger than us. We just call them that.

LIGHTS OUT.....

<more next time>

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Good Humans... Brutal Occupiers... 4/26/15

Everything was grey, because it was cheaper for them to do so... even the sky. We filed through a gate. No one spoke. Words were superfluous. The chips took care of that. They knew our blood lines, all vital statistics and everything else of a physical or mechanistic nature. Lying was impossible. Thus a tired and worn populace, an urban herd, entered their place of domicile. Juveniles were kept elsewhere. Old specimens were recycled. 

We were kept in vast halls. Each got a cot, a bowl, a spoon... Once a week they dosed us via enemas. They evaluated the data forwarded by the chips. Those with invalid equations were terminated. It was all bloodless. Circulatory systems ceased functioning. They had chips for that too. Everyone found lacking died simultaneously. It happened during roll call. The 'fortunate' trudged out to their daily tasks. The 'unfortunate' collapsed on the spot. I suppose dying was their task that day. 

The bodies were collected, stripped of their rags and fed to The Chipper. There were a lot of chippers. There were a lot of bodies. The bone meal, or whatever it was, got sealed into big, black, thick gauge plastic sacks. They looked like bags of fertilizer. That's how we lived.

The Big People were like us. I couldn't see much difference. But they came from another place... another world.. another sun. A no nonsense race. No peace and brotherhood crap early on. They were here. They were powerful and just a bit more advanced than we were. First came the big sleeps. That's when they'chipped' everybody. Next came the divisions... males from females... parents from children... You can imagine the scenes. The trucks came. The trucks went. That was it. Older children promised to look after the tiny ones... God knows what happened to them.

And the whole world is like this.

They live in compounds... cozy, little towns with storybook houses. And they have dogs too. Some look like our dogs and some don't. But you can tell they're dogs.  They have cat things too. The heads are like cats, but the bodies are like lemurs. 

Sometimes they fly over subjugated zones in fast, silent helicopters. Come down pretty low too. They take pictures. Once I saw them clap and smile. Guess they clap and smile on their planet too. They grabbed a man with a big 'claw' thing, like in one of those arcade games. and flew away. He screamed and screamed. The claw didn't grab him right and one leg popped off at the knee. The guards tossed it in The Chipper.

There are stories that go around. Every once in a while they take a human, but they're not tortured and they're not killed. The Big People (who are basically the same size we are) call them 'Good Humans.'  I think I saw one once, walking a two headed chihuahua and carrying all these glossy shopping bags. I know she was human, because I saw the little scars where they took her chips out... or maybe replaced them with different chips?

I want to be a 'Good Human.' I want to live in one of their residence compounds and see grass and children and fancy stuff.

I don't know what I'd be expected to do, or what I'd be expected to endure... but I'm ready. I don't care. I'm ready.

Yesterday for dusk-feed they gave us little piles of fingernails... not just the parings... not just that, but whole, complete nails... ripped right from the beds... blood, skin, meat and all.

How could I not be ready?

<more next time>..... <and we didn't forget Annie and Sarah and Sarah's strange grandpa either>

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BECOMING A PUBLIC LEG SHAVING GIRL... 4/24/15

Annie was popping off and trading the heads on her vintage Barbie dolls when Edith went up to get her. She gets a kick out of 'Ken with boobs.' Her Barbies don't like Ken. They like G.I. Joe. But he's a drunk and an abuser, so they go out to lunch and talk a lot.... Pancakes... They go for pancakes... And they all drive pink Camaros and are grade school counselors. One is a vampire, grade school counselor. But they give her an office with no windows, so sunlight isn't an issue.

Edith said - They want you downstairs. Sarah's grandfather is there...

Annie crinkled her nose.

Edith - Well, you gotta go...

Annie - I don't have to stick my fingers in his mouth anymore?... Do I? He stinks. He makes me puke. I mean it.

Edith - Well, go see what he wants. Jonathon won't let him do nothing to you. You know that...

So she went down... When she got there, the old man was telling a story... He went - She set up this stand...like a shoeshine stand... right on the sidewalk, next to a tobacco shop and that's where she sold 'leg shaves.' Women of a certain type used to get their legs shaves right there in the open, out on the sidewalk. Male swimmers did too... the whole nineteen thirty two French Olympic swim squad... all of them. Took pictures for Life Magazine and everything.  You can see my mother, there in the background. Big chrome safety razor... Always used a big, chrome, safety razor. In thirty three, when Hitler got voted in... (everyone thinks it was a coup or a revolution, but it wasn't. they voted for him) he did away with the public leg-shave girls. Sent 'em to Dachau. Switched 'em to heads, underarms and other places. We never saw her again. My mother, I mean. She wasn't Jewish. Christian... from an old Christian family. But she was a leg-shaving girl and there was absolutely nothing anybody could do. I was twelve years old. We came to America in thirty four. Mutiny On The Bounty... that was the first picture I saw......

Then he noticed Annie leaning against the wall. What are you lookin' at me for? she said.

Not one to notice other people's concerns, he ignored her question and said - Annie... how would you like to be a public-leg-shaving-girl?

Annie - I thought the Nazis kill you for that?

Old Man - Not here... and there's money in it.

Jonathon - Isn't she young?

Old Man - Not really... Proper training takes time. The good ones could do it with their eyes closed. 

Sarah - I think you're crazy...

He just chuckled. 

Annie said - What if I cut somebody?

The Old Man smiled and said - You'll see... You'll see.....

<more next time>
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